by Manuel Gonzales

I'm sitting in the international headquarters of the Clarksville Pie Company with my friend and pie maker, Barry Margeson, making a few pies, eating a T-bone steak, and drinking a beer or two. It's one a.m., and Cannonball Adderly is jamming on the CD player. Before Cannonball, it was Cuban son, and in between strawberry-rhubarb and chocolate pecan, I return to this article which I should be writing about Latin American music and its place in Austin's music history, and I can tell you this: open up the Chronicle to the '97 Austin Music Poll, and you'll find listed among other entries beneath the category "Best Performance Band," "Tejano/Conjunto," "Mexican folk/traditional," and "World Music." Four years ago, you would have found "World Music"; ten years ago you might have found "Other" or "None of the above."

Once again, my friends, Latin American music has reared its head: dark skinned beauties, latin lovers, rich cigars, and all.

In the spirit of Latin America and el Caribe, we might as well call it a revolution, though one long in the coming. And you wonder why? Here we are, six hours north of the Mexican border, four hours west of the large port conglomerate of Houston and Galveston. Two very direct routes into the heart of Texas, and it's not until just recently that Latin fever has hit the Austin night life. We are and have been surrounded by Tejano musical influences for many years now (ever since I was born, so twenty-two, at least): Little Joe from Temple and the Tejano dancing scene out of Seguin, Texas, just northwest of San Antonio, and clubs like Tejano Ranch just south of 183. But Tejano/Conjunto music has remained in the background of Austin's music history for some time, and the main leaders of the Austin Tejano revolt, Los Pinkys, Flaco Jimenez, Freddie Fender, and their Texas Tornados, are just now coming into the foreground. But then, some might argue that Tejano music isn't strictly Latin American music, either, that it is a Tex-Mex hybrid of Mexican mariachi and Texas country, hence the name Tejano, and represents a style of music more indigenous to North America than South or Central America. So if we rule out Tejano/Conjunto, that leaves Austin's Latin scene pre-1990's virtually non-existant.

Latin music first hit American shores in New York and Miami in the late '30s, and the fever lasted as a strong musical influence through the '40s and '50s, labeled as afro-cubop: latin jazz, mambo, salsa, and merengue played by greats such as Tito Puente, Tito Rodriguez, Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Benny More, and Machito, just to name a few. Then in the '60s and '70s, Carlos "Tom" Jobim and his new latin jazz, bossa nova, made its debut in the states and swept over the nation like an ocean wave off the coast of Bahia with compositions such as "A garota da Ipanema", "Corcovado", and "Samba da uma nota."

And where was Austin during all of this? Texas, from its beginnings, has boasted, and rightly so, of a rich and proud music history, producing greats such as the Grey Ghost, Leadbelly, Buddy Holly, Willie Nelson, Roy Orbison, Stevie Ray Vaughn. Before, when you came to Austin, you came to hear some good Country, blues, and rock and roll, and rarely did you expect to dance to some hot, latin salsa or son at places like the Broken Spoke or the Continental Club or Antones. But the Continental Club is exactly where you would expect to dance son , and one of the most popular places to see one of the hottest latin bands in Austin, Grupo son Yuma. You can also catch them at Stubb's Barbecue and Cedar Street on occasion. In the past two and a half years, latin dance clubs have literally and figuratively sprouted from Austin's musically rich soil: Palmerras, Borinquen, Miguel's la Bodega, and Calle Ocho. The Ritz upstairs is constantly hosting bands like son Yuma, Ta Mere, PR Jazz, and Cula du Cafe. La Zona Rosa, after closing and reopening, is still the venue of choice for old favorites like Susana Sharpe and the Samba Police and Brave Combo's nuclear polka/radioactive cha-cha-cha, and the crowds are only growing. Any Thursday, Friday, or Saturday, Miguel's la Bodega is a tightly packed ball of dancing-drinking-smoking frenzy, and by the second set of most son Yuma shows, the Continental Club has been reduced to standing or dancing room only.

The question then becomes: Why?

Aside from the simple fact that the music inebriates you with a rhythm and dancing high, aside from the simple fact that the music is that damn good, why the sudden latin epidemic?

Three and a half, maybe four years ago, I saw Brave Combo play at La Zona Rosa. Before they played, a man and a woman stood on the stage,and, armed with violin, maracas, a harp, and a quatro, they fired the first shots of the revolution. The duet, Correo Aereo, had been in Austin for six months, Abel and Madeline. They met in New Mexico, moved to Austin, and began to play. They were and still are the avant guarde of Austin's latin revolution. They are, in essence, the historians of their musical past, keepers of the faith. To see them play together is to feel the rich, dark aroma of their music, and learn from it. Jaropos, golpes, jarroches, and merengues (of the five beat variety, very different from the Carribean merengue) are only some of the styles of music which they play. They range from Vera Cruz and Oaxaca, to the plains of Venezuela, to Argentina. Their music has sabor. Madeline is constant and fluid motion. Her hands, her legs, her hips sway. She doesn't shake the maracas, she jerks, snaps, rolls, twirls, and spins them. Abel is the counterweight; his relaxed, confident style of playing holds the stage together and makes the music solid. A better pair of performers, I've not seen in Austin or any where else. As Barry said, "There's a huge difference between good performers and just good musicians." Abel and Madeline are by far the best of both.

And yet, according to Abel and Madeline, Correo Aereo is better received outside of Austin, on tour in California, Colorado, and New Orleans. They have in essence paved the road for the latin music population in Austin, or at least rode the crest of the wave that washed through Austin three years ago, and still, after four years of playing, after creating their own penas, they are the best unsung performance band playing Latin American music, original and traditional. Late January, they are headed to New Orleans, and will return after a week and a half or so, hopefully to continue their regular gig at Flipnotics. Take my advice: skip class, skip work, skip and Fuckemos, and even skip son Yuma if you have to. See Correo Aereo.