El Dan-son is a piece that was originally written for a danzonera, and its initial structure was that of traditional danzones: a refrain, a melody, the refrain again, and a son montuno at the end. When I received the commission from Álvaro Bitrán to create a version for cellos and percussion, I found it fitting to give the composition more rhythmic variety. To do this, I included a son cubano after the second refrain and a son istmeño at the end. In doing so, I violated the traditional structure of the danzón, and since it had become a mix of danzón and son, I named it: Dan-son.

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To draw the variety of sounds that a danzonera offers from nine cellos, it was necessary to expand the instrumental palette to the maximum and make use of the instrument's complete range, well known for its ability to sing with the most diverse voices—from the deep pizzicatos of a bass to the strident cries of trumpets, passing through the harmonic foundation of saxophones.

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This piece is dedicated to Álvaro Bitrán, in gratitude for his trust and support.

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The danzón begins, the sonorous refrain that summons the dancers is heard. The couples, arm in arm, meet on the dance floor from the corners of the square, to start the "little square" step in unison at the signal of the repeated theme. During the soft melody, their elegant shoes shine the floor, taking care not to waste space or skimp on sensuality...

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The refrain returns, and the mosaic of "little squares" dissolves among ladies with fans and gentlemen's handkerchiefs. After a brief eight-measure exchange, they simultaneously retake their partners' waists, and the ladies together rest a hand on the shoulder. The choreography of heels pursued by patent leather then restarts, their coordinated shuffle pausing every eleven beats. Disguised in a flirtatious flutter of fleeting blinks, they tighten their soles and adjust their waists at the arrival of the accelerated pulse of the son cubano. It's now time to polish up their repertoire, to show off showy steps while feigning ignorance of others' fancy moves...

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Then the fortissimo son montuno with its fast tempo sounds. At this rhythm, the "little square" becomes tiny, so as not to lose the step or compromise their breath. This is when you find out what the dancers are really made of...

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The men lead them, show them off, turn them, swing them, and zigzag with them, taking care never to ignore the clave, to lower their chins, or to relax their elbows... While the women neither smile, nor look at, nor wink at them, taking care not to contaminate the purity of the danzón with inappropriate, obvious flirtations...

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There will be time later to take off their heels, with legs dangling from the seawall, to put the fan to rest in the bag and the handkerchief in the pocket, to reward the patient gallantries under the discrete shelter of a hat and the lunar twilight...