The Washington Post 
November 29, 1985

Blades: Electric & Political 

By Richard Harrington, Washington Post Staff Writer 

Some critics have charged that Rubén Blades is
diluting the purity of salsa music in an attempt to
reach Anglo audiences. But at the end of his two-hour
concert at the Capital Hilton Wednesday night, it was
clear that the Panamanian-born salsa star, now a New
Yorker, is not going to compromise his art but rather
is going to attract new audiences to his point of
view. 

Fronting a powerful all-star band, Blades showed a
desire to expand and enliven the genre from within,
replacing the standard salsa horn section with a
twin-keyboard attack while retaining the
multipercussionist blanket of polyrhythms. But there
were no concessions or accommodations musically, and
certainly none politically. Blades is a writer of
conscience, and his songs swirl with harsh appraisals
that show both a journalist's eye for detail and a
crusader's urge for change. Passion and intelligence
are in harmony here, and the results are
scintillating. 

At times the concert took on the air of a political
rally -- the stage crowded, the electorate pressing
in, swaying under the insistent, roiling rhythms.
There was also a palpable tension and at one point
even a heated on-stage debate with a fan who felt
Blades' observations on the status of minority groups
were too harsh. As he would do in his songs throughout
the night, Blades, who is also a lawyer, made
compelling connections between Hispanics and blacks,
between Latin America and South Africa and the United
States, exposing the distance between dream and
reality before resting his case. 

While drawing mostly from his two most recent albums,
"Buscando America (Searching for America)" and
"Escenas (Scenes)," Blades also paid tribute to his
apprenticeship with the legendary Willie Colon by
performing two hits from that period, "Tiburon" and
"Pedro Navaja." 

But from the pulsing instrumental opener, "Pana Fuerte
(Strong Friendship)," Blades let it be known that he
was going to take salsa to a different place
musically, as he already has lyrically. It's as if he
has layered substance onto the considerable style that
has always made salsa such irresistible dance music. 

Both "Cuentas del Alma (Heart Dues)" and "Silencios"
explored in agonizing detail that empty space where
the end of love leaves silence "that is another way of
dying." "Decisiones" catalogued the hard choices that
people must make every day, but did it over cascading
rhythms and an exuberant chorus. 

The spare, somber "Tierra Dura (Hard Land)" addressed
the tragedy of African famine, while "La Cancion del
Final del Mundo (The Song of the End of the World)"
chided the listener for sudden panic after years of
social and political apathy. "Muevete (Move On)" made
basic the connections between the Caribbean, South,
Central and North Americas, and Africa, saluting
"those who defend freedom and use truth as a shield"
and urging solidarity and activism. 

The music was put across with unrelenting power by
Seis del Solar, headed by powerhouse drummer Robert
Ameen and conga whiz Bobby Allende, and anchored by
pianist Oscar Hernandez and Ricardo Marrero
(synthesizers and timbals). The horn section may be
gone from Blades' setup, but the swirl of sound
produced by Hernandez and Marrero suggested not only
that brassy underpinning, but also the sting of
electric guitar and the cushion of synth washes. 

Blades isn't taking liberties, he's taking chances,
blending the driving tightness of Willie Colon's music
and the lyrical detail and compassionate imagination
of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's writing with a
cliche'-free approach that looks to the end of the
'80s, not the beginning. This is not compromise, it is
an inviting expansion. If there's any crossover dream
in Rubén Blades' future, you suspect a lot of people
are going to be waking up on his side of the bridge.