The life and rebirth of "Samba pa' ti"

Latin¹ rock music would not be the same without Santana. The musical group, founded and led by guitarist Carlos Santana in 1966, saw its first big break after their appearance in 1969’s legendary Woodstock Festival². From then on, they continued on a strong streak that includes the 1970 release Abraxas, an album that according to many marks a high point in Latin rock history ³. The album is full of hits, including the excellent Oye como va⁴ but the highlight is, no doubt Samba pa’ ti, one of their best songs, as well as one of their most well-known. It also predates another extraordinary instrumental piece, 1973’s Europa, which can be best described as a force of nature made song.

Samba pa’ ti is a beautiful, soulful instrumental that starts with electric guitar and follows with slow percussion in a samba rhythm. The guitar seems to be voicing some unattainable, unwordable sentiment, which adds both allure and mystery to the entire song. As it progresses, the guitar gets more soulful, the keys are incorporated and the rhythm increases until one minute and a half in, the song explodes in a gentle, almost gospel-like bridge. After that, the guitar seems to get livelier, no longer mourning and the percussion is now more danceable. Santana’s guitar goes on and on, tirelessly, intertwined with the rest of the instruments and creating a delicious piece of something that you are always on the verge of grasping, something that is constantly evolving, like a little flame or the wings of a bird between your hands.

Samba pa’ ti has love pouring through, perhaps romance. You can almost see the scene –at least this is how I picture it: a person whose cheek is resting gently on a beloved's shoulder, their hands locked together, feet moving slowly to the sides. They don’t step over each other, they simply swing to the sweet, purring rhythm of the drums. eyes closed, thoughts lost on the wordless things the guitar is whispering. The light is soft and warm –candlelight. As the bridge comes on, the pair break out in laughter, but they keep dancing. If they are lovers, perhaps they do typical things lovers do, but the important thing is that they keep dancing, looking into each other’s eyes. Samba pa’ ti has the thrill of a kiss, the softness of a caress and the fiery yet fragile desperation of a candle facing the breeze.

The song has quite a few cover versions by a diverse range of artists, including salsa legends Fania All Stars⁵. But the cover I want to focus on today is the one made by José Feliciano. Feliciano is another Latin music icon in his own right. You might best know him by his bilingual Christmas hit Feliz navidad⁶, but Feliciano is no stranger to revamping songs by other artists and giving them his own twist –one of his biggest hits is indeed a cover of The Doors⁷. He’s great at infusing new life into the work other artists have previously done. This is exactly what he did to Samba pa’ ti.

His rendition of the song is included on his 1982 album Escenas de amor, composed mainly of covers (including a Spanish version of Evil ways, a song which Santana famously covered on their eponymous debut LP). In his version, Feliciano slows down the song and turns it into a more of a bolero⁸, and gets on the seemingly impossible task of penning lyrics for it. The lyrics, one must assume, are sanctioned by Santana himself considering he appears on Feliciano’s recording lending his electric guitar. In my opinion, not only does Feliciano succeeds in his lyrical endeavor, it is also part of the very essence that makes his version unique.

He turns the song from a wordless, beautiful thing that one can picture (like I did some paragraphs earlier), an ethereal melody one can never quite grasp, a thing of images and feelings just on the tip of the tongue and skin into something that has body and weight. In Feliciano’s fingers, voice, and new arrangement, the song goes from a beautiful, perhaps romantic, perhaps sensual and decidedly metaphysical bit of music to an explicit reflection of love, solitude and yearning that adds yet another layer of depth to Santana’s original. Where Santana’s song is spiritual, Feliciano’s is a true prayer.

Feliciano opens his song with the words⁹: I’m the shadow of a lament, I'm the echo of an ache and continues slowly with the string arrangement, soft percussion and his guitar:

Sad solitude

All I have today

Is the memory of having loved you

and a strange desolation

From the lyrics, and the fact this is an album of love songs, one could very much argue that this is a breakup song. But then after Feliciano repeats I'm the shadow of a lament, I'm the echo of a pain, Santana’s guitar comes in to give that blues, poignant electric guitar cry, with the typically romantic string arrangement following suit, the song starts becoming something else. Feliciano continues:

I want to forget

I want to find forgiveness

Have pity on my heart

I beg you, oh, my Lord

And now you know this is no simple breakup tune, if it is a breakup tune at all. The song launches into a soulful, intense bridge where Santana’s electric guitar shines and Feliciano, still on acoustic guitar, continues. He is no longer talking to any lover: he is entoning a prayer, talking to God as much as to himself. And perhaps, in a similar manner to the narrator of the song Alma mía, this is as much a prayer to God as it is a desperate plea for love, for a soul like mine¹⁰. However, as Feliciano continues singing, the plea becomes a beacon of hope. He sings:

I will erase the darkness

And I will hide my crying

The memory I suffer

Will turn into song

I’ll return to life

I’ll sing again, you’ll see

I’ll return to life,

I’ll sing again, you’ll see

The song then drives into the second half: a far faster, more danceable, colorful, happy tangling of electric and acoustic guitar, drums, strings, keys and a sweet chorus in the background saying “Samba… pa’ ti…”. Thus, the song that starts as a slow, mournful reflection turns into a melodious, contagious and hopeful instrumental.

The song that started life in the band Santana’s hands sees a resurgence, a return to life in the new arrangement Feliciano proposes, and it feels as if the song was always meant to arrive at this conclusion: a soulful meditation of life, full of warmth, sincerity, fragility with just the right amount of sadness. Perhaps, echoing Hermann Hesse’s Demian (in which Abraxas is a centric symbol), the bird has finally shattered the egg and has taken flight.