My first memory is my dad feeding me bright orange boniato purée. I was very little because his hands seemed huge. I also remember when my first piano arrived. I had just turned 3.
My childhood was conflicted but also privilaged. I grew up in Luxemburg to an Argentine father and Spanish-Cuban mother. They were both journalists; my dad was a photo journalist and my mum was an editor and they met working on El Pais in Barcelona where my dad ended up as a political refugee escaping the dictatorship in Argentina.
From my mother I inherited my determination and ability to problem-solve. My father taught me to dream big and be unafraid to stand out.
I have a hard time dealing with mistakes - a legacy of classical music training. As a result I used to suffer from horrible stage fright (I occasionally still do). When I was about 20, Julito Padrón (Cuban trumpet legend) sat next to me on a plane and told me: “Don’t be afraid of your wrong notes, there is magic in them.” Since then, whenever the unthinkable materialises and I play a wrong note, instead of plunging into panic, I allow the ‘bad’ note to exist, and sometimes even I explore it and see what it says. On other occasions, I laugh it off, something I learnt to do thanks to Gavin Greenaway, conductor for Hans Zimmer, who made me understand “nothing matters: if you make a mistake, the world won’t stop turning, nobody will die and if you look at the situation from a bird’s eye, the difference before and after the mistake is zero.”
The world event that most impacted me was the exodus of Cuban musicians that has been happening from the 1990s until present day because it completely changed the course of Cuban music both in Cuba and internationally, and made me think a lot about migration, privilege, racism and politics.
I developed a chronic injury in my right wrist at 15 that derailed my childhood dream of being a classical pianist. Thank God! It forced me out of just playing and into composition, which is the thing I love the most these days
I had my heart broken in Havana, where I was studying piano and composition. Someone happened to mention SOAS University in London. I got a place very last minute thanks to the help of Prof Lucy Durán who is now my thesis supervisor.
Bad weather. People being drunk and chaotic. The monarchy (my father was pretty much an anarchist, so this was said with a sneer!). A lot of squirrels and a really pretty clock. This was the impression I had of London before coming.
I disliked London at first. Cold, expensive, ridiculous health and safety rules, tomatoes that taste like water, and exploitative pay and conditions at all the small jobs I had for the first few years. I was miserable, freezing, angry. I packed my bags every couple of months over the course of the first few years and it was thanks to a few friends I made, who were from here, that I stayed. It was tough, though, and British cultural codes enraged me! Every time I tried to leave, however, my friends would take me to the Tate Modern, or Hampstead Heath, or somewhere nice that I hadn’t been, and convince me to give it one more chance. When I eventually did leave, I realised London had grown on me and I missed it. There are more layers to London than can be seen from outside. That’s why I’m still here - I get bored easily and London has always kept me entertained and busy!
I ended up in the early hours, rolling down hills, covered in orange paint, with people I’d just met, in my first year playing Glastonbury, oblivious that I had another gig in London the next day. My bandmate found me talking nonsense, wearing someone else’s cowboy hat and apparently (I have no recollection) dragged me to my next gig, still covered in orange paint and I sang the wrong songs half of the time. Since then I’ve always remained sober before playing.
The biggest obstacles I’ve had to overcome are financial, having no money to live. I’ve lived in squats, guardianships, warehouses before they were hip. The only branch of music that’s well paid is playing functions - the same songs over, and over, and over, to a potentially uninterested crowd. But I took the little money I had and made one big risky trade…and now there’s an album and things have paid off.
My biggest breakthrough came via an e-mail asking me to join The World of Hans Zimmer on tour as a soloist. I thought it was a friend pranking me and I almost lost the opportunity because I was trying to figure out who had pranked me.
Having Latin heritage makes me feel like I have a secret superpower when I’m playing non-Latin music. When I’m playing Latin-related music, I feel like I am representing Latinx culture to the world and I feel very proud. Also a bit misunderstood when I’m trying to play some carefully crafted original compositions with my band and a drunk person comes to ask us to play Despacito, but hey, it is what it is.
My favourite thing in the world is playing in large formats. The infinite possibilities of a large band/format, the dynamic range, and the potential for absolutely blowing the room up if everyone goes loud at the same time, is like nothing else in the world. My favourite thing in the world right now is playing with La Evolución altogether, which just fills me with total happiness; secondly, playing the end of the World of Hans Zimmer show where I get to rock out at the front of the stage to the finale (there’s flame throwers and all); cueing the New Regency Orchestra into the louder, bigger sections of the arrangements and watching the audience get hit by a wall of sound!
Playing rainy festivals. 6am flights. The general assumption that Cuban music is Buena Vista Social Club are things I find tedious. There’s such incredible Cuban music genres that are very far from the whole “nostalgia marketing” that is sold to tourists.
I would tell my younger self..."keep going, you’re doing great! (Just maybe don’t waste so much time chasing f***boys/f***girls and go practice instead)
I've learned to value being nice, empathic and kind. In my twenties I was often the only woman in a world of men so I think I was quite tough at times when I didn’t necessarily need to be in order to assert authority (even though at times toughness was totally justified). I see the new generation of twenty-something musicians and there is so much kindness and empathy that it makes me want to have been born in the 2000’s!
My perfect Sunday in London…is a warm and sunny day with friends in the park, a bottle of Havana Club and a big speaker.
My Top 3 favourite places in London: 1. Home (there’s a cat, a whole forest of plants and a sunbathing spot, which is where I’m writing from. No bar can top this.) 2. Ivicore’s Popola UK parties at Dalston Superstore. The only queer perreo/dembow/reggaetón party in London, run by Afro-Latinx, and a real safe space for people of all genders to party together, dance and be their sexiest selves without fear of discrimination. 3. Pueblito Paisa restaurant in Seven Sisters. Their sancocho can revive the dead.
Home is many places. I am blessed to have so many places that feel like home. I’ve given up on having a single “home” so I no longer get homesick. OK, no, I’m lying. I really do miss my Argentinian family sometimes, or my world in Havana, and when that hits, I either call my sister in Buenos Aires (and probably order a half dozen empanadas from Buenos Aires café), or go hang out with the Cuban crew here in London.
If I didn’t live in London, I'd live in Havana in a parallel universe where there isn’t a horrendous economic crisis and people aren’t emigrating by the millions.
My favourite word in English is Wholesome. It doesn’t exist in Spanish. Also, (not very wholesome), I really like “d*ckhead” because when it comes to insulting, this one is so satisfying to say out loud.
The word I most dislike is Sieve, because I still can’t pronounce it.
Eliane Correa & La Evolución perfom on Tue 2 May @ The Jazz Café, 5 Parkway, NW1 7PG. Tickets https://www.comono.co.uk/live/eliane-correa/
