Until I was thirteen, I never owned a CD. Or a cassette tape. Not even an old eight-track. The only vinyl in my life was a yellow rain coat. The only drumsticks I knew of came in greasy buckets from KFC. In short, I was a musical idiot. Outside of the occasional oldies song my parents listened to on the radio, music was as foreign to me as Björk’s accent. Little did I know that my savior would be a Latin rock guitarist known the world over as Carlos Santana.
I didn’t wake up one day and decide to start listening to his music, though. I had to be epically humiliated before I became the musically-inclined person that I am today. The previous Christmas, my parents bought me a CD.
Perhaps they forgot that their gift was intended for an elevenyear old boy. Ralphie Parker got a bolt-action Red Ryder BB gun. Macaulay Culkin got to stay at the Plaza Hotel and befriend a pigeon woman. Charlie Brown got a rock. My gift? That wrapped and bow-tied present, given out of love and tenderness? N*SYNC’s Christmas album, The Winter Album. Somehow, in their warped logic, my parents thought that an eleven year old boy would like nothing more than to listen to the harmonic melodies of preening glitter-boys singing, “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays.” Thanks, Mom and Dad!
On December 27, with N*SYNC album in hand, I stormed into Tower Records, determined to find music that I liked. Enough was enough; if I didn’t announce my musical preferences to the world, I’d be looking at a 2gether CD for my birthday. Unfortunately, it never occured to me that CD inventories tend to be slim the day after Christmas. At the moment of truth, there I was, standing in between the rap and rock aisles with once bestselling, years old albums—Will Smith’s Willenium in one hand and Santana’s Supernatural in the other.
Luckily for me, I didn’t choose the Fresh Prince. I wish I could say that I had listened to Supernatural before deciding to buy it, or had asked somebody who Carlos Santana was, but I did neither. To be honest, it was Supernatural’s crazy design that grabbed my pre-teen attention span. Neon colors, strewn haphazardly across the cover? Check. Tribal warriors wearing animal masks in a jungle? Check. A naked (!) mermaid! Double check. I exchanged the holiday pop trash for Santana, eager to listen to what I was sure would be my favorite band of all-time.
I loved Santana’s kickin’ guitar solos, and I played the CD nonstop for weeks. At one point I asked my parents to call me “Carlos” instead of “Chris” in hopes that I too would one day become a world famous Latin guitarist. Eventually, I abandoned my dreams of international acclaim and the ability to roll my “R’s,” but I still loved Santana. I doubt my parents enjoyed my newfound delight—after all, I was much quieter when I didn’t listen to any music. Soon, my Santana fever spread to the other artists who contributed to Supernatural. I discovered Lauryn Hill and The Fugees because of “Do You Like the Way.” I became a Matchbox Twenty fan after I heard “Smooth” for the first time. I learned to hate Dave Matthews after listening to the disaster of a song that is “Love of My Life.” Dave Matthews sucks.
Over time I lost interest in Santana; partly out of boredom, and partly because my parents threatened that I wouldn’t live to see a mariachi band if I played “Maria, Maria” one more time. Soon enough Napster came along, filling my life with ska, reggae, and all those other wonderfully upbeat genres that inspire spastic dancing, wide smiles, and illicit drug use. I got caught up in the emotional wave of artists like Elliott Smith, Conor Oberst, and Sufjan Stevens after that—I’ll say it, I was an emo kid. These days I don’t listen to Santana too often, yet he’s still out there touring, kicking ass, and shredding his way through some damn good solos.
And to think, if it weren’t for the voluptuous mermaid adorning the cover of Supernatural, I probably would have bought Willenium, and become a slave to commercial rap and the dregs of mass-market music. In other words, I’d be the world’s biggest Soulja Boy fan. Tell ‘Em!
Carlos has touched many with his vision. his choice of artwork but most of all with his tone and soulfulness. I hope that the author, Mr. Heller has like me been touched enough to delve into the massive Santana catalog and hear the real Santana on albums like caravanserai and Oneness. there is so much Carlos beyond Supernatural that is out there for one to enjoy. I hope you can be touched by songs like Song of the Wind, Song for Devadip, Spartacus, Gardenia, Your’s is the Light, Flame/Sky. It is then that Mr. heller can say that he has evolved and been trnasformed by the musical mastery of Carlos Santana.