Midweek Music Break: Melodía Pegadiza, Part 2 (Pérez Prado’s “Patricia,” and the Mambo in General)

[Image: Pérez Prado, in the imaginative eyes of the Mexican cartoonist (Saul Herrera) calling himself “Qucho.” I found the image on the Web right away; Qucho, only with some hunting. And I’m not sure this image appears even there, on his blog.]

It’s been a few months now since I posted the first of these Midweek Music Breaks on Latin-music earwigs from the 1950s. That post dealt with “Blue Tango,” by decidedly non-Hispanic classical composer Leroy Anderson. This week, we take a look at one of this genre’s hits penned by the self-styled “Mambo King,” bandleader Dámaso Pérez Prado.

First, an (apologetically pedantic) aside about that name: Dámaso was his given name; Pérez, his paternal surname; Prado, his maternal surname. Thus you’ll find many references to him as simply “Pérez Prado” — which “feels,” at least to a native English speaker, like a first/last name combination. For all I know, this was common during his lifetime. Maybe he even got used to it: when someone shouted out “Pérez!” on a street corner, maybe he turned his head more readily than when they called for Dámaso. But really, it’s never quite correct to refer to him as plain-old Prado — like the Spanish national art museum. Speaking from experience, this is harder than it sounds. Nevertheless “Pérez Prado” is right — just like the dark-and-stormy-night author is never called simply Lytton but always Bulwer-Lytton.

Pérez Prado cut something of an exotic figure on the mid-20th century American musical landscape. Born in Matanzas, Cuba, in 1916, he started out studying classical piano. By the 1940s, he had moved entirely into popular Cuban genres, specializing in the rhythm called the mambo.

What exactly is mambo, anyhow? Unfortunately, most of the descriptions of it are cast in terms of other styles which — presumably — you already do know enough about to discuss intelligently. One Joseph Levy, about whom I can report pretty much nothing at all, seems to have taken a special interest in Pérez Prado. At his site, he says of the mambo:

Prado’s conception of the mambo began to develop in 1943. He later said that four, five, and sometimes six musicians would often play after hours jam sessions on the tres (a small Cuban guitar) and the resultant cross rhythms and syncopation give him the idea. Jazz writer and critic Ralph J. Gleason reported that “Prez” talked to him about the mambo as being an Afro-Cuban rhythm with a dash of American swing. According to Prado, the mambo is “more musical and swingier than the rhumba. It has more beat.” He also explained, “I am a collector of cries and noises, elemental ones like seagulls on the shore, winds through the trees, men at work in a foundry. Mambo is a movement back to nature, by means of rhythms based on such cries and noises, and on simple joys.”

…The mambo as we know it today is actually a rhythm whose tempo may be slow or fast, and almost any standard tune can be set to its tempo. The saxophone usually sets the rhythm pattern and the brass carries the melody.

That reference to “cries and noises” and the squawks of seagulls may allude to Pérez Prado’s own style of band leadership. Often, you can hear him grunting aloud as though to punctuate the rhythm; sometimes these grunts are actually exultant variations of the imperative “Dilo!” (“Say it!”) and sometimes they seem — at least to me — just, well, grunts.*

Pérez Prado’s departure from Cuba is sometimes described as though he’d been ridden out of town on a rail, for tainting the purer strains of local music with foreign jazz elements. Well, maybe. Maybe the musical establishment of mid-twentieth-century Cuba was fiery, conservative, nativist; maybe people really did (still do) work themselves up into a frenzy of distaste over such matters, and not just in Cuba. What seems more likely, given what we could later tell of Pérez Prado’s ambitions: he just felt too constrained by a narrow — oh, say, island-sized — popularity, and left on his own. Whatever the case may be, when he left, he left for Mexico. And except for his big but fairly brief success in the US, from then on he seemed to present himself as a citizen of Mexico rather than Cuba.

His first introduction to US audiences came via across-the-border radio broadcasts from Mexico. He had a big hit there with a number called “Que Rico del Mambo,” which was repackaged and -recorded by American bandleader Sonny Burke as “Mambo Jambo.” That song’s success first brought Pérez Prado to the US.

“Patricia,” in 1958, was the last of Pérez Prado’s releases to reach #1 on US charts. To characterize it as infectious (as I, at least, am tempted to do) is to gloss over the recording’s supreme oddness. The orchestra’s swing is punctuated not so much by its leader’s vocal cries — it doesn’t seem to feature any of them — as by weird little bursts of horns and percussion which almost suggest to me a burp, or the compressed-lips Pppppbbbfffflllt! of a raspberry/”Bronx cheer.” But the tune itself seems to pinpoint a moment in time, in pop culture, captured by Federico Fellini in La Dolce Vita:

In [1960], even the composer Nino Rota would turn to mambo, reworking “Patricia” (Perez Prado) for the La Dolce Vita soundtrack. The song is used on several occasions, including in the “orgy” scene… As [the character of Nadia] prepares to take it all off, an inebriated guest calls for some “Middle Eastern music.” But in a truly exotica moment, the hi-fi needle falls into the groove of “Patricia.”

[source]

If you’re not familiar with that scene in the film, here’s how Wikipedia describes it:

To celebrate her recent divorce from Riccardo, Nadia performs a striptease to Pérez Prado’s cha-cha [JES: ???] “Patricia.” The drunken Marcello attempts to provoke the other partygoers into an orgy. Due to their inebriated states, however, the party descends into mayhem with Marcello throwing pillow feathers around the room as he rides a young woman crawling on her hands and knees.

(Ah, the early Sixties…) Of course, you can see this scene on YouTube, starting at around 3:55 into that seven-plus-minute clip.

Anyhow, here’s “Patricia,” as recorded by Pérez Prado’s own orchestra in 1958:

The main reason this post has been sitting around for so long is that its research (perhaps unsurprisingly) led me down several more or less unrelated rabbit holes. I learned, for example, that a fragment of “Patricia” was featured in a series of TV commercials for the UK’s Royal Mail (1996-2003, overall campaign title “I Saw This and Thought of You”). Here’s the one called “Spary Spider”:

(You can find numerous others on YouTube, as well.)

Pérez Prado’s “Mambo No. 5” has also been a hit with adapters. For example, here’s a clip from a 2001 episode of the animated children’s show, Bob the Builder:

[Lyrics]

My own introduction to the mambo came from a record album I’ve referred to before here at RAMH (here (on “Sho-Jo-Ji”) and here (about “Cry Me a River,” a clip in which Julie London injects the program’s theme song with her characteristic brand of allure)): a collection of songs from the original Mickey Mouse Club television series. Somehow — capitalizing on the Latin-music craze, no doubt — the show’s producers came up with the idea of repackaging the “Who’s the leader of the club” theme music to a mambo rhythm. This results in almost no lyrics changes, just a corny quasi-“Hispanic” accent over the beat — complete with Perez Prado-like grunts:

Finally, this led me to one of the creepiest videos on YouTube. It’s the “Mickey Mouse Mambo,” all right… performed by the Lennon Sisters, on the old Lawrence Welk musical-variety show. If you’re familiar with that show, you know that Welk cultivated a squeaky-clean, “family-friendly” image. This was especially true of cast regulars like the Lennons (the youngest, Janet Lennon, was only nine or ten at the time of this performance). Yes, Welk seemed to be saying, It’s true, these young folks are in showbiz, and so they’re exposed to some unsavory influences, but you won’t find a hint of it on MY show.

Someone came up with the idea that the Lennons might perform the “Micky Mouse Mambo.” (I thought the someone might’ve been Bobby Burgess, one of the original Mouseketeers, who later went on to become a regular on the Welk program. But Burgess hadn’t yet left Disney’s fold when this performance was recorded, so that can’t be it.) But there was a potential problem: despite the silly inoffensiveness of the lyrics, the musical form smacked slightly of decadence. Surely they couldn’t actually feature the girls shaking their hips…!

Solution: film them from the waist up. Let them sing, but don’t show them dancing or (gods forbid) swaying in time with the music. Let them bounce perkily, sure, but by no means suggest anything untoward.

And yet — perhaps for authenticity’s sake — let them keep the little quasi-orgasmic little grunts at the end of the lines. Extremely weird. And, like I said: very creepy.