Elbow drummer, Jupp, shares his experiences of Fidel’s island during the melodius Mancs’ recent tour of Cuba.

Jesus Christ, summing up a trip to Cuba…

Well, having been asked to play some gigs in one of the most impressive, romantic, turbulent, unstable, passionate and beautiful countries in the world, with backing from the British consulate, it was decided that we should at least try and show willing.

Elbow would be one of only a handful of British bands to play in Cuba, following in the footsteps of the Manic Street Preachers and Asian Dub Foundation. We went over with another British band called the Sandstone Veterans who had done a similar thing last year to rave reviews, so following last year’s success the organisers decided to get us to play in Metanzas. This, as it turned out, would be the first time any British band had played outside Havana.

The day after we arrived was gig day and the first of two shows in Havana was at a place called Salon Rosado de la Tropical. With it being Sunday we thought it would be deserted but after meeting the Ambassador and his wife(!), sound-checking and wrapping our heads around the fact that we were in Havana, we saw it filling up. As it transpired the venue was famous for its Sunday matinees and would be packed with locals enjoying the best mix of home brewed rum and samba money could buy. As we left to sample some fine Cuban cuisine, we were amazed to see a woman of at least 80 shimmying her way down the steps to the main floor as smooth and sexy as an 18 year old, it was the shape of things to come.

Getting back from dinner we witnessed a sight that would remain with us forever, at least a thousand people of all ages, from 3 to 93, dressed to kill in porkpie hats, sharp creases and vibrant colours all busting their best moves to a samba band that had been together for 60 years.

Our gig was amazing, the atmosphere pretty wild and, with jet lag kicking in, rounded off a pretty surreal day.

Day two started off with a trip to the Instituto Superior de Arte (Higher Art Institute) which was a truly inspiring experience. We were met by the president of the institute who gave us a brief history and short tour of the campus. As with a large percentage of Cuban architecture, it was once a very beautiful building that has fallen into decay since the trade embargos after the revolution. The whole point of the institute was training in all forms of music, art and dance, producing many of the internationally renowned Cuban artistes of the last few decades. We were then given an exclusive performance by Havana Sax, made up of ex-students and current professors of the institute. After an amazing show, I think most of us thought it best to give up and start again. One interesting fact about the buildings was that from the air they form the shape of a woman’s erogenous zones…

Not having much time to get out and see Havana, we had the idea of combining that and documenting the trip and decided to get three “coco taxis”, fibreglass, two-seater buggies shaped like helmets and painted bright yellow and make our way to the gig. So there we were, tear-arsing through the hills around Havana trying to be cool in front of the camera. We did get to see some amazing sights, like the vastness of Revolution Square, dingy back alleys in old Havana away from the tourist areas - all at breakneck speed. It was a shame we were playing that night.

The gig was a great success, even though we nearly didn’t get to play as our gear caused too much of a distraction. All the local crew and anyone passing were genuinely amazed at our kit. It really brought it home to us how out of reach the equipment we took for granted was in Cuba. So after the gig we gave out some spares. During the day our guy doing the documentary, Irshad, had wandered around Havana and stumbled on a sound system down a back street where people were jamming, singing, doing whatever and he met two rappers who did a bit on camera, it was amazing. These guys were so fucking good yet they had an almost too stark a perspective. They had saved for almost a year to record a CD, which they carried with them. We arranged to meet them the next day to get them on camera, which they were a bit apprehensive about, but as we were walking through old Havana they were picked up by the police who thought they were hustling us. We tried to explain but it didn’t make a difference, a stark reminder that although Cuba was an incredible place to visit it was still a police state.

Tuesday started with a meet and greet with a Cuban band who played the previous evening. We sat down, a bit fragile and did the introductions, then the Cuba Libras and Mochitos came out! There’s nothing like a liquid breakfast to get over language barriers. The band were called Synthesis and quickly became good friends, addresses were exchanged and promises of gear to be sent over made. For such an inspiring and world respected genre as Cuban music, it was idiotic that politics has choked the availability of basic equipment and subsequently opportunity for all Cubans.

The day could have easily ended there (all colonial and pissed before lunch!) were it not for the Ambassador’s reception that evening, yes I did say Ambassador’s reception and no we didn’t bring the Ferrero Rocher. The reception was a very chilled affair with an acoustic set and hors d’oeuvres on the front porch. The scene was quite surreal, band members chatting to various other ambassadors and dignitaries - the only downfall was the choice of background music – Phil-bloody-Collins. After taking full advantage of the hospitality we went off to do our debut appearance on Cuban TV.

We got to the studio late and were confronted by one of the cameramen taking a little light refreshment from a hip flask - we were in good hands. As with almost everywhere in Cuba the TV station was in a state of disrepair, but as professional as anywhere in the world.

Wednesday was the long trip to our hotel in Varadero and the gig in Metanzas. The three-hour journey was broken up by a stop at Metanzas bridge, an amazing feat of engineering spanning a 400 meter gorge. As if the scenery wasn’t enough we were treated to the freshest Pina Coladas we’ve ever had. Lisette, our guide and interpreter explained the Varadero was your typical touristy resort, we didn’t realise that it was an all-inclusive, private beach affair, if only all tours were like this! We were discussing whether or not these hotels were part of the mafia casino network of the forties - we didn’t get an answer.

After a swim in the warm Gulf of Mexico and debating whether or not to swim the 130 miles to Florida, we set off to the gig. The gig was amazing, even though we were supported by a local Death Metal band and we got our first stage invasion. On the way back we did the usual gig dissection and piss-take before getting down to the more pressing matter of getting names, quantities and cash for cigars. All through the trip we were struggling with massive cigars, trying to look natural and ending up looking like Magnum.

Our last day in Varadero was pretty much a day off, so it was beach and tan time. Friday was our last day in Cuba, so we got back to Havana early to do some shopping in the market near the port. Just time to get some percussion, artwork and a shit load of cigars, job done.

So there you go, Elbow in Cuba, an incredible experience that allowed us to actually see the places you don’t see as tourists. Even though we were shadowed by the ministry of information we still managed to have a pretty free reign, seeing people wrestling with cigars, photo shoots in the sea, Cuban cars (brake fluid is coke and shampoo), getting hustled and everything about Havana. What an inspiration as a musician being able to play in Cuba where the appetite for music of any genre is insatiable.