Santana
Borboletta

THE REVIEW

And nothing remained.

Where had the sole killers of "Toussaint l'Overture" and "Se a Cabo" gone, the magic of "Black Magic Woman", the pure class of "Treat" and "Oyo Como Va"? Where were the fiery keyboards of Gregg Rolie? Vanished into thin air, condemned to memory by the charismatic Carlos. Who certainly must have felt those three years - the Woodstock years, the years of concerts in Africa - as unforgettable. But at the same time, he must have felt the insatiable need to change, to follow new paths in order not to stagnate in a discourse with an end in itself. And so, after "Santana", the phenomenal "Abraxas", and the still good "Santana III" (where some signs of fatigue were already visible), came the intellectual - jazzy turn of "Caravanserai", with the fundamental departure of Gregg Rolie.

And after "Caravanserai" and "Devadip", there are "Love Devotion Surrender" and "Welcome", which in all intellectual honesty I have to admit I have not listened to. But wait, I’ve read that this album should still be taken into account, because there is jazz, that "mystical" jazz of Santana, the good Carlos’ compositions exude visions as if we were on the saddle of a unicorn for a trip in the company of His Highness LSD. In short, it must be evaluated.

 Are you kidding?

Okay, I’ll try to put it on the radio. Let's see, it's... ten past eleven in the evening, the right time for some music trance, I would say. But nothing. With every note that passes, I keep thinking of the progressions of "Waiting" and "Taboo". Maybe I should listen to Mickael Shrieve, he truly puts his soul into every single beat (or almost). But no. I hear "Life is Anew" and cannot believe how Gregg Rolie’s alluring voice has been replaced by this insipid one of Coster - the new keyboardist!

Wait, "Give and Take", "One With the Sun", "Aspirations"... I close the first side. Tlac, resume (actually, this isn't on the CD, but it’s for show). Oh la la, finally a nice song, "Practice What You Preach", less predictable and sycophantic than the others. But then... nothing. "Mirage" (pathetic), "Flor de Canela", "Promise of a Fisherman", and the title track flow past me like the current of a river. There would be "Here and Now", but try to remember. But that water which should be in motion is just as still in the sense that it can barely let me close this review. The songs float, but remain still, stale, unable to penetrate my heart and soul, where I thought they could reach. Because that’s where they have to get to, right? Or am I the one making them reach there?

I tried to like this record, I must say; but I don’t want to think of Santana this way. Santana is sweat, it is eroticism, it is shaking your ass to the relentless rhythm even if you're at a funeral. It's Dave Brown going into a trance at Woodstock while playing "Soul Sacrifice", it’s Carlos setting his guitar on fire as if it were Jimi Hendrix's. Not this. This is just imitation, or an undefined track.

I’ll go back to waiting for Cecilia.