Alex Apolo Ayala, Afro-Puerto Rican Jazz Review

Architectures of Rhythm: Alex Ayala’s Blueprint for Afro-Caribbean Jazz

by Nolan DeBuke

With Afro-Puerto Rican Jazz, bassist-composer Alex “Apolo” Ayala pays homage to his roots as he reshapes them with compositional clarity and rhythmic sophistication. Released via PMC Records and Miguel Zenón’s Miel Music, this sophomore effort continues the structural aesthetic laid out in Bámbula (2022). The new project achieves a dynamic equilibrium between Afro–Puerto Rican folkloric traditions and modern jazz architecture. The record aims to hybridize grooves and textures, Ayala’s strength lies in designing formal spaces where cultural motifs can speak fluently in both languages, ritual and extensions, percussion and progression.

“Río Piedras” opens the album with a compositionally elegant form that foregrounds rhythmic counterpoint over harmonic density. The melody is delivered in rhythmic unison (tutti) between Ayala’s bass and Andrew Gould’s saxophone, immediately establishing a strong thematic identity. What follows is a deliberate unfolding: the transition into the saxophone solo is cued not by a harmonic cadence but by a melodic drum figure—a rare move that shifts narrative weight to the rhythm section. Drummer Fernando García and percussionist Victor Pablo García don’t merely accompany—they sculpt a textured rhythmic pad that breathes as much as it drives. A composed interlude featuring a written sax line bridges into Ayala’s bass solo, which then resolves into a more folkloric percussion statement. This pivot from jazz to bomba in the final section is subtle but intentional, underscoring the album’s goal of organic hybridity rather than stylistic juxtaposition.

“Ngudi” opens in rubato, with a haunting call-and-response between saxophone and percussion that functions more as invocation than exposition. García establishes a slow, deliberate pulse, over which Ayala’s bowed bass enters with warmth and lyrical clarity. The melodic material bears the imprint of Kikongo aesthetics, not through overt citation but through folk-like construction: phrases unfold in even, vocalic arcs, more sung than spoken, more ancestral than ornamental. The theme is first carried by saxophone, but the core dialogue belongs to sax and bass, Ayala’s arco lines replying to the saxophone’s calls with a responsiveness that blurs written material and improvisation. The arrangement is intentionally sparse; the percussion is texturally restrained, allowing the melodic interplay to breathe. Midway, a duet between arco bass and saxophone reveals a contrapuntal elegance that deepens the track’s intimacy without diluting its folkloric core. Even as the piece enters more explicitly jazz-influenced territory, such as in the tutti section between pizzicato bass and saxophone, the rhythmic language stays grounded in ritual flow. Hypnotic cycles emerge through staggered instrumental entrances: during the percussion solo, the saxophone floats above with a ghostly ostinato, sustaining the trance-state character of the track. “Ngudi” functions as a tribute to Ayala’s mother and as a sonic offering that is measured, reverent, and compositionally nuanced.

“3D Plena” begins with a percussive cue, more ceremonial than preparatory, that immediately roots the piece in folkloric tradition. The head is a study in simplicity: a chant-like melody built on repetition, evoking plena’s street-parade lineage. But Ayala injects subtle harmonic and rhythmic pivots that elevate the piece beyond pastiche. Most notably, the phrase endings lean into bebop language, a brief flurry of color in the cadences that function as melodic punctuation. The time feel never swings per se, but it doesn’t stay tethered to traditional plena either; it lives somewhere between the rhythmic clarity of Afro-Caribbean parade music and the propulsion of Latin jazz. Think “St. Thomas” by Sonny Rollins, but with more micro-interplay between drums, percussion, and bass. The harmonic palette expands to include jazz’s ii–V progressions, replacing the traditional I–IV–V with a deeper sense of motion and resolution. The melodic rhythm mirrors plena’s folkloric impulse, yet the arrangement leans into jazz conventions: a head-solos-head structure with brief interludes and a commanding tutti close. The final section rolls out with ensemble cohesion and a percussive exhale, balancing Ayala’s dual commitment to reverence and reinvention.

“Cuembé” is a reflection of the album’s rhythmic focus, opening with Ayala’s bass establishing a spacious yet anticipatory groove. From there, the composition unfolds with a patient build, layering rhythmic intensity rather than harmonic complexity. The drums and percussion develop a polyrhythmic lattice that functions less as backdrop and more as active architecture, beading rhythm around the saxophone and bass solos with increasing dynamism. Each soloist rises to meet that texture, responding not just with technical flourish but with precise dynamic shaping. Ayala, in particular, maintains a strong structural sense in his phrasing—delivering with both propulsion and restraint. As the track nears its close, the ensemble locks into a commanding tutti statement, with sax and bass delivering a unified line that crystallizes the composition’s dual commitment: rooted in Afro-Puerto Rican tradition but architected for modern ensemble dialogue. “Cuembé” crystallizes the album’s core principle: rhythm as story, ensemble as voice.

Afro-Puerto Rican Jazz is a successful album, it’s a well-designed blueprint for cross-cultural jazz orchestration. Ayala builds traditions into stylistic ingredients; he treats them as co-authors in the music’s form, momentum, and syntax. In doing so, he offers a compelling model for how jazz can remain elastic, rooted, and compositionally rigorous all at once. For arrangers, educators, and improvisers seeking to integrate heritage-based rhythmic systems into jazz forms without diluting either.