"I play music the way it was played in yesteryear"
About this Quote
There is a small defiance tucked inside Compay Segundo's nostalgia. "I play music the way it was played in yesteryear" is not just a preference for old arrangements; it's a claim about authenticity, memory, and who gets to decide what counts as Cuban music when the modern world is constantly asking for an update.
Segundo came of age with son, trova, and the dance-band culture that shaped 20th-century Cuba long before the Buena Vista Social Club revival turned elders into global icons. By the late 1990s, that project marketed "timeless" Havana to foreign listeners hungry for warmth, crackle, and romance. His line reads like a gentle refusal to chase trends, but it also flatters the audience's craving for the pre-digital, pre-globalized feel: yesteryear as a sound you can buy.
The intent is practical as much as poetic. Playing "like it was played" means staying loyal to ensemble etiquette and rhythmic discipline: the conversation between tres, guitar, bass, and percussion; the swing that lives in tiny hesitations and pushes. That craft can get lost when music is streamlined for radio or fused into glossy pop. Segundo's phrasing quietly argues that tradition isn't a museum piece, it's a living technique.
The subtext, then, is an ethical stance: dignity through continuity. In a culture where reinvention is often treated as the only form of relevance, Segundo insists that endurance can be its own kind of modernity.
Segundo came of age with son, trova, and the dance-band culture that shaped 20th-century Cuba long before the Buena Vista Social Club revival turned elders into global icons. By the late 1990s, that project marketed "timeless" Havana to foreign listeners hungry for warmth, crackle, and romance. His line reads like a gentle refusal to chase trends, but it also flatters the audience's craving for the pre-digital, pre-globalized feel: yesteryear as a sound you can buy.
The intent is practical as much as poetic. Playing "like it was played" means staying loyal to ensemble etiquette and rhythmic discipline: the conversation between tres, guitar, bass, and percussion; the swing that lives in tiny hesitations and pushes. That craft can get lost when music is streamlined for radio or fused into glossy pop. Segundo's phrasing quietly argues that tradition isn't a museum piece, it's a living technique.
The subtext, then, is an ethical stance: dignity through continuity. In a culture where reinvention is often treated as the only form of relevance, Segundo insists that endurance can be its own kind of modernity.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
More Quotes by Compay
Add to List


