Santana
Lotus

Everlasting homage must be paid to the enlightened wisdom of Sri Chimnoy, guru of Mahavishnu, not so much for his spiritual teachings, but for having returned to us in 1973 a Carlos Santana with an additional name (Devadip), but perfectly polished and emerged from the spiritual bewilderment that seemed to have disoriented him a bit the previous year. More from a human perspective, because as a musician it was precisely during the period of crisis that he brought forth two of his most inspired and profound albums, "Caravanserai" and "Welcome", where his Latin rock embraced a beneficial contamination with the jazz-fusion that was experiencing great splendor in those years.

Emerging from his personal crisis with a clear conviction, that music could be a means of spiritual healing, in July 1973 Santana decided to apply the teachings he received in the best way possible, assembling a rich selection of the best he had produced from his beginnings (1969) until then. The result was the memorable Osaka concert from which this double CD "Lotus" was drawn, originally a triple album. It is evident from the very start that the leader's state of grace has infected all the other musicians, and incidentally those present in this live formation are among the best ensembles the Mexican guitarist has ever relied on. I cannot imagine what the reaction of a Japanese audience, educated and knowledgeable but traditionally accustomed to sparse music with rarefied notes, might have been in the face of such a full-blown rhythmic feast as what we can admire here; I suppose that initially there must have been a certain astonishment, followed by sincere enthusiasm and great admiration. Nevertheless, the result is astonishing and goes beyond the strength of individual tracks, often blended seamlessly in a rhythmic tour de force that must have worn out the hands of percussionists Armando Peraza, José "Chepito" Areas, and Leon Thomas, and given the drummer Michael Shrieve two bodybuilder arms. Santana's guitar seems more aggressive and biting compared to studio albums, but it does not lose an ounce of its legendary clarity: the countless solos leave one breathless. But no instrument is left out of this exalted atmosphere: consider how Tom Coster's organ tackles the spiritual "Going Home" to start the concert, the numerous and precious interventions of Richard Kermode’s electric piano, and the vigorous contribution from Doug Rauch’s bass to a phenomenal rhythm section.

The selection of tracks favors the most Latin-infused Santana, which even then were the most popular, but it starts with the organ introduction of "Going Home", which through a strange pinball of frenzied sounds like "A-1 Funk" leads to an extended (11 minutes) version of the thrilling "Every Step Of The Way", with percussionists and the drummer already pounding like blacksmiths. Then come classic tracks in quick succession, like Peter Green's "Black Magic Woman", along with "Gypsy Queen", which seems to be its natural appendage, although it’s by a different author, and yet again "Oye Como Va", Tito Puente's timeless mambo. Only "Yours Is The Light" offers a moment of contemplation in the style of the album "Welcome", but then the rhythmic rush resumes: "Batuka", "Xibaba", a hint of "Stone Flower" (too bad it's just a hint: it’s a true gem by Antonio Carlos Jobim), and on without brakes until closing with the instrumental "Samba De Sausalito". A special mention goes to "Castillos De Arena", both for the illustrious signature of Chick Corea and because it is divided into two parts, one on the first disc and one on the second. This latter initially presents more extended tracks and greater improvisation. "Mantra" is an obsessive base of percussion, drums, and bass over which the other instruments weave unsettling patterns, "Kyoto" is a personal show by Michael Shrieve on the drums, "Incident At Neshabur" in its 16 minutes contains so many rhythm and motif variations that it can comfortably be considered fusion in all respects. Then, as in the first disc, a breathless sequence resumes, going from the frenetic and tribal "Se A Cabo" to the obsessive and hypnotic "Toussaint L'Overture". The only moment to catch your breath is the classic "Samba Pa Ti", offered in an unusual "jerky" version with bizarre variations and interruptions. It seems to me the only case where the beauty of the original is not adequately appreciated, but certainly, a single perceived flaw will not shift my judgment on an album of imposing proportions and great quality, which was and remains a masterpiece.