Siblings Of Wild Havana - A Dutch Tale
Hailing from Rotterdam, Netherlands, siblings Johan (Guitars, Bass, Mandolin, Autoharp, Percussion) and Cor Smit (Flutes, Harmonica) wrote and recorded a collection of songs in 1977 with local friends Kees Engelhart (Electric Piano) and Els Bethlehem (Percussion on A1) under the mischievous moniker Wild Havana. Like most groups and concepts from the old world of found sounds, the project’s cryptic core resides someplace quiet and tonally tropical while occupying a harmonious threshold in Holland’s creative circle. Riddled with ritualistic rhythms, Zappa-inspired intensity, Garcia gestures, Jethro Tull, and the harmonious hierarchy of Herbie Hancock, Wild Havana situated itself between the cosmic crevasses of a landscape overtaken by global growth, the iconography of island pleasures, and tribal touchstones. Though they were never considered a band, an idea that is practically unconstituted, the group successfully recorded material via a 4-track machine, which Johan mixed himself at his home to make sure the process survived, and ultimately collected dust on the archival shelves of private-press paradise until it was officially reissued by the folks over at Mental Experience/Guerssen Records almost seven years ago on the day. Blissfully blending the essential elements of world music with the iconism of island ideas, Wild Havana effortlessly expressed the experimental nature of instrumentation by conducting an endless existence if only it outlasted their notions of finding a place in a productive purgatory filled with opportunity and cosmic chances.
“I’m so plain; I’m trying in vain to raise my input gain, but I remain so plain.”
While remaining universally unknown, the group radiated an early entry into New Wave by distinctively displaying the subliminal track “The Peacock,” which echos familiar rhythms from groups like Talking Heads/Tom Tom Club, Blondie, Orange Juice, and several others as an entirely new decade and generation of music raised its harmonious hand into the atmospheric air for attendance. Ahead of his time, Johan developed most of the distinctive devices you hear on the record, such as a modified drum machine lifted from a Hammond organ, a phase shifter, and manipulating the guitar and mandolin by placing wool over its strings in an attempt to harvest the hubris from its hollow harmony. Continuing the magical mystification of their already mysterious musical mark on Dutch culture, the brothers continued in the early 1980s with a short-lived project called The Clear, who recorded and self-released one album entitled “Fill It In Your Self,” that eagerly explored the realms of Reggae and pre-punk parameters. Joined by percussionist Ifor Baynes, who previously occupied a Zappa cover band called White Beans, which featured an electrifying ensemble of musicians and poetic pranksters, the Smits were in good company as they continued their courageous contemplation into the mysteries of the world with their “maniac music.” Now survived by melodic memory and a vast community of extramarital ears, Wild Havana and The Clear are sonically secured in the weird webs of existence, no matter how much time seems to separate things into forgotten fables.
