Those hands and the drum have opened many doors for Eduardo Martínez. They allowed him to meet the legends of traditional Colombian folk music and gave him the chance to travel around the world.
One can imagine it. A five-year-old boy would grab the gas tanks and start hitting them, boom, bam, boom, bam, bam, bam, bam… Maybe the rhythm was different, but the passion with which this boy made contact with that plastic surface filled him with joy.
Later, if the gas tank wasn’t available, he would discreetly sneak into the kitchen and grab one of the pots. Boom, bam, boom, bam, bam, bam, boom… It might be, though not very likely.
Alba, his mother, lovingly scolded him: “Don’t you think that’s enough?”
This boy, named Eduardo Martínez, carried music inside him, and since his parents couldn’t buy him a drum, he used everything he had to satisfy his hunger for music and art.
“We lived in a very poor neighborhood in Cartagena de Indias, Colombia. My father, Manuel Domingo ‘Mingo’, was an electrician. He made sure we had everything we needed, but we also didn’t have extra,” says Eduardo.
This famous percussionist and gaitero (a traditional Colombian musician) tells us about the happiness that permeated his house. Music was in the air. His mother liked vallenato, a traditional Colombian music genre, while his father, Mingo, preferred more Afro-Colombian or Afro-Cuban music.
“They had to negotiate,” laughs Eduardo. “They’d play vallenato for a while and then my dad’s music. They respected the spaces.”
“Those hands and the drum have opened many doors for Eduardo Martínez. They allowed him to meet the legends of traditional Colombian folk music and gave him the chance to travel around the world.”
In 1992, I was at Real World Studios, recording the album “La Candela Viva” with Toto la Momposina.
His talent, concentration, research, and dedication allowed him to play alongside giants of music, such as the great singer and composer Estefanía Caicedo, as well as pioneers of the tambor alegre (a traditional drum style) like Paulino Salgado Valdez (Batata III), Gabriel Torregloza, José Lara, Encarnación Tobar, Wilmer Arias, Fernando Mosquera, and many others.
He has worked with countless groups and artists, including Estefanía Caicedo and her Grupo Cartagena de Indias, Totó La Momposina and her Tambores, Petrona Martínez, the National Ballet of Colombia led by Sonia Osorio, Leonor González Mina (La Negra Grande de Colombia), Moisés Angulo and La Gente Del Camino, Checo Acosta and his Orchestra, Chelito de Castro and his Orchestra, Grupo Madera de Venezuela, Grupo Cumbia Caribe, Francisco Zumaque, Diego Valdez, Gustavo Arenas, and Shakira.
Eduardo Martínez is part of the Taller Tarima y Tambor alongside César ‘Jarochelo’ Castro. For him, it has been a breath of fresh air.
“I’ve been in the right place at the right time,” he says modestly.
As a child, he would watch those great groups on TV and think, “I’m going to dedicate myself to that,” and that’s how he started immersing himself in music.
He began attending the Cultural Committee in his neighborhood, which was a starting point. There, he could play real drums and access other instruments. Not only that, it also allowed him to acquire social awareness. Music is not understood without a commitment to the community.
“We had to go out and talk to other young people, try to keep them out of trouble, do community work, and make sure our presence was felt in the neighborhood,” he says.
His parents tolerated their son’s decision to dedicate himself to music. One day, he met Estefanía Caicedo, a legend of music. Without hesitation, he approached her and told her he wanted to learn from her. Estefanía lived in a very dangerous neighborhood.
“I couldn’t go alone. I had to ask a friend to come with me. And there I was, at her door, with the great singer. She was eating and asked me to sit down and shared her food with me,” he says.
Eduardo considers himself a messenger of that cultural tradition, a very spiritual part of his life.
He studied with the great ‘tamborero’ Paulino Salgado.
“I went to see him with a friend. Paulino was playing, and then he handed me the drum and said, ‘Now you play.’ I started, and I think I was doing it really well because Paulino took the drum from me and started doing a solo with everything he had. He said, ‘You’re very good, but not like me,’” he laughs while remembering that moment.
He decided to attend the School of Fine Arts and study music. It wasn’t the direction of his career, but he wanted to understand everything related to composition, reading music, arrangements, and more. All of that helped him understand many things later.
Afterward, he joined the National Ballet of Colombia, and life’s serendipity took him to Mexico.
“The demand for cumbia music outside of Colombia is very high. Cumbia was born in Colombia, and other countries have transformed and adapted it,” he says.
Later, if the gas tank wasn’t available, he would discreetly sneak into the kitchen and grab one of the pots. Boom, bam, boom, bam, bam, bam, boom… It might be, though not very likely. Alba, his mother, lovingly scolded him: “Don’t you think that’s enough?”
While in Mexico, he received a call from Los Angeles. They were putting on a play based on Gabriel García Márquez’s story Cándida Eréndira and her Heartless Grandmother. He was reluctant to go, as he was planning to return soon to Colombia. This happened in 2008.
They convinced him, and he traveled by bus to the border. He headed to Los Angeles. When he arrived and saw the performance, he gave his feedback and was already convinced to collaborate. He heard a woman singing, saw her, and at that specific moment, he didn’t know she would become his wife, with whom he has been for all these years.
“This life is not easy. You struggle to have a certain economic level, and many times you have that lonely life of not being understood. But I have an ace up my sleeve; I can play any musical genre. Salsa, merengue, conduct workshops, make arrangements. I have a lot of cards to play,” he says.
Eduardo Martínez is part of the Taller Tarima y Tambor alongside César ‘Jarochelo’ Castro. For him, it has been a breath of fresh air.
“It has been a great opportunity to experiment, to unite two genres, the jarocho and traditional Colombian music,” he says.
His father passed away. Mingo moved on to the next life. This has kept Eduardo reflective, thinking about his next steps.
“Estoy mirando,” he says.
