Santana
Caravanserai

Before venturing into this kind of musical and spiritual journey in search of the primitive essence of music ("La fuente del ritmo"), it is necessary to rid oneself of some prejudices, once fueled by the official and militant criticism.
The "mystical phase" of (Devadip) Carlos Santana and his band's art was often labeled, condescendingly and arrogantly, as excessively visionary and confused, something for shamans or "mystifying jazz musicians." But nowadays, after the explosion of world music, with its blend of primitive sounds and Western technique, and the new age movement, with its deep interconnection between music and spirituality, how can one not acknowledge the old Mexican guru's merit of having anticipated certain trends since the early '70s?

So let's confidently be guided by our expert shaman and embark on this adventure called "Caravanserai." After each listen, we will be a little more purified from Western toxins, and perhaps also a bit less rigid and suspicious in facing any kind of music that sounds "strange" at first and doesn't seem "ours."
Santana knows us well, as he is American (USA) by adoption, although Mexican by birth. Thus, the way he introduces us into the thick web of his tropical sound forest is gentle and gradual: "Eternal Caravan of Reincarnation" mixes the sounds of nature with rarefied jazz notes, just as later typical meditation new age music will do. But already with "Waves Within," the tension rises, and that constant background of congas, timbales, and various percussion begins, which, thanks to José Chepito Areas, James Mingo Lewis, and Armando Peraza, the shaman's skilled assistants, will accompany us into ever more remote and mysterious areas.

Our guide rarely speaks to us (this album is largely instrumental), but like the pied piper from the fairy tale, possesses an irresistible means of persuasion: an electric guitar that radiates notes so piercing and searing they easily overcome any resistance, reaching directly to the soul, to take it into a rapture that culminates in the hypnotic ecstasy of "Song of the Wind."
At this point, excited and somewhat dazed by this surge of notes, we are ready for the ritual dance of purification, one that will attempt to open us to as many sensations as possible: it is "All the Love of Universe." If by the end of this piece there's a sense of exhaustion, as if one has truly sustained a tribal dance, it indicates that at least partially the goal has been achieved.
After a brief state of trance, the assertive African percussions of "Future primitive" will awaken us in another world, in a prehistoric era, almost at the origin of rhythm. Here, the disorientation would be natural and justified, but the wall of percussion breaks down little by little and reveals behind it a splendid and complete melody. It is "Stone Flower," and it is by Antonio Carlos Jobim, so we know we are in Brazil.
Now there is no longer even the fear of the unknown or the wild: "La fuente del ritmo" is right in front of us, perpetually replenishing even the songs we are most familiar with. One can put their mouth under this cascade of pure rhythm and drink heartily: not only will it not harm us, but it will also give us enthusiasm and unexpected strength for every step of the way ("Every step of the way") that we will have to take when we return to the gloomy and gray "civilized" world.
Something that promptly happens every time the 50 minutes of enchantment of "Caravanserai" are over.