Carlos Santana on ‘the light, spirit, and soul in every one of us’
Carlos Santana.
Musician Carlos Santana is absolutely legendary.
Whether it’s the classic albums recorded in the late ’60s and early ’70s that yielded perennial radio staples like “Black Magic Woman” and “Evil Ways,” or the now meme-worthy “Smooth” from 1999’s Supernatural, Santana’s musical appeal spans decades and generations.
However, when we spoke by phone with Santana one morning from his Vancouver hotel room, the musician revealed himself as someone who’s very much in the present.
The Pitch: How have you viewed Kansas City over your years of performing?
Carlos Santana: I used to hear that Kansas City was the gateway to the east coast—to New York and Chicago—and as a musician coming from the west, if you couldn’t cut it in Kansas City, you had to turn back. You have to go through Count Basie and Charlie Parker and a lot of incredible, great musicians, you know?
From what I read and heard from word of mouth, Kansas City was like the gatekeepers of no nonsense.
Given your love for jazz—having performed and recorded live albums with Buddy Miles and Wayne Shorter—one has to imagine that Kansas City definitely had some interest to you, musically.
A lot of architects that have whole new differences, culturally speaking—and scrambled the eggs—were born in Kansas City. The way Charlie Parker designated a new frequency of articulation in any instrument, I think that if he was in the same room at the same time with Mozart and Beethoven, they would all go, “Damn!”
‘Cause the genius of his improvisation, diving into the unknown and unpredictability, was awesome. It’s still awesome.
What’s fascinating about your career is that you have albums celebrating 10th, 20th, 30th, 40th, and 50th anniversaries this year. Knowing that, how do you view your career? Do you look at past accomplishments and do you celebrate them?
No. I wouldn’t invest emotionally in something like that. I invest more in being aware of my multidimensionality. I don’t need to wish I was part of your citizenship. With this—not frame of mind, but frame outside of mind—I can go to Kansas City or any place and fit in, because I’m part of the family at any level.
Ireland, or Africa, or Japan? As soon as we played one or two notes, man—you were in! The identification is really, really important, and I’m sure that’s how Charlie Parker saw himself—almost—or Miles Davis, or Coltrane. When you identify with being multidimensional, then you don’t have walls, barriers, limitations, or challenges.
All you have is just seamless, easy flow.
Along those lines, that seems to be where you gain your inspiration to make new music. The second half of your set on this tour focuses strongly on more recent material. Is it just that the inspiration comes from finding that flow and family, wherever you may be?
Yes. We’re a hybrid. The people who played or participated and shared the Blessings and Miracles CD—from Chris Stapleton to everyone—each one is a hybrid of many things. Chris Stapleton and the song that he wrote with us—“Joy”—has country and reggae. There’s a lot of Bob Marley in there. And a gospel music choir.
Chris alone brings his own portfolio in a Rolodex. You get that with all the musicians I play with. So, I get to create a template and not stick to it. I know that people come from their houses, and they pay for the ticket, and they pay the parking, because they want to hear certain songs that they grew up with.
I understand that. I did that with James Brown, Sting, and others. We want to hear the songs that bring the memories of being with family. That’s important, but it’s important for the artists to step out and create on the spot. The new-new. The new fresh.
We spoke last year with Kurtis Blow, another musician who underwent heart issues and surgery during the pandemic. He said that it made him feel like he was “a walking, living, breathing testimony that God is still in the miracle business.” What’s it like for you, being able to get up on stage after your health scare and having contracted COVID?
The same thing. You know, I realized that the real medicine is a mystical medicine music. The component even before you play the music—I call it a light, spirit, and soul in every one of us that is immutable and indestructable. There’s so much to promote about self-worth, instead of thinking like a wretched sinner or a good-for-nothing victim, or whatever.
That stuff doesn’t get you really far. If Kansas City is the gate to get to the east coast, the gate to get to heaven—there is no gate.
It seems as though you are connected with all aspects of music. Be it performance, studio, or otherwise. It seems that you’re all about just being open to absorbing things.
Thank you for the observation. My instructions when we’re in our home were acceptance from heaven and expansion—the left and right. So what does acceptance mean? It means that you accept something great. They asked Marvin Gaye, “How did you create What’s Going On? That’s a masterpiece,” and he said, “I did my best to get out of the way.”
That’s acceptance. Another word for like spiritual, divine surrender. I think that the primitive church calls it, “Archangel Gabriel putting his foot on the neck of the dragon,” because the dragon represents ego and surrender your ego to your light.
Musicians play their best—whether you’re Stevie Ray Vaughan, or Hendrix, or Jaco Pastorius, or whoever—everybody plays their best when they surrender and they get out of the way, and you start playing things that you have absolutely no comprehension how to do it. That’s the best music.
When you’re coming off stage, how do you go from being in that place you just described to being back in regular life where you’re not performing and absorbing. Or is there no differentiation? Is that part of you all the time?
It used to be. I think this is why a lot of musicians and artists take certain things–’cause they want to stay there. You’re supposed to be Superman and Clark Kent. You’re supposed to be a divine vessel, and you’re supposed to be just a vessel who’s learning humility in front of everybody, which is like a lot of lessons that we all learned.
When I get off the stage, I feel grateful to the band for not carrying me, but inspiring me to reach deeper and higher. And immense gratitude to God for the opportunity to do it again and be in front of an audience. And for people to actually show up and witness us playing music from Woodstock and beyond and still have an awe about the fullness of—like I said—light, spirit, and soul.
Santana plays the T-Mobile Center Tuesday April 12. Details on that show here.
