Remembering Johnny Pacheco: Fania Forever | Arts
There was never a first time you heard a Fania song. If you are Cuban or Puerto Rican or loved someone who is, the moment the record came on (and even a hair before that) you knew where it came from. You heard it in your grandmother’s house, in the buzzy wash of air in the tropics, while cleaning or on the radio or just strolling the neighborhood. Or else in the dance bar you taxied to that night where the women encircled you, showed you how to use your arms and your hips and your feet, because you had your body now and what is life if you don’t use it? All the younger people in your fami...