Latin

"Latin" is very specific: it is the music of Cuba, whether in original Cuban form or as reinterpreted by Puerto Ricans. Following the Cuban Revolution, the development of Latin largely moved to New York City, where Cuban ex-patriots and a growing Puerto Rican population enjoyed popularity and momentum among the local and national record-buying public. (And the Caribbean islands continued to provide inspiration, new material, and top talent.) In Puerto Rican hands, particularly Tito Puente's, Afro-Cuban music generally speeded up and challenged the best dancers. Strictly speaking, "Latin" is this music only (Puerto Rican/Cuban), but in its broadest sense can include related music of Spanish-African-AmerIndian origin.

Prior to the Cuban Revolution, in the first half of the twentieth century, Latin and jazz co-evolved and overlapped in famous New York City hot spots. The musicians lived far uptown (jazz in Harlem, Latin in Spanish Harlem), the consumers (dancers and nightclub patrons) typically lived downtown and in Brooklyn, but all came together in mid-town Manhattan. By mid-century the music, the nightlife, and the recording industry all arrived at a high point that gave birth to modern Latin music, or "salsa." Progressive Latin began to be called "salsa" to distinguish it from the bland commercial cha cha cha and "crossover" music made for mainstream consumption. (Today "salsa" usually means all contemporary Latin dance music; the progress happened decades ago.)

The 1960s brought restlessness to Latin music as to everything else. Musicians honored their favorite non-Latin sources by adapting Latin to "soul" (doo-wop), forming Latin soul, which also had older roots in the Cuban guajira (frustrating attempts by Latin snobs to say Latin soul wasn't "their" music). Jazz too was moving into avant-garde territory and Latin jazz followed suit. Latin rock, which had been more of a West Coast Chicano hybrid, also developed somewhat. But pure Latin, the stuff of Tito Puente and labels such as Tico, Alegre, and Fania, had come into its own. Puerto Ricans were able to buy LP records as never before, and radio DJs filled the summer air with tropical sounds. Plenty of kids wanted to be in bands. This Golden Age of Latin music lasted into the mid-1970s.

Business forces first pulled off the seemingly impossible in getting Latin musicians up to full swing on records and in performance venues. Movies were made. Smaller labels were gobbled up by Fania, the first family and godfather of the Latin music scene. Classic titles were reissued to meet popular demand; new records were made as quickly as possible. And then they blew it. Masters were sent to South America for production work there, but they never came back. The original master tapes are lost, altered, or destroyed for the vast majority of Latin music prior to about 1975. And so you need original New York (or vintage Cuban or Puerto Rican) pressings to have the real thing in all its top sound.

The good news is few people to this day are aware of the significance and relative rarity of first-rate Latin records. Latin vinyl is largely taken for granted even in the USA, even close to New York, and even by proud Puerto Ricans and Cubans. So it still can be found and at favorable prices, with some effort. But someday it will be recognized as important as "modern" jazz and with an even larger following, at least in the Spanish-speaking world. For now, though, the advice is get the original pressings while you still can.