Hot Bean Strut: The Spark
The story of my first jazz obsession and how it sparked a lifelong journey through rhythm, language, and culture.
Hot Bean Strut: The Spark
It all started with an obsession—a syncopated tune called Hot Bean Strut that lit a spark and planted a seed in my three-year-old mind, one that’s been growing ever since.
A Jazz Pilgrimage: Blood on the Fields, 1997
It was February 16, 1997 in Columbus, Ohio. My parents drove the family there for the weekend to see Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra live in concert. They were on a nationwide tour performing one of Wynton’s magnum opus: the monumental piece for jazz orchestra entitled Blood on the Fields. This piece was a full demonstration of Wynton’s unique ability to write and orchestrate for jazz ensembles.
Being the first jazz composition to ever win a Pulitzer Prize in 1997, Blood on the Fields confronts the listener with the full musical depth of the jazz orchestra and beyond. The piece is an oratorio that tells the powerful story of two enslaved people on their long and difficult journey to freedom.
My First Jazz Concert (on the road)… at Age Three
What might seem strange to most was natural for me and my family. Of course my parents would drive over 200 miles with a 3 year old and a 10 month old to see a two and a half hour concert. To most, this might seem absurd. But for my family, this was perfectly normal.
There I was sitting in the front row, mesmerized for the entire duration of the show. My baby sister Kennedy didn’t fare as well. In a funny instance captured on the recording of this concert, she babbled on during Wynton’s introduction speech, prompting him to comment:
“I don’t think that baby’s gonna make it!”
Testing Wynton’s Fame
As the evening concluded, we met with Wynton backstage, where my parents reintroduced him to me. Rather than being caught up in the euphoria of the show or the idea of meeting someone famous, I took the opportunity to ask him a frank question:
“Do you know Danilo Perez?”
You see, at this time, there was only one piece of music on my mind: Hot Bean Strut by Panamanian jazz pianist Danilo Perez, from his 1996 album Panamonk. I was absolutely obsessed with this song. I constantly asked my parents to play it. And since it was a new album that year, my dad would listen to it often—whether in the car or through the sound system in the basement right outside my room.
So of course, when meeting a famous jazz musician, I took the opportunity to test just how famous he was. “He must know Danilo Perez,” I probably thought to myself.
Wynton, ever amused at how casually I treated him from my earliest years, answered with an affirmative:
“Yes. Would you like me to have him call you?”
I happily agreed. A few weeks later, long after everyone had forgotten about this whole affair, my mom received a call on the house phone:
“Hello, may I speak to little Wynton?”
Much to her amazement, it was indeed Danilo Perez calling the house.
Why “Hot Bean Strut” Captivated My Three-Year-Old Ear
In preparation to tell this story, I was listening to Hot Bean Strut—a song that still holds a special place in my heart. I wondered what exactly it was that had so captured my attention at three years old. I think it has something to do with the fundamental way I listen to music.
I’m a person with a very good sense of pitch and harmony, and I feel them viscerally. Musical sounds are not abstract phenomena to me.
This song has a kind of form somewhat similar to what classical musicians might call a rondo. What defines this form is the constant return to a refrain section. In popular music, we understand refrains as choruses. But what makes these returns exciting isn’t the melody itself—it’s the anticipation of the return. And boy does this song anticipate.
Danilo skillfully draws out the solo sections leading up to the refrain. The whole time you’re listening, you know where it’s going—but the journey to the return is what truly matters at the end.
My First Encounter with Monk—and Latin Jazz
This song also marked my first exposure to two major influences in my life:
Thelonious Monk and Latin Jazz.
Panamonk was an enigmatic tribute album to Monk, a mix of his compositions and Danilo’s original works. Hot Bean Strut was one of Danilo’s Monk-influenced originals.
In one fell swoop, I internalized Monk’s jagged, distinct style—crunchy harmonies and angular melodies—layered with Latin American rhythm. The song’s first melody carries Monk’s accents, while the groove underneath has a New Orleans-inflected backbeat laid down by Jeff “Tain” Watts. It ends with a celebratory montuno groove and tumbao bass. The fade-out made it feel like the song never really ended—it just looped back, waiting to start again.
My Spanish Rondo
Little would I know that this early exposure to Latin Jazz would return again and again throughout my life—like a musical rondo of its own.
Spanish became my first foreign language in elementary school.
I eventually moved to Jersey City, surrounded by Spanish speakers.
My youngest sister Morgan, who has a degree in Spanish and is bilingual, started speaking Spanish as a baby—unbeknownst to my mother, who thought it was gibberish.
At ten, I traveled to Santiago, Cuba, with my father and legendary photographer Frank Stewart.
I studied piano there for a week at the conservatory, learning the foundations of Cuban piano playing.
I discovered and met greats like Chucho and Bebo Valdés, and admired the late Rubén González.
Over the years, I studied Spanish more deeply and dove into Latin American literature and poetry.
From Mexico to Portugal: A Musical and Linguistic Journey
My best friend Craig is from Mexico City, where I visited him in 2013—a trip that sparked my interest in living abroad. That curiosity would eventually lead me to Portugal, and learning Portuguese, which opened a whole new world between Portugal and Brazil.
From this vantage point, I can now see how a childhood obsession with a quirky jazz tune by Danilo Perez laid the foundation for a lifelong journey—across languages, rhythms, and cultures.
Good piece!