I know that this sounds weird, but director Peter Segal said maybe the most profound thing about Santana that I’ve heard. On an audio commentary track for the film Anger Management (2003), he focused on a scene where Adam Sandler is walking to “Black Magic Woman.” The motion slows down and he proudly declares that if you wanted to make someone look cool in a movie, you had to use Santana. Sandler, who was also on the commentary, agreed with him.
While that movie may or may not have aged well, one thing is clear: Segal had that much right. Now every time I hear Santana, I think of somebody walking through a room. It just changes the atmosphere of the room, the way a swagger can seem more triumphant. When you get to their early stuff, it’s especially true because they weren’t trying to be like every other classic rock band. They were at times psychedelic, others a jam band who riffed for minutes on end. I can’t fully describe them other than they were a band whose sound was so trippy that guitarist Carlos Santana would often suggest that the only way to play was for him to get high and pretend that his guitar was a snake, needing to be controlled.
It’s hard not to hear in songs like “Oye Como Va,” which despite being sung in Spanish has remained a staple on KLOS 95.5 ever since I was a child. Whereas most bilingual artists didn’t get the time of day, it felt like you couldn’t boot Santana. They were just too cool. They were about more than language. They were about a feeling that forced you to be lost in a moment. Unlike most 60s jam bands, they didn’t have a delusional, self-entitled vibe to them that makes revisiting them off-putting. They were able to feel like unique energy that I imagine has impacted every Mexican street band I’ve heard at various festivals throughout my life. They’re more rock than mariachi, and yet it feels like they could swing either way. They felt definitive.
I chose for my first Santana album to be “Abraxas” for one specific reason. While it could be that it has two of their biggest hits, it’s also because of how it ties to one of my favorite movies: A Serious Man (2009). In one of the darker moments of absurdity, Michael Stuhlbarg says amid a chaotic phone call “I do not want Santana’s ‘Abraxas,’ I have just been in a terrible car crash.” Obviously, there’s more to the context, but as someone who also was involved in the BMG catalog movement at one point, I understand how frustrating it is and likely you are to buy garbage albums just to fulfill a quota.
For over a decade, “Abraxas” has been an odd beast because of that. I don’t think of Santana as a garbage band, but I’ve never known what their definitive album was. In all honesty, I think that The Coen Brothers chose that album because of how comical it reads in dialogue. Forget that the film takes place in 1967 and “Abraxas” is from 1970. It all works as this mystical, hazy inaccuracy that really makes you wonder if some greater force is playing tricks on Stuhlbarg throughout this story.
To be honest, there’s so much that makes Santana incredible before you get to their actual careers. They were one of the first major Hispanic rock bands to top the music charts in America. Their influence is obvious, including the fact that they are often still regarded among more conventional English-language bands. This album in particular has gained acclaim as one of the most influential albums of its time, celebrating 50 years on September 23. On top of all of this, Carlos Santana just sounds like a colorful character, a chameleon who somehow manages to survive just by playing the same trippy guitar lines, popping up a minimum of once a decade to improve someone’s pop hit.
But in 1970, they were more freeform and capable of making their sound as wild and experimental as you can imagine. With exception to their two big songs, “Oye Como Va” and “Black Magic Woman/Gypsy Queen,” this was a new experience for me and it really benefits from turning up loud, preferably on headphones, and feeling the haze immersing around you. I love how every song has this studio-quality where background vocalists are just talking somewhere deep in the mix, cueing for the next decision. It’s all so spontaneous and rich with a raw personality that makes you feel like they’re performing for you personally. This isn’t polished. This is going to be a good time, lasting for as long as it needs to.
More things to appreciate from the minute that “Singing Winds, Crying Beasts” starts is how every musician feels like they’re in harmony with each other. They’re jamming in such a way that they know when to allow the bass or drums to overpower the guitar. If I’m being honest, this is a great album for bass. David Brown has this way of creating a hypnotic conga line going underneath the percussion, constantly controlling the flow of the instruments in such a way that I’m just smiling. Everyone else could be going into a manic riff, but the bass continues course in this quieter, more nuanced way.
I also love how the drums sometimes break down into bongos, making the percussion sound just a bit off. It calms the energy while allowing it to be more organic, capable of feeling more spiritual as Carlos Santana’s guitar manages to sway through with this seductive lick that feels like a magic trick. Every few songs there will be an electric keyboard, blaring through like an organ, making it sound like jangling nerves. The vocals transition in and out of English and Spanish, but it almost doesn’t matter in relation to the feel of “Abraxas.” It’s a mystical album that doesn’t want to just show off. It wants to exist in your soul, the bongos shimmying your shoulders and the guitar causing you to spin. It’s all so beautiful and becomes better just in its confidence.
I love how inclusive this album feels, managing to feel like every perspective is welcomed as each new song brings with it a new experiment. Most of the time Santana is rarely better than when they’re just allowed to rock out. You can imagine being out on a dancefloor by yourself, spinning with the notes, and feeling the weight come over you. It’s the type of spontaneity that only the best bands can achieve, and I’m sure that most of their concerts can get away with expanding each song for another five minutes, feeding off of the audience and enjoying the playfulness. For an album that only spans nine songs, it manages to carry so much quality.
As I’ve mentioned before, I am not fluent in Spanish. I am not able to follow a lot of the album’s lyrics. Outside of “Black Magic Woman,” “Mother’s Daughter,” and “Hope You’re Feeling Better,” the album is difficult for me to explore as more than a melodic structure that you put on to have a good time. I think it says a lot that because despite any perceived limitation, they’re able to make music that speaks to the soul. With an album that features “The King of Latin Music” Tito Puente, it’s an album that manages to mix American rock with more Latin flavor, making something accessible, able to appeal to audiences that wouldn’t otherwise enjoy Spanish music. This exists as something transcendent, serving as world music in Top 40 form, and I am thankful that it’s resonated for as long as it has.
I think it helps that Carlos Santana has just been an eccentric and recognizable figure in general. He’s often considered to be one of the best guitarists in history, and it’s easy to see why. Even if he’s mostly known for riffing, you can’t deny that he has his own distinct sound. Listening to the back half of “Oye Como Va,” when he’s communicating with the keyboard through his guitar, it’s something invigorating and new. He’s able to control the song with every wild shift, making you notice how accomplished he is. If he’s keeping a snake from getting out of control, he’s doing an incredible job. It makes sense why he’s the member with the biggest career, managing to make nothing more than his guitar playing a big deal on songs by the likes of Rob Thomas and Michelle Branch. He’s that appealing, able to give you a little spice in your music.
I apologize that I’m not able to go longer on Santana’s “Abraxas.” If I’m being honest, it’s an album that I enjoyed on an instinctual level, finding my focus shifting from each instrument and admiring what each brings to the band. I don’t know that I could write a lengthy repose on an entirely instrumental album, but this is a great collection of music. I can see why it lead the band to the top of the charts, selling over five million copies stateside. It’s full of nonstop joy, able to embrace culture without making it seem like a novelty. This is a very Hispanic band, but you don’t have to be Hispanic to love what it’s achieving.
That’s been clear through its excessive use throughout the decades. It’s clear in Anger Management and A Serious Man, as well as when I blast the radio. At a certain point, it’s become part of the culture writ large and just becomes cool. Santana is cool. They don’t need to be grounded by skeptics. If you don’t appreciate what they’re doing, then you need to chill out. Maybe you need to control the snake in your life, finding a way to make the magic that the world can appreciate. There’s so much to love on this album, and all that I ask is that you give it a chance and enjoy how the music swirls around you, taking you into someplace more transcendent and blissful.
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