There’s something about the sound of the clave that feels like a heartbeat—steady, constant, alive. It’s more than just rhythm; it’s a foundation, a guide, the pulse that holds everything together. When I was in Cuba, I felt that in a way I never had before. It wasn’t just about playing clave—it was about understanding why it’s played, how it carries history, how it speaks even when no words are needed.
One of the biggest lessons I took from my time in Havana was that music isn’t just learned—it’s lived. The way Rumba moves through the streets, the way the rhythms shift between players, the way a single clave pattern can command an entire ensemble—it’s a conversation, a culture, a history in motion.
From Havana to Here
One of the moments that stuck with me was sitting with my teacher Israel before class, just playing. No rush, no expectations—just letting the clave speak. It reminded me that sometimes, the most important part of learning isn’t playing more notes, it’s listening. That’s what makes Rumba so powerful. It’s a give-and-take, a feeling, a respect for what came before.
Now that I’m back, I hear it in everything. In the way I teach. In the way I play. In the way I structure my music. The clave isn’t just a rhythm—it’s a connector, a bridge between tradition and innovation. It reminds me that no matter how far I travel, these rhythms are always with me, guiding the work I do.
Bringing These Lessons to the Stage and Classroom
Whether I’m performing or leading a workshop, this is what I want to share:
• The feeling of clave as more than a pattern—it’s a language.
• The power of Rumba as a living tradition that continues to evolve.
• How these rhythms connect the African diaspora across generations and borders.
This is what I carry forward. This is what I share. And if you want to experience it firsthand, let’s make it happen.
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And if you’re in Albany, you’ll hear it all come to life at my next show. More on that soon.
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