We had an excellent landing in Havana—the first return trip for Mica since he came here in 2011 to deliver baseball gear to the Martin Luther King Center. Our casa particular [predates Air B n B by a few decades] is in Central Havana, a few blocks from the sea and a short ride to Old Havana in a maquina, a recycled, rebuilt, reanimated American car from the 50s that functions like an affordable Uber pool, plying certain routes in the city.

Ivan Soca, subject of the first film in our series, Evolution Cuba, scooped us up in Aquitania, his car, named after the region bordering Spain and France where the first troubadours sang. Los trovadores are a central theme of Ivan’s work—musicians who write and sing songs of the people, from the people, and for the people. They are storytellers and the soul of their pueblo, of their people.

Ivan took us to Jaimanitas, on the outskirts of Havana where the artist Fuster has transformed the area into a Gaudi-like mosaic of beauty and imagination. But tonight we were here to witness a free neighborhood concert by Silvio Rodriguez, a Cuban troubadour famous throughout Latin America. Using his own resources, Silvio invites guest artists to perform with him throughout the island, converting a street into a concert venue, free for all. This was the 75th in the series; Ivan has photographed all of them save for the two performed in Spain and Chile. No T-shirts for sale, no vendors, just a makeshift stage raised a few feet above the street, and the music. After a brief afternoon deluge Frank Delgado, another trovador with a sharp sense of humor took the stage and wowed us. A short set later, Silvio sat down and sang songs that the entire country seems to know—elders, pierced, tattooed and gender nonconforming college students, local workers, and young families, sway, cheer, and sing. Silvio has been writing and singing trovas for 50 years, and while many in the U.S. don’t know his voice, he is one of Latin America’s greatest bards.

Ivan knows not only the neighborhood, but he knows the rooftops to climb for the best plano general—the wide shot. He knocked on a few doors, introduced himself, and we were invited up.

Not bad for our first half day in Cuba.

Met with two of my favorite artists today to continue a dialogue about our series. Mabel Poblet had several pieces in last year’s Havana Biennale, and her work is striking. She did several pieces with incarcerated women called, “Simple Beauty.” She told me how lucky she felt to be born an artist in Cuba, rather in the US, where it is so hard for artists to earn a living. Kadir Lopez-Nievesdoes mixed-media work about history and memory, often mounted on old porcelain signs left by American companies (Esso, Texaco, Wells Fargo, etc) and shot up by rebels during the revolution. Both are interested in participating in our series.

*Rubrik's presidents, work by Kadir López.*

We started filming the preamble to Los Rollings the morning of the concert. The line was quite short—don’t they know that they should line up for 3 days and hold a bacchanale while waiting? Apparently not. There were a few hundred people in two lines, clearly enjoying themselves, but not unruly. They were in their 60s and teens, pierced and clean-cut, Cuban British, American, German, Mexican. Our conversations with them were quite moving—this was a historic moment, the first big show in the history of Cuba, whom had once banned the music. It was both a reflection and an announcement of the change taking place. David Blanco, one of the most well-known pop/rock musicians here, described it as an opening , a bridge builder. Of course, they want more concerts, but he was expressing more than that. A man in his 60s told me that this indeed was their Woodstock.

*Our crew waits for the concert to begin. (L to R) Ernesto Granado, Javier Figueroa, Ivan Soca and our own Ken Schneider.*

A very nice lady and her mom who live across the street from the venue invited us to her rooftop perch, where we set up a camera to capture 2 PM--the moment when the gates opened and Cuba poured in. I was on the ground filming, and it was exuberant. I spent the next six hours conversing, with and without the camera, and the pulse of Cuba beats pretty well today. A large (estimates were 500,000) but civil and polite crowd—people gently touching my shoulder if they needed to move past me, no strung-out people, little overt drunkenness. And tremendous enthusiasm, with an understanding of both the gravity and joy of the moment.The two port-a-potties on my side of the field could have used help though, like another dozen. I imagine that Los Rollings brought them in, as the Cuban version was a rusted stall placed every few hundred yards on the street.

Mick and the boys are quite incredible in their early 70s. They still put on quite the show, although the voices are not what they once were. For me the music was fun (they did play a few of my favorite Stones tunes, and even threw in “You Got the Silver” when they needed a rest on stage), butthe event was spectacular. And, by the way, free. And therein lies the rub. More bands will certainly come; they are already lining up. Will they too give free concerts? Or will future concerts rely on a middle and upper class to pay for tickets? Change here is inevitable, and the creating of said classes is already underway. Many Cubans I talk to embrace that aspect of the change—at least the creation of a middle class. But yesterday I saw a broad swath of el pueblo, the Cuban people, in attendance. What happens if, next year, a band plays, and it costs $20 to attend?

We Are Back in Havana!

ART & ROCK N' ROLL