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MC:
JOHN E: Thank you for inviting me… I hope your readers will find my interview interesting, useful and in some cases inspiring.
MC:
JOHN E: My mom and dad hardly discussed their musical careers with me, but my dad was a drummer, and was heavily influenced by Gene Krupa. I never saw Dad play because his hands had been injured and he could no longer hold the sticks well. I knew he had been really good, though, because on our driving trips he would point out rhythms coming from the motor of our truck. I couldn’t hear them at first, but after many miles I was finally able to make them out. Through that, I learned to hear rhythms in the wind blowing against the trees and waves crashing on the sand. This required an acute ear for separating sound and focusing on a particular aspect or instrument within the rhythm. Later, I found it a useful talent for studio recording, mixing, arranging and composition. My mom was a high fashion model for a women’s suit line in Los Angeles and went to law school at the same time. She was in the same class with Judge Lilly, L.A.’s first woman Superior Court Judge. Mom met my dad and started singing in the same band that he played in; they fell in love, got married and had me. That ended law school and Mom’s singing career. Mom sang for fun at our rehearsals or at home while playing piano until her passing in April of 2004.
XAMAN:
JOHN E: My grandma Lupe, on my Dad’s side, was a piano player. There was a piano in her house and it got a lot of use. Grandma Lupe was an interesting lady. She was the heart of our family and played only for fun, mostly traditional Christian music. She inspired me and showed me chords and sang with me at age five. She was born in Corona, California, lived in Oakland before the bridge was built, and then moved back to Southern California, to Walnut. My maternal grandfather Eduardo played guitar and sang Spanish songs. I couldn’t speak Spanish, but harmonized to the melody with him when I could. Thank you for asking, I haven’t thought of that for many years.
MC:
JOHN E: My mom said I used to sing “The Wheel of Fortune” and “Sha boom” when I was five. I sang what I heard at that age.
LISA D.:
JOHN E: Good question… I thought I wanted to play accordion and begged my dad for a long time to get me one. That idea probably came from Lawrence Welk’s TV show. My parents ended up getting me a Hawaiian guitar instead. The Hawaiian guitar is played with finger picks, a thumb pick on the right hand, and a steel bar held by the left. I didn’t know it then, but my grandmother on my mom’s side was born in Hawaii, and I guess that was the connection. I took formal lessons and played Hawaiian songs like “Aloha Oe.” I just couldn’t get into it with any degree of passion and gave it up after a year or so.
When I listened to music I always liked to play along on pots and pans, using spoons and dinner knives as sticks and pie plates as cymbals. When I was13 or 14, my friend Andy Griffin invited me over to hear him play his Les Paul guitar. Andy’s family had a coffee table in their den that was made out of a bass drum, and when the table was turned over, the drum head was still on the other side. I used to jam with Andy using that bass drum with a pull-down lamp as a cymbal. Our friend Eddie Caballero (later to become El Chicano’s photographer), would come by and sing. “Louie Louie” was one of our favorites. I played on the bass drum table and the lamp until one weekend when Andy’s father invited us to his house in the Valley. I rented a snare drum from Cronen’s Music Store and off we went for a weekend of jamming and practice. We ate, slept, and rehearsed music most of the day and into the night. We were “on the road!” When I came home I bugged my mom about a drum set of my own and she referred me to my dad, who after explaining the Hawaiian guitar fiasco required an audition before he would buy me a set. I practiced hard until one afternoon I told Dad I was ready. Dad had me play various rhythms on a padded leather foot bench. Then he mimicked Gene Krupa’s drum solo from Benny Goodman’s “Sing, Sing, Sing,” testing me to see whether I could play it back. I passed the audition, and Dad was impressed enough to take me Cronen’s Music to pick out the brand new set of Ludwig blue sparkle drums that I still have and play today. The kit has a great sound, with a chrome Supra snare. I felt like king of the hill, but later it became a nightmare because when I would practice Dad would walk into my room and demand that I play that solo of Krupa’s again and again! So, the word got out that my friends and I had a band, which became the topic of conversation at Schurr Jr. High School. All we did was practice… but I was hooked. Dad became our band’s equipment manager, drove our band members and hauled our stuff around to rehearsals. The Montebello American Legion was a favorite place to rehearse. Once in a while we used our house and other member’s homes, varying the location to give our neighbors a break. My dad tragically passed away at age 39 in an auto accident a year after I started playing my new drum set. I was 15 when he died. He had wanted live music played at his funeral but my grandmother thought it wasn’t right to do that, and Mom went along with her wishes.
MC:
JOHN E: My dad had gotten me into his idol, Gene Krupa and through studying Gene’s solos I was ready for Buddy when I first heard him. I can’t remember where it was, maybe the Tonight Show, but Buddy stood out. There were no videos to watch back then, but I loved to listen to him. Buddy’s playing was difficult to decipher. He had incredible speed and I just fed on what he was doing. I loved the way he tuned his snare and the way he toyed with the bass drum. Buddy used a lot of single stroke rolls, like Gene, and I quickly adapted the use. When you start with Buddy Rich, though, you are limited at times. I played what he was doing as best I could. Buddy used rudiments and patterns that I hadn’t learned yet, but even by playing transposed versions of my own interpretations using “singles,” I added consistent power to my drumming. My drummer friend Danny LaMont and I would be astounded at where Buddy would drop his accents during his solos. He was the master, to me the greatest drummer in the world, and I still find myself challenged to figure him out. Buddy was even better live…he’s the only drummer whose playing ever moved me to tears! It happened when El Chicano was in Cincinnati at the old Crosley Field baseball stadium to play the George Wein Jazz Festival. I was backstage watching Buddy with his big band. He did a press roll, a closed double stroke roll with accents, with only his left hand, this while playing quick syncopating accents with his right hand, using syncopated speed beats with his bass drum, --and-- keeping odd meters on the hi hat with his left foot. This seemed impossible to me…I was astounded! Early on, I was also into Philly Joe Jones, Joe Morello, Elvin Jones, Stix Hooper, and anything with Grady Tate. Jack Sperling (from the big band era) was also really cool. In the very, very beginning of my drumming I also listened to a handful of rock greats, and particularly to the Beatles. RIngo Starr is one of the most underrated drummers to come out of that era. He masterfully embellished songs with his drum riffs and creative beats in a 4/4 time-dominated world. Ringo was and still is cool. I also liked surf music a lot and there were interesting beats in that genre, such as the double backbeat on 2 and the “and” of 2. Every drummer knows “Wipe Out” by the Surfari’s, and there was an endless list of bands that had great driving beats to dance to. Session drummers were different, but there were a lot of them like Hal Blaine and Earl Palmer who played behind the pop music of the day that one could derive hypnotic pulses from. Names were added over the years, but back then it was an obsession to listen to these great drummers. After my first year of playing drums I learned rudiments and developed my own patterns that would open up a perpetual learning process for me. I picked up on 4/4 time, 2/4 time, waltzes (3/4 time), and rock ballads, and practiced variations of all of that. I always gravitated to jazz drumming, though, and somehow incorporated it into what I was playing, no matter what it was. This is all part of developing your own style. I would look to the drummers that seemed to influence the drumming I was listening to. For example: Tony Williams was obviously influenced by Elvin Jones, I could hear it clearly. I made an effort to get to the root of each drummer’s playing by figuring out where their style was coming from. When I realized that Sandy Nelson had been influenced by Cozy Cole and Art Blakey, I got into Art’s rhythms. I wanted to take my own path from the trailblazers of yesteryear. I practiced with a record player and probably drove my parents and neighbors crazy. Practicing with records not only helped me get the beat and time, but the “feel.” The feel is important in drumming and if you have the responsibility of counting off a song, you should incorporate it. I mimic the feel just before I count the song off. This helps to increase the probability of finding the preferred “pocket” more consistently, as it gives a point of reference to the other musicians.
MC:
JOHN E: Now, this question really provokes some thought. Let me give a little background. Monterey Park is a middle class community now, but then it was really new. I always had friends over to swim and my mom made lunch or dinner for them. Almost all of my friends were Anglo and there were only two or three Hispanic families on our block. I lived there from first grade on, and I never thought of myself as a minority or anything different from the others because no one said anything or made me feel different. My grandfather and uncle owned property in East L.A. When I visited, the only difference I noticed was that I didn’t know very many people in that community. I was friendly with everyone and made friends everywhere. I met musicians in my area because most of the action was at the Monterey Park Community Center where bands performed like the Righteous Brothers, Lively Ones, Sonny and Cher and other surfer type or popular bands. In my first real band the Royal Rhythms I played with Bill Reyes, who lived on the Eastside, and John Morales, who lived further east of Montebello in Pico Rivera. We sometimes went to Bill’s or John’s house to rehearse. I liked breaking out of my area..it felt adventurous. We each had our own appreciation of music and brought that to rehearsals, as happens when a group figures out its direction. I was open to soul music and that is what we started playing. Do you remember “Louie Louie” by the Kingsmen? Well, that’s how the Continental culture and style began to penetrate my life. I went from Madre shirts and Converse tennis shoes during the day to playing gigs wearing Hi Boy dress shirts, suede shoes and Royal Blue blazer jackets with suede lapels from Academy Awards, on Los Angeles Street in Downtown L.A. I went with the flow…
XAMAN & MC:
I was very upset when I learned at a recent high school reunion that Barry had passed away two years prior, and most of our musician community doesn’t even know about it. I’ll always remember Barry driving his canary yellow 1956 Chevy Nomad with his drums in the back.
Getting back to The Prophets, we started gigging around L.A., doing mostly British rock, but with a soulful tint. We were all playing with heart. Then, one day at rehearsal, our lead guitarist Bobby Hernandez shocked us…he said he’d been drafted and would be leaving us for the Army. Bobby had been an inspiration and a heavy influence. He sang, had played the guitar solos on Cannibal and the Headhunters’ “Land Of A Thousand Dances” and his Strat sound was perfect for us. Bill, our rhythm guitar, reluctantly agreed to take on the task of playing lead. We had industry ties through Benny, who had written “Whittier Boulevard” while leading Thee Midniters, and had played on their recording of “Land Of A Thousand Dances.” Casey Kasem,Bill Slater and Dave Hull from KRLA radio liked us, so we opened for the bands of the day at Casey’s concert and dance series that he promoted at community centers throughout Southern California. The groups performing included major acts like The Doors, The Turtles, Them (with Van Morrison), The Seeds, Lovin’ Spoonful and Roy Orbison, and I was making friends and talking music with all those artists. We recorded a single: “Just Can’t Wait” (written by Benny and David) and “Go Cry On Somebody Else’s Shoulder” (an obscure Frank Zappa tune) at Gold Star Studio, which was pretty famous at the time as the home of Phil Spector’s legendary “Wall of Sound.” This was my first recording experience, at age 15.
MC:
JOHN E: We had to change the name to Prophets of Old because after we recorded and were going to print, we had to do a name search, which we hadn't done in the years we performed together. As it turned out, there was a band already named the Prophets so our attorney said we could add on after the name but not before it. So we added "of Old" to the name to avoid any legal disputes. We all were a little bummed. We had done all our Casey Kasem and Dave Hull shows, all the Hollywood gigs and other gigs under the Prophets and now we had to change. The record was released and we started performing under the new name. We got over it...I think...being “prophetic” and all...ha ha!
We had formed our own record label, East - West Records, and promoted our records through live radio appearances. Benny knew Wolfman Jack pretty well, so we would do his show to get exposure. This was in the days before the corporate labels of the 70’s. We started playing the Sea Witch, a hip spot on the Sunset Strip, where we attracted and developed a strong following and a membership fan club that supported us. Most of our gigs were out of the East L.A. scene, which gave us a broader and more diverse audience. I had moved into an apartment with Dave Parsley behind East L.A. College, and things were pretty wild. It was a time of tremendous personal and musical growth and fast-track hands-on learning for me. After a few years, though, the guys were not as enthusiastic as we once were, for various reasons. Obstacles were getting in our way, we kind of became dormant and our momentum slipped away until we finally went our separate ways.
JOHN E: Our actual name was the V.I.P.’s, but we had a banner that read “The Fabulous V.I.P.'s” and at some gigs the promoters would bill us that way. Before I joined, Bobby, guitarist Mickey Lespron and bassist Freddie Sanchez had been backing up a soul singer named Clarence Playa (aka Clarence Johns). Clarence had left and they were searching for a direction. When I came in, I created drum feels and rhythms that matched perfectly with Fred’s style of playing. Listening is everything in music, and we all listened to each other and played unselfishly. We were weak vocally but played funk and jazz instrumentals really well, and that carried us right into the El Chicano sound.
MC:
JOHN E: Yes, I guess… though I had been playing a lot of rock, surf and soul, I had started my drum career with jazz and listened to and studied Buddy Rich until I could verbalize his solos like my dad used to do with Gene Krupa. I brought a mixed bag of sounds that were built to suit what we were playing in the V.I.P.’s. I loved to create jazzy drum intros and breaks within the structure of the song. I felt it my obligation to contribute inspiring character to the picture of sound. Sometimes simple play is more contributory, and it takes discipline to lay back. One of the most annoying performances that a drummer can make is to overplay, tantamount to stepping on an actor’s lines or talking over someone. The chemistry we developed with each other was the key. We were really special and I knew it from the start.
MC:
JOHN E: Sure…I’ll look back and give you my brief opinion and assessment. Bobby Espinosa was my neighbor and then later my roommate on and off the road. Though Bobby had other idols, Jimmy Smith was closest to his heart, and when he played I could tell. I was into Jimmy Smith, too, so Bobby and I became instant friends. Bobby went to Cantwell and Montebello High School. Before the V.I.P.’s he had played in “The Enchantments” and another band called “Mickey and the Invaders.”
Mickey Lespron is from San Gabriel and went to San Gabriel Mission, an all-boys' school, where he was a classmate of Kenny Loggins. Mickey obviously was into Wes Montgomery, and also Freddie King back then. He was a little more reserved than the rest of us, but this changed after a while.
Freddie Sanchez’s parents lived in Rosemead, California, also a part of San Gabriel Valley. Freddie liked the Beatles as much as I did, and liked Paul McCartney’s approach to bass playing, solid fat lines. He served as leader of our band and had quite a bit of influence. I saw Freddie as a big brother figure for many years. He and I have really good musical chemistry, as close as any bass and drummer can be. We could really lay down a blues shuffle that was instant pocket! We also both have the distinction of having gone to kindergarten at Brooklyn Avenue School, though he went ahead of me…ha ha!
MC:
JOHN E: Bobby played Hammond if we rehearsed at his house, but the instrument was not made to travel, so at first on one-night gigs he would play a Vox organ that was more portable. The Vox had become a popular sound, probably due to the Beatles’ use of it. When we played at clubs for more than one night, we would carry in the Hammond. I think it was a B3 with percussion. Bobby played the Vox standing up, and the Hammond sitting down. This made it harder to see Bobby at times but I got used to it. We continued to play the existing songs from the repertoire and also continued on the same trajectory, but the Hammond with its Leslie speakers added fullness to the existing sound. That fullness was inspiring, especially when I used my crash cymbals to embellish. The Hammond was a popular sound of the day, which followed the Wurlitzer, Farfisa and Vox in pretty much that order. We moved the Hammond with dollies that were made specifically for it and attached to the ends of the wood cabinet. We always helped Bobby move that Hammond, as we didn’t have regular roadies with the V.I.P.’s. My back still suffers from those days! Just kidding…
MC:
I lobbied for Bobby Loya because I dug what he was into, which was –Jazz--, baby! Bobby Loya had actually been in the V.I.P.'s at one point prior to my joining, when they were backing their former lead vocalist, Clarence. The rest of the guys had played with Bobby L. previously, and he was invited back. A good sax player named Jerry Cavazos played a few gigs with us, but was replaced by Tony Garcia. Well, Bobby Loya and Tony Garcia are half-brothers, from the same mother, so you can only imagine how tight of a horn section they were! They suggested songs like “Ode to Billy Joe,” which we played with a half-time rhythmic feel, using the valve trombone for the melody, and a tune by the Jazz Crusaders, which we arranged in our own style. I remember when Andre Baeza came to rehearsal for the first time and played, after Bobby Loya had made a pitch to the band about Andre and convinced us to invite him. Andre didn’t sing but it didn’t matter to me…the music sounded so full with his playing! Andre had gone to Fremont High School. He was the eldest in the group, 10 years my senior. Because he was older and had a lot of experience, we listened to him and his point of view on various things. Andre had served in the military and would always school us with his experiences. He was very outgoing, opinionated and direct and became the band’s spokesman during shows. Andre loved Mongo Santamaria, and would bring Latin records to practice. Andre and Gunzie Reza had been high school friends, so Andre brought Gunzie into the band to further strengthen our percussion section and vocals. Bobby Loya was the one who introduced us to “Viva Tirado,” and Tony Garcia added guidance to this jazzy, laid back, easy listening song. I just fell in love with “Viva Tirado” and it became my favorite Latin tune in our repertoire. At first, Andre affectionately called our Latin section the “ABT,” and then later the “ABTG Latin Combination” (for Andre, Bobby Loya, Tony and Gunzie).
MC:
JOHN E: In my youth, I listened to what was in my house at the time, Eydie Gorme and Trio Los Panchos…those were my mom’s favorites. I didn’t speak a word of Spanish, and other than bossa nova, I had no interest in Latin music early on…I was a surfer dude. As far as I know, Bobby, Freddie and Mickey hadn’t really had much background in Latin music either. The V.I.P.’s always voted on things, though, and after the “Latin Combination” guys came in and introduced us to Latin jazz we all realized that Latin music was fun music to play. We were definitely intentionally moving in a Latin direction and it was welcomed by all of us. Bobby Loya and Tony Garcia spent hours at Tony’s house in Monterey Park teaching Freddie, Bobby E. and Mickey the chords and structure of the new, more progressive, Latin jazz tunes we were learning. From that point on, our biggest Latin influences, without question, were from Callen Radcliffe Tjader, Jr. Andre and Gunzie showed me how to dance basic Latin steps to Cal’s music. Cal had great musicians with him: Some of my favorites were Lonnie Hewitt on piano; Al McKibbon on bass; Mongo Santamaria on congas; and Willie Bobo on timbales. I never checked out Bobby Montez. I might recognize something of his but I can't remember his music offhand…I just heard his name around. I had heard of Eddie Cano but didn't really know his music until the 80's. I used to listen to him when he played at Industry Hills during that time. I met him there and would talk to his bassist David Troncoso and Blas, his sax player. I attended Eddie’s funeral. The reception was held at the “Top of the Brae” at Industry Hills in Hacienda Heights, where he often played. There was standing room only for the strong Latin force that had brought joy to so many people that knew and loved him.
FREDDIE PEREZ & OSCAR:
JOHN E: We each brought our own unique and diverse influences…we all had our personal idols, which I listed earlier. The most value-added influences in the beginning were from groups like Cal Tjader, Willie Bobo, and Tito Puente, but Andre, Bobby Loya, Tony Garcia and Gunzie Reza, our “Latin Combination,” themselves may have had the greatest impact on the music repertoire of our first album. We went on from there to perpetuate a unique collective sound through our Latin and jazz influences and through our interpersonal musical chemistry within the band…like passionate interaction with a loved one.
MC:
JOHN E: This is a really touchy question with me. You have to know more about me to fully appreciate why this bothers me. I lost my dad when I was 15, so I identified with people for guidance and bonded with them like family. While we worked as the Fabulous V.I. P.’s we struggled with our band weaknesses. We seldom talked about it, we just knew, and vocal power was one. Freddie and I sang and the rest didn’t. When we added the “Latin Combination,” they gave us an added direction that was not reliant on vocals. We still played some of our soul and other popular oldie songs but mostly utilized the strengths of our new horn players and percussionists. We played at a club called the Latin Strip on Sunday afternoons and other grown up gigs like the Bachelor Social Club, which roamed about town from venue to venue. I loved what the “Latin Combination” guys brought to our group and wanted to pursue that direction and perform more songs like the ones we were learning. Gunzie was promoting the band and got us an audition at the Coral Room in Montebello. We were offered the gig, but the money wasn’t really enough for an eight-piece band. Bobby Loya left us to take a higher-paying six night a week gig with another band, and the decision was made not to replace Bobby L. and to go on as a quintet without Tony or Gunzie. This was upsetting to me and I didn’t want to do it. I thought we were like a family and shouldn’t perform without all of our members. In the beginning it was very uncomfortable and I offered to split my share, but the club’s ownership wanted more rock and soul music and that may also have been a factor. We learned some songs of the day but we changed arrangements and continued developing our own sound. We became very successful at the Coral Room, with lines around the block to get in. Our younger audience had grown up and was somehow getting into the 21-and-over club to see us… it was the beginning of a new chapter. I’ll never forget the several months of good times that I had playing with the “Latin Combination,” though. I still keep in touch with my friend Gunzie, who later became an owner of the Pantera Rosa Club, and we’ve played together from time to time, primarily with the Bob Bergara Band, sometimes joined by Bobby Loya. I’ve also worked Tony Garcia frequently through the years. These days I play with Tony maybe 20 times a year, including New Year's. I always ask Tony how Bobby is and tell Tony to say “hi” for me.
MC:
JOHN E: The definition of a Top 40 band was a band that played only songs that were on the charts of the day, and usually just like the record. I never thought of ourselves as that. We approached a song if we collectively liked it and it fit with our sound. We would tweak the song, adding jazzy chords and changing the arrangements to end up with a strong but recognizable version of the original song. Sometimes we learned a tune without the record or sheet music, just from working from recall and intuition. Andre played tambourine if the song didn’t work with congas. The band had gotten really tight and cool after eight or so months at the Coral Room. After the Coral, we had a few in-between gigs before the next phase, which was at the Kabuki Lounge in Crenshaw Square. The Kabuki, on Crenshaw near Santa Barbara Boulevard (now Martin Luther King) was a Japanese restaurant by day and dance club by night. The owners, brothers Mas, Ben and Reed Sadahiro, were the greatest, and they became like parents to me. I was still a teenager at that point, but they were very wise and I could always talk to them. I really wanted to play at the Kabuki, and the guys in the band did as well, so we really committed to getting and keeping the gig. Our first set was like a dinner set. Some people would still be eating on one side of the club and some would be on dates and arriving early, so we couldn’t very well play hard and loud. The Sadahiros liked it if we played Latin jazz for the first set and into the second, so we played the songs we had done with the “Latin Combination” and it really went over well. After about a year at the Kabuki we hooked up with an artist management firm, Aztec Productions, which was owned by Archie Sullivan. Archie became our manager, and he felt that having a girl singer to front the band would make us more marketable. We auditioned and chose Ersi. She fit really well and she was very beautiful. I remember when I would compliment her she would blush and sometimes find it hard to believe. Ersi liked Vikki Carr, Eydie Gorme and Dionne Warwick, so we rehearsed those types of songs and incorporated them into our play list. The audience really loved Ersi and I loved the way she sang. Ersi was a little shy back then, but came alive when provoked. I was protective and treated her respectfully like my sister. Ersi was always very warm and gracious. She learned her songs well and knew what she wanted to hear from us.
MC & XAMAN:
JOHN E: Well, Eddie never even pitched the name change to us, he simply told Bobby Espinosa’s brother Henry that he wanted the “Viva Tirado” single released under the name El Chicano, and then Bobby informed all of us at our Kabuki Lounge gig. I remember we just looked at each other with a “what is –that--?” look. We all absolutely refused. Hey! We were the V.I.P.’s! Billy Watson and Henry Espinosa, who had produced the track, didn’t mind, but we in the band were all proud of our existing name. There were also other business issues that we were concerned with, the name was just one of them, but Eddie just flagrantly and unilaterally moved forward anyway and used the name El Chicano. Everyone was furious. Freddie called our manager Archie, who was -on it- like white on rice, inviting the head of A & R at Kapp Records, Johnny Musso, to our next gig. Musso had already signed a fake El Chicano band put together by Eddie. What made the situation even more uncomfortable is that our producers Billy Watson and Henry Espinosa, Bobby’s brother, were going to be playing in the replacement band! This was a real uncomfortable situation. I don't want to disparage Eddie Davis but when he put together that bogus El Chicano group, I knew he was capable of doing things I would never do. It was a pretty gutsy move. When I asked Eddie why he did it, he simply said that because we didn't want to go along with the name he did what he had to do. Back then he seemed to be trying to justify his actions by telling us that “anything goes,” or that we were naïve, but not so many years ago we saw what happened with the Milli Vanilli fiasco! So, Johnny Musso came down to hear us at Mr. Zaff’s, a club in El Monte, and knew right away who the actual players of “Viva Tirado” were. In our negotiations, it was explained to us what a “Chicano” was. I don’t think any of us had known, because the term wasn’t in common use at the time. The situation would have been better served if someone would have explained the idea of the name change a little better from the start, then it wouldn’t have been so negatively received. After all, we were the Fabulous V.I.P.'s...ha ha! We didn’t find out until after we agreed to keep the name that the word Chicano had a negative connotation in Mexico to an older demographic audience.
MC:
JOHN E: We recorded all the rest of the first album at the Kabuki. The songs were ones that we played in our early set. We had other songs of like kind, but they didn’t make the cut at the time. We could have very easily picked them as well, or recorded a double album, and they all would have fit our sound. I used to listen to Herbie Hancock and Herbie Mann on KBCA, the L.A. jazz station at the time. I think I bought a Hancock album in the early 70’s. To me though, when I had first heard the songs a couple of years before, they had been obscure, with the exception of “Viva Tirado” and “Coming Home Baby.” I’m happy that we helped to popularize all of our cover songs…they are great songs. The autographed photo that Gerald Wilson gave me with a “thank you Johnny” note is evidence of his appreciation.
[ed: big band leader/trumpeter Gerald Wilson composed “Viva Tirado” and originally recorded it in 1962]
MC:
XAMAN & MC:
JOHN E: Who could forget “Light My Fire?” I remember really liking the groove and the dynamics in that song. The “dead-stick” technique was being used in a lot of songs at the time. I used “dead-stick” often with rock, soul, and jazz and, of course, bossa nova. I had the pleasure of opening for The Doors at one of Casey Kasem’s dance shows at the Inglewood Community Center when I was with The Prophets. I talked to John Densmore briefly back stage, as well as the other guys in the band. I really enjoyed watching them play. El Chicano never shared a bill with The Doors as far as I can remember, but we all listen to different music on the radio, so it wouldn’t surprise me if The Doors listened to us. If so, I’m flattered. I never made the connection in our similarities but given the music tendencies at the time I can see the relationship you draw.
MC:
JOHN E: Our first album cover photo was taken in Bobby’s mom’s living room. I lived directly across the street. We did rehearse there, but only a few times. As for “Motherless Child,” we learned it with the “Latin Combination.” The songs –were-- tight and we played them effortlessly during the sessions, because we had been playing them during our early set at our long-running six-night a week engagement at the Kabuki Lounge, and on Sundays, when we played a lot of Latin jazz.
MC:
JOHN E: I remember the "Spill the Wine" song because our road crew really liked it. I met Eric Burdon back then, and did Wolfman Jack’s radio show with him and another group called The James Gang. Eric and I hung out for a while after the show, but didn't keep in touch. I can't remember if he was still with WAR or had just left them. One difference between WAR and El Chicano was that WAR was a low-key, very mellow band, not high energy at all. This may have changed, but that was my impression from a show we did with them. In contrast, our set had that crowd on their feet the entire time. El Chicano’s shows were upbeat and driving, and I was always sopping wet after. We worked hard at getting the audience off. We did meet WAR on a plane once when we were on the road but I didn't follow their music, know any of the band members or hang out with them, other than that time with Burdon. I do know WAR’s current drummer Sal Rodriguez and recently met their percussionist Marcos Reyes. I’m looking forward to working with Marcos. He’s a good player and amiable guy.
Sal and I go back to the days of “Binoccio’s” in North Hollywood, where we alternated on drums with the Robert Diaz band. Robert was a guitarist who hired jazz musicians to play cumbias, polkas and some other basic Latin dance rhythms. His band was great to play with…he had charts, and the players got a workout with all the eighth and sixteenth notes in and out of triplet form. Everybody was smiling from ear to ear. Have you ever heard of a jazz cumbia? Well, we use to play it with Hector Gonzalez on bass, Mel Steinberg on sax, Glen Lutz on trumpet and others who came and went. It was a fun gig and I have nice memories of it, except for an incident one night after the gig. Two girls, both sisters and regulars at the club, were in the parking lot and couldn’t start their car, so I went over to help. I was hooking up jumper cables when this group of drunken guys came over and tried to bully their way into helping the girls. The girls became a little scared, and so I thanked the guys but told them that the situation was under control. They spoke Spanish and started to argue… when WHAMM! I get hit from behind on the back of my head with a blunt instrument. I started to fall backward and into some bushes but kept my balance and stayed on my feet. I shook it off, and just started punching and swinging and caught a few of them solid. One guy got so pissed off he said “I’m going to get my gun and shoot you” in Spanish. He goes to his car and I tell the girls: “let’s go! go! go!” They jump into their (now running) car, I jump into mine, while I’m yelling at the guys. We make it out of there, but not before I hear them yelling “we’re coming back to get you!” Things were a little awkward for a few days after that. Some of my friends came by to hang out and protect us if needed. You feel real vulnerable on a lighted stage with just drum sticks in your hand… thank God nothing ever happened.
I went through another scare in Santa Fe with El Chicano. We were playing and we heard shots. I thought they were firecrackers and kept playing, but soon everybody was ducking for cover. Later, a detective comes to my drums and pulls a bullet from the wall a couple of feet from where I was sitting. Hey, that was close! Later, we found out some guy had caught his girl friend with another guy and tried to kill them. He ended up shooting her in the leg and the other shots went wild when another patron blocked the shooter’s arm down. He barely missed other people in that jam-packed room.
MC:
JOHN E: Good observation… When I started working with Andre it was truly a partnership. I had to give up a lot of freedom, and my playing had to be by design. The rhythms needed to be a workable match and fit nicely into a pulse. It wasn’t ‘til later that I would learn the concept of clave, (the framework within Latin rhythms that helps establish a point of reference to help keep the rhythm whole). When our “Latin Combination” members joined the V.I.P.’s I had to learn the basics of the cha-cha and mambo pretty fast. I met a guy who taught drums at the Record Rack, one of the music stores on Whittier Blvd. in East L.A. I think he said he was the drummer with Bobby Montez. He was a formally-schooled drummer and we spent an hour together going over Latin basics. This was the only paid drum lesson I have taken in my life. After half an hour, I was showing him what I had established as John E’s favorite self-developed rhythms. Drummers know what I mean. Anyway, that was it. We had fun and I might have seen him at a gig once or twice but I didn’t keep in touch, and I wish I could remember his name. The point is, when you are faced with the uncertain, get ready! I always say…”if you are ready, then you don’t have to get ready.” You know what I mean?
MC:
JOHN E: Ersi recorded the cowbell and guiro live on the first album except on the track “Viva Tirado.” On “Revolución,” as I remember, she played percussion live in the studio and did a few overdubs on tracks. She didn’t play tims [ed: “tims” = timbales] on any of those tracks. Ersi’s cowbell was welded onto a mic stand, so there were no drums involved while she was playing live, at least during her time with the original El Chicano lineup.
MC:
JOHN E: In my opinion Eddie was the strategist, in that he wanted our instrumental songs for the first album. He had little to do with the songs chosen, yet knew he didn’t want vocals on our recordings. We felt restrained as an all-instrumental band and felt a need to break out for the second album. We had Ersi and wanted her to sing. So, for “Revolución” we hooked up with a master of production, Tom Catalano. Tom learned quickly about our tight arrangements, chemistry, vocals and other strengths. With Eddie, we walked into the session and he would say: “Play”, and that’s what’s on the first album. Tom knew we recorded better live in the studio and pretty much let us do our thing with vocals, with his input here and there. He would give guidance at just the right time. A producer’s job is to simply bring out the best in the artist utilizing the artist’s strength with suitable material. As artists, we considered the “Revolución” album another side of the existing El Chicano sound. With Eddie, success was measured by different standards and criteria…where he excelled was his ability to identify and promote his product. He convinced DJ’s in San Francisco and Cleveland or Cincinnati to play “Viva Tirado” and that’s where the songs broke. Eddie saw one side of us in our natural state of sound, and for that we owe him our gratitude. Everybody in the band and associated with the band had a contribution to our initial success. Billy Watson and Henry Espinosa had the facilities and believed in our abilities. We were inspired and influenced by their unwavering tenacity in getting us to the studio to record. I contributed by suggesting the tune “Viva Tirado” be played that day after our having previously played a soul tune in the studio early that morning, and so on. Gravity seemed to be working to make things fall as they did. For me, it was like destiny within a network of people who believed in our music… God, this all feels just like yesterday!
MC:
JOHN E: Honestly, I’m not familiar with those bands and songs. I didn’t know Eddie Davis until we began to record our first album. He said we had met, but I didn’t remember. Eddie seemed to be a sweet guy, very considerate to me, and a man of his word. I remember that when we were preparing to record the album at the Kabuki I brought my best friend Eddie Caballero, a photographer who had agreed to take pictures for me at the session (and who later did photography for our “Revolución” and “Celebration” albums and some of our promo shots). Eddie Davis asked me if I would make him copies of the photos and he would pay for them. He paid me right away, which I never forgot, and it was the beginning of a nice association. I know he was associated with Cannibal and the Headhunters and arranged to have them open for the Beatles. Eddie also had a record label called Gordo Records and left his company’s holdings to a mutual friend of ours, Hector Gonzalez, when he passed away. Before we were signed to Kapp records, “Viva Tirado” was released on Gordo and then later leased to Kapp records, a subsidiary of MCA. As nice as Eddie was to me personally, his action with that bogus El Chicano group showed that he would most definitely do whatever he felt necessary to cash in, especially after the success of our first album and our choice of Tom Catalano to produce the second album. I heard that Eddie was, let's say, “disappointed...”
FROM MC:
JOHN E: Thank you for the compliment. On the first album I played to fit the mood of the tunes. For the second album we just stepped it up. I had more room to lead and stretch the rhythms. That album is close to me and I think it gives the listener a near-“live” depiction of our sound. Even then, I thought we were better live than on record. I soloed a lot when El Chicano played live, but only a few personal recordings exist of my solos. The band would walk off and leave me on stage to capture and take the audience on a drumming experience… a rhythmic journey… it was really fun. I would have liked to record a lengthy drum solo on one of our albums, but unfortunately that was reserved for the ticket buying public only. Every once in awhile someone will tell me about a drum solo they heard me do back in the day… it always brings a smile…
MC:
JOHN E: I would have to give credit to my photographer and personal friend Eddie Caballero. For our second album, I asked Eddie to put together a design that would fit the “Revolución” concept. Eddie told me he was out taking pictures in Malibu and found a monastery that had recently burned down. He wanted us to meet him there and bring different outfits, as always. So, Eddie shows up with an American flag and I tell him we should use it in our shots, so he puts the flag in a few of them at the end of the shoot. Andre and Eddie came up with the idea of super-imposing Zapata and Pancho Villa on the cover with us. Eddie did his magic and it worked perfectly. After the album was released we received criticism about the flag and its use with Zapata and Villa. We wanted to depict the unity of our cultures and the revolution we all stood for, while at the same time making sure that it was clear that we were Americans but of Mexican (Spanish & Indian) descent. Back then people would ask me: “what is your nationality?” I’d answer: “I’m an American” and they would say: “no! no! your nationality?” Again I would answer: “I’m an American! My nation is the United States of America; you asked me my nationality…” The ignorance of the question irritated me. People were curious and I would let them know in my own way that I’m proud of my country and that they would need to think about what they are asking someone. The same ignorance is perpetuated today with the question “are you Mexican?” When someone asks me that I think “here we go again…” and why do they want to know?
MC:
MC:
JOHN E: Well, like I was saying, these were historic times of oppression and a movement to emerge from it. We were musical figures and we were caught in the eye of this storm. At times, all we wanted to do was to play our music and inspire people that way, but the politics kept getting in the way. Militants had expectations of us contributing constantly to the cause and sometimes didn't realize that we spoke through our music. Sometimes things would get a little pushy but there was always music to continue with, to get us over the discomfort.
The pressure of music production from our company and bad touring itineraries was hard enough, but we, as musicians, also had injustices of our own to deal with because we were called “El Chicano.” Gigs were sometimes canceled for fear of potential riots. Extra security was really uncomfortable at times, and then sometimes we would have no security at all, and –that- would be a little weird. Then there was the simple distinction of that American flag that appeared on the cover of our “Revolución” album...I want you to know that it caused so much conflict and irritation! Some people criticized us over the flag because it meant “establishment” to them, and with Pancho Villa having been hunted by the U.S. Army for Texas border raids there were those who felt the flag shouldn’t be in the same shot with he and Zapata. I was lucky enough to have been born on this side of the Rio Grande and with all of that comes loyalty, but my grandfather fought in the Mexican Revolution. Revolt has occurred on both sides of the border and has been fought in many ways. Someone always had a critical opinion about something we did or did not do for La Raza. I became a self-appointed sergeant at arms, protecting the band by kicking people out that I thought would harm or upset us or our performance. I kicked out radical reporters and hardcore drug dealers from our dressing rooms and after-concert parties. All I wanted to do was play good music…
MC:
JOHN E: I liked what Cold Blood was doing, too, though I wouldn't say we were really influenced by them. Ersi always had something to say about the songs she was learning. She would find and bring in her own songs, almost all of which were ballads…ballads were her first love. She had been singing “Sabor A Mi” for years, for instance. We encouraged her to learn upbeat songs as well, and maybe that led to her picking “I’m A Good Woman.” Basically, Ersi was open to song suggestions and to learning things like new beats and hand techniques on her percussion instruments. When I gave her tips like that, she always thanked me and encouraged me to approach her at will. Ersi was really impressive in the studio. She recorded “Sabor A Mi” in one take, after a level run through. On “I’m a Good Woman” we laid down the track with her singing on a dummy track, and then she did a take that was as good as any overdub vocal track could be.
MC:
JOHN E: We had just finished “Revolución” and were playing in San Francisco’s North Beach at Basin Street West. Things got out of hand when Mickey decided to have fun with “Sabor A Mi.” Mickey started the song like Jimi Hendrix’s version of the “Star Spangled Banner,” laying on the floor on his back and playing with his teeth, which he would do from time to time, and Ersi didn’t care for it at all. Ersi used to look back at me when she was bothered by something happening on stage…I have to say it was a little comical. This time, though, she was very upset and I knew it right away. After our second and final set, Ersi announced to Archie, our manager, that she was quitting, that she wanted to pursue another direction. I tried to talk to her and thought she might change her mind but Fred and Archie had already accepted her resignation and she left right away. That was a pivotal night to remember. Mickey probably still pays for that incident, since he is still working with Ersi…ha ha! Although Mickey’s clowning and showboating might have been the last straw, there had been other things bothering Ersi, including the band’s partying and overall behavior and lifestyle. I remember talking to her in her room on several occasions regarding her issues, and I would then take these things up with the band while on the road and at the meetings that we often had. Sometimes I felt like the catalyst, the go-between, in the band and it felt good to work out or interpret differences between the members. I guess in Ersi’s case it put a band aid on the problem but wasn't the solution. The rigor of the band’s schedule was weighing on all of us, including Ersi, and we should have been more considerate of the fact that it was hard for her to travel, rehearse, perform and collaborate with a group of young men almost 24/7. I believe I always treated her with respect, though, and I know she would agree. Ersi and I always got along well and I missed her a lot when she decided to leave. Unfortunately, for many years I lost contact with her. I did a few gigs with Mickey and Ersi in the late 80’s or early 90’s and it was really nice, but I had a lot of demands on me to go in a different direction, as I do now, and couldn’t keep in touch.
MC:
JOHN E: I had actually heard she was boxing, too, but didn't believe it. Ersi's dad was a boxer and boxing manager, so there is a possibility that she got involved in some way. [ed: in the promotional interviews and bios for her newly-released solo CD “Friend For Life,” Ersi reveals her lifelong interest in boxing and tells of her brief, but undefeated, career as a fighter]
MC:
JOHN E: I can sum that up in two words: Don Buday. He was our producer on the third album, “Celebration.” Don opened us up and I believe did a good job by bringing the best out of us. He was a good friend during that time. I lost touch with Don when I left the band, but a couple of years later I bumped in to him at Machelli’s in Universal City. He gave me really nice compliments and advice that I still carry today… great insight. He was also a great writer for the music industry.
MC:
JOHN E: I had jammed with other timbale and conga players and I also played tims myself, so I had a good perspective on what should be played. A few things do come to mind about playing with a percussion section. The first is “less is more.” Don’t overplay. The second is to build the rhythm components as if they were part of a massive pulse. Don’t step on each other and don’t over-accent, except maybe in a break. Rudy complemented me and I complemented him, we both listened to what was being played. Listening is Key. As for the increased rock feel of the album, that didn’t require me to make too much of an adjustment because of the music I’d played before El Chicano and the V.I.P.’s. I also jammed every chance I got…back then, it seemed all the time.
MACK & MC:
MC:
JOHN E: Of course we liked what Santana was doing and also wanted to have a full percussion section consisting of drums, congas and timbales. We were studying to expand our knowledge of rhythms, though, including checking out Cuban artists like Chappotin and his group and other early players, and our influences were all pre-Santana. I encouraged outside Latin percussion players to come over to jam at the percussion section’s designated section rehearsals. These jams were designed to act as workshops for Andre and myself and everyone who participated. Jamming with percussionists is tantamount to hitting the ball with another tennis player at your level of play. When you play with someone really good you experience a rush in your ability to execute. Don Buday probably had something to do with Rudy coming down to jam. When Rudy came in to play, Andre and I had that kind of rush…we really liked his playing. Max Garduno was also one of the guests invited to the workshop/jam sessions, and was such a talented conga soloist that we featured him on "El Grito." Steve and Rudy Salas also came to jam with the percussion section, and me alone, many times in the late evening. These were great learning sessions and a lot of fun.
MC:
JOHN E: In general the first three albums were all “live” except that the third had overdubs on certain tunes. I always thought we sounded much better when we played live, bringing about some pretty wild things!
MC:
JOHN E: That’s a good question! I look back on those years and things fit in like pieces to a puzzle. In the early years we would be at rehearsal playing some line and beat that could have emerged from a jam, and start chanting a melody like we used to do on stage back when we were the V.I.P.’s. Let me give you an example: We might start with a chord progression or montuno while someone was taking a ride. We would explore simple chorus phrases. In the old days maybe one would be: “A Boog-a loo….a shing a ling….” And then we would make up things: Vamos tocar Chicano…Vamos tocar para ti…” The fun was that everybody had a hand in the arrangements. El Chicano: “One body… six heads!”
MC:
JOHN E: Thank you… it was released as a single and did take off in various markets here and abroad. Bob and I are proud of that composition but I must say that I would have liked to have re-recorded it. It didn’t come out the way I had originally thought it would. I had other expectations for the song…I could envision Lee Michaels and “Frosty” recording it. Bob and I were going through the same personal circumstance when we wrote it… it was a philosophical statement.
MC:
JOHN E: It would have been nice to play the White House for President Nixon. We were invited and we accepted, but with the heavy politics back then, the President or his advisors ended up deciding that we might be too controversial. I don’t remember exactly what happened, just that the performance was something I looked forward to and that when it didn’t come to pass I was disappointed. We were perceived in so many different ways by the establishment. Sometimes it was positive, and sometimes people were concerned we might provoke a riot! By contrast, we played at Frank Sinatra’s last performance. I was standing backstage when Rosalind Russell was beginning Frank’s introduction. Sinatra appeared to my right and I leaned over to him, shook his hand and introduced myself and told him we were playing outside at the party, and then I asked him if I could introduce him to my date. He said: “sure!” and I introduced her and he shook her hand and gave her that great smile.
MC:
JOHN E: This period was the most confusing and hurtful part of my El Chicano experience. I didn’t know anything about what is now loosely known as “exhaustion.” I didn’t know about physical or mental fatigue…I never thought about it. If I was tired, I slept, if I wasn’t, I didn’t. I have always worked hard at things, be it physical or creative. I didn’t collapse per se…I didn’t faint or anything like that. What happened to me happens to a lot of creative artists that are self-driven. After recording the “Celebration” album, I found it increasingly hard to rest. I couldn’t really sleep on anything that moved, like a train, plane, bus or motor home. I just couldn’t sleep…then I began to lose weight. I was not eating properly and often stayed up writing, jamming, partying, looking for good live music, touring, performing. It came to the point that I was getting impatient with things and found it hard to focus on personal necessities, especially while in town. I felt overwhelmed. If you read about what happens to the body and mind with sleep deprivation it is really scary. I was really getting more and more tired, and yet couldn’t sleep. I would lay down and feel a buzz feeling, like with a lot of coffee, that kept me awake…it was awful. Then I started to question our touring itineraries with their illogical travel patterns zigzagging across the country…all this was taking its toll. I knew something was happening to me but I couldn’t figure it out. It finally came to a head one day when I was out shopping, or something, in Century City. I hadn’t slept at all for several days, and was walking along very exhausted. I passed a phone booth and calmly decided to call a crisis center that was listed on a business card someone had given me. I was very thin and gaunt looking and weighed less than a hundred and fifty five pounds. They took me to Saint John’s Hospital and I checked myself in for observation. The doctor was really good…he said I was suffering from fatigue, gave me medication, and told me that I needed a lot of rest. Well, I told the doctor I was a drummer and had to keep playing and didn’t want to let the band down. He told me that playing wasn’t important, and that all these bad things would happen if I didn’t slow down…my organs, including my heart, could stop functioning. I still couldn’t believe how this all came about without more warning, but I wasn’t one who saw the doctor very often. Our manager was not happy and called me to verify what was going on. He didn’t believe I had any problems that couldn’t be dealt with on the road. He kept reminding me of the existing contracts and I began to feel guilty and stressed, meanwhile my doctor kept reminding me of the medical downside of continuing to tour. My caring mom and friends advised me to take care of “me first,” no matter what. I was in the hospital for ten days. At the time, only a handful of people seemed sincere in understanding what was happening and really wanting to help. My friends John and Penny Armendarez who were landlords of the International Hotel in Palm Springs invited me to stay at the hotel for as long as I wanted. They were very generous and helpful at a time when I was feeling very confused and alone. Getting rest was not easy, though. People started showing up looking for me, and so I left. Whether I was at the International or at my place, most of my friends were more interested in partying than helping me get well. I eventually had to go to stay with my mom and grandmother in Walnut to find real peace and relaxation. Finally, I was asked who I would recommend to take my place in El Chicano while I recovered. Without hesitation, I recommended my friend Danny LaMont, the former drummer of the Vesuvians and Thee Midniters. We were good friends, and I felt that with his talent, Danny could hold down the fort. I took it easy, gained weight and learned how to take care of myself through rest, nutrition, and with a more self-caring responsibility. When I play drums, then and now, I give my all….I am usually soaking wet from the performance workout. I really needed to learn how to better manage my health. I feel blessed to have survived this serious health warning.
Anyway, the doctor released me after two months of treatment and rest, and I informed the band. I came back strong in health and faith, and was prepared to meet new challenges. One day the phone rang and my mom answered it. She started to argue with someone and got really upset. After she hung up, she turned to me and said “the band has decided to keep Danny.” Archie, our manager at the time, told me that Freddie didn’t want to stop touring to rehearse with me. I was, of course, very upset and felt betrayed. I thought “How could my brothers turn their backs on me?” I had sacrificed so much for the good of the band, had given my heart and soul for so many years, so this was an unexpected blow that hurt a lot. People close to me and El Chicano would say later “They really weren’t your brothers.” I picked myself up during that period and turned everything over to God. My mom, family and friends gave me a lot of support…but I could never be hurt like that again…not ever.
Special thanks to the following:
"Barrio Rhythm" by Steven Loza
"Land of a Thousand Dances" by David Reyes and Tom Waldman
Mark Guerrero (www.markguerrero.net)
Images Courtesy of the John E. De Luna Archives
Media Consultant, Phyllis Rose
Produced by Gilberto Vera
Moonflowercafe.com/Latinrockcafe.com Exclusive
Moonflower Café is pleased to welcome John E. De Luna! A founding member of El Chicano, John's drumming provided a rock-solid yet dynamically expressive foundation for that group’s eclectic sound. John also co-led Riot, the only Latin Rock band to grace the legendary Motown label, and he is an accomplished vocalist, songwriter and producer. We are grateful to John for coming forward to share the story of his life’s journey as well as to shed some light on Latin Rock history from a Southern California perspective.
John, I have read that your father was a drummer and your mother a singer. Can you tell us about their music careers?
Did you have any other family connections to Chicano musicians from the 1940’s and 1950’s?
What kinds of music were you exposed to as a child?
My dad liked Sinatra, Louis Prima, Louis Armstrong, and Tony Bennett. My mom liked Eydie Gorme, Trio Los Panchos, Ella Fitzgerald, and Keely Smith. These songs and the songs on the radio were played a lot in our house. We lived in Monterey Park, California and had a swimming pool in the back yard above the house. Weekend pool parties were happening a lot and I was the DJ. I played a lot of Chubby Checker and songs like “Blueberry Hill.” I changed the records that kept the grown-up party going, and sang and danced the twist when asked…I loved it! Later, I played my records, mostly surf music, Ventures, Lively One’s, Dick Dale and the Deltones, Ricky Nelson, Sandy Nelson, Surfari’s, then later the Beatles. We would load up our surfboards and split to the beach with our little transistor radios, park for free at Huntington Beach or Balsa Chica, eat hamburgers and lay out. Music was always with me. During childhood the church choir is where I first put my harmony skills to work for formal performances. We sang for special services at the Reverend Ward Morrison’s First Baptist Church of Bella Vista, now long since gone. I attended services there until I was about 14, but my faith continues to this day.
What has happened in your life that you believe has had the most influence on your playing the drums?
We’ve heard that jazzman Buddy Rich, crowned “the world’s greatest drummer” for his monstrous chops, was an early idol of yours. Can you tell us about what drew you to Buddy’s playing and how he impacted you? Did any other specific artists influence you in your formative years as a young musician?
You grew up in Monterey Park, California: not too far from the East L.A. barrio geographically, but a world away culturally and economically. Although a middle-class kid, you became a part of a musical wave that had its heart in the barrio. What drew you out of Monterey Park and into the Eastside music scene?
Most of El Chicano’s members came from “grupos” that were part of the Eastside Sound music movement of the 1960's, were you part of any of these groups? If so, which ones?
JOHN E: The first band I gigged with was the Royal Rhythms, which I mentioned earlier. John Morales was lead guitarist, Bill Reyes rhythm guitar, and we had Joe Espinosa on bass, who later played with The Village Callers and the Chico band (no relation to El Chicano organist Bobby Espinosa). We had two sax players, one of whom was named Augie, and Robert Perez from the Blue Satins would sit in with us from time to time. We also had various singers, Charlie Munoz from the Blue Satins band, Ron "Pinky" Fernandez, and Art Gastellum and later on Cliffy (Clifford). The Royal Rhythms evolved into The Prophets, a band that remains my pride and joy. We were together about 3 years.
“Bill Good Guy White” Reyes stayed on, with Bobby “Lyon” Hernandez on lead guitar, and Tommy “Soul” Fuentes on Wurlitzer piano and Farfisa organ. We joined forces with bassist Benny Lopez and David Parsley, a really good singer and sax player who I knew from Montebello High School. David was tall, blonde, and good looking. Come to think of it, we were all good looking…ha ha! So, David fronted and fit nicely with what we wanted to do. Dave would have jam sessions at his house behind our school’s football field. I got to know a lot of musicians there, including Danny LaMont, drummer for Thee Midniters, and Barry Ward, original drummer for Three Dog Night, a really cool guy and good musician. This was a really fun time of workshop learning: everything we played was absorbed…rock, surf, jazz and some soul music.
How, when and why did the Prophets become the Prophets of Old? What was the difference between the two groups?
Bill Reyes eventually went on to form another group. As for myself,
I was open and ready for more musical excitement. I moved across the street from organist Bobby Espinosa and soon got an invitation to hear a band he was working with,The Fabulous V.I.P.’s.
MC:
This was the band that became El Chicano. Usually I see your original band name listed as the V.I.P.'s, but you sometimes refer to the group as The Fabulous V.I.P.'s. Are both correct? Did you drop the "Fabulous" at some point? How was the group formed, and what was your music like back then?
In a radio interview with Mark Guerrero on “Chicano Music Chronicles,” Freddie Sanchez referred to you as one of the V.I.P.’s’ most jazz-influenced players. Do you agree?
Bobby, Mickey and Freddie were your longest-running band mates in the V.I.P.’s and became part of the original El Chicano lineup. Most of us who loved your music and followed the band knew very little about the individual players. I –never- saw an interview or article on El Chicano in the media. Can you give us a brief snapshot of each of these musicians’ backgrounds, personalities and the unique strengths that they brought to the band?
Do you remember exactly when Bobby switched from his Vox organ to the Hammond B3? Did this help lead to an evolution in the V.I.P.’s’ sound and the opening up of new musical possibilities?
As fate would have it, the V.I.P.’s quartet decided to bring in Latin percussion and horns. This led to the introduction of Andre Baeza, who would help drive El Chicano’s sound for years to come with a funky, propulsive, “street style” of conga drumming that was bolder and more upfront than in traditional salsa music. Another crucial addition was Bobby Loya, a prolific brass player now probably best known as a member of Tierra. Loya had been a member of the V.I.P.’s at one time and, according to Freddie Sanchez, is actually the one who first turned the band on to “Viva Tirado.” This “Latin version” of the V.I.P.’s also included Tony Garcia on sax and flute, and Manuel "Gunzie" Reza, your manager/booking agent who also sang and played guiro, cowbell, maracas, clave, and bongo. Can you tell about this evolution in the band’s repertoire and personnel?
JOHN E: When Bobby Espinosa first invited me to attend a V.I.P.’s rehearsal, I liked the band but I wasn't that excited with where they had been and what they had to offer initially. We would have long band discussions related to direction and vocals and how to develop a different sound that we could be proud of. We had been playing soul and blues and re-arranging older and more current songs and had a pretty diverse repertoire: Freddie sang James Brown: “ Whaooo!!...I Feel Good;” and I did “Funny How Time Slips Away” by Willie Nelson
[ed: a great country-soul track recently covered by Al Green & Lyle Lovett], an uptempo R&B song called “Get Down With It,” and a famous East L.A. ballad called "For Your Love." “Hideaway” by Freddie King and “Bumpin’ On Sunset” by Wes Montgomery were showcases for Mickey, and Bobby Espinosa showed his stuff on Jimmy Smith’s “Got My MoJo Workin’,” which was probably the first song that Bobby E. sang. We were a great rhythm section and played instrumentals like no other, but we lacked vocal power and simply needed a bigger sound. The V.I.P.’s would try to make decisions collectively, to reach a group consensus. The idea had come up of bringing horns into the band to fill out the group’s R&B sound and also to help us explore Latin music.
Were 1960’s-era L.A. Latin jazz artists like vibes player Bobby Montez or pianist Eddie Cano role models or mentors for the V.I.P.’s/El Chicano? Were there any local Latin jazz players that the band wanted to emulate? Were you, Bobby, Freddie and Mickey listening to much Latin music before the four “Latin Combination” members joined the V.I.P.'s?
Hello John… Thank you for the inspiration. It seems as though El Chicano came out pretty much at the same time as Santana and by the same token, were very progressive musically. You guys definitely influenced many a "Latin Rock" group as is evident in your music. The musicianship in the band was exceptional and so far ahead of what was happening at that time. What music and/or artists would you say had the biggest impact on the over-all El Chicano sound?
Why didn’t the V.I.P.’s “Latin” lineup last, and how did Andre end up staying on while Loya, Garcia and Gunzie left?
The final V.I.P.’s lineup change occurred when Ersi Arvizu was added on lead vocals and percussion. Ersi had recorded and performed with a family “girl group” called the Sisters, and had also had stints with the Village Callers and other bands. Can you tell us how Ersi got involved, and what the music was like in this final phase before the VIP’s became El Chicano? “Land of a Thousand Dances” describes you as having been a Top 40 cover band.
Record producer/entrepreneur Eddie Davis was a believer in and long-time promoter of the Los Angeles Mexican-American musical talent pool, largely centered in East L.A. It was through Davis, known as “Godfather of the Eastside Sound” that you and the V.I.P.’s got your big break, the chance to record and release the “Viva Tirado” single and album. We’ve heard that Eddie Davis decided to change the V.I.P.’s name to El Chicano to bank on the Chicano Movement wave. The term “Chicano” had an ugly connotation in Mexico. It was a put-down. The story goes that the V.I.P.’s refused to go along with the name change, so Davis had put together a new band and was ready to have them tour behind “Viva Tirado” until the V.I.P.’s had a change of heart. What are your recollections of the concerns about taking on the new name?
It was only after the “Viva Tirado” single got some chart action that the band went back to record the rest of the “Viva Tirado” album. Had those other songs already been in the V.I.P.’s repertoire, or were they picked in order to complement the style of the song “Viva Tirado?” “Cantaloupe Island” and “Coming Home Baby” were jazz tunes that really fit the El Chicano style…had you all been listening to artists like Herbie Hancock and Herbie Mann who first popularized those songs?
John, your tasty time-keeping on the “Viva Tirado” album really contributed to the great controlled burn of the early El Chicano sound. Your rim shot and hi-hat pattern on the first section of “Quiet Village” was killer, as were your fills and the modified bossa nova feel that you brought to many of those songs. There is something about the early El Chicano groove that seems akin to Ramsey Lewis’ 1960’s soul-jazz recordings. Were Ramsey’s drummers like Redd Holt and the young Maurice White an influence on your style?
JOHN E: Thank you… It might be that our songs had similarities with the songwriting and arranging of the day. I learned from everybody by listening to records, live performances and jam sessions. There’s an old adage, “we do not invent… we only re-discover.” I don’t think of my influences, per se, when I’m approaching a song. Instead, I play with it…I draw from inside and contribute what I feel is best-suited. I know Ramsey Lewis had several songs I liked. I didn’t own any of his records but I heard them. I loved his trio sound and the responsibility that comes with playing in a trio. In that setting, drummers can take license to become more than just time-keepers. Ramsey’s style brought and commanded more from the bass and drums. His groups were an example of great chemistry. Stix Hooper with the Jazz Crusaders was an influence, because his drumming “sang” on its own while he meshed so well with that band. Sometimes I would listen to the Jazz Crusaders and think of things I would do if I played in that group. I still do that with other tunes and consider it a great exercise (this is probably more akin to a producer’s analysis and can be incorporated into playing as an approach and exercise). Usually I just work out some things as I’m playing the feel. Back then, I would sometimes play by myself until I was comfortable with the accents of a song. On accents, if they are perpetual in the rhythm, I will find a way to embellish by using them with a more subtle domination. In the song “Quiet Village,” I’m pushing the song as it falls into a pocket and it becomes easier to groove and play with. Once the groove is established, the concentration is on holding the meter, while toying with the cymbal and creating continuous momentum. This establishes a swing-like feel.
John, your playing reminded me a lot of The Doors’ drummer John Densmore, who brought a Latin feel to The Doors’ music.
El Chicano covered “Light My Fire,” and The Doors also recorded a couple of tracks that sound El Chicano-influenced. “The Soft Parade” had one section. The other song that really shows an El Chicano influence is “Latino Chrome,” from the posthumous
Jim Morrison album “An American Prayer.” Did El Chicano ever come into contact with The Doors, and do you think El Chicano might have influenced them?
[editor’s note: John was provided with an mp3 of “Latino Chrome” to review]
What are your thoughts on Densmore and The Doors in general?
“Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child” is another favorite of mine from that session. Those performances on the “Viva Tirado” LP were smokin’…the band was really tight and sounded great! Had you been putting in a lot of hours together…maybe in that rehearsal space shown on the “Viva Tirado” album cover? By the way, was that someone’s living room?
During your time with the V.I.P.’s and El Chicano did you know the members of WAR and the bands that preceded them (Señor Soul, Nightshift, The Creators)? You must have at least heard WAR’s music on the radio. El Chicano and WAR had some things in common…two L.A. bands with jazz and soul influences featuring Hammond organ and Latin rhythms. Any recollections or early impressions of WAR?
Was Andre the first conguero you had worked with? Blending with conga and timbale players is a challenge for some trap drummers, and a skill that probably wasn’t taught formally back in the 1960’s. How did you two go about working out your parts?
Singer Ersi Arvizu was also credited as playing percussion on both the “Viva Tirado” album and your second release “Revolución.” Abu, a Moonflower Café patron from Malaysia, has reported that he saw a late 70’s El Chicano concert in his country with Ersi having rejoined the band and playing timbales. How much percussion playing did she actually do with the band in the studio and onstage, and on what percussion instruments? Was that cowbell heard on several tracks on the first two albums played by Ersi or yourself?
The “Viva Tirado” single and album sold extremely well, climbing to high positions on the jazz, soul, easy listening and pop charts. This success took El Chicano far from L.A. for the first time, on a tour that included venues like the Ohio Jazz Festival and New York’s famous Apollo Theatre. Even so, the band decided to split with Eddie Davis, who had been a major architect of your success, to work with Neil Diamond’s producer Tom Catalano on the next album. Having been a vocal band prior to “Viva Tirado,” were you too restricted by the all-instrumental format that Davis had you working in? The band would never again equal the success of “Viva Tirado,” so in retrospect, was splitting from Davis a good idea?
Eddie Davis produced a couple of other bands that were in kind of an El Chicano bag: One G Plus 3 (with a single entitled “Poquito Soul” written by future WAR reed man Charles Miller) and Tocayo (with a single called “Con Safos”). Were you aware of these bands, instrumental combos with prominent Hammond organs playing over jazzy Latin grooves, and did you know the players? These groups could have been an attempt to cash in on the El Chicano sound, or just evidence of the love of soulful Mexican-American sounds that Eddie Davis professed.
If El Chicano steamed like a pressure cooker on “Viva Tirado,” your second album “Revolución” found the musical pot -boiling over- with a new level of intensity and greater dynamic and stylistic range. Your drumming, already excellent on the first album, now seemed even cleaner and more confident. The band showed it could “rock out” on songs like “Make It All Go” and “I’m A Good Woman” (with its rhythm breakdown) and bring it down gently to play a tender bolero like “Sabor A Mi,” not to mention the increasing boldness and vitality of the band’s Latin-jazz-rock instrumental stylings. Was this one of the most exciting albums you’ve recorded?
The “Revolución” album cover made a statement that was just as bold as the music inside. Not only did most listeners get to see the band members’ faces for the first time (after that totally anonymous “Viva Tirado” album cover), but your photos were juxtaposed with those of Mexican heroes Emiliano Zapata and Pancho Villa in front of a post-apocalyptic scene of rubble and destruction. It was a collage that might be described as a revolutionary Chicano Sergeant Pepper’s! Was this image totally the brainchild of the design team, or did the band have input?
“Revolución” came on the tide of a period of rising Chicano consciousness and activism. When demonstrators took to the streets of L.A. to protest injustice, police had beaten many of them, even killing journalist Rubén Salazar and other Chicanos. Songs like “Don’t Put Me Down (If I’m Brown),” “Viva La Raza” and later tracks like “El Grito” and “Mas Zacate” sounded like anthems for the struggle, conveying Chicano power and pride. These would seem to have been a reaction to the times, a statement of solidarity. What are your reflections on that volatile period and its effect on the band’s direction? What were the pros and cons of being a band with such a symbolic name, having to “represent” for an entire people?
JOHN E: We were obviously caught up in the movement and at times pushed to the edge because of the people who were surrounding us.
Though I was for the betterment of the Chicano community, I wasn’t into the extreme violence that was taking place. I was really busy with music and life and the personal demands after coming off the road. Life as a young, single traveling musician was adventurous, but sometimes hard to manage. Some said we were pressing politics too much and at times I felt we were, but I knew there were too many injustices and stereotypical attitudes that needed to be brought to the surface, dealt with, and corrected. Though I hadn’t felt them in my upbringing, I was beginning to see that they existed. I had to be on guard about my deep conservative opinions on things, so I focused on the music and the confidence and pride we were projecting. I saw that we were an inspiration to students, up-and-coming artists and those who needed an identity figure or mentor to help guide them to self-actualization, and I considered that important. One reason I agreed to do this interview is that I still feel that way: I want to inform, teach and inspire whoever I can to progress, to help people achieve their goals and aspirations and shed the self-defeating “woe is me” attitude and mind set.
El Chicano played at a lot of political events and fund raisers related to the Chicano Movement, performing for prominent leaders including Cesar Chavez and Rodolfo "Corky" Gonzales. The “Land of a Thousand Dances” authors say the El Chicano name “created a burden” for all of you during that era. What were these times like for the band and for you, personally?
People had issues and sometimes we were accused of not doing enough for the movement. At the time I was a Democrat and they wanted us to join the La Raza Unida Party. I wasn't going to do that. We knew most of the leaders of the Chicano movement. I met with Corky and knew him well. We would have dinner at his house and he always had bodyguards…I knew he was a target. Corky always treated me right and would ask me questions about music and then ultimately hit us up to play for a fund-raiser. Well, we would make appearances at the Crusade For Justice headquarters and sign autographs and things like that...that was okay...and we performed for fund-raising causes whenever we could.
“Revolución” was El Chicano’s most raw, emotional album. Ersi has been quoted as admiring the funky San Francisco Bay Area band Cold Blood and their singer Lydia Pense, and Ersi and El Chicano brought a lot of fire to your cover of "I'm A Good Woman," which the Cold Blood band had previously recorded. To what extent did Ersi, as lead vocalist, drive the artistic direction on “Revolución”(which also gave us her classic version of the bolero “Sabor a Mi”)? Did she hand-pick some of the songs?
Are you able to comment as to why Ersi left the band after “Revolución?” In her bio on MySpace, Ersi says of her reasons for leaving El Chicano: "Too much drinking, too much drugs, too much, too much . . .I couldn’t take all of that." You guys wouldn’t have been the only band that partied too hard during that time, but in retrospect do you think that could have caused the rift? Ersi has resurfaced in recent years: gigging with her group La Chicana & Her Revue (featuring Mickey on guitar), singing on Ry Cooder’s 2005 album “Chavez Ravine,” and now releasing her own debut solo CD “Friend For Life” (on Anti Records, produced by Cooder). It seems strange, though, and a terrible waste, for such a dynamic singer to have gone silent for over 25 years. Did she retire from music during those years after El Chicano?
Once in the mid-to-late 90’s when I was surfing the internet to find out what became of the various El Chicano members, I found a couple of articles about a female boxer named Ersi Arvizu! This seemed to be a really strange coincidence (how many Ersi Arvizus –are-- there?), but the photos weren’t clear enough for me to tell if she was the same Ersi. Is there any chance that Ersi might have gotten involved in boxing at some point after leaving El Chicano?
El Chicano’s third album “Celebration” marked another change in the band’s musical direction. With Ersi’s departure, Rudy and Steve Salas, their early Latin Rock band called Maya having folded, came in as vocalists, and timbalero Rudy Regalado made his first appearance with the group. New stylistic elements were heard as well: original Santana-styled Latin Rock (with “Juntos,” “El Grito” and other tracks) and an acoustic folk-rock strain that yielded a hit in your cover version of Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl.” In addition to this last song, you guys also did another very effective rock “cover,” Cream’s “I Feel Free,” as well as the well-executed jazz tunes “Señor Blues” and “In A Silent Way.” Whose stroke of genius was it to bring these songs in?
Much of the original material on “Celebration” was at quicker tempos and with more complex arrangements than songs that El Chicano had played in the past. Even though the degree of difficulty seemed to have jumped a notch, your drums, Andre’s congas and Rudy’s timbales blended seamlessly. What kind of adjustments did you make as a drummer to play this new material and to play alongside a timbalero for the first time?
Here is a question for you, John. I love El Chicano…you guys made some great music and I have all of your albums. I have always wondered whether El Chicano was inspired by Santana? El Chicano used to come north to the San Francisco Bay Area to play from time to time. Were you friendly with the Santana band or any of the players from the San Francisco Latin Rock scene, and did you ever get together with Bay Area players to jam, either on the road or at home?
JOHN E: First of all, I think El Chicano and Santana were supportive of each other. I loved the fact that Latin music was being brought to the surface and into the mainstream. Keep in mind that there were no categories for our type of music until later, in terms of being recognized with a Grammy or even within our own Marketing Department at MCA. When El Chicano came to the Bay Area, the local Latin musicians were there. We exchanged ideas and we were motivated by and felt supported by them, at least that’s how I felt. Once at the “Night Life” club in the Mission District a lot of musicians came by to see us and we all jammed afterward. We sat in with Santana once at the U.C. Berkeley Greek Theatre and it didn’t matter if you were playing a tambourine or drums, we were at one. I liked their music…it was all over the radio waves and it sounded really good. I could hear influences, at times, but its part of the same inspiration. Most serious musicians are listening to the same nucleus of the music’s derivative.
I listen to Latin music in individual parts, keying in like a zoom lens. I remember a friend back then, Bobby De Luna from Saratoga (no relation), taking me to Chepito Areas’ house on one occasion. Chepito was really cool and showed us around, and his wife was really nice. She and I shared a birthday, October 14th…Libras are cool...aren’t they? Chepito visited us when we played at “the Whiskey,” along with Mike Carabello, Dave Brown and others from Santana. Again, they were very supportive. As Sam Butera would say: “It’s nice to be important, but it’s important to be nice…”
How was the decision made to add a timbalero to El Chicano, and how did you find Rudy Regalado? Was the band drawn to the electrifying excitement that “Chepito” Areas’ timbale work brought to Santana’s sound, and did that motivate you guys to try to spark a similar fire?
Freddie Sanchez, El Chicano’s original leader, has said that El Chicano always recorded “live in the studio.” This “get tight, then go in and cut it in one take” work ethic is pure old-school, and very impressive considering the performances you guys captured on tape. We know the story of the “Viva Tirado” tracks having been recorded “live.” Can you share anything regarding the experience of recording the other El Chicano albums that you played on?
Several great tracks from the “Revolución” and “Celebration” albums were listed as being group compositions, “Keep On Moving,” “Viva La Raza,” “Chicano Chant,” “Don’t Put Me Down (If I’m Brown),” “Mas Zacate,” “El Grito,” “Juntos.” These are powerful tunes, a very impressive list. As one of the writers, can you talk about El Chicano’s process of writing as a group? Did these songs evolve from jam sessions?
Your co-composition “Satisfy Me Woman” was released as a single, and sounded like it could have had Top 40 potential. Was that Bobby Espinosa on the lead vocal?
I have read that El Chicano performed for President Nixon during your tenure with the band, and possibly for other heads of state and royalty. Do you have any memories of what that was like? Were you the first Latin or rock band to play at the White House? Playing for President Nixon might have been a controversial thing to do at the time as Nixon wasn’t too popular with younger Chicanos or political progressives. Was there a backlash against the band for this?
John, I understand that you suffered a collapse from severe exhaustion due to El Chicano’s brutal touring schedule after the release of “Celebration,” and took a break from the band on doctor’s orders. When you were well enough to return you found that you had been replaced. How did you go about finding a new direction in your career when you had been so closely associated with one band for several years?
