Painstaking Process, Part Troix

Yesterday we spent 9 hours in the studio, from noon till 10 pm (the guys got a one-hour lunch break, I got a pick-up-the-kid-and-nurse-the-baby break). We worked on El Cantante. As usual, Gary and I spent about an hour recording it. We had just been punching line-by-line in when Wayne arrived and questioned my rhythm on the first verse.

"You sound like you're skating over the groove. You're not locked in with the band," he observed. I knew that, but thought I had been fixing it via the punches. So we went back to the top and started working on hitting the rhythm better. He suggested I not listen to the clave so much and that we turn up the congas and their 16th-note pattern in my mix. But then he criticized some of my lines for being crossed with the 3-2 clave. We spent time fixing those lines. Then he suggested that another line I thought should be fixed to be more rhythmic flowed more naturally, like a rumbera would sing it. Just goes to show that I am never right! The doctor is in!

Nah, I'm just kidding and am glad he's there to make everything better. It's just that making everything better is very hard work. After two hours, I was exhausted. At least I'm getting wise to the fact that you can't go on singing when your energy starts to flag. I left to pick up Sebastian from school and take him to the babysitter/extended family member and when I came back I was thinking things would not improve as I was still tired (though I had eaten something, at least). Thankfully, I was wrong. My voice was really warm and everything started feeling really great. We got through the whole song and even had energy to go back to the top and hit that verse where the rhythm had been elusive.

"Where was this girl when we started?" Wayne said. "That's the attitude we're looking for!"

At about 6 Edgardo and Orlando showed up and we began working on the coros for two songs. Wayne came up with 4-part harmonies on the spot. Again, I was reassured to see it wasn't any easier for them to sing exactly what Wayne wanted than it was for me.

There was a funny part on Habanera, which I do in French and Spanish. At the end, there's a coro I wrote, "Ven a mi jaula dorada... te aguarda." It means "Step into my gilded cage... it awaits you." Orlando wondered aloud what "aguarda" meant--and he's a fluent Cuban Spanish-speaker.

"It means 'wait,'" I said.

"What's that, Old Spanish or something?" Orlando said.

"No, and actually my husband came up with it and I know he doesn't speak Old Spanish--more like de la calle. The other option is to say 'te espera,' but I like how 'te aguarda' sounds better," I said.

We agreed to stick with aguarda, but as Orlando went back into the sound booth he sang, R&B style, "Ven a mi jaula dorada ... te aguarda -- which means I wait for yooooouuuuu..." We were all cracking up over that one. I told him I have a real nose for a hit: "Just watch, Orlando--all the kids on the street are gonna be singing 'te aguarda'" when I'm through!"

Yep, when I'm through converting an 1875 aria by Bizet into an acoustic pilón/salsa French-Spanish hybrid with a recitative at the beginning--the world will bow to our mass market appeal!!!!