|
|
subscribe
|
subscribe
|
|
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |
1995 Gran Canaria: Los Guanches Norteños
2 Nov 1995
Some nights ago I was walking through the Yumbo Centrum after a long, hot day of writing. The sun had set, I was pleased with the days accomplishments, and the air was cool and fragrant with the scent of camillias and something like star jasmine. Many people graced the walkways, some obviously tourists, others seemingly locals. It was a heady and relaxing mix of upbeat people, comfortable weather, and the sizzle of grills and frying pans at the small eateries.
This is a nice change of mood. The last few days have been hard to take. My trip is two-thirds over, which brings a mix of good and bad feelings. I've found a great radio station - lots of Motown, Rythym and Blues, and Folk - which is better than any we have at home. And missing the annual Castro Street Halloween celebration in San Francisco for the first time in nine years has been depressing. I miss the costumes, the excitement of the celebrants, the displays, and the music. (What I don't miss is the "bridge and tunnel" crowd, the somewhat-homophobic out-of-towners who come to gawk - and in the last years - to drink to intoxication and obnoxiousness, toss eggs, and start fights. It's largely because of this steadily growing minority that the festivities are being moved to Fisherman's Wharf. The passing of another era, and not for the better. Sigh.)
My spirits began to turn for the better early this morning. In the middle of my doldrums, in spite of which I was trying to work, a song jolted me into happier times. (Imagine a boisterous get-together in Central America (or "Tucson" :-) with lots of musical instruments and a drag-out full-strength silly song:
We do the cha-cha,
So, there I was, with music on my mind, in a tenuous upbeat mood, walking slowly to home.
I was nearing the main entrance to Yumbo when I was stopped in my tracks by a joyous chorus. Canarian Spanish was being sung with such extatic abandon that all thoughts of home were forgotten in that instant. I slowly walked in the direction of the singing, music, and accompanying hand-clapping. To my surprize I found myself in front of a well-lighted tourist eatery, the Café de Paris.
There stood five (or was it six?) men dressed in traditional musicians regalia: long black pants with button-down long-sleeve white shirt and a black vest, red cummerbund, and black felt hats, no two of which were exactly alike. Heck, none of their instruments were alike, I noticed. Stringed instruments all: a ukulele, mandolin, guitars, and a bass. They were all singing. I was looking at
The Guanches are the original inhabitants of the Canary Islands. Each of the group is is descendant from the Guanches; their faces show a slightly different genetic makeup than that of the mainland Spanish. The group name means "the Guanches from the north". Here is how I first saw them:
There they were, belting out one great song after another. The early crowd packed the tables; two waiters were constantly abuzz, supplying the tables with coffee, beer, and sweets. Small children - both of the tourists and of the locals working in nearby shops - danced and ran around the group. Occasionally a passer-by would break into a dance step, or more rarely, into song. The band plays three sets, three-quarter hours apiece. During the pauses, los descansos, the members talk and hoist a few with the regulars, schmooze some new attendees, or sit in the back of the café sipping bebidas.
 I went back to see the band many times in my six weeks in Gran Canaria, usually after a day of book-writing in the apartment or the café downstairs at Das Deutsche Gasthaus. By the time the weather cooled - after the broiling sun had set - I was ready to get up from my table and stretch my legs. Each time I learned more of the lyrics to songs I'd before only mumbled to. Their rendition of Ques Sera Sera is to die for. After a few visits with them at the Café de Paris, Pipo's Bar (at right), or the Hotel Barbácan the band give me one of each of their two casettes, which sit in Paco's guitar case for sale to passers-by and café patrons. As I awoke one morning and saw the casettes sitting on the bedside table and idea came to me: put the band's music on the Internet, to accompany these pages. First I had to secure the band's permission; music is usually copyrighted intellectual property. The next evening I walked over to the café with my PowerBook and demonstrated Progressive Networks' "RealAudio Player" with the few sound clips that accompany the software. I'd already dummied up a page to show what a sample of their music might look like. Between the demo, some hand-waving, my Spanish, and some quick glances at my dictionary I got the idea across: this wasn't a money-making situation, but their music would be available to all who visited these pages. Jose's grasp of English and Spanish helped me double-check that we were all, uh, speaking the same language. We were. When I return to the USA and have a bit of time I'll digitize the casettes and make them available to you.
Let's meet the members of the band.
The boys in the band
Paco Rodriguez Garcia
Felix Gomez Sanchez
Pablo Trujillo Santana
Manuel "Manolo" Sanchez Quintana
Heraclio Sanchez Ramos
La musica del Los Guanches Norteños
What's New? • Search this Site • Website Map Travel • Burning Man • San Francisco Kilts! Kilts! Kilts! • Macintosh • Technology • CU-SeeMe | ||
Los Guanches Norteños have a loyal following. I met one couple that's been coming by for over a decade, and have been on a first-name basis with the band for a decade. Neither does rain deter the faithful; during a recent rainshower umbrellas were raised but few tables were cleared. The first evening I happened onto the outdoor café I had my loaner 
I mentioned that I saw the band at several different locations. While they sang some of the same selections on the evenings I saw them (and much more than is contained on the two cassettes) they came across completely differently in the different surroundings. Above you see the view from the tables at the Café de Paris - the band is in a line facing the audience and the visiblity (and audibility?) is good. There's a great rapport between those listening and the band in these surroundings, partially because the audience is there to listen to music. The ambiance is completely different at Pipo's (at left), a hang-out for Scandinavians. Here the audience has come to drink alcohol at prices much cheaper than home, speak with friends, drink some more, and then to have another drink. The band is sort of an afterthought, just a few more hired guns winding their way through the tables, mostly unheard and often ignored. It's a much tougher evening of work for the band. (But not all is for naught at Pipo's. A few years ago the owner gave the band an all-expenses-paid trip through Scandinavia in exchange for a few nights playing at the hotels and clubs of friends. The band still talks about the trip.)
