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 Percussionist
Carol
Steele is a musical traveler par excellence.
She was born, raised and percussively initiated in
San Francisco. She honed her craft in Manhattan's
recording studios, dance halls and after hour's clubs.
Her credits include work with Eric Clapton, Peter
Gabriel, Jaco Pastorius, Pino Daniel, Tonhino Horta,
Howard Jones and Jeffery Osborne. In her copious spare
time, she manages an occasional visit with Los
Muñequitos de Mantanzas in Cuba.
Carol's
traveling fits the image of the prototypical successful
working musician and more; it's an expression of her
own search for what's the deepest in the music that
she loves the most. She shares her love of Afro-Cuban
styles through her expertise in applying them in the
other musical forms, as a teacher and performer. Carol
shared her thoughts on these and other topics with
writer David Carp. The following is an edited version
of their conversation.
David
Carp: What's the earliest percussion
playing that you remember clearly?
Carol
Steele:
Well, two things really come to mind. First of all,
I lived in the Outer Mission in California. There
used to be a guy that lived about a block away up
on a hill. He used to sit out in his back yard and
play a conga drum and the sound used to float down
to me. I was probably about sixteen or seventeen;
it was right around the times that Santana was really
popular in my neighborhood so everybody started playing
conga drums. When I heard those drum sounds, it used
to get me all kind of goofy! I was very attracted
to it and had no idea of what was going on.
I
went to Catholic high school on Mission Street in
San Francisco, which was next door to the Mission
YMCA, that's where all the brothers, Filipino guys
and whatever Latinos there were, used to jam and drink
wine. When I was in chemistry class, which I hated,
I would hear the drums; I would just go nuts! I had
to go where they were. I had to check it out, so I'd
get a pass and go next door with my uniform on and
beg those guys to show me something. That's really
when and where I started playing.
DC:
How much of a Cuban presence was there in
the area? To the extent that you were aware of it
at the time, how much actual Afro-Cuban music were
you hearing?
CS: Well, in the Bay Area we had Armando
Peraza and Francisco Aquabella. We had
access to them; those were our two Cubans (laughs).
Francisco Aquabella used to play at the original
Caesar's Latin Palace, at the time it was called
Caesar's. Francisco was the drummer; we knew he
was a Cuban and we'd go and see him and a lot of
us made friends with him. You know, they weren't
teaching classes at that time so basically what
I used to do is go down there, kind of hang out
with him and become friends with him. He would
sit me down to play, and then he'd go off to the
bar and have a drink or talk to some babe. I'd
be playing and he'd be checking me out from the
bar letting me know what I was doing correctly.
I really was strongly attracted to Francisco, his
way of playing and the whole Matanzas vibe, right
from the beginning.
Then
I found out about Mongo
Santamaria. I remember listening to his
Live at Montreux album and memorizing his solo from
Olga and Cuco. With Mongo, Armando
or Francisco, the percussion seemed more distinct
than what was happening in Latin rock. Santana was
loud and busy. Mongo would take a solo and it was
"Bap pa boop, bap pa boop". It was like
conversation was really being had, it wasn't just
bombasting through on the instrument.
DC:
You're one of the few conga players ever featured
by Mongo Santamaria with his own band. How did that
happen?
CS: I was on a mission to sit in, I was determined
that somebody was going to discover me (laughs.)
I knew Francisco and Armando
and we were probably hanging out at a gig and some
how I got to meet Mongo. I told Monga that I wanted
to sit in with him and he laughed at me and said "You
crazy or something?" I said "No, I want
to sit in with you and I want to play this song
that you do called Olga and Cuco, and I want to
take a solo". Because I basically had his
solo memorized. There was not too much self-expression
going on there, you know? But I knew that I had
good hands and that my sound was good. Whether,
or not, I was copying him, my sound was okay.
And, so I sat in with him. It was like a Cinderella
story! I think it was the next day that I went
with him to LA to be the feature in his show there.
Very shortly after that, he brought me to New
York to be a feature in his band.
 DC:
Your main experience in a traditional conjunto
setting was playing with Nelson Gonzalez after he
had left Tipica 73. Where were you working?
CS:
It was Corso, We'd play from like 11:30 till 3:30
at a normal club and pack it up and go to the after
hours clubs in the Bronx or Spanish Harlem and play
from 5 till 9 a.m.
DC:
I've been told that the 1970's after hour's scene
were thriving and pretty wide open. Did you ever witness
people starting to get physical with each other?
CS:
Well yes, a couple of times. One time that
I really will never forget was at some after hour's
club in the Bronx. We had finished playing and I had
gone downstairs with the equipment and Nelson was
going to get the van. We were standing on the street;
it must have been 5:30 or 6:00 o'clock in the morning.
I looked across the street and there was a man standing
there with a gun and he just opened fire into our
group. I hid behind the conga drums. Fortunately they
were LP
congas and made from this kind
of bulletproof stuff. I always used to have my drums
made extra heavy, so I knew if I hid behind the drums
I'd be safe. I mean this was like one of the best
ads for LP. I was crying hysterically and I saw Nelson
driving away. Basically this guy was shooting into
our group because our lead singer looked like somebody
else that he had a fight with in a club down the block.
DC:
Are your drums still made this way?
CS:
Yes. I prefer the heavier body drum, you know, sometimes
with the lighter weight drums; they just sound a little
too tinny. So I like a heavier body drum and a thin
head. And with whatever power I have, I'm able to
get like a good, really round rich tone without having
to kill myself.
DC:
So that helps put more bottom in the sound.
CS:
For me, yes.
DC:
You've always played and sung in the Funk and R&B
gigs and loved that music. Tell me how the pop side
of your career developed.
CS:<
When I was playing with Nelson
there was a man named Frank Ippolito who owned the
Professional Percussion Shop on West 46th Street in
New York City. I went in there to buy something and
he asked me who I was, and what I did. When he found
out I was playing Latin music he said, "You know,
you're never gonna make any money." So he gave
me a 9 to 5 job and asked me to open up a percussion
department in his drum shop.
Basically,
I developed his whole percussion department and met
a lot of musicians that way. You know I always kept
kind of a foot in the door playing other music and
really a weird thing happened, Frank died. Three days
after he died, I got the call to go on tour with Diana
Ross. I really felt that it was his spirit putting
that final word, you know, like, "This is what
you really need to be doing, gal. Latin music is never
gonna make you any money." It really started
with that gig, you know, I was subbing for Luis Conte,
I used to play with Buddy Williams. Buddy and Steve
Ferrone pulled me in on a lot of gigs and one thing
led to another.
DC:
Let's talk about your involvement with Los MuÒequitos
de Matanzas.
CS:
In 1986 I played on the Steve Winwood album, the High
Life, which was really big and successful. I made
al lot of money and it was the first-time, big money
maker for me. I was able to think about traveling
and stuff that I really never had before that time.
After the Steve Winwood album I was playing on a lot
of jingles, and very, very thankful for making good
money, yet I was feeling very unfulfilled musically.
I was really thinking, "My God, have I worked
this hard to get to this? Is this, the pinnacle of
my career now, getting to do jingles in New York?"
It is a very prized position, but at the same time
I was like playing and not feeling anything.
 I
have a friend; another percussionist named Michael
Spiro. He's an incredible bat´
player and percussionist, and a really dear friend.
It was Michael
who said, "It's time for you to go to Cuba."
And, I said, "But I can't." He said "I
have, and I'm going show you how because you need
to remember why you play." My dream was to meet
ChaCha who is Esteban Vega Bacallao, the original
quinto player in the MuÒequitos
from back in the 50's. I had collected his albums
and loved them so much. It was my dream to meet him!
So Michael
wrote a letter of introduction and I got on the plane
and went to Cuba, all by myself for the first time
in 1987.
I
had really two objectives. I wanted to meet a man
named Lazaro Ros. He was the singer at the time for
the Conjunto Folklorico Nacional and he had basically
influenced my singing for the orishas. I had already
met him once, but I wanted to see him again. I also
wanted to meet ChaCha and go to Matanzas. So, I went
to Matanzas and delivered this letter of introduction
to ChaCha from Michael
Spiro. ChaCha invited me to his house and we drank
a beer. Basically, he interviewed me and found out
my story was and said, "Come with me." I
had no idea where I was going but I walked with him
through the streets of Matanzas.
We
ended up at a MuÒequitos
rehearsal. My knees were shaking, probably more than
they ever have in my entire life! I was so excited
and nervous. I can't even explain to you how emotionally
overwhelming it was for me. I met all of them and
they asked me what drum I wanted to play. It was like,
"Oh my God. I didn't really come here to play,
I came here to see you, you guys are my idols."
And they said, "No, you don't come to this neighborhood
and call yourself a drummer and not play. So we're
going to ask you again politely, "What drum are
you gonna play?" And, so I said "Quinto,"
because I figured if they were gonna kick my butt
they might as well get it done early in the day and
get it over with. And ChaCha played the tumbador,
and somebody else was playing the tres golpes, the
segunda part, and I played the quinto.
Now
I've played with Diana Ross, yes, I've played with
Steve Winwood and Manhattan Transfer and gone on tour
with Tears for Fears. I played before 600,000 at the
Network Show in England. But for me playing with the
MuÒequitos at their rehearsal at that little
spot in Matanzas was a bigger moment that I can ever
describe in my life, it was just incredible!
Michael
Spiro had been there and played bat´
with them and now I had played rumba with them. That
was really unusual then. Now days there are groups
of people going down there and they teach and they
have students and everything, but I was one of the
first. They also hold a little respectful position
for me, so I can be an honorary MuÒequita when
I'm around. I just love them so much, and I go there
as much as I can. I consider myself more of a lover
of it than a player, really. To be honest, I feel
like I can play a little bit, I know where stuff is
supposed to go, but I still consider myself a student.
I'm always trying to learn the rumberos in Cuba, but
for me, it's them. It's very emotional, which you
know, leads me to believe that there is something
deeper than I can even really understand.
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