Chapter 10: At the Copa, Copacabana
_________________________________________________________________
Our El Barrio Taxi arrived downtown Manhattan around midnight. A
large queue had formed outside and around the New Copacabana [which
had replaced the former Less New Copacabana, that of course had
replaced the Quite Old Copacabana and of course there was the
Original Copacabana out there somewhere in the past too, sorry, where
was I?].
On the corner was a wedding party having their photos
taken, breathing in the night air (AKA smoking) and probably saying
stuff like “she looked lovely” and “It won’t last of course”.
As it turned out, this wedding party was directly responsible for the
following miserable half-hour or so.
We made our way to the doors of the club; Jane whipped out her ID.
Ricardo and I looked at each other, what should we do? Brits are not
in the habit of carrying ID around with them, yet. That is set to
change as the new super ID card becomes the norm over the next few
years ? National ID, Passport, Drivers License, Social Security &
Blockbuster card all rolled into one.
“Er, we don’t have any ID” I said.
“That’s OK, go in” was the less than security conscious response.
So, WHAT’S THE POINT OF THIS!!!!!!!!! Why state the need to have
ID and then let people without it in? Certainly didn’t complain at the
time, but looking back, well, I just hate inconsistency.
$20 each for the night, not too bad at the exchange rate [at the time of
travelling about $1.75 to the £] and considering that three, count `em,
3, star musical turns were billed for the night AND as Jose Obando
had pointed out earlier in the day, this was “the most expensive piece
of real estate on the PLA-NET”.
We entered the club and headed downstairs to the worrying noise of,
noise. No idea what sort of music this was, housey-bang-woop-big-bass
sums it up for me. It was the loudest club music I’ve ever heard too.
Jesus, I must be getting old, like Ricardo. Jesus Extra, what would
Huck have thought!
After grabbing a drink at the bar Jane screamed “something’s not
right” and after she had screamed it again so we could hear her, we
agreed with BIG NODS. Off she went to ask where the salsa was…..
Ricardo looked extremely tired and his face said “I hate you, this is
shit, why are we here, I want my bed”.
I gave him an understanding BIG NOD and tried to avoid eye contact,
praying things would get better. Jane returned. Good news, that
wedding party had hired the salsa room and it was being prepared for
us right now.
We exited the housey-bang-woop-big-bass room to the
[still bleedin’ loud] corridor and waited with a crush of like-minded
people.
Ricardo gave me a look that said “I hate you, this is shit, why are
we here, I want my bed”, though luckily I was avoiding eye contact so
didn’t see it.
Half an hour later we were ushered back down the corridor and up some
stairs into a room, what’s that? SALSA! I’ve never been so pleased to
hear Salsa Monga in all my life. Inside the salsa bit, which it turned out was huge compared to downstairs, we looked for a seat, all of which were booked.
Tourist tip: If you want a table at The Copa you can book
one for free as long as there are 4 or more in your party and you pay in advance.
Oh well, some merengue played, and after the 5th in a row Jane could
take no more, she’d obviously been dying to dance to SOMETHING,
anything, all night and she grabbed me and we headed for the floor.
As soon as we hit the floor, a salsa number was played [obviously in
my honour]. This caused me more difficulty that if the merengue had
stayed on. I can do cheesy merengue dancing and, as the basics are
not as open to On 1/2/NYC/Cuban/LA/Accrington style differences as
salsa dancing, I’d have been fine. Well, indistinguishable from the
masses of pretty average merengueros on the floor.
But no, we had to have salsa. I knew this wouldn’t work. I dance On 1
[well, that’s the target number], at a rudimentary level, nearly
always with my partner and in a style best described as SmallTown-UK-
Cuban-Circular. Jane dances, and has done for what, 30 years, NY
Salsa, On 1 or On 2, but she is a confirmed slottie. And she’s good.
Just about every move I tried she resisted. I managed a few CBL’s,
they were fine, we were also OK when dancing together but without any
holds, freestyle [without any real style on my part, free___].
Neither of us could sufficiently understand each other to be able to
successfully dance as a couple. It was fun though.
The club DJ was utter shite, no wonder he is behind a huge bullet
proof window I thought. Thankfully the Copa Band came on around 1am.
Who’s this then? AZUQUITA!!! Great, a long time favourite singer of
mine [Ricardo, oddly I thought at the time though having thought
about it this more since seems perfectly logical to me now, unfamiliar with
the great mans work ? more of this later, back in BOS].
The Copa band were best described as pedestrian. The horn section was
fine [OK, everyone was “fine”, clearly these folk could all play]
but, bongo player and coro apart, nobody seemed to by very interested
in being there. The pianist, conga player and bassist looked
positively bored. Had this been the wedding band? Had they stayed on?
In NYC a wedding band could contain some really great musicians ?
heck, across the city Jose Mangual jr was playing a freakin’ wedding
tonight somewhere. Why can’t his band be here instead of Sleepy Sam
& His Sheep Counters?
Azuquita was fabulous and raced through versions of hits like El
Poeta Lloro and Africa Linda with aplomb. He was wearing his
trademark Panama Hat and sporting a hideous stage suit of white and
royal blue. He was great so I’ll move on.
More crap DJ music, some good dancers, though Ricardo said that
Norman AKA Sizzla could have danced ANYONE there off the floor. I
don’t doubt it either, whilst not a Big Name he does have a good rep
here in the UK. Go Sizzla! I’ve warned others in this journal to look
away before compliments, but Norman is so low on self-esteem I
suggest he prints that bit out and blu-tacs it to his bed post.
The pick-me-up-someone Band came back on, slightly different line up.
Mostly still pedestrian in their approach.
Who’s this? Cita Rodriguez.
She looks like Pete “El Conde” with a shaved head and
chin, no mistaking it, this is El Conde’s daughter. [What’s a Counts
daughter called, anyone?].
I have never heard her before, neither had Jane. Ricardo had not had
the opportunity to play Generacions which he picked up in El Barrio
Music Center, so neither had he.
WWWWWOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This woman is absolutely AMMMMMMAAAAZZZZing. Seriously, bloody
great. She sang with feeling, in great style, had stage presence and as Jane
told us, SHE CAN IMPROVISE. Don’t know where she gets that from but
we were all very very impressed with her. She spoke of how one of her
friends in the audience was to get the next song dedicated to
him, “He doesn’t speak English, but he’ll get the message” she winked.
It was clear that Kevin was really gonna get it when he got home,
lucky chap.
Ricardo in fact was drawn to a few tears, not because I had danced on
his foot but because this was to be near the end of our day in NYC
and we had this woman, daughter of a genuine bona fide legend,
singing, TO US. And we were very tired and we had had beer, but the
moment, the days comradeship and just everything reached him at that
time.
CITA, catch her live, please. So, why does she not gig a lot or
produce albums that push her instantly to the top of the woman salsa
singers tree? Richie? Johnny Ray was next but we were too tired to
enjoy him, he certainly couldn’t have been better so probably THE
time to leave.
Ricardo gave me a look that said “I love you, this is wonderful, why
can’t we live here, I want more”.
We had to go, it was 2.30am. This had been a great end to the day,
couldn’t be better.
Well, actually it could, a teensy bit more. Jane grabbed us and took us
over to meet Paco Navarro, famed radio DJ and MC for some of the
truly great Fania All Stars moments. Exhausted, I managed a big smile,
though unlike Paco doing so with my own teeth. We
got our photo and Jane got one too.
“I make him REAL nervous” Jane whispered to me,
“he thinks I have something on him….”
I was left with the impression that she just might.
One more nice moment, surely not? Yep, outside the Copa a voice message
from Richie on Janes cell, thanking us for our time and wishing us the best
for the rest of the trip. Hats off Bro., that was a nice touch and greatly
appreciated.
———-
Previously Deleted/Lost Scene
Restored Outtake:
We must have JUST missed Richie, he set off from El Taller around 11pm, we left Jakes just after 11pm. Richie down at the Copa, that would have been a great photo opportunity.
———–
Hailing a yellow cab back to ours, all of us, because Jane was not
able to drive over to meet Jose M, having had a couple of beverages,
Jane let loose a REALLY interesting piece of Salsa info that I’m
afraid I can’t repeat. Sorry, it was a doozie, but my lips are
sealed.
We landed back at 850 Faulty Towers, West End Ave and Jane took the
single, me the upper bunk [which swayed like a fairground ride as I
clambered on] and Ricardo slumped underneath.
Around 4am Jane stood on her tip toes and kissed me goodbye, Jose was
back from his wedding gig and a taxi was on the way. All I heard of
the great bongocero was his voice from the cell earpiece a few feet away. He
sounds much tinnier in real life I thought as the snores rebounded
off the ceiling.
Leaving NYC for BOS in the morn….zzzzzzzz…….