I was first introduced to the music of Carlos Santana in the film "Woodstock" in 1970.
I had never even heard of the group before, even though they had already been establishing a huge west coast following with their unique sound. (Even then, Carlos had already developed his signature sound that has identified every Santana recording since.)
Their hit list is staggering ... fifteen Billboard Top 40 Hits ... including the 12-week #1 Smash "Smooth," recorded with Rob Thomas that broke a 17 year stretch between Top 40 hits.
Our FH Buddy Harvey Kubernik tells us about a brand new Carlos Santana documentary that is in the works ... and we wanted to share the news with the rest of our Forgotten Hits Readers.
Carlos Santana ... A New Documentary
By Harvey Kubernik © 2023
A new feature-length documentary film chronicling the
life story and work of guitarist and bandleader Carlos Santana, Carlos,
will launch in theaters next month with a three-day premiere event. On Sept,
23, 24 and 27 only, screenings will include the documentary plus exclusive
introductory content featuring Santana and two-time Emmy-winning director Rudy
Valdez. Following the screenings, Carlos’ general
theatrical release begins Sept. 29.
It premiered earlier this year at the Tribeca Festival, Carlos combines new interviews with Santana and
his family; never-before-seen archival footage, including home videos recorded
by Santana himself; concert footage; behind-the-scenes moments; interviews with
music industry collaborators, such as Clive Davis and Rob Thomas and more.
Tickets
for Carlos: The Santana Journey Global Premiere went on sale
beginning Aug. 24th. The film is presented in select cinemas
worldwide by Trafalgar Releasing and Sony Pictures Classics.
For more than four
decades — from Carlos Santana’s earliest days as a groundbreaking
Afro-Latin-blues-rock fusion outfit in San Francisco — Carlos has been the
visionary force behind artistry that transcends musical genres and
generational, cultural and geographical boundaries.
Santana arrived in the era-defining late 1960's
San Francisco Bay Area music scene with historic shows at the Fillmore and
other storied venues. The group emerged onto the global stage with an epic set
at the Woodstock festival in 1969, the same year that its self-titled debut LP
Santana came out. Introducing Santana’s first Top 10 hit, “Evil Ways,” the disc
stayed on Billboard’s album chart for two years and was soon followed by two
more classics — and Billboard #1 albums — Abraxas and Santana III.
More than 40 years and almost as many albums
later, Santana has sold more than 100 million records and reached more than 100
million fans at concerts worldwide.
Santana has won 10
GRAMMY® Awards, including a record-tying nine for a single project, 1999’s
Supernatural (including Album of the Year and Record of the Year for “Smooth”)
and three Latin GRAMMY ® Awards. In 1998, the group was ushered into the Rock
and Roll Hall of Fame.
Among many other honors, Carlos Santana received
Billboard Latin Music Awards’ 2009 Lifetime Achievement honor, and, he was
bestowed Billboard’s Century Award in 1996.
On December 8, 2013
Carlos was the recipient of the 2013 Kennedy Center Honors Award.
The arc of Santana’s
performing and recording career is complemented by a lifelong devotion to
social activism and humanitarian causes. The Milagro Foundation, originally
established by Carlos Santana and his family in 1998, has granted more than
five million dollars to non-profit programs supporting underserved children and
youth in the areas of arts, education and health. Milagro means “miracle,” and
the image of children as divine miracles of light and hope — gifts to our
lives — is the inspiration behind its name.
Carlos Santana was born in Mexico. He
lives in Las Vegas, Nevada.
During
1976 and 2017, I interviewed Carlos. Portions of our conversations have been
displayed from these two different encounters.
Harvey Kubernik: Let’s talk
about the 1967 Summer of Love.
Carlos Santana: It’s arriving at and hitting a note, a
sound that resonates. That has total and complete collective commonality with
everything. At the core center of it for me, it’s like watching the Bay area, all
of it, unfold in front of me. From Ravi Shankar to Bola Sete to Otis Redding,
the explosion of John Handy and Charles Lloyd, Miles Davis, and Coltrane. The
Doors, the Grateful Dead. Later on Bob
Marley. How do you describe, ‘here it comes,’ in one note? The doors are
connected forever. Not frozen, but forever incapsulated and to anything that
will be eternally relevant with the youngsters.
There is music
that is very healing and very connected with alpha and omega. Real musicians
know how to tap into absoluteness. And they penetrate all hearts. People may
not even like you, but they are gonna tap their feet and go ‘Damn!’ Because
there is a forgotten song in everyone. The real musicians help that individual
listen to that forgotten song. For the first time in a long time. And then, you
see clearly what your purpose and mission is. It’s horrible to live a whole
existence and not know your calling. So musicians have that pitchfork that
remind them. ‘I misplaced my vision and my mission,’ you know. We wake you up
to you and yourself. Your own self, man.
The Summer of 1967. It was about awakening. Away from
the Man. Away from the Pope. And away from the presidents and politicians, too.
It was through music and doing what Jesus did at the mountain with bread and
fish. It was gluten-free and mercury free. (laughs).
San Francisco, to my knowledge, is where the United
Nations was born. And where Haile Selassie gave an important speech about war,
which Bob Marley created the song.
A lot of people hate San Francisco from different
parts of America. San Francisco is very forward thinking. The television was
invented there, you know. There’s a lot of stuff in the bible about being a
sheep. We don’t like to follow. We love Jesus but we don’t like to follow.
‘We’ll meet you there. You don’t have to carry me on your back. You don’t have
to carry the cross for me. We’ll meet you there.’ There’s not only one way to
get to heaven. There’s a lot of ways to get out of it. And all of it is
fragmented fear, deception, illusion.
Something in San Francisco. You see American Indians.
African people. Young chicks. (laughs). All together man. Age don’t matter.
Color don’t matter.
Here’s the word: Consciousness revolution. It did not
come from Liverpool or New York. I think it came from San Francisco. The
psychedelic shock. Haight-Ashbury. When I first walked on it I was like, ‘Man,
this is like being inside one of Bob Dylan’s songs or something. ‘Desolation
Row.’
I’m very grateful that my timing with my mom and dad
was perfect in being in San Francisco when it all hit: The Doors, Grateful
Dead, Ravi Shankar. Coltrane. There was an explosion of consciousness that made
you question authority. Black power, rainbow power.
I remember
telling Bill Graham: “Look, man. It’s like Chet Helms and the Family Dog and
there’s Dick Clark, and you’re in the middle.’ I like all of it. I just don’t
like plastic flowers and phony people. I guess ‘cause I was a hippie before I
was a hippie. I didn’t want to be part of plastic Hollywood. I like Elvis when
he was on Sun Records. I liked when he sounded like John Lee Hooker from
Tupelo, Mississippi. That is relevant.
So San
Francisco was an affirmation to the rest of the nation, ‘we don’t want to be
square. We don’t want to be sent to war for somebody to make profit and selling
weapons to damning us. They didn’t see the big picture. They call you ‘dirty
hippie’ and ‘unpatriotic, traitor. ‘No.
Listen to Country Joe and the Fish. It really tells you what is happening right
now. If you play that song to the marines, army, air force or west point, they're not gonna be very
popular. ‘Cause those are about teaching you to think for yourself and not
allowing someone to turn you into a goon or a trigger happy, no consciousness person.
I will defend this nation. Especially against people within the nation who are
trying to enslave us with the wrong doctrine.
In our music, before the record deal, 1967. Santana
Blues Band. The urgency was to realign ourselves with the American Indians,
Geronimo, Apaches, Zapata, Che Guevera, Black Panthers. There’s a reason it’s
called 'consciousness revolution.' After a while, being with the hippies, there
was some good stuff and some not so good stuff.
The Santana band, “Abraxis,” we didn’t like phony
squares or phony hippies. It made us feel uncomfortable. ‘Groovy, man. Far out.’
Just as phony as ‘Hey Baby. I got my dashiki and my Nehru jacket.’ Hip is
Billie Holiday. Coltrane. Bob Marley. Square is ‘dumb ass. Self-centered,
egotistical person who has no room for anyone else and themselves to admire.'
A hip person
is all embracing. All encompassing for all people for the life of the planet.
That’s hip! The squares are about you and your color. Or you and your scene who
is self-centered, greedy, predictable and boring.
Jerry Garcia. He didn’t assert or influence. To me,
there was either it’s black, it’s white or it’s grey. And he was like, ‘It’s all of them.’ ‘What?!'
So, I learned from him the other side of Bill Graham. Bill was more a certain
way than Jerry was ever. His thing was just allowing people to develop in their
own ness. He’s seen it. But, he’s not gonna tell you unless you ask him, that
kind of thing. ‘Where is he at? What part of the fence are you?’ And then I
realized, ‘On both sides.’ He’s a factor of. This is why I think he was a
mystery to a lot of people. At least he was to me. Because he wasn’t definable
one way or another.
I was very
definable. I’m a thug. Punk from Mission District who has really over
opinionated about a lot of shit. I just didn’t know how to present it. Even
though my opinion was valid and what I want is valid.
HK: You’ve recently written your autobiography The
Universal Tone: Bringing My Story To Light published by Little, Brown and
Company. USA Today reviewed the book as “The most musically generous of
the fall’s memoirs.” You collaborated with Ashley Kahn and Hal Miller on the
endeavor.
CS: I wanted to share a story of how it can be
done. I was at a picnic in San Jose many years ago. In one corner there is
mariachi music and over at another place was Latin music, like Tito Puente and
another part was a band playing sort of blues and I’m hearing the whole sound
at the same time. ‘Yeah! OK. I get it.’ Out of that picnic I walk away with, my
favorite word, ‘we can crystalize all that you can imagine.’ I wanted to do
songs that were slow and fast. God just gave me this mind.
I wanted to honor my mother. She’s the one
who rescued me from myself many times. I was destined to be dead already or be
in jail in Tijuana if I would have stayed there.
Here I am in Tijuana, watching this woman
with tussles at a strip club. ‘Wow.’ It took a lot of talent to shake her body
five different ways and walking through the drummers. In my book, I wanted to
tell the story in my book that the drummers in Tijuana are so close to the
strippers and also the music. Strip joint music. To me, as a kid, I was
fascinated with the musical Maria. And in the strip joints it was the same
thing.
Mi historia comienza con un desfile. My story
starts with a parade. But really, we could start at any point in my life and
that would be cool. It’s like the set list for a Santana concert. You could
just rip it up, throw it up in the air, then put it back together. Anything you
start or end with can work, really. It’s all the same circle, and it all
connects.
I have this good friend Hal Miller for a long
time, and Ashley Kahn. The publisher made a suggestion of writers to help me.
One was presented. ‘Absolutely not!’ I said no to a lot of things and wanted to
go with Hal Miller and Ashley Kahn. They are going to milk stories from me
wherever I will be. South America. France. Australia. I will bring them to
different places. I have [manager] Michael and my sister to really be my
editors and take the high road. This is not about gossip and getting even. If
your name is not in my book I did you a favor. (laughs).
Miles said to someone, ‘Not everything I
write needs to be heard.’ I had a lot of help with my sister and Michael, who
read everything ‘Are you sure you want to go there?’ ‘OK. I don’t want to go
there.’
HK: Your autobiography is candid and honest.
CS: I got in trouble when I said there are only
two kinds of people. Artists and con artists. I really learned, with my sister
and manager Michael, to balance, to take the high road. Look at the aerial view.
See the big picture. Like with Arthur Ashe. Walk with grace and elegance.
HK: I really enjoyed the anecdotes and insights
into your friendship and relationship with both Wayne Shorter and Miles
Davis.
CS: I’m grateful to both of
them. Wayne Shorter and Miles Davis. It’s the highest honor as a musician to be
validated by Miles. He either liked you or didn’t like you. My phone would ring
at 3:00 am and I would hear that voice. ‘What you doin’? Having fun? You’re always
gonna be doing this.’
It was gracious and complimentary to me as a
person. One minute Miles could be Darth Vader and then the funniest. He was
funnier than Richard Pryor when you hang around Miles. I loved saying that in
my book. God loves characters. God loves all people but especially characters
like Etta James, Minnesota Fats. Characters is another word for Divine Rascals.
Who just about get away with everything. I’ve asked Wayne and Miles questions
people would never dream about.
HK: Bill Graham is a recurring charter in your book
and he managed you for many years before his death in 1992.
CS: Bill Graham is still present in my life every
day. I make decisions thinking of him. Of course. I call it ‘putting on the
Bill Graham hat.’ When it comes to merchandising, t-shirts, bookings. There is
symmetry to sound, colors and what we call merchandising. I’m really grateful
to him. I did learn not to say, ‘I’m just a guitar player and don’t have to
think about that.’ Copyrights, masters. That’s what I learned from Bill Graham:
How to mind the store. Don’t look the other way. It’s your store. If you go
broke it’s your fault. So you need to monitor the people who are monitoring and
maintain.
HK: Your book also describes the big impact FM
radio had on you in 1967.
CS: It blew my mind when I found it. FM Radio in 1967. They played
the whole songs of Vanilla Fudge, Country Joe & The Fish, the long version
of Traffic’s “Smiling Phases,’ the long version of ‘Light My Fire.’ ‘Wow. This
is really, really cool.’ Taking LSD and listening to Frank Zappa. Listening to
the news. They had a guy [Scoop Nisker] who would report the news and say,
“That was the news today. If you don’t like it go out and make it yourself.’
For me, being right out of high school, and
listening. And really listening, it gave me a vast awareness of ‘where do I
belong it all this?’ And I looked at B.B. King on my left and Tito Puente on my
right. And that was a peak on acid when I saw this. ‘You can do both. You can
be both.’
The only thing the Santana band never wanted
to do was succumb to phony. We were watching what was all unfolding with Sly
Stone and Jim Morrison and it was becoming too much for all of them. Becoming
victims of an avalanche of illusion by not being prepared mentality to not deal
with mass quantity adulation. I’m not dependent or addicted to mass adulation.
That stuff makes me feel uncomfortable. I’m not afraid of it. I have learned to
balance it.
HK: A big leap was made with Caravanserai, your
fourth album issued in October, 1972. It was a big departure sound-wise from your
first three LP’s. Lots of instrumentals and no hit singles.
There were also changes in band personal. It
was the last Santana album to spotlight Gregg Rolie and Neal Schon.
CS: The music shift really surprised a lot of
people, including my mom. ‘What are you doing? You’ve got the keys to every
room.’ Everybody thought we should just duplicate Abraxis over and over. And I
said, ‘No. That was then. We need to move forward.’ Even though it’s dangerous
as everybody is saying it’s dangerous. ‘There’s no singles in here. There’s no
this or that.’
After a while when the dust settled, it was
just Michael Shrive and I. Because at the time, Greg and Neil wanted to go a
certain way and that’s Journey. I didn’t want to go that way musically. With
all respect to Journey. I want to hang out with people like Wayne Shorter and
people to me who are like oceans. And I don’t want to be afraid of the wave.
HK: Reflect on music.
CS: Being so young at the time and so fresh, we
had a lot of conviction. We wanted to almost prove that we had something to
say. When I first saw all that energy coming at me, I said if I don’t turn
myself into a mirror reflecting it back, I’m in trouble.
To me, the real practicality is that some
people are chosen instruments to carve a certain message, a certain mood,
whatever. There are good musicians on stage but terrible people offstage. A
good musician is a wonderful person onstage and offstage. He passes the ball
like Pele; like Jerry. You take a solo, play a few bars, and give it to
somebody else. When you are a musician of this caliber, you will always remain.
You have that awareness. The thing about
concerts and musicians is, when you’re onstage you receive a lot of energy. A
lot of times the energy is of gratitude, saying thank you for coming to our
town and really doing it to me. Sometimes you find people who are harboring
jealously or some kind of thing toward you, because maybe they’re seeing how
much their ol’ ladies are captivated by your soul music. And they throw these
things at you. I’ve seen musicians get so callous; when you receive a vibration
you begin to get layers. You begin to be very insensitive. That’s the worst thing
that can happen to a musician. The solution for some of the concerts is to
clean ourselves. I found for me it is to walk in the woods or on the beach
meditating by myself. You throw away all the impurities the people throw at
you.
HK: Let is discuss the
Grateful Dead, whose approach to spiritual matters, drugs and so forth is very
different from yours in 1976.
CS: They’re different levels of spirituality. The
Grateful Dead give a lot of joy and spirituality to a certain amount of people. They don’t care so much for the white clothes,
the incense and candles or the philosophy from India. I love the levels of
playing with bands, because more people become aware of it. Chances are the
Grateful Dead audience and the Santa audience will merge together and both
learn from each other. When we played recently in Anaheim with the Beach Boys
and America, I think the first ten minutes there was a total clash between our
music and their people. They take downers, Quaaludes, wine, smoke. They’re so
programmed to receiving a certain kind of loose music. Here we come out with
this energy, pure energy, and it has to clash.
It’s like living in a dark room for a long time and they put a
flashlight in your eyes. It has to clash. For a while, the first 15 minutes is
depressing. I’ve seen a lot of the
people who leave the concerts, come in with their eyes red from just smoking a
joint, and it’s good for them, but when they leave the concert they’re high
with another kind of energy. Their eyes are clear because this energy is like
water.
HK: Were you tough
with the members of the initial Santana bands about how they conduct their
lifestyles.
CS: No. If you want something you don’t have to
scream for it, all you have to do is long for it, like a baby crying for food.
Someone comes to feed you. That’s how the musicians came to the band. They come
to the band because they identify with the same thing that I need.
HK: Do you think
drug use harmed the original line-up?
CS: I don’t think drugs, or, money power or lust
power for women did it. I think what did
it was lack of discipline, because all those things are steps. I’m not saying
they are bad or good steps. You take them as they come, to get to a higher
place. What destroyed the other band was the main thing that destroyed the
Beatles, lack of direction., lack of having a goal, lack of that
conviction. You all say, ‘man, we’re
gonna be the best. Set up a target’ - and all you do is concentrate on it and
get it. Once you hit that target, you have to get another target. That’s what
mainly happened to the other band. People started over-indulging on everything.
HK: You are
financially secure. Tell me about the barrio.
CS: I remember poor adobe houses. I can’t
remember ever being sad. I don’t think anyone denied me anything for too many
years. I have always been in places and circumstances where people offered me a
kit if things. Even in Tijuana, people offered me to play lead guitar rather
than bass because they felt I had a feel for the guitar. The main thing is that
I am grateful because out of a lot of people, I’m chosen to carry on a certain
way of life, a certain way of manifesting music. A lot of people give me
attention.
Carlos has had some health issues these past couple of years, including a major health scare two years ago. He has since recovered and been back on the road again, sharing his musical magic with audiences all over the world. I am really looking forward to seeing this film and learning more of the back story to this very talented and unique individual. (kk)
THE SANTANA HIT LIST:
1969 - Jingo (#37)
1970 - Evil Ways (#7)
1971 - Black Magic Woman (#3)
1971 - Oye Como Va (#10)
1971 - Everybody's Everything (#9)
1972 - No One To Depend On (#17)
1977 - She's Not There (#20)
1979 - Stormy (#32)
1980 - You Know That I Love You (#32)
1981 - Winning (#12)
1982 - Hold On (69)
1985 - Say It Again (#39)
1999 - Smooth (with Rob Thomas) #1 (for 12 weeks)
2000 - Maria Maria (with The Product G&B) #1 (for 10 weeks)
2002 - The Game of Love (#5) with Michelle Branch
2003 - Why Don't You and I (with Alex Band and Chad Kroeger) #3
2005 - I'm Feeling You (with Michelle Branch and The Wreckers) #39
2008 - Into The Night (with Chad Kroeger) #21
photo by Knight Bilham Photography
