BassPlayer 2017-03

CS
Oskar Cartaya
Cartaya with
Bobby Valentín
(L) and Junior
Irizarry (R)
era. I told Stanley I had written a track for him to play on, but
first I sent him “Tumbao Cachao” to check out because he’s a big
fan of Cachao. He dug that, so then I sent him “A La ’70s.” When
he got off the road he came by, threw down his solo in no time,
and said, “Let’s go eat!”
“Tum Tum” pays homage to Marcus Miller and also features
him.
In addition to being a pivotal bass stylist and composer with
unparalleled musical versatility, Marcus to me defines what a true
artist is, and that’s someone who makes the very complex seem
so simple and easy that it entices you to try it, and then you realize
how difficult it is to do! I came up with the melody for “Tum
Tum,” and I wanted something with an eerie sound to double me
playing it, and it hit me: Marcus on bass clarinet! The bridge is a
nod to his writing style, and his influence on my playing is evident
throughout. As I always say, we borrow from everyone else
to create our own musical persona.
Both “Bomballenato” and your new version of your
Spyro Gyra hit, “Para Ti Latino,” have elements of your
native Puerto Rico.
Bomballenato is dedicated to and features my musical godfather,
[saxophonist] Justo Almario; we call him the Latin Coltrane.
The groove is a marriage of bomba and vallenato. Bomba is a traditional
music of Puerto Rico that draws from the island’s Spanish,
African, and native Indian cultures, and is based on the creative
conversation between the drummers and the dancers. Vallenato
is a folkloric music from the Valle Dupar region of Colombia. Then
I used my Sadowsky Metro to bring in the Western elements, like
funk slapping and my double-thumbed melody. For “Para Ti,”
I wanted to cover it differently and reflect my roots, so I did it
in “bomba y plena,” two of the most popular traditional Puerto
Rican music styles. And I have a Puerto Rican cuatro [a 5-stringed,
violin-shaped guitar] doubling my bass melody. I used my main bass,
my black 1989 Sadowsky, which is also on the Spyro Gyra version.
Who were your key early influences?
Three local players defined my formative years. The first was
Bobby Valentín, the bassist for the Fania All-Stars, the superband
of salsa. He had a Gibson Ripper and he was known as “El
Rey de Bajo”—the King of the Bass. Then there was my cousin,
Edwin Morales, who is still one of the most swinging Baby Bass
players on the island. I used to go to his gigs when I was 15 and
help carry gear, and at the end of the night, he’d let me play on
a tune. Last is Junior Irizarry, who was the top bassist on the
island. I used to stalk him, showing up wherever he played, and
he became a great friend and teacher. When I was 17, he quit the
house band at the best hotel on the island, and because I was sitting
behind him most nights, I got the gig. So there I was making
top dollar and buying a car while still living at home and going
to high school. One day Junior came to me with an application
to Musicians Institute, and he said, “This is where you’re gonna
go.” I was stunned, but he said, “You’ve reached your peak on the
island. You’ll spend the rest of your life doing gigs like this, and
trust me, it’s not going to satisfy your soul.” So we filled out the
application on the spot, I sent an audition tape, got accepted, and
I left for L.A. in September 1982.
What was the experience like?
It was life-changing. I had become aware of Stanley and Jaco
while still in Puerto Rico, and I had read a Guitar Player interview
with Abraham Laboriel that was particularly inspiring, but hearing
teachers like Jeff Berlin, Bob Magnusson, and Tim Bogert
play in person was a whole new world for me. I could read well,
but at first I struggled in areas that were new to me, like playing
a blues! I learned quickly, though, and by the time I graduated, I
began as an instructor the next week. I also got to play regularly
with important role models like Abraham, Justo Almario, and
Alex Acuña. Still, I decided L.A. wasn’t for me, so I headed back
to Puerto Rico in 1984, with the idea of stopping in New York for
the weekend. Well, that turned into a ten-year stop!
How do you reflect on your New York days?
It was a great period. I re-connected with one of my childhood
idols, Latin bass legend Sal Cuevas, who introduced me around and
schooled me about players like James Jamerson, Chuck Rainey,
Ron Carter, and Eddie Gomez. I met fellow bassists Rubén Rodríguez
and Gene Perez, and we became an interchangeable trio on
gigs and sessions. Within six months I was working with Willie
Colón, Tania Maria, and Jorge Dalto. As a kid, I was always the one
who put together music for the bands I was in, so that morphed
into writing, arranging, and producing opportunities. Before I
knew it, I was in charge of records for Willie, Celia Cruz, and two
for Hector Lavoe. Then I auditioned for and spent five years with
Spyro Gyra, which established me on the mainstream scene and
32 bassplayer.com / march2017