On first take Michael Spiro seems a man of many parts-most of them contradictory:

He is Jewish; but for more than two decades he has been one of the best Latin percussionists around with a true passion for the music.

For most of his life he's been a working musician; but his parents were both academics and he holds a BA in Latin American Studies and an MA in Ethnomusicology.

He lives on the West Coast when New York City is ground zero for the Latin scene.

He doesn't see Latin music becoming the dominant force in pop music despite devoting his life to playing it. He is pedagogically gifted in a line of work-drumming-not known for producing great speakers.

When you get to know him these contradictions resolve themselves like a complex and well-structured piece of music; but at first his range of subject matter and forceful delivery-not to mention his frankness-can be disconcerting.

You can get some idea of the complexity of his personality from the following story. The wife of Armando Peraza, the great Cuban percussionist who anchored the Santana rhythm section for nearly twenty years, once asked how Michael could be so into Santeria-voodoo to the man on the street-when he was obviously intelligent and educated. Michael answered that when he was 11 years old he saw something at a religious drumming ceremony in Mandalay, Burma that he never forgot. A woman went into a trance and was said to be possessed by a strong male spirit. Her voice changed to a deep, very masculine timbre; and though slight herself, the woman picked up two much larger men and held them aloft for some 3 minutes. Ever since, he has been a believer in some things not accepted by Western science. Some years later he became an active participant in the religious practices of Santeria, and was mentored by one of its well known figures, Regino Jimenez.

When Martin Cohen sat down to interview Michael there was a great degree of sympatico, not only because they have known each other a long time, but because both have been integral to the growth and development of Latin music and both share a Jewish heritage. When they first met it was at the Mission Cultural Center in San Francisco where Michael was playing an Iya, a type of bata drum. Martin's comment on Michael's playing on that occasion was, "You really smack that drum". Michael's reply, "That's what they pay me for".

Martin asked Michael about his thoughts on succeeding as a player today, both artistically and financially. How did Michael deal with the money versus art conundrum that has habitually plagued most musicians? Particularly, what advice would he offer to the serious musician?

"Stay away from casuals-what you call 'club dates' in New York-because casuals are non-musical events. Nobody plays any music at a casual. 'Do you know Proud Mary? Can you play Hava Nagilla? Can you play whatever the latest Gypsy Kings is or the latest meringue? All the real musicians I know, the last thing they want to do is play a lot of casuals. You try to do a couple per month because they pay so well. You may make $500 at a casual as opposed to a gig where you can really play and if you make $80 it's a big deal. I don't think any musician who wants to play music wants to play casuals because it's death. And those are the guys you see in their mid-fifties maybe, who gave up really playing music, and they're sitting in a bar in a tuxedo making good money. But if you talk to those guys on a break they never talk music. They talk golf, they talk their new car, they talk whatever their hobby is."

The music industry is changing and Latin music seems 'poised to become the next big thing', as one magazine recently put it. And it certainly seems to be true if you go by the frequency of media pronouncements to that effect plus recent events like the debut of the Latin Grammy Awards. But Michael has a knack for seeing the bigger picture.

"People have interviewed me since the late 70's. And of course one of the reasons they've interviewed me is, Oh, you're the white guy, we're interested in your perspective-and that's completely legitimate. But the thing is, about every five years Latin music is supposed to take over the world. I can't remember what the first one was, but I remember when Ruben Blades was supposed to make the whole thing go crazy. And then the film The Mambo Kings was going to make the whole thing go crazy. Then it was the lambada, then it was Carlos Santana winning 59 Grammies and he's going to get elected president and there'll be a rumba in every pot or whatever. But my experience has been that it's still music sung in Spanish-end of story. Yes, we know the Latinization of the United States of America is true, certainly in California. But most of the Latinos that live in California-unlike New York City-are not from the Caribbean, they're not really from South America. They're from Mexico, from Guatemala, from Central America. They have their own music they listen to. The truth is that my career and the careers of most of the players I know are doing no better or no worse because Carlos Santana won Grammies and the Buena Vista Social Club sold a million records."

>But music is, after all, a business, and the high profile of Latin artists and Latin music means that business is good and getting better all the time. Sustaining and expanding the popularity of the music implies an audience that will continue to grow as well. Where will that audience come from?

"It's interesting that you raise this issue. As you note in your introduction to our conversation, 'Mike is a friend of LP'. And I am a friend of LP. That's very true in a lot of different ways. And talking about LP helps tie together all I've been saying: Your company will always sell product in the barrio because the barrio is where your instruments are traditional needed. But every successful rock band has some percussionist on a riser with lots of LP gear on it because that's part of the visual show. And my argument has always been that if LP wants to be around thirty years from now and grow as a company, it's precisely the white kid in a rock band who represents the expansion of your market. The conga drum in the barrio is always going to be there."

As a music teacher himself for many years, and an esteemed and respected musician, Michael can offer a unique perspective on the benefits of education. It's something he strongly believes in. It's one reason for his long association with LP who, as anyone in the business knows, has been the leader and innovator in musical education since its beginnings. Even when it might not have made sense from a profit standpoint, LP has believed strongly enough in the future of the music to take the long view and underwrite a variety of educational projects.

"I think you and LP® may have been one of the most important elements in advancing the cause of Latin Music." ---Michael Spiro.

If he doesn't see his fortune being made riding a rising wave of Latin music, what does Michael Spiro see in his future. And specifically, Martin asked Michael, who is a devoted family man with a son, How do you go about creating security for yourself and your family in a business as uncertain as music?

"That's the $64,000 question. And I wish I could be really clear with a well-defined business plan that would answer your question. But I'm not sure that I can, except insofar as to say that that's what my whole teaching thing is about. I teach at a couple of different schools and I know you don't make any money teaching at an institution unless you're a tenure-track professor. But if I stay home and teach I can make a lot more money than I can go out of my house. I don't charge what a lawyer charges, but if I don't leave my house and teach 3 one hour and fifteen minute classes, I'll make close to three times as much as if I went and played a gig that night. And I don't load any equipment, I don't get home at three in the morning, and I don't drive all over town to do it. The flip side of that is I'm a player-that's my love, that's my joy. I mean, I didn't do this to become a teacher. But it costs quite a bit of money to send my child to private school."

This brought an interesting response from Martin, who, as the founder and driving force behind LP, tries to balance creativity and commerce. He pointed out that he could expand what he does because it's done by many people, not just himself. But only Michael does what he does, the way he does it and the only way he could expand would be to have his own school. Had Michael ever thought about his own school?

"Yes. And in fact I'm out actively looking to do something like that. I have so much respect for the Boys Harbor School (of Music in New York). What a spectacular place that is, as an archive, as a teaching center, as a performance center-that to me is the ideal. I would like to start a Harbor West if you will. And in an ideal world a sugar daddy comes along and says, You find me the space, I'll bankroll the space. What do you need there? But it's the same old story--who do you get to write the grant for the Rockefeller Foundation to get $400,000?. And say you get a $400,000 grant-and outside of Stanford or Harvard, who gets grants like that-you can't even find a space for a school for $400,000. But this side of the country really needs something like Harbor. The West Coast has contributed an enormous amount to Latin Music. Armando, Francisco Aguabella and Cal Tjader, and we could go on and on. But the point is, it all comes back to money and where will it come from. Ultimately I'd like to start a Cuban Studies Department of which music would only be one part. I want to have an historian, an anthropologist, a dancer, poetry, literature, because I'm one of those interdisciplinary guys who thinks if you're going to understand the rumba you have to know where it came from. So, I'm looking, and if I find, I'll let you know."

As Martin remarked, it's hard to imagine anyone better suited to heading up a school than Michael, with his probing intellect, his forceful personality, encyclopedic knowledge, and, most important of all, his livelong love and devotion to this music.

"Hey Martin, twenty-five years from now, when you're trying to find your teeth and I'm going, 'Can anybody hand me my cane', a guy could still make a living as a New York salsa percussionist. The music will still be here, people will still be dancing, people will still be going out at night."

And cane or no cane, Michael Spiro will probably still be slapping a drum.

All quotes taken from an interview conducted by Martin Cohen in September, 2000.

>Written by Jim McSweeney.

To learn more about Michael Spiro, CLICK HERE or visit www.michaelspiro.com.