In the 1940s and ’50s, Ferrer sang on dozens of Cuban big-band records, but was never credited by name; eventually he ended up shining shoes on the streets of Havana. Then, when he was 70, the Cuban bandleader Juan de Marcos and the American guitarist and producer Ry Cooder tracked him down and recorded him with an all-star collective of forgotten Cuban musicians; the 1997 “Buena Vista Social Club” album gave Ferrer his first platinum record–and his first credit. Wim Wenders’s “Buena Vista” documentary film made Ferrer’s face as familiar as his sweet falsetto voice, and his solo debut, “The Buena Vista Social Club Presents Ibrahim Ferrer,” sold 1.5 million copies. Now his new album, “Buenos Hermanos”–the “good brothers” may be his guest stars–is No. 1 on world-music charts.
“It took me a while to acknowledge I was good,” Ferrer says, “because for such a long time, I was being told I wasn’t. You finally start to believe it. It’s only recently that I began to accept that maybe there is something in there that I can give to people.” His warmth and authenticity have clearly touched jaded Americans, many of whom were strangers to Latin music before hearing Ferrer in Starbucks or on NPR. “Most entertainment now is co-opted and given back as a TV dinner,” Cooder says. “A Disney production, something winking and nodding–‘How do you like me?’ Ibrahim’s one of these people who sing totally from within. You get who he is with every note. Entertainment at one time was built around such people. His kind is rare now.”
For “Buenos Hermanos,” Cooder brought in fiery pianist Chucho Valdez, Tex-Mex accordion king Flaco Jimenez–and the Blind Boys of Alabama. Ferrer, who’d never heard gospel, says he was “sweating with excitement” at their harmonies. His own singing may be his most charismatic yet; he’s at his best revisiting favorite old boleros–love ballads at once nostalgic, romantic and joyous.
The U.S. embargo against Cuba made it hard to do the record. But Cooder had a sense of urgency–and an ally. “It just so happens Bill Clinton liked the ‘Buena Vista’ record and film,” he says. “He wrote a memo the last day he was in office, which was converted into a license. It’s got to be some sort of historic document.” Ferrer has his own explanation–and his own allies. “I think it’s fate that I get to do this,” he says. “And I think everyone knows who I have to be grateful to–San Lazaro, God and angels like my mother. I am happy to sing for people, but I also know that I have no other choice. This is my destiny.”
