The rumba doesn't disappear; it becomes a lens through which other genres are seen.
In the living tradition of Cuban music, where African rhythm and Spanish melody have long spoken to one another, the ensemble Awo Ache has spent four years asking a quiet but consequential question: not how to modernize the rumba, but how to let it illuminate everything it touches. Under musicologist Edson Guillermo Benítez, the group has moved through orchestras, symphonies, and folk ensembles not as a novelty act but as cultural stewards, carrying an old pulse into new rooms. Their upcoming premiere at the Caturla Festival in Santa Clara on May 28 is less a debut than a continuation of a conversation the island has been having with itself for centuries.
- The tension is not between tradition and modernity — it is the fear that fusion means loss, that opening the rumba to other forms might hollow it out rather than deepen it.
- Awo Ache has disrupted that fear by treating collaboration as a philosophical act, working with the National Symphony, the Villa Clara Symphony, and the Septeto Habanero in ways that demand genuine musical dialogue rather than mere coexistence.
- The ensemble is navigating toward a synthesis rooted in historical precedent, invoking Matamoros and the long lineage of Cuban genre-crossing to argue that what they are doing is not experiment but inheritance.
- As of late May 2026, that navigation is landing at the Caturla Festival, where Benny Moré arrangements layered with Afro-Cuban percussion will test whether the accumulated four years of collaboration can crystallize into a single, coherent artistic statement.
Four years ago, musicologist Edson Guillermo Benítez joined the rumba ensemble Awo Ache and posed a deliberate question: what happens when the driving pulse of rumba is allowed to breathe inside other Cuban forms? His answer was not to dilute the tradition but to use it as a lens — a way of seeing and hearing other genres without abandoning the rhythmic core that gave them all a common ancestor.
Benítez was quick to point out that fusion was nothing new to the island. When Matamoros blended bolero with son, he was following an impulse as old as Cuban music itself — the collision between African rhythm, Spanish melody, and whatever else the Atlantic carried in. Awo Ache's project was not a departure from that lineage but a continuation of it.
The collaborations that followed were substantive. The group worked with Trío Palabras, Trovarroco, and then Ars Nova, where a concert called "Proa a las Américas" wove African chants and Congolese songs together with European music that had crossed the ocean — a sonic map of the hemisphere's cultural inheritance. They went on to perform with the Villa Clara Symphony, the National Youth Symphony under maestro Nachito Herrera, the Septeto Habanero, the National Folklore Choir, and the Provincial Concert Band, completing eight presentations with the latter alone.
By late May 2026, the ensemble was preparing new material for the Caturla Festival in Santa Clara — compositions by Benny Moré, whose work carried the harmonic sophistication of jazz bands while remaining rooted in Cuban soil, layered with Afro-Cuban percussion. The performance, set for May 28 at Leoncio Vidal Park, would close as it always does with "Rucu rucu a Santa Clara" by maestro José Luis Cortés — the moment when all the threads converge and the meaning of fusion becomes something an audience can feel rather than merely understand.
Four years ago, when musicologist Edson Guillermo Benítez joined Awo Ache, the rumba ensemble began a deliberate experiment: what happens when you take the driving pulse of rumba and let it breathe inside other forms of Cuban music? The answer, according to Benítez, was not to dilute the rumba but to carry its essence into classical arrangements, traditional songs, and hybrid forms that had been evolving in Cuban music for generations.
Fusion, Benítez argued, was nothing new to the island. When Matamoros mixed bolero with son decades earlier, he was following an impulse that had shaped Cuban music since its birth—the collision and conversation between African rhythms, Spanish melody, and whatever else arrived on the boats. The work Awo Ache began under his direction was not a departure from that tradition but a continuation of it. The rumba did not disappear; it became a lens through which other genres could be seen and heard.
The collaborations that followed were not casual performances. Awo Ache worked with the Trío Palabras and Trovarroco, then moved into larger ensembles. With Ars Nova, they created a concert called "Proa a las Américas"—a project conceived by maestro Angélica María Solernou to mark the group's twentieth anniversary. In that performance, African chants and Congolese songs wove together with European music that had crossed the Atlantic, creating a sonic map of the hemisphere's cultural inheritance. The group went on to perform with the Villa Clara Symphony Orchestra, the National Youth Symphony under maestro Nachito Herrera, the Septeto Habanero, the National Folklore Choir, and the Provincial Concert Band—eight presentations and counting, each one a genuine collaboration rather than a shared stage.
By late May 2026, Awo Ache was preparing new material for the Caturla Festival in Santa Clara. The program would feature compositions by Benny Moré, the legendary Cuban musician whose work carried the harmonic foundation of jazz bands but was rooted in the island's own soil. To this, the ensemble would add Afro-Cuban percussion, layering the old rhythms beneath the sophisticated arrangements. The performance was set for May 28 at Leoncio Vidal Park, marking the festival's opening. As always, the set would close with "Rucu rucu a Santa Clara," a piece by maestro José Luis Cortés that had become the group's signature moment of unity—the point where all the threads came together and the audience understood what fusion really meant.
Notable Quotes
Fusion has always existed in Cuban music—Matamoros mixed bolero with son, and other things happened before that.— Edson Guillermo Benítez
It's not about removing the rumba, but about giving its essence to other genres.— Edson Guillermo Benítez
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When Benítez joined the group, was there resistance? Did the rumba purists worry he was going to erase what made them distinct?
That's the question, isn't it. But he was careful about the language—he said it wasn't about removing the rumba, but about giving its essence to other forms. That's a different proposition. He was saying the rumba stays alive by moving.
So the collaborations with orchestras—those weren't just concerts. They were something else?
Exactly. He kept emphasizing that they weren't just sharing a stage. They were working the music together. That's collaboration in the deepest sense. You're not performing your thing next to their thing. You're making something new that couldn't exist without both.
Benny Moré—why him for this particular moment?
He's old enough to feel rooted, but sophisticated enough to hold complexity. Jazz harmonies but Cuban soul. He's the bridge they needed. And they're adding the percussion back in, so the African element never leaves the room.
The closing piece, "Rucu rucu a Santa Clara"—that feels ceremonial.
It is. It's the moment where you stop explaining fusion and just let people hear it. Everything comes home.