Music in the Air

Cuba is bursting with sound, and each region moves to its own defining rhythm

- BY Shannon Sims

THE SHOW STARTS at 10," Claudio told us the night we arrived in the beachfront town of Gibara in southeastern Cuba. We were on the hunt for Cuban music, and for a week, we'd been told a show would start at a certain time, only to spend hours in empty venues, waiting for the band to arrive. So I asked Claudio if 10 actually meant midnight. Claudio, a friend of the band, hesitated and smiled: "Let's say 11."

It was 2:11 a.m. when nine musicians finally took the stage. Within seconds, we were enveloped by sound-bongos, scrapers, shakers, trumpets, sax and the falsetto of the singer, Cimafunk. With his four-inch tall flat-top hair, swagger and Hawaiian shirt open and flapping in the breeze, he was the centre of attention. Hundreds danced with their arms in the air. It was a magical moment, one that the photographer Todd Heisler and I had been chasing across the island.

Cuba is drenched in music; you hear it everywhere. For many visitors, Cuban music is defined by the traditional sounds of the Buena Vista Social Club or Celia Cruz. But it stretches far beyond those sounds; its roots draw on Africa and Haiti, France and Spain. Genres come together and break apart, endlessly forming new sounds. And as Cubans dive into the possibilities provided by the internet, styles are shifting with increasing speed.

For 12 days, Todd and I travelled east from Havana toward Santiago de Cuba, in search of Cuba's musical roots. It was not an easy trip. The taxis will make you woozy with exhaust; accommodations advertising Wi-Fi and air conditioning often have neither; and supermarket shelves can be close to bare. But the island boasts a perfect cure for any traveller's woes: irresistible live music.