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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book has its origins in a presentation I gave to the Cuban Student Association at Rutgers University–Newark in 1994. The attendees’ enthusiastic response inspired me to take my inchoate ideas and mold them into something more substantial. As I did so, I realized I owed a great debt to my intellectual “fathers,” Robert Christgau and the late John Storm Roberts. I never met either man, but they both have had a significant impact on my life and my current research. As a teenager, I discovered both Latin and African music through Robert Christgau’s reviews in the Village Voice. Many years later John Storm Robert’s inimitable catalogs for his Original Music tutored me in the finer points of global musical traditions. A number of phone conversations with him furthered my training, and his books and cassettes were vital in my intellectual growth.

I would like to thank the provosts and the vice presidents of academic affairs at Philadelphia University for their support over the years, allowing me to attend numerous conferences on three continents at which I was able to present my research. Many of these presentations enabled me to deepen my thinking about Afro-Cuban music. I especially would like to thank Lee Cassanelli and Ali Dinar at the University of Pennsylvania; the members of the Puerto Rican Studies Association and the Afro-Latino Research Associations; EHESS in Paris; Richard Fardon and Graham Furniss of the School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London; and Ousmane Sene and Omar Ndongo of the West African Research Centre in Dakar for their astute commentaries on my work.

I am grateful to three European colleagues who played a significant role in helping me complete my research. Hauke Dorsch, the director of the African Music Archives at the Johannes Gutenberg University in Mainz, Germany, literally gave me the key to the extensive offerings of this outstanding collection. Karin Barber’s editing of an article I published in Africa was so scrupulous and insightful, it necessitated my rethinking important parts of my arguments. Denis-Constant Martin at the University of Bordeaux has provided years of intellectual camaraderie and stimulation. He has clarified a number of issues for me through our conversations and his own research on South African music.

In the United States, many colleagues have made this a better book. Ariana Reguant Hernandez of EthnoCuba and Cuban Counterpoints has championed my work, not least by reading some of my chapters and making valuable suggestions. Charles Ambler also commented on my work with his characteristic acuity. Salvador Mercado has patiently tutored me on the nuances of Puerto Rico culture. Jean Hay “commissioned” me to write my “Roots in Reverse” article and offered much needed encouragement in the early stages of this book’s development. Bob W. White pushed me to think more rigorously about my work when I was contributing a chapter to his edited collected Music and Globalization. Tsitsi Jaji alerted me to the significance of Bing magazine. Robin Moore supported my work through its many stages. Eric Charry, the eminent scholar of Mande music, has improved this book in many ways, especially through his cogent comments as an external reader. Indeed, the ethnomusicology academic community has welcomed this disciplinary interloper and has been exemplary in accepting this work on its own terms while always helping to better it. An example of this intellectual generosity is the extremely constructive comments I received from my other, anonymous reader, for which I am grateful. Selma Cohen was invaluable in addressing some technical issues with my manuscript and in many other ways as well. I would like to express my thanks to Ken Braun of Stern’s Music. Ken is a legendary “good guy” in the world music scene. He opened many doors for me when I was a neophyte researcher in this field and always has been available to help. He was willing to read my work and correct errors of fact and interpretation.

My gratitude to the Fulbright Program knows no bounds. A Fulbright dissertation grant financed my dissertation research in Central Nigeria, and another grant in 2002–2003 made it possible for me to spend a year teaching and doing research in Dakar. Those of us who do African cultural history have few potential sponsors. Without a Fulbright grant, it would have been impossible for me to undertake this project.

Indeed, I completed most of my research for this book when I was a Fulbright professor at Université Cheikh Anta Diop in Dakar in 2002–2003. Professor Mamadou Gaye, then head of the English Department, made certain that I had a productive and memorable year. The entire department was welcoming, and I always will remember the intellectual exchanges I had with my colleagues there, especially Professor Omar Ndongo. Professor Mamadou Kandji was doyen of the Faculté des Lettres et Sciences Humaines during my time at the university. He worked closely with Professor Gaye to ensure that I had a marvelous year as a Fulbrighter. He has become a good friend, although I have no hope of ever equaling his scholarly productivity!

A number of individuals were helpful to me in Dakar. I owe special thanks to Ibru Iba, proprietor of Chez Iba, and his staff for the many unforgettable evenings I spent there. Aminata Sy, then of Centre Baobab, gently oriented me toward Senegalese culture during my first months in Dakar. Alioune “Juan Carlos” Diop invited me to be a guest on his RTS television show several times and graciously accommodated me at his house in Thiaroye. He also gave me rare footage of the first Cuban tour by Senegalese Afro-Cuban musicians. I spent countless enjoyable hours in Sacré Coeur with Antoine Dos Reis, who connected me with Dakarois active in the Afro-Cuban scene and the Senegal-Cuba Friendship Association. My thanks to him. The celebrated impresario Daniel Cuxac gave me many computer discs from his personal archive of Cuban music and shared his inexhaustible knowledge of Cuban and Senegalese music. The late famous record producer Ibrahima Sylla permitted me to attend two Africando recording sessions and spared time from his frenetic schedule to let me interview him twice. The late Cheikh “Charles” Sow, author and librarian at the West African Research Centre, directed me to many essential sources for my work. Judy Dusku and Lew Shaw, the directors of the Dakar campus of Suffolk University, provided me with a luxurious second Dakar home, enabling me to extend my period of research. Finally, the friendship and hospitality of John and Papu McIntire sustained my family and I during our year in Dakar and beyond, for which we remain grateful.

As anyone who has interacted with them knows, Senegalese Afro-Cuban musicians are a special breed. I rarely have encountered a more convivial, refined, and articulate group. They were profligate in sharing their knowledge and experiences with me and welcomed me into their world with typical Senegalese teranga. The great sonero Mar Seck was unusually open with me. Camou Yandé always made me feel at home, and his sense of humor kept me laughing. The late Laba Sosseh, who was averse to being interviewed, still agreed to meet with me. We ended up having a wonderful conversation reminiscing about the New York salsa scene. Lamine “Lemzo” Faye, formerly of Super Diamono, and I spent many delightful hours at the now unfortunately shuttered Central Park, discussing m’balax. My biggest debt, however, is to Pape Fall, the illustrious salsero and leader of African Salsa. Monsieur Fall invited me to many private performances and immeasurably aided me. He truly personifies all the admirable qualities of Senegalese Afro-Cuban culture

I owe special thanks to many friends whom I met in Dakar. François Richard, then a graduate student at Syracuse University, initiated me into the mysteries of Université Cheikh Anta Diop and alerted me to the importance of generations in Senegalese history and culture. Drs. Ibrahima and Mariéme Thiaw have been wonderful listeners and lavish hosts. They have supported me emotionally and intellectually through every phase of this project. I learned much from the late Ahmadu Ndoye of the Department of Spanish and Portuguese at Cheikh Anta Diop, and he was unfailingly kind to my family during my year as a Fulbright Professor at Cheikh Anta Diop University. I greatly miss his companionship and his intellectual example. Serigne Mbacké Fall of Groupe Walfadjiri has been stalwart in his backing of my project. He reproduced for me his entire remarkable archive of Orquesta Aragón. Becoming friends with him was one of the high-points of my time in Senegal. The late Garang Coulibaly took me under his wing, as he has done for so many other scholars of Senegalese music, and unselfishly shared all his research materials. He became a good friend whom I still miss.

I was extremely fortunate that the internationally respected Senegalese photographer Djibril Sy was willing to join me in visually documenting the Dakar salsa scene. His brilliant images appear in this book and on its cover. Djibril quickly earned the trust of the Senegalese Afro-Cuban musicians, and he photographed them with great sensitivity. I thank him for allowing his work to be reproduced here.

I couldn’t have asked for a more accommodating press than Wesleyan. Marla Zubel and Suzanna Tamminen have been a pleasure to work with: responsive, courteous, and cooperative. My thanks to them.

I was fortunate to have two remarkable individuals working with me on my research. Mody Sidibé started helping me when he was a graduate student in the department of English at Cheikh Anta Diop University. A brilliant scholar in his own right, he took time out from his studies of Scottish literature to explore what was for him the new universe of Senegalese salsa. His intelligence, humor, resourcefulness, and work ethic contributed immeasurably to the completion of this project. Yahya Fall is a legend in the Senegalese music world. A renowned guitarist, he also has superb managerial and human relations skills. He was uncannily quick in grasping my research goals and methods and seemed to have a better idea of where my work was heading at times than I did. He taught me a great deal about music, Senegalese culture, and life. Getting to know and work with him and Dr. Sidibé was an unanticipated dividend of undertaking this research. My profound thanks to them both.

In addition, I am grateful to the following businesses, individuals, and institutions for their permission to reproduce texts and images in this book: Ken Braun of Stern’s Music for the Africando CD cover; Art Resources and the Agence Photographique de la Reunion des Musees Nationaux for the Brassai photograph; the University Press of Virginia for the Senghor poem “Comme Je Passais” in its English translation by Melvin Dixon; and Editions Seuil for the original in French.

I owe a great debt to my adopted family: Hob, Jane, and Woodie Broun. In high school, Hob shared my enthusiasm for the music of Eddie Palmieri and Willie Colon; later, in the 1980s, he introduced me to the music of Laba Sosseh. We were close friends until his tragically early death. His mother and father, Jane and Woodie, became my surrogate parents in my twenties. Until they died, they cheered me on, offered me endless hospitality at their home in Woodstock, New York, and even gave me crucial financial support. Their lives embodied the qualities that so many Senegalese admire: warmth, intellectual erudition, dignity, integrity, and generosity.

Finally, like all authors, but perhaps more than most, I have to thank my family. My daughters, Sam and Abbie, embraced Senegalese life during their year abroad and made many friends. As they have become adults, they have lovingly kept my spirits up during the many years of this project and always been great sounding boards for my ideas and arguments. I know they are relieved that the book is finished. My wife, Marcy Schwartz, willingly sacrificed her own research on Latin American literature to come and live in Dakar. Though she despaired of my idiosyncrasies as a salsa dancer, she still accompanied me occasionally on my 1:00 a.m. forays to Chez Iba. She earned the respect and affection of every Senegalese who crossed her path. She has been my partner in everything, and this book would not exist without her love, humor, zest, emotional succor, intellectual acumen, and incomparable linguistic prowess. To her, I owe more than I can express.