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SON CORAZON
A celebration of
the African Cuban and Spanish rhythms
that are the
heart of Latin American dance and music
Son Corazon is Based on
interviews to Cubans living in the USA,
Hispanic poetry and Cuban
historical information
Artistic Director:
Ana Ines King
Music Performed by
Jose Angel Lorenzo & Orquesta
Timbason
Flamenco Guitars by David and Kathy
Robinson
Bass Recorder ands Bass Ocarina by
Marc Langelier
Drums and percussion by Kevin Davis,
Ram and Drums No Guns
ACT I
Nada Puede Dormir (Nothing can
sleep) 1492-1510
Like sending a ray of darkness
and dead over a lighted bullring
Defining what Goya and all Spain
had to represent…
a enormous bullring broken with
violence in two colors:
White and Black. White of sun and
luxuriance
Black, deep of shadows and black
blood clot
What horror, what horror far
away…
The blood takes the dreams away
Nothing can sleep… Nobody can
sleep
R. Alberti
Entre el Clavel y la Espada
(Between the Carnation and the
Sword)
In 1499 the Catholic Kings of
Spain proclaimed that to contain the gypsy course, the gypsies were
ordered to be destroyed. Gypsies were given sixty days to leave the
Kingdom. A part of the gypsies traveled to the New World, Cuba in
particular, where they were captivated by the African-Cuban rhythms, and
mixed their passionate fury of Flamenco and sensual magic Arabian
influences with the powerful heat of Cuban expression.
The large scale Spanish and
French migration to Cuba and the Caribbean coast of Colombia at the end of
the 18th century added some extra ingredients to the original
sound mixture of this Caribbean giant, during a period when certain
elements of music started to take shape.
Gitanos / Colombianas
Son y Guaracha (1950)
The Caribbean region, and Cuba in
particular, became the crossroads of specific migrations. Following the
total extermination of the native Indians, the Spanish monarch needed a
fresh source of labor and therefore turned to the slave trade in various
parts of the African continent. In addition, because of Cuba’s
geographical position as an almost inevitable port of call, many travelers
from different European countries settled on the island, thus forming an
unusual population full of distinctive features and common
characteristics, but also differences and above all, a need to communicate.
El Carretero / Dos Gardenias /
Besame Mama / Como Fue
Ritmos del Alma (Rhythms of the
Soul)
If you are losing control because
of the rhythm in your soul, if you should be in bed, but you are dancing
on the street instead, that is the spirit of Rumba.
Rumba is fiesta, it is the music,
and singing and dancing that make up a party. Rumba was brought together
by people of African and Spanish descendants at the bottom of the social
scale who shared a similar expression at the hands of the people with
power. This white population cut off their origins, established new forms
of social relations which brought them closer to the life of urban backs.
ACT II
Amor, corazon y Lucha
There are men who struggle for a day
and they are good
There are others who struggle for a
year and they are better
There are those who struggle for
many years and they are very good
But there are those who struggle
over a lifetime
Those are the indispensable ones
Bertolt Brecht
Ojala / La Maza /El Unicornio
Azul / Gaviota, Music
by Silvio Rodriguez
Libertad!
There were three days…Three days
of hunger and misery in my life
Do you know what it means to want
to fly but not have any wings?
There were chains and lassos that
my soul wanted to heave off
With tears in my eyes I only
looked back
Chained were parents, family, my
people
Without waiting for an answer, I
embraced the ocean
And the waves called to me: What
happened, are you insane?
And my body was so tired, so
tired of struggling,
The minutes were hours and the
hours dragged on,
While weariness overwhelmed my
soul.
Do you know weariness that I have
to defeat you?
Do you know weariness that you
are stronger than any pain and fear?
Do you know weariness that I have
to defeat you?
My God, I have been swimming
endlessly…so many hours I know have passed
I feel myself in the same place,
I feel myself unable to advance,
I feel myself starting to die…
And the ocean tells me that there
somebody crying for my pain,
My mother, dear mother, I know I
am in your heart.
I see a light in the distance and
I can no longer feel my legs
Please understand me Mother, I
did it to avoid suffering, I did it for my motherland!
You are always in my heart, my
mother and motherland
And one day peace will bloom from
the seed everywhere
And then my beautiful Cuba, you
will no longer be in torment…
Las Manos de mi Tia (The Hands of
my aunt)
(Desperate parents feared for their children’s future under Communist
rule. Between 1959 and 1962 more than 14,000 children were sent by their
parents out of Cuba to America unaccompanied, hoping to meet them later)
My Aunt’s Hands
What I remember of 1967
is sleepy waiting
for the Abuelos and tias
to come from Cuba at last
So we could ditch my red-haired babysitter with the loud voice
and be watched by someone who was blood.
And then there was the night when they appeared,
Their bodies like a pile of rubble in the door
Bumping into each other a bit
As they stepped through the marble halls of
Our dark American building.
Whom to go with?
My aunt, round faced, bending down -
Cooing ven, ven, hija
Stretching out hands
etched in a map of black hairline cuts -
the stamp of a forced year in the cane fields,
hacking her way out with a machete.
And how willingly I took in her rough hands.
Meg Medina
Revelion y la Salsa!
Son Corazon
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