Armando Peraza was born in Havana, Cuba, on May 30, 1924. At the age of three he lost his father, Jose, to pneumonia. When he was seven years old, his mother, Francisca, died of liver failure. He lived with several different relatives over the next few years but by the time he was twelve years old he was supporting himself and living on his own. Armando had no burning desire to be a musician. Instead, he was interested in becoming a politician so he could try and change the extreme racial and social injustice that was so prevalent throughout Cuba at that time. He held various jobs to support himself, such as vegetable vendor (where he sold produce to Mongo Santamaria's mother, as well as Cachao's family), semi-pro baseball player, boxing trainer, and loan shark. His musical career began at, of all places, a baseball park when he was around seventeen years old. A bandleader named Alberto Ruiz, who was the brother of one of Armando's teammates, happened to mention that he was in dire need of a conga player for that night’s performance. Ruiz had one of the hottest bands in Havana at that time, Conjunto Kubavana, and the conga player had quit that same day. Armando, who had never really played either congas or bongo, needed the money desperately. He lied and told Ruiz that he was the conguero who would play for him that night. Ruiz, not knowing that Armando had never played professionally, said ok, and told him to bring his own drum to the nightclub by 8:00pm. He told him that he better not be late. After the baseball game Armando ran down to the local pawnshop, bought a conga drum for six dollars and practiced for the rest of the afternoon. He showed up for the gig on time and has been playing ever since. I had a chance to witness the 78-year-old master at work with Eddie Palmieri at the University of California at Monterey this year. I have to admit that Armando brought tears to my eyes and taught me a good lesson. You are never too old to do what God put you on this earth to do.


Q: Tell us a little about yourself, your chronology as a musician, your early years.

Q: What was it like being a percussionist back then in Cuba? Were you able to have the freedom to open up on congas like today's hand drummers? Is there a difference in technique, hardware, skins, discipline, and orchestras?

AR: Let’s break down your question. FREEDOM: At that time in Cuba, there was a distinct difference between conguero and bongocero and how they were allowed to play. For the conga players, it depended on the bandleader as to whether you had freedom to express or not. Most bandleaders would not allow the conguero to vary from the strict limits of the Conjunto or Orchestra setting. Conga players in the Danzon and Charanga bands were even more restricted in playing a very basic and extremely disciplined pattern. Being a bongo player was an entirely different scenario. In Cuba at that time, the bongocero was the star of the percussion section. They were prized and were always encouraged to be singularly creative and to show the crowd something different from all the other bongoceros. If not, the audience would boo you off the stage. TECHNIQUE: Nowadays, they play all different kinds of styles on bongo, congas and timbales. Meaning, people play bongo and trap drum rudiments on the congas, conga licks on the timbales, and tabla licks on everything. I feel they should be played as different, distinct instruments because they are different instruments, each with it's own specific and unique voice. But that's just me. HARDWARE: In the old days in Cuba, the drums (both bongo and congas) had to be heated before they could be played. You had a little kerosene lamp that was carefully used to heat the skins and if you put the heat too close the skin would split. You had to heat the skins in order to achieve a high sound; otherwise the drums would sound completely flat. The bongo was the first to get hardware. There were two Cubans who invented this, Candido Requena and Severino. Another Cuban named Valgaras developed the hardware for the congas later. The drum hardware was a godsend because of its convenience, but to tell you the truth, the heated drums had such a beautiful, rich sound that the hardware-controlled drums could never duplicate. SKINS: Animal skins are animal skins. No difference between then and now. Currently, they've developed plastic skins, which do give you high, crisp sounds, but unfortunately they also give really painful blood blisters. You can avoid that by taping your fingers really well. DISCIPLINE: This word means different things to different people. Discipline to me means showing up for EVERY gig on time, sober, and ready to give 110% to the audience and your bandmates. ORCHESTRAS: The major difference between then and now is that Latin orchestras now are more jazz oriented. Back in the day the conjuntos only played typical Cuban music. That changed with Machito's band in New York City in the late 40's. Machito, and his orchestra leader, Mario Bauza, employed Afro-American musicians from Harlem. They brought with them the Jazz influence. A marriage made in heaven.

Q: Out of the incredible groups you played with in the 40's, which was the most challenging and why?

AR: In Cuba, the band most challenging for me personally was called El Bolero de Tata. You not only had to play typical Cuban music but also hardcore Rumba and Abacua (religious drumming). You had to be on your toes to play with this band because you had to answer the dancer's every move on the drums. I sharpened my chops with this group but the guy who was the best at this type of multi-tasking was Candido Camero. He played congas and bongo at the same time and was absolutely awesome.

Q: During this time, did you learn from anybody when you first started to play the congas?

AP: No. I learned and created my own sound by myself. Of course there were other drummers at that time with styles and chops I admired such as Mongo Santamaria, Yeyito Iglesias, Patato Valdez, Tata Guines, Francisco Aquabella, Chano Pozo, Sinsote, Los Papines, and Candido, but I never copied their style. For me that's a no-no.

Q: When did you first meet Mongo Santamaria? Was he the lion of the conga drums back in Cuba that he was in the U.S.A.?

AP: When I was young and sold vegetables from a cart, I used to deliver to his mother. At that time Mongo was a mailman. It wasn't until after we became musicians and seen each other play, admiring each other’s styles, he with Conjunto Matamoros, me with Conjunto Kubavana, that we finally met face to face. We became very good friends. Yes, Mongo was already a tremendous conga and bongo player in Cuba prior to arriving in the States, one of the best ever to touch the skins.

Q: With whom was Mongo playing with back in Cuba, and when did you start substituting for him?

AP: Mongo played with Chano Pozo's Conjunto Azul and various other groups such as Arsenio Rodriguez (his 2nd group), Matamoros, and Los Dandies. He left for Mexico with a band called the Black Diamonds. While in Mexico, Mongo got sick and his mother told me that he needed a replacement for himself in the band. I got a temporary visa from the Cuban government and headed to Mexico, where I substituted for him. After he recovered, we were both in the band, where we took turns playing both congas and bongo. I also worked with Celia Cruz and the Mulatas del Fuego, along with fellow percussionist, Patato, and my cousin Walfredo Hernandez. Celia paid me really good money and I will always remember that.

Q: When you came to the States, where did you go first?

AP: Mongo and I took the train straight to New York City. Our first night in NYC, we sat in with Machito's orchestra at the Palladium. His music director was Mario Bauza. Watching the show that night was Charlie Parker, who asked Bauza specifically for me to play on an album he was recording with drummer extraordinaire Buddy Rich, and arranged by Chico O'Farrill. Mongo and I exploded on the scene with the music and culture of the Caribbean. It took the world by storm.

Q: Did you ever have a chance to play with Dizzy Gillespie?

AP: I only sat in with his band once in Chicago. He never employed me. At the time I was playing with a great Afro-American musician named Slim Galliard.

Q: We have all felt the passing of Tito Puente. Can you tell us a bit about when you started working with him when you first came here, and what was he like as a person?

AP: I never played in his band, Mongo did. I did record on several of his albums in the mid 50's. Tito was a master musician who had tremendous respect and value for the percussion section. He brought it to the front of the stage where it belonged. He always treated me with great affection and respect. He was a giant and will be sorely missed.

Q: What was your collaboration with the Slim Galliard band in 1951-52? What kind of events were you playing? Was this the first time Armando Peraza was exposed to the U.S.?

AP: Both Mongo and I were supposed to play with Slim's band but Mongo's temporary visa was about to expire, so he had to go back home and apply for a permanent visa. I traveled with Slim's five-piece band all over the United States, in all the Jazz nightclubs imaginable. This was the first time I had played outside of New York, what an experience.

Q: In 1952 you went back to Mexico in order to obtain your residency papers. Why was it so difficult to obtain papers here? Was it a struggle working here?

AP: It was very difficult for a Black man to get permission to live or work in the States. I remember an Immigration official in Tijuana telling me that I couldn't come and live in the U.S. because they already had too many Black people in this country. You had to have a sponsor and proof you had a steady job waiting for you. Luckily I had a fan in California named George Wallace (not that George Wallace!) whose brother owned the U.S. Pipe Company, a huge multi-national corporation at that time, who wanted to sponsor me. The immigration office in Tijuana wouldn't let me through even though I had all of the approved documents and paperwork. They wanted money under the table but I refused to pay them, even though I could have. It was the principle of the thing. When my friend George Wallace found out what was going on, he contacted some of his politician friends and the next thing you know, everyone at that Tijuana office was either fired or arrested. I guess they uncovered a huge payola scandal there. As far as difficulties in working here, I was very fortunate to always be able to find a gig. It was the era of segregation and many times it was difficult finding places to stay or eat. I had a double whammy because I was a Black man who didn't speak English, in the Black neighborhoods they gave me a hard time because of the language barrier, and when I tried to function in the Latino neighborhoods they gave me a bad time because of my color. It was really difficult but somehow I survived.

Q: When you came back to the U.S. you settled in San Francisco. You have lived there for the past forty-five years. How has this beautiful City treated you, and where did you find the love for it?

AP: My San Francisco experience has been both good and bad. When I first got here, it was a segregated city that had two different musicians unions, one for the Whites and Latinos and the other one for the Blacks. The White and non-Black Latino musicians got the best paying gigs at all the best clubs. The city was a different place at that time, with so many great jazz nightclubs and an excitement that was close to the energy of New York City. I've watched San Francisco evolve and grow through different stages, the beatniks, the hippies, and now the dot-commies. The city has such big shoulders that it can carry anyone and everyone who wants to come along for the ride.

Q: Here, in San Francisco, you made a lot of contributions. You were involved in creating the music and the dance revue, the Afro-Cubans, which performed at the Cable Car Village. I hear that group was so hot that all kinds of celebrities would fly in from L.A. Tell us what kind of attraction you were pulling off?

AP: Movie stars would come to see us all the time, people such as Marlon Brando, Ricardo Montalban, Errol Flynn, Rita Hayworth, and Tony Martinez (who was Pepino in the T.V show, The Real McCoy’s, and who later traveled with me playing Cuban music throughout California, especially in the Central Valley for the Farm workers). Our show was a musical dance revue, which showcased all the new Cuban dances that were sweeping the country such as the Mambo, the Cha-Cha-Cha, etc. Dance instructors from the Arthur Murray Studio would come in to watch us and copy our moves. We brought the Latin Jazz craze to the West Coast and it was great fun.

Q: Here in San Francisco your popularity really rose to the occasion. Tell us some of the nightclubs you were playing in back then, and what kind of artists were you playing with?

AP: I played all over the City. I was gigging at El Matador, the Black Hawk, Jackson's Nook, the Say When, the Long Bar, and especially at Jimbo's Bop City. Bop City was originally owned by Slim Galliard and was the most happening after-hours club in the City. All the stars that came through town came to jam there after-hours. The owner, Jimbo, provided meals for the jamming musicians, but never paid anyone to play except me. He said I was the only hand drummer who could match licks with the likes of Art Tatum, Ray Charles (when he only played saxophone, not the piano), Stan Kenton, Dizzy, Miles Davis, Peggy Lee, Charlie Parker, Chet Baker, Billie Holliday, etc. This was the creme de la creme of jazz at that time and I was able to play along side them all.

Q: When did you first get involved with the British pianist George Shearing?

AP: well, the great bass player Al McKibbon, who was playing with Dizzy Gillespie at the time, introduced me to George in 1955. George hired me on the spot.

Q: Were you his first conga drummer?

AP: No. His first conga player was Candido. In Cuba, Candido and I were friends. He wanted to become independent and have his own band so he decided to leave the Shearing quintet, which is why I replaced him.

Q: What did you do for this quintet?

AP. Well, during the late 50's the Mambo and Cha-Cha-Cha craze were sweeping the nation and the world, with Shearing being a major proponent. We promoted Cuban music and dance throughout the U.S. and exported it all over the world via our tours of Japan, Europe, and Africa.

Q: How was the band traveling, and what were the risks?

AP: In the States we traveled extensively by bus and car. The risks were great considering we were traveling throughout the segregated South where Black men were regularly hanged from trees for no reason. The police, racist club owners, promoters, and just regular people on the street harassed black musicians.

Q: How would Shearing handle something like that?

AP: George Shearing is British, White and blind. He would always confront the problem head-on by explaining that he had been born blind, therefore he did not understand the concept of color. He would ask the offending person if they could explain what a color was and what exactly was this thing called prejudice Usually the person, when faced with having to explain their very own racism, would either get angry, confused, embarrassed, or sometimes just laugh. If this didn’t work, George would simply refuse to perform unless all his musicians were treated with respect.

Q: When and why did the George Shearing Quintet breakup?

AP: George disbanded the group sometime in the mid-sixties. It ended because he wanted to rest and re-group in a straight-ahead jazz trio setting. He had taken Latin Jazz as far as he could and it was time to go in a different direction.

Q: You then went to work with drummer/vibraphonist Cal Tjader?

AP: Yes, I played, toured, and recorded with Cal for about 7 years.

Q: Which were some of the recordings you worked on with Tjader?

AP: The first time I recorded with Cal was in the mid-fifties, on the RITMOS CALIENTES albums. This was before I was with Shearing. While with Cal, I recorded several albums such as SOUL SAUCE, MONTEREY CONCERTS, and others.

Q: Why did you leave Cal Tjader’s band?

AP: I wanted to be free to explore other musical directions, so I quit. After I left he brought in Mongo, Willie Bobo, and Al McKibbon.

Q: Did you record any albums with Mongo?

AP: With Mongo I recorded MONGO'S WAY, AFRO ROOTS, UP FROM THE ROOTS, and others.

Q: Of all the percussionists back then, who had the most success as a bandleader?

AP: Tito Puente first, then Mongo Santamaria. After Mongo played with Cal Tjader he formed his own band. At first he had a charanga, then he went into the Latin Jazz direction. He made a hit out of Herbie Hancock’s tune Watermelon Man. He knew how to penetrate as a musician and he had his own sound.

Q: We know that in 1970 you recorded your only solo album, WILD THING. Tell us how that came together?

AP: It happened because Cal Tjader was part owner of a Skye Records, and Cal wanted to do something for me. That album had Chick Corea, Sadao Watanabe, Johnny Pacheco, Bobby Rodriguez, Tommy Lopez, and Cal Tjader on it.

Q: After the Tjader years, what were you doing?

AP: I toured around Florida with the great bass player Jaco Pastorius, and also played in Jerry Garcia's jazz group, with Mel Saunders, around the San Francisco Bay area.

Q: We all know some of the unforgettable years with Santana, how did he discover you and when?

AP: First of all, he didn't discover me. I had already traveled around the world with Shearing and Tjader. He saw me play around North Beach, in San Francisco, and we would run into each other at the local music stores around town. Santana percussionists Chepito Areas (timbales) and Mingo Lewis (congas) recommended me for the band to Carlos. I think he felt comfortable with me because I knew his father Jose before I knew him. I joined the band in 1972.

Q: You managed to stay with him for eighteen years, through his many incarnations, why was this band so successful?

AP: This has been one of the most exciting groups in the history of Rock. Remember his combining Latin, Rock, Blues, Jazz, and Fusion broke all musical barriers. Santana broke all the rules.

Q: When did you leave the band?

AP: Well, in 1985 I was diagnosed with diabetes. The strenuous touring schedule took its toll on my physical and mental health. I retired in 1990.

Q: How do you cope with this medical problem today?

AP: By watching my diet and getting plenty of exercise, especially walking. I walk several miles every day. I used to get insulin injections but I've improved so much in the past year that I only have to take pills now. My doctor said it was a miracle. I don't know about that, but I do know that I feel a lot stronger and healthier now.

Q: Have you done anything with Santana since retiring?

AP: I performed with his band in Santiago, Chile in 1992. I also participated with him for the opening ceremonies of the World Cup at Stanford University in 1994. In 1996 I performed at a tribute held for Carlos at the Universal Amphitheatre in Los Angeles. We do stay in contact by phone.

Q: Have you done any movie soundtracks, games?

AP: Yes, in 1991 I collaborated with singer Linda Ronstadt for the movie soundtrack MAMBO KINGS. I have also recorded percussive sound effects for several SEGA CD-ROM computer games with another ex-Santana member, Sterling Crew. By the way, Francisco Aquabella and I recorded the soundtrack for a movie titled CHE, for Lalo Schifrin. I am very proud of that album.

Q: What have been some of your most memorable accomplishments?

AP: Performing for the Queen of England (with the Shearing Quintet) and the two official "Armando Peraza Days” given to me by the City and County of San Francisco.

Q: What’s been going on since your semi-retirement?

AP: Well, I have participated in some educational seminars and drum clinics for Latin Percussion (LP). These clinics have been held throughout the U.S, Canada, and Europe. I recorded again with the great Linda Ronstadt on her Grammy award winning Afro-Cuban album entitled FRENESI. I loved working with her. She is wonderful.

Q: You have your own signature series congas and bongo by LP.

AP: Yes, they were introduced at the NAMM show in 1998 in L.A. They are the Valje Armando Peraza series. Not pretty but they sound great. Kind of like me.

Q: How does the conga of today compared to the congas used when you first started playing?

AP: Well, the first ones I brought from Cuba had no hardware. No wrench to adjust. Like I said before, you had to heat the skin before playing. The first person to ever fiberglass a conga drum was right here in Berkeley, an auto-body repair man named Sal Guerrero. Now, the person who took the conga drum construction to a different level was Martin Cohen of Latin Percussion (LP).

Q: Who is the best player of today, in your opinion?

AP: I hate having to pick just one, but it has to be Giovanni Hidalgo. He is a natural, can play anything, and is a really nice human being. He is of the new generation who has used the foundation that was laid by my generation and has taken it to another level. We all play different, but right now Giovanni is the most musical. It is very difficult to imitate him, and I have to laugh whenever I see anyone try. Other incredible players are Miguel Anga Diaz and Changuito from Cuba. But I'll tell you, the young Cubans that have been touring the States recently are something also. There was one young man fourteen years old who was the conguero in a band led by Maraca who plays better than I do! It was beautiful. The musicianship coming out of Cuba today is incredible.

Q: What is the difference between the Cuban conguero and the Puerto Rican?

AP: It is very difficult, my brother, because of both being from the Caribbean, we feel the same thing. But, with all due respect, the creativity came from the Cubans.

Q: Tito Puente, what did he do to change the spectrum in America?

AP: He put the percussionist right up front, center stage. Before we were in the back of the band and having to play like hell just to be heard.

Q: Who revolutionized the sound of the drum back then?

AP: On congas Candido Camero, Mongo Santamaria, Francisco Aquabella, Chano Pozo, Tata Guines, Carlos Vidal, Patato Valdez, and Luis Miranda, on bongo Yeyito Iglesias, Mongo, Marcelo, Filiberto, Jose Mangual, Jack Costanza, and me.

Q: Could you share secrets back then with other musicians?

AP: Back in my day in Cuba, you never copied someone else's style or licks. Not only was it a matter of honor but the audiences were so knowledgeable of each percussionist's style that if you tried to play like another drummer they would totally humiliate you, tell you who you copied from, and then boo you off the stage.

Q: What was the biggest difference in working for Shearing, Tjader, and Santana?

AP: The Shearing gigs were very sophisticated, dinner jazz type settings. We all wore either tuxedos or nicely tailored, matching suits. Tjader's style was a more casual and straight-ahead Latin conjunto type thing. We went toe-to-toe with all the top New York groups of that time such as Tito Puente, Tito Rodriguez, and Ray Barretto and we kicked ass. Santana was an entirely different groove. His music was a mix of Latin, R&B, Blues, Jazz, Fusion, and Rock. Playing percussion for Carlos you had to be able to play hard, non-stop for sometimes up to three straight hours, and play loud enough to be heard over the electric instruments. A lot of times I played so hard that I would piss blood after the shows. Santana gigs were an endurance test of the highest order.

Q: Which one did you enjoy the most?

AP: I enjoyed all three for totally different reasons. They satisfied me at three different stages of my musical life. George treated me with great respect and gave me total artistic freedom in performance and in songwriting. Cal also treated me with a lot of affection and respect and we broke new ground with most of the music we made together. Santana was my longest gig (18 years) and we played some great music together but he and I also had great ups and downs. Carlos is like the son I never had, which means we loved each other and fought each other like fathers and sons usually do.

Q: Who gave you the opportunity to open up and solo the most?

AR: All three gave me total artistic freedom.

Q: Do you still practice?

AP: No.

Q: What was a regular practice routine for you back in the day?

AR: I hate to tell you this but other than that afternoon, a long time ago in Havana, with my new pawnshop conga drum, I have never practiced.

Q: How has being a musician been for you throughout the years?

AP: I have to admit that it is a very complicated but rewarding life. The rewards are when you can touch someone through music and make them happy. I was lucky enough to be able to do this for fifty-nine years and to also make a decent living. The flip side of the coin is that some times professional jealousies can get in the way of friendships, and the business end of the music world can sometimes be very cruel and cutthroat. Overall, the positives of the business have out-weighed the negatives.

Q: What does the future hold for Armando Peraza?

AP: My immediate plans are to stay healthy and get myself mentally and physically prepared to visit Cuba sometime this year. My brother Oscar is still there and we haven't seen each other since 1947 when I swore to my friends and family that I would never return. I know it will be very emotional, but after 51 years I'm finally ready. My long-term plans are to just stay alive!

Q: If you could go back in time into any decade of music, which would it be and why?

AP: The past was valuable for what it was, the foundation of my musical life, but I like the music of today and am excited about what creativity is in store for the future.

Q: What has been the biggest change you have seen in the music scene today?

AP: The music of today is truly global. All genres are overlapping into each other's space, but somehow it feels like the natural progression of things. I enjoy all types of music, electronic, hip-hop, and the lyrics of most Country/Western songs. I find it all very exciting. The music of today is in good hands.

Q: Armando, it has been an honor to have conducted this interview. I want to thank you on behalf of myself, and the entire Salsaweb family.

AP: Thank you.