Reflections on Roberto Clemente -- The Musical

Roberto Clemente's Plaque in the Baseball Hall of Fame

Our friend Phil Dorsey, one of TheBocx.com's partners, suggested my wife and I join him to see a musical based on the life of the late, great baseball player and Puerto Rican icon Roberto Clemente. Phil has a personal connection to Clemente's life; Dorsey's father, a Pittsburgh postal worker, knew Clemente quite well. How well? The Pittsburgh Pirate right fielder entrusted Dorsey, Sr., with the keys to Roberto's Cadillac when Clemente was on the road. The musical -- DC7, The Roberto Clemente Story -- included a character based on Phil's father, and that piqued our interest in the play.

I thought Phil was pulling our legs (he is an excellent practical joker), but the press release about the play confirmed that someone indeed had made the stuff of Clemente's life into a musical. At first, the concept seemed an unlikely one. I had a hard time imagining a singer/dancer wearing a Pirate baseball uniform using Bob Fosse-styled technique and not looking ridiculous in the process. I had not factored an essential part of the musical, and a core concept of Puerto Rican culture: how music, dancing, and the dialogue between musicians and the audience informs the musical event. Once I heard and saw the performance's first number, I grasped the validity and necessity of treating Clemente's life in a musical form.

Today, the majority of major league baseball players are Latin. Few have significant commercial endorsements. It's tough for Latin players, even in the post-Clemente era, to feel local fans' and media respect.  For every Big Papi getting love from Red Sox Nation, there are many more, equally or more talented Latin players wondering why fans never fully embrace them. (Carlos Beltran, formerly of the New York Mets, quickly comes to mind.) The dialogue between baseball fans and players, just as alive and vital as that between musicians and audience, has a different dynamic for Latin baseball players playing in front of predominantly Anglo audiences.

It has been nearly a half-century since Roberto Clemente died during a humanitarian mission to Nicaragua. He was a leader for, among other things, respect for Latin ballplayers and the greater Latin diaspora in the United States. If Clemente were alive now, he would say there's a great deal of unfinished business to be done.

Curator as DJ

A trend that's gathering momentum is the notion of "curators" for the vast aggregation of contemporary popular music digitally available. A curator implies one with a defined point of view, a clear concept of taste, and a sense of direction. Finding curators whose values and judgements one respects is quite challenging.

A way to approach the new year is to suggest "curators" I value. Admittedly, they're not self-proclaimed or institutionally ordained "curators," but these emissaries to music essentially perform a curatorial role through their choices and mixtures. It's fun to listen to their selections, enjoy them, and debate their merits. They're certainly not as stuffy as the art-world suit in the illustration (right) from "Curator as DJ," from Modern Masters, a comic book published by DC Comics for PS 1/MOMA. They also provide one other, unstated, but deeply felt value: a reminder that life is meant to be savored and appreciated.

I have a trio of "curators" in mind. You're more than welcome in the comments to share your own choices.

1. http://www.thebocx.com/ -- Phil Dorsey. Very wordly taste, with a preference for funk, neo-funk, jazz, electronic, r&b, downtempo, acid jazz, but not limited to those genres by any means.

2. Gilles Peterson -- a European providing interesting choices. He has a number of recordings available via the digital transaction sites.

3. Ibiza Sonica -- An Internet radio station that plays club music from the pirate island.

Happy New Year!

Angela Bofill

My friend Phil Dorsey, whose thebocx.com offers wonderful music, played an Angela Bofill song yesterday. I had not listened to a Bofill song in over two decades. I associated her music with a first marriage that didn't work out, and I did everything possible to not revisit that period. That even included music from the time that I enjoyed. They were memories and associations I put in my deepest freezer.

For reasons I don't understand, I was open to listening to Bofill's songs yesterday. Her classically trained, three-octave voice and emotional range gave her songs old-school musical authority. Some of her earliest material, such as Under the Moon and Over the Sky, went in intriguing directions. And she was a rare musical curiosity at the time: a Bronx Latina who crossed over to R&B.

Unfortunately, her very strengths worked against her. Her initial fan base, attracted to her jazz, R&B, and Latin dexterity, abandoned her when she went for Clive Davis' handling. Her style fell out of favor, once popular music taste decisively moved towards rap, and she was condemned to music's margins.

I read some online accounts, and a Bofill Facebook page, that stated she suffered strokes in 2006 and 2007. Tragically, Bofill did not have health insurance. Some fund-raisers have taken place, and one can only hope this angel of the night finds the financial means and emotional wherewithal to persevere.