Eliades Ochoa
La Zona Rosa, November 8
The freakishly turbulent wake that trailed the political circus of last Tuesday night was enough to make any sympathetic soul long for the shores of a less-troubled foreign land. While Cuba may not exactly fit this particular bill, Wednesday night’s show at La Zona Rosa by Cuban folk superstar Eliades Ochoa could not have been better timed. With a voice that plunges the listener deep into the countryside surrounding his native Santiago and a dexterity on the acoustic guitar to dazzle any flamenco player, Ochoa was the stout embodiment of the joy and brotherhood that was so desperately needed. Pausing after each song to give sincere thanks to the appreciative crowd, Ochoa referred to his fans all night as “la familia grande,” a sentiment that was not lost on the eager audience. In black clothes and black cowboy hat, Ochoa was every bit the dashing bandleader, flanked by the white-shirted fivepiece Cuarteto Patria. Acoustic bass and guitar, congas, trumpet, more percussion, and five voices raised in complement to Ochoa’s ringing guajiras made for a sound as robust and energetic as that on the renowned Buena Vista Social Club CD, on which Ochoa was a major player. The burly singer did not disappoint those who came to the show familiar with only the songs on that collection. Passionate renditions of “El Carretero” and “El Cuarto de Tula” kept the undulating crowd enthusiastic, and a beautiful turn through “Chan Chan,” the haunting opening track from the BVSC CD, raised goosebumps on the necks of even the most jaded of spectators. Language barrier or not (Ochoa does not speak English), it was easy to get lost in the depth and urgency of music, which is essentially about only one thing anyway: movement. A means to a dance. And dance they did, carving out four-foot squares anywhere the crowd would allow, spinning, preening, glaring, chest to chest and cheek to cheek, in unthinking harmony with the subtly syncopated, ever-driving rhythm. If the reality of the week’s bitter events served only to divide us from each other, facing off along party lines and impassable idealistic boundaries, Ochoa reminded a roomful of people of the things that really matter — singing, dancing, laughing, smiling, and remembering that we all stand side by side in la familia grande.This article appears in November 17 • 2000.