Bang the Drum Slowly

In the summer of 2003, however, Yeomanson and Phish keyboardist Page McConnell invited him to join the side project Vida Blue, a fusion jam band that toured the festival circuit, an experience that gave Alfonso the opportunity to see the states and to connect with a different audience. "I liked them. They were so young and friendly. In the end, music is music. That's the one language everyone understands," Alfonso says.

He describes his new project, Rumba Miami, as an effort to reintroduce people to the music of Cuban folklore, specifically the songs and chants that are central to the religion known as Santería, which combines elements of Catholicism with Afro-Caribbean folk traditions. Alfonso is himself a devoted santero, who plays drums and participates at various ceremonies throughout Miami. "I've been a santero since I was child," he says. "I actually began playing the congas at the fiestas de santos."

He declines to elaborate, for good reason.

"There are a lot of misconceptions out there, so people in Miami keep [the Santería practice] on the down low," explains his band-mate Moreno. In fact Santería practice, which can include the ritual sacrifice of animals, has generated considerable controversy, not to mention arrests, in South Florida.

"Under the religious side we perform, but we don't have a band name. That side is not commercial," Moreno explains. "It's just us keeping the traditions alive. We go to öhouse parties' and we just sing to the Orishas [the spirits]."

As a band, however, Rumba Miami has recorded four tracks, all of which feature Santería chants. The band also emphasizes the original elements of Afro-Caribbean rumba, which consists of three main rhythmical patterns. First, the Yambú, which is marked by a slow-pace drumming and is meant to relax the body and the mind. Second, the famous guaguancó pattern, in which a male and a female dance — most Latin dances owe their origin to the guaguancó. Finally, the Colombia, a forceful frenetic drum loop that's supposed to reflect the aggressive male spirit, or machismo, Alfonso explains.

Regardless of the tempo, the band creates an uncanny aura, calling to mind a slower time with fewer distractions. This is not the kind of Latin music tourists find in Miami Beach.

Alfonso, inspired by his association with Le Spam, hopes to introduce elements of hip-hop, reggaeton, and electronic music into the mix. For now, the sound remains traditional — a much tougher sell to Miami audiences accustomed to modern sounds.

But having come this far, Alfonso has no intention of giving up. "I know so many great musicians who are working as plumbers because there are so few live music venues in this city," he says. "I refuse to believe that people would rather listen to prerecorded music over a live band, and quitting music is not a choice for me. I've been doing this for more than 40 years; if I were to give it up, I know I would die."