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(Sep 16, 2004)
Rating - ***
The Compay Segundo page
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Compay Segundo was one of the key players in Ry Cooder's Buena Vista Social Club
project before he passed away at the age of 95 in 2003. Compay Segundo was born
Francisco Repilado in Siboney, Cuba, in 1908. His grandmother was a survivor of the slave
trade and he remembers lighting her cigars for her, thus developing a lifelong fondness
for them. During the last 6 years of his life, Compay recorded an anthology of his
music and several more albums after that, and Gracias Compay is comprised of
songs from all these sources.
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Compay plays guitar and sings "Voz Segunda" or Second Voice, thus his stagename. One of
his earliest musical partners was Lorenzo Hierrezuelo, Compay Primo, who according to my
research passed away many years before Buena Vista Social Club. The two of them
formed Duo Los Compadres which performed and recorded in Cuba during the 1930s and 40s. Two
of the songs they co-wrote appear on this CD, including "Sarandonga" and "Juliancito." In
fact, "Juliancito" is one of the best songs on this album. It has a wild, eerie feel
to it that makes it timeless, and frankly a bit out of place with some of the other
more quaint, traditional songs in this collection. Another favorite of mine
is Compay Segundo's "Sabroso." And there's a very beautiful rendition of "Guantanamera,"
written by Joseito Fernandez, with excerpts from text written by Jose Marti. Many of
the older readers of this column may remember that a version of this song enjoyed
brief popularity in the early 70s here in the United States. There are also a
number of rather unremarkable songs, that are nice, but kind of blend together
after a while.
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But the jewel of this CD, the crowning achievement of Compay Segundo's life, the
song that all Cuba stopped to listen to at his funeral, is the song "Chan Chan." I first
heard this song early in 2003 and I stopped doing whatever else I was doing and went
over and listened to it and played it over and over. Then, travelling in Costa Rica last year,
I arrived at a tropical beach resort called Cahuita, and I heard "Chan Chan" wafting from
the kitchen of one of the inns on the beach. Like "Ghost Riders in the Sky" only makes sense
when you're in the dusty, rolling plains of West Texas, "Chan Chan" can only be
fully appreciated when heard in its element: in the gentle breezes, white sands,
and warm topaz waters of the Carribean. Then the haunting lyrics:
"De Alto Cedro voy pa Macarne
Llego a Cueto, voy pa Mayari..."
which tell of an old man recalling a vision he had of two beautiful young women
dancing in the sand, and a tune, a tune so heartbreakingly beautiful that it
deserves to be ranked alongside the finest melodies of the great romantic
composers Chopin, Brahms, Schumann, and Rachmaninoff. Compay
says that he first heard "Chan Chan" in a dream, and when he awoke he heard
musicians playing it outside while in reality there was nobody there. Music
like this is a gift from the gods, a gift from the universe, and it resides in
that recondite place in our souls that we search for in all our worldly travels. Gracias,
Compay, for helping this traveller to find that musical paradise, if only for a moment.
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