tum-ta-TAK-ta-TAK-ta-BOM-BOM.

tum-ta-TAK-ta-TAK-ta-BOM-BOM.
tum-ta-TAK-ta-TAK-ta-BOM-BOM.
tum-ta-TAK-ta-TAK-ta-BOM-BOM.

i'm learning the tumbao. it's the basic salsa rhythm. i play it on my knees and on the wall and on the table and on the congas. then you add:

TAK-TAK-TAK ta-TAK.
TAK-TAK-TAK ta-TAK.

or you can add:

TAK-TAK ta-ta-ta.
TAK-TAK ta-ta-ta.

miguel likes to tell me that if i want to "play the cuban" i have to open my legs more around the drum. one quirk of spanish is that the same verb, tocar, means both to touch and to play (an instrument). so he's also telling me that i need to open my legs more if i want to learn to touch a cuban. there's no end to the dirty jokes. i try to catch him early in the day, before the hangover's worn off and he's still in a thoughtful mood. he's really an excellent musician-- it's weird to watch his hands, which are always so slack and uncoordinated looking, kick ass on a conga or the bongos.

"think in 6, play in 4," he says. or was it "think in 4, play in 6?"

okay.