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Now that he's found the musical love of his life, he's never letting go. Tito Gonzalez pours his heart and soul into a Cuban tradition
Growing up near Havana in the 1950s and '60s, Heriberto "Tito" Gonzalez didn't think too much of traditional Cuban son music -- he would listen to Elvis Presley or whatever other rock, jazz or blues recordings found their way to the Cuban underground.
Gonzalez worked for decades in Cuba in the fishing industry and as a taxi driver, and was in his 40s when he finally dedicated himself to the music of his ancestors. But he made the most of his opportunities, appearing on Cuban television in the mid-1990s and eventually joining one of the country's major son bands -- just as Ry Cooder was introducing son to the world with his "Buena Vista Social Club" movie and recordings.
"When I was a young boy, I loved the music, but not the son. The Cuban youngsters didn't like the traditional music of Cuba," Gonzalez says in Spanish, speaking in his apartment near the BART tracks in El Cerrito. "When you get to about 28 or 30, you do a little thinking about your life, and then you see what's happening with the music. That's when you start getting into the traditional music."
Gonzalez got a late start, but his timing keeps getting better. He moved to the East Bay five years ago, and since then, the 53-year-old has found an enthusiastic audience for Cuban music in the United States -- playing in clubs across the Bay Area and in Los Angeles and Las Vegas. Last year, Gonzalez formed the band Tito y Su Son de Cuba, and released his first CD this fall. He plays tomorrow night at La Peña Cultural Center in Berkeley, and Saturday at the Cigar Bar & Grill in San Francisco.
Gonzalez grew up listening to the traditional music -- his father was accomplished with the tres, a guitarlike instrument from Cuba with three double strings. But just as his truck-driver father never wanted to teach his son to drive, Gonzalez learned to play the guitar from other teachers. He didn't pick up a tres until 1971, when he was 19.
Music was a hobby for Gonzalez after he got the Cuban equivalent of a marine biology degree, and toured the world by sea in a giant fishing boat. He returned to Havana in the 1980s, and started driving a cab, forgetting about music until March 8, 1995, the Día Internacional de la Mujer -- International Day of the Woman.
"Other musicians who were taxi drivers said, 'Let's play something and have a little celebration for the women for the day,' " Gonzalez recalls through a translator, remembering the day that Un Grupo de Taxi Son was born. "We went around giving parties at different taxi offices, until an important person saw us."
A few weeks after an audience member with ties to broadcasting saw the group, Gonzalez was featured on a local television program, "Joven Joven." Gonzalez soon lost his taxi job, but his notoriety from the TV show allowed him to form an orchestra and tour the country.
"They eliminated the taxi. Because of the economic problems, there was no gasoline," he says. "I started playing the tres to the tourists who would come to the hotels and restaurants and clubs."
Gonzalez was struggling to get by as a musician when he met Papi Oviedo, a popular tresero who had played for decades with members of the Buena Vista Social Club -- a group of musicians who were popular in the 1940s and experienced a resurgence after Cooder introduced them to the world in the late '90s. Hoping to take his music to the next level, Gonzalez studied with Oviedo, who thought his student was crazy to try learning a complex repertory of traditional Cuban songs so late in life.
"I would sleep with my tres. I would play all the time," Gonzalez says. "Even when I was sleeping, I would keep the tres close and get up and start playing again. I would cook the food with my guitar hanging on my back. I would play the guitar while I was cooking."
After his first tryout with Conjunto Estrellas de Chocolate, Gonzalez was accepted as a member of the respected Cuban group. It was the Cuban equivalent of a U.S. citizen picking up an instrument again at 40, mastering it in a year or two and suddenly touring with the Allman Brothers. Before Gonzalez left Cuba, he was hand-picked by the daughter of Arsenio Rodriguez, the greatest tresero in Cuban history, to lead the group Nuevo Conjunto de Arsenio Rodriguez.
Gonzalez departed Cuba in summer 2000. While he misses the country, he says his passion for music is stronger than ever. The tresero plays his own songs now -- with the occasional cover song in tribute to Rodriguez or another Cuban master -- with a group of Bay Area musicians whom Gonzalez says are as accomplished as the artists he worked with in Cuba.
Sandor Moss, a local timbal player who helped Gonzalez form Tito y Su Son de Cuba and plays in the band, says he can understand how Gonzalez could become popular so quickly in Cuba -- then find success in the States.
"He's very charismatic," Moss explains. "Very much a hide-your-daughter, hide-your-girlfriend kind of guy. He's tall and he's got those big puppy-dog eyes."
Gonzalez is a big guy who likes to dress sharp, and moves slowly when he's not playing for an audience. He's trying to stop smoking cigars (he wrote a song about quitting on his CD) but can still be seen with small stub now and then, leading Moss to nickname him "Puro" -- a reference to Cuban cigars.
Piano player Ruben Hurtado says his friend tries to make sure everyone is having a good time, and the infectiously danceable Cuban son music does the rest. Son has similarities to salsa, and some of Gonzalez's multiethnic band members play in salsa bands.
"We could be playing at a house party -- just Tito and I -- and he's still a showman. Somehow he just brings out the joy in people," Hurtado says. "That's what this music does. All of a sudden you're just moving."
During a recent gig at El Rio nightclub in the Mission District, it's not even dark yet and half the audience of more than 100 is dancing on the back patio. The crowd is mostly young and looks like a U.N. delegation -- every possible blend of race, gender and sexual orientation.
Gonzalez misses things about Cuba, but says the crowds when he plays regular gigs in the Bay Area actually are more lively -- even though it sometimes takes a few songs for them to loosen up.
"The American people really appreciate the Cuban music -- more than the Cubans," says Gonzalez. "The people (in Cuba) who want to dance to son are the people from my generation. The young people don't want to dance to son."
In addition to frequent gigs at the Boom Boom Room, El Rio and the Cigar Bar, Gonzalez says he was pleased to find other opportunities in the States for a Cuban musician -- including a role in the forthcoming independent film "Rumbero," about the life of Cuban percussionist Chano Pozo.
Gonzalez also credits his Buddhism -- something he discovered after leaving Cuba -- for improving his fortunes. His translator, Alfonso Generalao, introduced him to Buddhism.
"I didn't believe in anything before, not even in the Catholic religion," Gonzalez says. "Sometimes I feel a little depressed. I chant this chant. Nam Myoho Renge Kyo. And I always feel better. Always. Everything always comes out better for me."
Gonzalez says being away from Cuba and practicing Buddhism has made him more introspective about his music and its traditions. He seems happiest when he's improvising a song for a new friend, or talking with passion about the origins of his craft.
"The history of this instrument comes from the Cuba mountains," Gonzalez says, holding his tres out for display while describing a legend about Cuban farmers who would party and play music from evening to morning. "The guitar could not withstand all that playing. The strings broke. There were three strings remaining on the guitar, and those were the only ones that remained on the rest of the evening. The tres was born."
Gonzalez starts to play, even though it's the middle of the day and he has an audience of four people.
"You can make a Cuban song with three chords," Gonzalez says, as three of his friends in the room stand up and take a few turns around the living room. "With those three things they created the son. And they made the whole world dance." 12/15/05
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