When one day I’m bitten by some kind of radioactive bug and attain super powers, I’d like Grupo Esperanza’s “Spacism” to be my theme song. Like many of the Afro-Cuban orchestra’s tunes, it opens with the 1-2, 1-2-3 rhythm of salsa’s signature percussion instrument, the clave, played by Adam Montminy, but Stephanie Reed’s piano is different for its ’70s reverb and the result is a charging, Latin, acid jazz that’s like Spider-Man making a guest appearance on Starsky and Hutch. The climax comes with Joe Parra’s alto sax break, full of squeaks and squonks, sitting on top of the bass and percussion like gunshots on a hot summer night.The piece is just one of many outstanding moments on Grupo Esperanza’s debut studio full-length, Bread & Butter, a follow-up to their live album released last year. There is great rhythm on this disc in more ways than one. Sure, the band display the drive and swagger that has made them the undeniable favorite of the dance-party set, but the true accomplishment of this work is the variation and thought that has been put into song choice, position, and arrangement.
Right out of the gate, “Bug Juice (Alien Disaster),” one of four pieces written by Reed, casts aside any doubt that this band can rip. It opens, appropriately, with Reed’s piano, which quickly takes a subliminal role while the horns snap and pop with staccato flares. If you’re not a huge Latin fan, and I’ll admit I’m not, the thing that gets you about the music right away is the rhythms and time signatures. The percussion is just not like anything you’ll hear in the rock, 4/4 canon. Plus, it’s absurdly danceable. If you’re just nodding your head to this, you’re taking that indie-rock aesthetic entirely too far.
Late in the song, a great sax break is interrupted by a collection of horns butting in with four-beat runs, followed by the slightest break for a percussion solo, then returning to the beginning piano focus. Again, for the uninitiated, accustomed to the piano as a melodic instrument, the keyboard runs might get a little grating, but its important to see the instrument here as part of the rhythm section, letting the horns do the melodic work and letting them embrace the verse/chorus structure.
Later Reed compositions get more sing-song and melodic. The title track, especially, like a children’s song set to Latin rhythm, has a saucy pop to it (and is a little reminiscent of the Family Ties theme song). Until, that is, it moves into double time for the second half, which really burns, punctuated by a great alto sax break that shows an understanding of the dynamics of a good solo, interspersing hot and fast runs with languid notes that stretch and pull. The other songwriter of the group is Rah Hergenhan, who mans the timbales. “Spacism” is his, and so is the defining moment of the album, the opening to “La Fria,” a cool subdued percussion solo, joined by a deep and resonant horn/piano mix. Dark and moody, it’s a significant change-up for the album, keeping it from being overly repetitive with the upbeat dance numbers, and demonstrates range that makes the second half of the disc full of anticipation. When the tune moves into a manic and crazed jazz number, straight off Miles Davis’s Sketches of Spain, featuring a sax wail and slick percussion break, it’s like a bucket of water in the face.
As for songs not their own, tunes by Perez Prado and Israel “Cachao” Lopez are well done and feature the only vocals you’ll find on the album, all done in a well-harmonized chorus. But it’s the Rachmaninov “Prelude” that’s the inspired choice. I’ll allow that some will find it gimmicky, but I’m totally on board (just like with Megan Jo Wilson and her Tears for Fears — and you don’t have to pay publishing rights for Rachmaninov). It puts the talented Reed on display early, playing fairly straight-up, and then alters the rhythm and switches into a Latin take (obviously). It’s like classical with the hiccups. But it reaches a second level when the horns come in, house afire. Reed’s straight finish provides a fine bookend.
What all of this adds up to is a statement of ownership by a talented gang of 10. It could be nothing more than homage and still be positively received by a certain portion of the audience starved for anything not 100 percent all-American. But the seamless incorporation of jazz elements, especially, speak of a band who are merely using a genre for their purposes, who didn’t simply decide to play salsa on a lark, or simply to be unique, but who can’t imagine playing anything else.
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Sam Pfeifle: sam_pfeifle@yahoo.com
