In New York City, Carlos Santana shares his pre-performance mantra with his bandmates: “Take no prisoners—peacefully.” He rejects complacency and prefers to engage fully, comparing his approach to being in a boxing ring, aiming to deliver a knockout blow that leaves no room for the referee to interfere.
At the age of 75, Santana possesses a captivating stage presence that continues to captivate audiences like few others. His journey began in the late 1960s when he burst onto the San Francisco music scene, leaving a lasting impression on the Woodstock crowd even before his first Santana record was released.
Rudy Valdez’s new documentary, “Carlos,” debuting at the Tribeca Film Festival and set for a theatrical release in the coming fall through Sony Pictures Classics, chronicles the extraordinary ascent of this exceptional guitarist in the annals of rock history. Renowned critic Robert Christgau once described Santana as a purveyor of a unique sonic experience, emphasizing that his music’s clarity, volume, and fluidity possess a purifying effect, regardless of how often they are repeated.
Ahead of his upcoming nationwide 1001 Rainbows Tour, which kicks off in Newark, New Jersey, on June 21, Santana shared his thoughts during a Zoom interview from his California residence in the Bay Area. Having relocated from Mexico with his family in the 1960s (his father being a violinist in a mariachi band), Santana has called San Francisco home ever since.
Reflecting on the vibrant musical scene of the Bay Area, Santana acknowledged its unique appeal, stating, “The Bay Area definitely attracts characters, you know? Like Minnesota Fats or Les Paul. Rascals. I call them Divine Rascals.” It is clear that Santana finds inspiration in the diverse and eclectic personalities that populate the region, drawing parallels to legendary figures from the worlds of billiards, guitar craftsmanship, and mischievousness.
Seated in front of a panoramic photograph capturing his iconic Woodstock performance, Santana delved into his personal journey, his distinctive sound, and the challenges he has confronted throughout his career.
With a backdrop of the Woodstock image adorning the wall behind him, Santana reflected on his experiences, remarking, “I have nothing but good memories. I have developed selective celestial amnesia.” Despite the trials he has faced, Santana chooses to focus on the positive aspects and preserve the uplifting moments etched in his mind.
When asked about his perspective on watching a film depicting his life, Santana’s response is unknown as the continuation of the conversation is missing.
Santana expressed his feelings about watching a film depicting his life, finding it both strange and intriguing. He reflected on his constant drive and belief in his own belonging, even when sharing the stage with legendary musicians such as Jerry Garcia and Eric Clapton. Santana humorously mentioned his humble beginnings, washing dishes at the Tic Tock Drive-In, and marveled at how his journey led him to become a respected figure among his peers.
When asked about his unique musical style, Santana recounted how his influences differed from his counterparts. While others were immersed in specific genres, he had been listening to diverse sources like Hungarian gypsy musician Gábor Szabó and African drummers. This blend of influences allowed him to develop a distinct sound, which he described as “African rhythms with blues guitar.” Even the members of Creedence Clearwater were curious about his music and asked him about its style.
Santana’s response demonstrates his eclectic musical palette and his ability to combine different cultural elements into his own artistic expression.
AP: What was San Francisco like when you first arrived there in the ’60s?
SANTANA: It was quite a shock coming from Tijuana. In Tijuana, the people I associated with were into John Lee Hooker, Jimmy Reed, and Lightnin Hopkins. We considered B.B. King to be sophisticated. It was a down-to-earth, raw, and straightforward crowd. If they didn’t like you, they wouldn’t hesitate to resort to violence. They preferred you to play from the heart rather than getting too clever or refined. So when I arrived in San Francisco, it was a whole new challenge. I assumed that everyone knew John Lee Hooker, but I quickly realized that wasn’t the case. I had to start from scratch. Thankfully, when I arrived, the Rolling Stones were emerging, and they were listening to the same artists I admired like Little Walter, Howlin’ Wolf, and Muddy Waters. Their shared appreciation for that music kept me from becoming frustrated and returning to Tijuana.
AP: Despite being just 19, you had the opportunity to perform at the Fillmore West.
SANTANA: That’s correct. Even during my childhood, I had gained a reputation in Tijuana for playing the violin and consistently winning radio contests. When I arrived in the United States, I participated in a radio contest among a thousand bands and made it to the top three. These experiences, which I attribute to a sense of grace, gave me the confidence to share the stage with incredible musicians like Jerry Garcia, Michael Bloomfield, Peter Green, and later on, Tito Puente and Miles Davis.
AP: Did you feel a spiritual aspect to music from an early stage?
SANTANA: It is a fundamental human need for each and every one of us to receive a sincere embrace that reassures us we won’t be condemned to crash into an insurmountable obstacle. We have the ability to face challenges head-on and succeed in becoming architects who build a utopian existence here on Earth. This concept resonates in the music of artists like Bob Marley, Bob Dylan, Marvin Gaye, and Sam Cooke. Their songs, such as “One Love,” “All You Need is Love,” and “What a Wonderful World,” all convey the same profound message.
I personally make it a priority to listen to certain songs that have become new anthems, not confined to any particular religious institution, but rather serving as anthems of a universal sanctuary that surpasses the influence of corrupt corporations and governments. If you and I were fortunate enough to hitch a ride with individuals like Bezos or Elon Musk, and we embarked on a journey outside the Earth’s stratosphere aboard a space shuttle, upon looking back at our planet, we would witness the absence of flags, walls, and the constraints of time.
In that perspective, we would glimpse a profound unity—a cosmic cathedral that reminds us of our interconnectedness and allows us to transcend the divisions and limitations imposed by society.
When someone asks, “What time is it?” I simply respond, “It’s now.” That’s how I strive to approach my music—existing beyond the constraints of time and gravity. As Maya Angelou once stated, “The only thing people are going to remember is how you make them feel.” Those words resonated deeply with me, and I thought, “Why not make them feel their entirety, their complete essence?” With each note I play, I aim to evoke the sensation of someone from Kansas dipping their toe into the Pacific Ocean in Hawaii for the very first time. It’s a powerful impact, delivered in a single note.
AP: In the documentary “Carlos,” you have several enduring relationships, but how would you describe your relationship with the guitar?
SANTANA: My guitar is the greatest lover I’ve ever had. While human relationships may come and go, my connection with the guitar, regardless of the brand or model, remains steadfast. It’s the relationship I have with the sound it produces. When I place my fingers on those strings and strike a note, it sends shivers down my spine. It’s akin to experiencing that first, electrifying French kiss. I’ll keep it PG from there, but it’s all connected. It’s all about that profound sense of awe and wonder—the big G-spot, which represents God. When you strike that chord, everyone exclaims, “Oh my God!” True music goes beyond merely playing clever notes; it becomes a conduit for emotion, feelings, and passion. That’s what music means to me. Without those elements, music becomes nothing more than clever noise. Unfortunately, this is what seems to be lacking in our world today. People have forgotten how to truly feel. I encourage everyone to pause, take a deep breath, and connect with their inner emotions.
AP: Your guitar tone has always been distinct and immediately recognizable, almost like a unique voice. Where did this tone originate?
SANTANA: I believe my tone comes from a combination of influences, both from my father and my mother. My father taught me to play the violin, teaching me how to create a single note with the bow. My mother’s tenacity, conviction, and courage also had a profound impact on me. I used to lock myself in a dark closet and try to emulate the playing of my idols like B.B. King and Otis Rush, among others. I would get frustrated when I couldn’t sound exactly like them. However, one day it dawned on me, and I thought, “Hey, you’re not supposed to sound like them. They sound like themselves. You’re meant to sound like you.” That realization made me understand that the key to finding my own sound was simply to play without overthinking it.
It’s truly a blessing and a gift that in just one note, I can be recognized among the thousands of guitar players around the world. It’s similar to the musicians I admire. With just one note, I can identify the likes of John McLaughlin, T-Bone Walker, or Grant Green. Each of them has their own unique sound. However, the musician I still listen to the most is Otis Rush. There’s something raw and honest in the way he plays.
Currently, I’m focused on listening to three artists: Nina Simone, Etta James, and Tina Turner. I aim to capture the essence of their sound within my guitar. I want my guitar to evoke the same power and emotion as these incredible women. I want it to sound like a woman’s voice, resonating with authenticity and strength.
AP: In the documentary, you recall how Jerry Garcia gave you mescaline just before your performance at Woodstock, unaware that you were about to take the stage. Despite being under the influence, you delivered an unforgettable set, and you mention praying and hoping to stay in tune and in time.
SANTANA: Yes, I remember that moment vividly. I prayed, “God, please let me stay on tune and in time.” It was a daunting experience, considering the magnitude of the audience. However, I drew strength from my mother’s unwavering confidence and belief that God was by my side. With that reassurance, how could I go wrong?
AP: Did you often reach different mental states through music, with or without the use of drugs?
SANTANA: Absolutely. When you tap into the essence of music, you enter a realm beyond your mind. It’s a place without gravity, without the constraints of time, and without the critical voice. It’s a pure manifestation of divine energy flowing through you to the audience. Whether I’m collaborating with artists like Lauryn Hill, Rob Thomas, or Eric Clapton, I adapt myself to the moment. I listen attentively and seek to complement their contributions. I am particularly excited about collaborating with Willie Nelson in the future. I want to learn how to simplify and infuse music with honesty, creating a genuine connection.
AP: You mentioned how the guitar neck appeared like a snake to you during that experience. Did you have similar encounters with altered perceptions?
SANTANA: Yes, it’s something Eric Clapton and I have discussed because he experienced similar states of consciousness. You can recognize those who have visited that dimension through their music. Artists like The Doors and The Beatles with “Sgt. Pepper’s” tapped into that realm. It’s a place beyond the traditional musical framework of notes and scales. It’s like becoming a mothership capable of traversing the universe and remaining relevant. It’s incredible, man. At 75 years old, I’m still relevant, and I’m grateful for that. Many artists invite me to collaborate on their albums. This phase of my life feels like the best because I have a clear understanding of what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, and who I’m doing it for. I see myself as an architect, influenced by the likes of Coltrane and Bob Marley. Through the gift of music, I can create something that religious institutions, governments, and organizations like the United Nations cannot achieve. My mission is to bring unity, harmony, and oneness to Earth through the power of sound, resonance, vibration, and frequency. Those are the tools I work with.
AP: You opened up about being molested during the ages of 10 to 12 in the film. Did music play a role in bringing healing from that experience?
SANTANA: What I can say with absolute certainty is that I am not defined by what happened to me. I am still who I am, created by God, with purity and innocence. I have a habit of guiding people towards the light rather than dwelling in darkness. I used to respond with anger and negativity, but now I choose to see others as their younger selves, around 7 years old, and guide them towards the light that is within them. If I send someone to hell, I will accompany them there, and that’s not where I want to be. This mindset helps me avoid getting stuck in a victim mentality. I don’t want to define myself as “Carlos Santana, the victim of child molestation.” Instead, I choose to embrace my identity as Carlos Santana, who can create blessings and miracles through grace.
AP: And indeed, you have done so for many.
SANTANA: My aim is to offer people a path towards their own divinity. That is the secret. The more we embrace frequencies of love and acceptance, such as those found in shows like “Sesame Street” or teachings from “Mister Rogers,” the more we recognize our inherent divine nature. The opposite of that is to believe we are wretched sinners. So I tell people, when I pass away, don’t sing “Amazing Grace” at my funeral. Sing “La Cucaracha” or “La Bamba” or “Tequila” or “Who Let the Dogs Out.” Sing anything but “Amazing Grace” because there is nothing wretched about me.
