In the so-called world musical stage, so all the rage these times, a handful of Caribbean rhythms are there for everyone to hear. The reason is the immense sonority this region of the planet has to offer, a zone that proudly presents a merger of Spanish, African and pre-Hispanic cultural aspects as a result of the half-breed effect the Spanish conquest brought about.

In the category of Tropical Music within the Grammy Awards –the month of February gives people from this neck of the woods quite a bad case of jitters- we've got such winners as Juan Luis Guerra and his Dominican meringue. Son, salsa, meringue and reggae are just a few of the beats that send good vibes all across Europe and win huge fanfares in the most incredible places.

Before Christopher Columbus's arrival over here, aboriginal dwellers had their own dancing and singing expressions. Cuba's indigenous population used to dance to the beat of areito. According to old chronicles, those first inhabitants thumped large wooden drums and blew smaller instruments like flutes, rattles and clay whistles. But unlike mainland territories, here on the Caribbean islands aboriginals were killed off almost completely.

Spaniards, for their part, also brought in their own instruments. And they were eventually seasoned by the touch of the African tar brush. The combination of these two elements is commonplace to all West Indian and the Greater Antilles territories.

Scores of African slaves, despite their dreadful living conditions, managed to keep their own culture up and around and as unchanged as possible. Cuban researcher Argeliers Leon was quoted as saying about this issue: “Town halls and chapters used to gather African Negroes hailing from one single nation or region. So, town halls and chapters were the only ways to keep the African melting pot boiling here in Cuba. That explains the profound influence of African rhythms in our music.”

The harmonic clash between African-origin and Spanish rhythms gave Caribbean beats the sensuality they sport today, let alone exerting a tremendous influence on the way they're danced. Hip-grinding movements teeming with sexual desire and fondling contacts raised a few eyebrows among the higher classes of yesteryear.

A grand tour around genre and instruments When the 1979 Carifesta Festival was in full swing in Havana and in an effort to label music as the Caribbean's common denominator, Cuban writer Alejo Carpentier said: “… it could be the Cuban music in its long evolution, the one I don't have to talk to you about that has invaded the whole world; or it could be the Dominican music, so similar to and yet so different from Cuban music; it could be the extraordinary and devilish calypso of Trinidad and Barbados; it could be the steel bands, the ones we shouldn't call simple copper-made instrument orchestras, but pure steel bands. Because musicians from the islands of Trinidad and Barbados, using nothing but lids of gas and oil tanks dented in certain ways and clanged by means of hammers, have created a pitch-laden musical instrument with so many sound possibilities and such a level of expressiveness that they're even playing Bach's music in those genuinely Caribbean instruments.”

On the other hand, Jamaica has its landmark reggae; Puerto Rico brags with having bomba, plena, danza, seis and aguinaldo; the Dominican Republic dances to the sound of mangulina, salve, carabine and meringue; Cuba boasts the son, danzon, rumba, guaracha and mambo. Haiti features the compa; Colombia presents cumbia and vallenato; Trinidad & Tobago combines calypso, zoca and rapso.

Many of the musical instruments used in making Caribbean music are heard time and again in every region. Cases in point are the guitar (a legacy from Spain), the marimba, the claves, the Cuban drums, the maracas and almost every percussion instrument inherited from the Africans.

In the case of Cuba's guajira, lute is a key player. And as far as guaracha (another Cuban beat) is concerned, guiro and maracas ought to be there. They are also heard in Dominican meringue together with the tambora.

Something to talk about Cuba has contributed its own bit to Caribbean music, regardless of the unfathomable values we see in other neighboring regions. But there's no doubt that the largest island in the region is also the Basin's biggest contributor to such genres as classic and Latino jazz, as well as to salsa music.

Cuban musicologist Helio Orovio has written extensively about son's harbinger bands. Take a look at this excerpt:

“... they used to be formed by a rudimentary three-stringer, a guiro and a pair of Cuban drums. Marimbas were added later on. The three-stringer was nothing but a wooden box (like the ones used to ship codfish), a hard wooden lever and three strings made of waxed millet. The guiro was the dried fruit of the gourd (called guiro in Spanish) whose kernel had been previously removed. Then a few grooves were carved on one side to rub a stick up and down against them. And Cuban drums (known locally as bongos) were made out of hollow tree trunks, cut off in pairs and covered with goatskin on one end. They were then strapped together and placed between both knees. The goatskin used to be tightened by exposing it to fire.”

Anyway, the Caribbean has instruments it can call its own that give its music a magical touch. That multiplicity and that renovation can't sound any better these days as the region's beats continue to catch on in other parts of the world. It's something that goes beyond its geography. As Carpentier once put it, “Wherever we go to in the Antilles, music is all around.”