Eddie Palmieri: Vamonos Pa'l Monte

A reader may come upon a poster entitled "Highlights of the Jazz Story in the USA." One is labelled the Peter von Bartkowski Edition and it dates from 1987. It is, so to speak, a family tree of jazz, with all the strengths and weaknesses of the genre. Still, to poke about is to get someone's version of the lay of the land.

On first examination, it is not clear that Latin Jazz even shows up, but a careful review is reassuring. Somewhere to the left of "New Orleans," curiously out on a limb, but well to the right of "Cool," which, appropriately, is situated smack in the middle (on the trunk), there it is. Growing out of Machito, Dizzy Gillespie and a host of others, there is virtuoso pianist Eddie Palmieri. There is even a photo, although that may be of a young Arturo Sandoval. Eddie makes the cut, but, well, Chano Pozo does not. Fame, if not paternity, is presumably a random thing. Not that Palmieiri is ill-chosen. Clearly, if there was a more foundational figure in Nuyorican salsa than Palmieri, It is hard to know who that might be other than Willie Colon, who is absent from this tree too.  The Cuban poet Jose Lezama Lima famously said La grandeza del hombre es el flechazo, no el blanco (Mick Jagger and Keith Richards would have translated this as "You can't always get what you want...but you get what you need." When Palmieri released Vamonos P'al Monte (1968), he was already a well-known artist, but here was something with considerably more oomph and propulsion than previous efforts.

The title track features organ (with Palmieri's brother, Charlie Palmieri, playing), percussion and a febrile trumpet solo by Cuban Alfredo Chocolate Armenteros, the horn section punctuating the colloquial exhortation "p'al monte," a common conceit in Puerto Rican music, with its emphasis on nature as a life-giving force. "Yo no se" strikes a very different chord, with Ronnie Cuber on bari sax playing an obligato to Ismael Quintana's plaintive vocal, followed by Cuber's very tasty solo. How, indeed, will I live without your love? " La Revolt" opens on a dissonant minor passage, wild percussion, and a chorus chanting "La Libertad Logico." It is a potent reminder of what was in the political air in the late 1960s. If you could imagine Buddy Rich's 1968 trumpet section doing "Rotten Kid" and meaning it as a call to arms, so be it.

That is, indeed, one of the hallmarks of the recording. There is no mistaking the air of big band jazz about the production, precisely one of the reasons why so many regarded it as a milestone or breakthrough. Indeed, it may not be an entirely bad idea to play Palmieri and Rich's The New One (Pacific Jazz, 1968) seriatim, for a real shot of 1960s adrenaline. Sometimes, certain music journalists are accused of being stuck in the past. Listen to Palmieri (and Rich) and you may just understand why. This is a high-quality vinyl release by Craft Recordings, so turn the volume up.

Eddie Palmieri · Vamonos Pal Monte