Santana – Supernatural - 1999

The fear was that Carlos Santana might seem like a guest at his own feast. The sordid details of the logistics involved in gathering together the guest stars for this project could probably fill a spellbinding book. On Supernatural, Eric Clapton, Dave Matthews, Everlast, Rob Thomas, Lauren Hill, Cee-Lo, Wyclef Jean, Mana, and Eagle-Eye Cherry all join Santana for star-studded cameos, and the surprise is that it works.

Supernatural is probably as good a pop album as you might hear this year. Rather than attributing that fact to the guest stars, or the power maneuvering of shrewd management (i.e. Clive Davis), and the hundreds of thousands of dollars it must have taken to see this thing through to completion, the success seems to reside with Carlos, himself.

Not to deny: Mana’s falsettos on the bridge of "Corazon Espinado" are heavenly sweet; and on "Smooth," Rob Thomas serves up a love song with hooks and insight, neither of which are common to the usual radio fodder. The craftsmanship everywhere is consistent: the silken voiced singers blur into one another; Santana’s name is used as invocation on 3 or 4 songs. A few writers touch on "Spanish Harlem" as a state of mind. The American popsters are balanced nicely with the South American popsters. What’s suspect though is the way this Supernatural tends to rise up above the albums usually done by the people who have stopped in to visit. This is traceable to Carlos Santana’s effectiveness as a big band leader and as a spiritual shaman who levitates banal pop conceits to rarefied heights.

When all is said and done, this is really not much different than the usual Santana album. Somebody is always writing the "People, people, let’s love one another, I know we know how," for Carlos. On Supernatural, the spiritual lyrics come from Lauren Hill, Wyclef Jean and R. Tafa. Likewise Carlos and his organization are always picking up on the cover tunes – years ago it was The Zombies, Steve Winwood, and Peter Green. Now it’s Everlast and Eagle-Eye Cherry. Santana’s art works as infiltration: he blesses other people’s ideas by immersing them in a Santanic baptism. If there’s a transcendence of the usual Santana album here, it is marginal: the vocals are a little better; the craftsmanship a little more controlled, the song melodies and structures pretty well thought out.

There are also a few distractions. If you love Santana’s instrumentals, there are only a few here: "El Farol" is a beautiful ballad with acoustic guitar leads; "Africa Bamba" has a few lyrics, but works as a nice instrumental anyway; the duet with Clapton is fairly undistinguished. That’s it. Also, some of Carlos’ playing is not as loose and as fiery as it can get - spontaneity has been somewhat squeezed out of this gargantuan project – and calls and responses can get a bit contrived. The core band Carlos is working with here, save for an odd Chester Thompson contribution, and a few flourishes from the percussionists, seldom gets to join in on the rambunctious flights of Carlos’ guitar forays. This lop-sided improvisational atmosphere is not new to Santana.

But this verges on quibbling. Santana’s made enough money with this record to keep his creative juices viable for several more years. Though we’ll probably hear a Supernatural Part Two, we also know Carlos well enough to expect a few more oddities as well. How about another jazz tangent. Where’s John McLaughlin and Herbie Hancock?