Ruly Herrera and the mutations of time

Since the age of 15, Ruly Herrera has shared the stage, professionally, with a batch of musicians including Santiago Feliú, Roberto Fonseca, Daymé Arocena, Haydée Milanés, César López, Interactivo, and David DeMaría. His solo career, as a composer and instrumentalist, has also been fruitful, as when for his debut album Mal tiempo (Colibrí, 2015) won two Cubadisco awards in the categories of Jazz and Making of. 

The drummer, founder of Real Project, has a fast-paced career that is impossible to summarize in a conversation lasting a few hours. However, we have coincided in El Vedado, in its home studiofrom where the music has been thought and shared. 

Why the battery? 

Because of my father, who is also a drummer and was the founder of Los Dan, a legendary band from the 70s and 80s. Since I was born there has been music in my house; my dad would rehearse and I loved to watch the rehearsals. And well, obviously, watching my dad play the drums —such a strong instrument, such a protagonist, so spectacular— Well, it caught my attention. They say that from a very young age I always had a certain inclination towards rhythm, I would play with my hands on the tables, I would pretend to play drumsticks with anything. I guess my dad must have been proud. The drums were always an instrument I connected with, even though it wasn't the one I started my musical training with, because I did two careers simultaneously: basic piano and percussion. 

How do you compose? What is your process? 

There are many processes or mechanisms of composition. I have always said that when I have all the conditions together I am here, in my little studio, with my piano, my equipment. Then, melodies and mixtures come out; sometimes a theme from top to bottom, easy and fast; at other times I can spend a whole month trying to finish that theme that began to be born whistling in the bathroom, in the car or wherever. I also move a lot, I travel constantly in different means of transport, either by bus, train or plane; for my work I spend many hours in airports, terminals, and the mobile is a fundamental tool, there I have GarageBand installed. I also usually make voice notes where I sing the ideas that come to my mind: a rhythm, a melody, a bass line; or I record texts. And when I get to the computer, with the software in front of me, then I start to shape that work. 

And you compose from what instrument? 

From the piano, always. 

For me it is one of the most complete instruments there is. I have a great passion for it and for pianists. —My brother is a pianist too. The piano is the best instrument, the one that inspires me the most, and the one from which I can compose the easiest.

Ruly Herrera. Photo: Gabriel Guerra Bianchini.

You mention your brother, Yasser Herrera, how important is he to you in music? 

My brother plays a big role in who I am as a musician and professional, as a person. Having a brother six years older is an advantage. It means that he knew, six years earlier, many things that one will know later. He has been my mentor, my great advisor. He comes from a spectacular generation: that of Aldo López-Gavilán, Rolando Luna, Tony Rodríguez, Oliver Valdés, Rodney Barreto; so since I was a child I spent a lot of time in that environment. He was always very aware of me, concerned that I was up to date with Cuban and world music. It was a great school. When I was only 15 years old, he found out that Polito Ibáñez was looking for a drummer and he immediately said: "My brother". He went to me, he bet on me. I, then, had started middle level at Amadeo Roldán; Polito, however, was at the peak of his career with Double gameI had a very busy schedule, a lot of tours, concerts... 

I remember that —super friendly, very respectful— sent me your CD Not to think and he said to me: "Learn We are numbers, Jasmine aromaand some other issues; we will see you on Monday for the rehearsal. We'll see what happens then. Of course, I ate the drums over the weekend. I came in on Monday and played them up and down with the band, and I noticed in everyone's reaction, that they felt comfortable despite my young age and inexperience. I was that lucky. From that point on, my life changed; it was the launching of my career for real. 

Beyond what you learned in music, what other lessons do you take with you from the Amadeo Roldán Conservatory?

Discipline, respect for work, responsibility for what I do. This, of course, I understand in today's light; if I had been more disciplined back then I think I would have handled school a little better. But I was dazzled, something totally normal for a 15-year-old. In that adolescence, with so much information in front of your eyes, playing for 20,000 or 50,000 people, in a certain way you also feel famous together with that artist you are accompanying: suddenly people come, touch your back and want to take pictures... Of course, I would arrive at school and I didn't feel like being there, I didn't concentrate on my classes. Today I regret that; I think I could have taken more advantage of the academy, I could have taken more advantage of the teachers. Years later I understood the weight of the values taught in the classroom, beyond music. 

You mentioned Polito Ibáñez, and besides him there are many renowned musicians you have worked with: Enrique Lazaga, Daymé Arocena, Interactivo, Omara Portuondo... What do they represent in your life? What has it been like working with them? 

They are artists and moments that changed my life and have contributed a lot to my career. What I know today as an artist I owe, in part, to Polito Ibáñez, César López, Santiago Feliú, Roberto Carcassés, Roberto Fonseca, Daymé Arocena. I think they are the ones who have made my career something else. To all of them, of course, I am very grateful. I always learn from everyone, but with them I have shared more than a professional relationship: music, advice, they have helped me to be better as an artist and a person, because not everything is about playing and defending the repertoire. 

Why did you name your first album Mal tiempo? Does it have to do with the popular saying "in bad weather, good luck"?

That's a super crazy thing to do because worse times than those who we are living today I was not living in 2013, when I made that album. Sometimes times are very difficult, especially to start a project. Since the beginning of the whole process of my album (demos, selection of the songs, making up the musicians, the bureaucratic stuff) I was living a bad time. Although, in fact, the title of the album comes from a specific track that has a kind of a weird tempo, one of those that you listen to and say: "Well, where is the rhythm here? It doesn't happen in the whole track, but in certain uncomfortable areas that led me to title it that way. So the title of the album was given, first of all, by a musical issue. In the light of today, I think it couldn't have a better title. It refers to that play on words and that game of situations: a musical term, what was happening around me, the bad times the music industry was going through, how difficult it was to really connect with a platform, with an agency, a manager who would push my work so that it wouldn't stay in an office drawer or in four concerts. 

The album is 10 years old, I've been with my band, Real Project, for nine years and still nothing relevant has happened at the international level, which is what we have been dreaming of for a long time. We know that we are popular in Havana, that people follow us, that they like us. We are very grateful for all the movement around us, but we make music so that it also crosses borders and that is complicated. And it is not that we have bad luck, it is actually the result of the bad weather the world is in, more so now, after the pandemic, with greater uncertainties and less risks on the part of the record companies, by the booking, managers, entrepreneurs. There is more fear of investing in someone without knowing what is going to happen. 

The Cuban industry is in a comfort zone that has paralyzed many things, among them, my project, along with many others. That album was like playing with that bad weather in every sense, trying to overcome it. 

How many lessons from that first phonogram do you keep today? Would you change anything?

Many, many, many lessons. Mal tiempo taught me that making a team is fundamental and that I am capable of producing music. Until that moment I didn't know it and it was life that practically forced me to do it, because I wanted to have a producer but I lacked the budget. I enjoyed it very much. 

Of the nine pieces on that album, five are by you, the rest are a joint creation. How does Ruly Herrera feel when he composes with other people? 

I am a sharer in every sense, I love composing collaboratively. I've never had that egocentric feeling of keeping things for myself, quite the contrary; even when I have a song well advanced, I always think it can be better and I bring it to the common space, the same space in which the album was made. Real Projectwhere we rehearse. I share it so that everyone can share their knowledge. 

I love that Rafa [Aldama] brings all his wisdom on bass, that he changes things for me and says: "No, this is what goes". I love that Yoyi [Lagarza] takes my harmonies and melodies and modifies them, always with the mutual respect we feel. I like teamwork. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is achieved alone. 

In 2014 a news shocked Cuban music: Santiago Feliú had died. You were one of the musicians who played with him in his last stage. How was the relationship between you? What does he represent for you, both professionally and personally?

Santi is a lot of Santi. Despite having been with him for a short time (I met him in 2010) we had a tremendous chemistry from the first rehearsal. It happened to me as it did with Polito: he had just finished recording Ay, la vida and he sent me the music because he had a tour in Argentina, a very big one, as that album deserved. And we loved each other very much from the first moment. He used to call us "my kids", because that's what we were, kids: Robertico [Gómez] on guitar, Jan [Cruz] on bass, Roberto Carcassés [Gómez] on bass, and Roberto Carcassés [Gómez] on guitar. —a key piece in Santi's music—and me. 

Santiago taught me more about life than about music. The news of his death was very hard. I think that none of us who love Santi —because you can't say "we wanted to".— we have recovered. I remember when we started to think about the album. fascinatingly world (Colibrí, 2022), Enrique Carballea summoned me to La Víbora to listen to the music and, suddenly, there was silence and we began to cry. In fact, Carballea, with all his experience, tells as an anecdote that the album was consolidated there: with that crying. It was there that he instantly knew that I was the musician who had to face that challenge and that gift for Santi. I was trembling because, imagine, so many generations of musicians that passed before me through Santiago's work, with years of friendship, and that for such an important album, Enrique, who knew him so well, would have chosen me. Today I listen to the album and I still can't believe it. I think it came out because I was not grounded, I was on a sentimental journey. To cover Santiago's music... imagine... The album is really beautiful.

 And yes, Santi is one of the heroes of my life. 

What challenges did the musical production of fascinatingly worldHow was the process of selecting the artists involved in the project? 

As an arrested person I said yes, because of the love I have for Santi, the affection I have for Carballea, and the respect I have for both of them. I remember that I said to myself: this will be sinking in an infinite well, for the work that it will cost me, or the happiness that fortunately it was. Before that album was released, I shared it privately with many people. And in one of the first listens, with Enrique, friends, people who are not even into music, I started whatever song it was and they started to cry. I thought at first that they were crying because I had disrespected Santi, and it was because they were excited. When I realized it, I said to myself: "Yeah, I scored a goal with this".

But that record would not have been what it was without all the beautiful people who participated. Carballea had it dreamed from dawn to dusk, and he told me: "Rulito, I don't want to repeat the same thing. GES As for singers, I don't want to repeat that formula, that's why I call you, Ruly Herrera, and not Real Project". He gave me names, I gave him names. Between the two of us we put together this fabulous list of musicians with whom I really wanted to work and produce. And it came out. There is the arrangement of The illusion by Roberto Fonseca sung by Yusa; the one arranged by Yoyi and later sung by Haydée; Jorge Aragón, Robertico Luis Gómez -who was the guitarist who was with Santi until the end, even when there was no more budget to do concerts with the band-, the exceptional Camila Guevara... There is the song summarizingwhose original version closes -on guitar and vocals only- the album. Ay, la vida and that also closes fascinatingly world. But I wanted to be with Santiago somehow, I didn't want to leave him alone, and I intervened, I feel that in this version I played drums with Santiago. 

On my travels I watched Santi a lot on YouTube, I missed him and wanted to laugh and cry with him. One day I saw the documentary that Lester Hamlet made about him. There is a part in which he says some beautiful words about friendship, the value it has, and I said to myself, thinking about the final process: "The album has to end with these words, so that the world ends up understanding what is truly valuable". And well, that's how it was.

You mentioned the tribute album to the Grupo de Experimentación Sonora, GESHow much did it mean to Real Project to cover these iconic songs? What does this album represent for you? 

That album is also a before and after in Real Project's trajectory as a band. We feel proud of it, that Carballea has trusted us to make a tribute to those monsters who, in their time, also had many concerns and desire to break schemes, like us. As we got into the project, we felt the energy and we identified with it. We connected because even though they were the musical vanguard in Cuba and Latin America in those years, we felt the same restlessness and the same desire to search, to experiment. In the end we achieved a very nice album, which undoubtedly gave us much more visibility. It was the showcase to reach people who did not know us or who had heard about us but had not taken the time to learn more, to see us live, to stay as a loyal audience. It was an album that opened many doors for us.

These days you are in the premiere with Real Project. Mutación is the name of this new album that they began recording in April 2020, at a time when the band was going through format changes - due to the departure of Roberto Luis Gómez (guitar). Why MutaciónHow much did this change of format challenge you and how much did it influence the decision to name the new project this way? 

This was an album that started out more mature than the previous ones. It was actually recorded throughout 2020 and had several stages, because of the covid-19 pandemic. At the beginning of that year we received the super good news that Bis Music was once again opening its doors to us. At that time there was no Mutación as an album. So the pandemic caught us in the middle of the process of composition, of experimentation, of coming all of us to the studio. The streets were deserted, nobody could move, the "Aldamitas" lived in Boyeros, far away; Yoyi in Buenavista, but we made the effort to get together. We would rehearse for as many hours as necessary, we would go up to the roof of my house and play concerts. on-linewhere we played songs that would later make up the album. We were interested in experimenting a little bit live, before recording, to take the temperature of certain songs. We wanted to see the reaction of the people, if they got bored or not, if they got excited or not, if they went crazy or not. We finished recording it on November 19.

In Real Project we believe that, as an album, it is the one that most identifies us, the one that sums up who we are, what we think. We were at our most mature moment, musically and personally, and there was also all that pandemic feeling, all that agony, all that fear. However, it's not a sad album, but an emotional one. That made us go to the studio to eat the world. 

When Robe left the project, Yoyi and I asked ourselves: what do we do, do we look for another guitarist, do we continue with the line that everyone is used to, or do we break all the schemes and launch ourselves into something else? We loved the last option. At that time Yoyi was more attached to the Aldama brothers because they made more music together; so he was close to Rasiel's evolution on the trumpet, to all the monstrosity that is in those two boys. Until one day he told me: "Asere, do you know that I like what Rasiel is doing? Unload him, let's go see him at some pincha". And from the beginning I liked the idea, because Rasiel has the plus of not only playing trumpet, but also keyboards and produces music, which is very important. I love that musicians are versatile, that they don't just come to play what you want them to play, but that they are part of it, that they are creative, that they have criteria. So Rasiel was definitely the guy. He was the missing piece. The fact that he and Rafa were brothers was going to close the band as well. They were kind of diamonds. It was a tremendous acquisition, for the good of everybody. 

So it's an album that brings together all our experiences, which we produced by listening carefully and learning a lot from the albums we like. For example, a large part of Robert Glasper's discography, which inspires us a lot, but also albums from the urban scene, hip hop, trap. We learn from everything, from Chopin to Bad Bunny. It is the album that gives another sound to the band, that gave it a change, that made us mutate, in format, in sound. A curious thing is that, despite the fact that the sound of the band changed, because the melodic lead instrument is no longer the guitar, but the trumpet, Real Project did not lose its essence. It remained Real Project. 

Ruly Herrera and Yoyi Lagarza. Photo: Gabriel Guerra Bianchini.

How difficult has it been to keep a project like Real Project going, considering that you and Lagarza are alternating between Madrid and Cuba; the Aldamas one here, the other in the United States? How do you manage to run your own project, make your own solo music and, in addition, play with Roberto Fonseca? 

It is a very difficult question because it has not been something I have done consciously. It has been my absolute sincerity, my love, my passion, my desire, my great goal to consolidate, to first make a project, then try and make it known, to have a wide audience in my country. We have gone through many difficult stages in which we have been away from the stages of the island; however, magically, it is a project that grows, even in silence. It is something that I cannot explain. People miss us, people wonder. Then, when the slightest information comes out, there is an avalanche of public interacting, eager to know what is going on. It is a beautiful thing that has been generated.

Consciously I have worked a lot on the sense of belonging with the guys, that they don't feel that they are playing with Ruly Herrera or Yoyi Lagarza, but that this is theirs too, that they can decide here, that we can all grow together. For me everyone is important: the one who carries the instruments and puts them on stage, the sound engineer, like this..., without ever taking his foot off the gas. 

We can be on tour, we can have a super successful year with other projects. —Like when we toured with Daymé Arocena, we never stopped; like when I went on to play with Roberto Fonseca-, but the distance never stopped us, never separated us. On the contrary: it strengthened us and made us be sure of what we want. When this comes together it makes it easier for us to exist, for each performance to be unique and intense with the public, and for people to wait anxiously for each concert and album we do. It has been like this, without strategy, beyond passion and commitment to art and to what I once dreamed of. 

The migration wave facing the country has also reached the music industry. Many talented Cuban musicians no longer live in Cuba; in that sense, how do you see the future of Cuban music?

It is very sad what is happening. It touches me closely; as you know I no longer have Yoyi here most of the time, although we are still very close; there is a lot of communication and we know the responsibility we both have with Real Project so that it continues to exist, because it will continue to exist. 

Fortunately, the sadness that remains after the departure of so many musicians is lessened when I think that Cuba is a constant factory of talents, of people who are very "hard" on their instruments. Although yes, I notice the lack of motivation. In short, it is a subject that saddens me and if everything continues like this, I do not see the future of Cuban music as very healthy. 

I dare to say that if this does not stop and there is no will to do something so that people return to the island, and that those of us who are here continue to move forward with the same motivation, if that does not happen at the institutional level, the scenario is going to be very decadent. And not only in music, a good part of Cuban art in general will be based outside Cuba, and it will not be what it has been until today. That is serious. 

How much importance do you give to technology in the communication of your work? 

At first I tried to create a community in networks myself, then I realized that social networks have their codes, that you have to study them, that it's a world you have to really get into, and I couldn't do it on my own. So I made the best decision: I looked for a person to manage my communication, my social networks, to have that role in my professional life. Thanks to her I have positive results and I have been able to reach more people I am interested in. She is part of the team. Making music is not only creating it, composing it, producing it; making music also requires a sound engineer with whom you understand each other, a representative who takes your work out of the studio room, out of your recording sessions. It is a very big chain, but if the links are well placed, great things can be done. Technology is vital for your work to transcend the borders of the country, and betting on the right people to handle it is a responsibility. 

And music production, what are your greatest satisfactions and frustrations? 

It is something I am passionate about. It's like a child, you see it being born, naked, so pure, so tender, and then you see it grow. Let's say that for music production I keep that paternal feeling, of something that is born virgin and becomes something great, especially when you share it with your friends, with the team that is in the same tune as you. Besides, it is a very enriching process. And I enjoy it not only producing instrumental music, but also a singer; I like to take them out of their comfort zone and make them see that they are capable of more. 

I do not have many frustrations, but I do have dissatisfactions. —let's say— with previous productions. There are things that, as is normal, when you listen to them some time later, you think that I would definitely not do them again, whether it is an arrangement, a particular piano performance or a drum tuning in search of a certain sound. Although you learn from every mistake, making mistakes is also a positive thing.