Its specific combination of sounds and textures is an unmistakable, glorious snapshot of late 20th century pop culture.
A staccato groove of Latin percussion with congas and cowbells. The lacerating licks of a guitar, way upfront in the mix, echoing the sweet psychedelia of Abraxas. A salsa piano line — the kind of tumbao you would find in a Tito Puente record from decades back. And then, the smoky voice of Matchbox Twenty vocalist Rob Thomas, whispering sweet nothings about little dolls and Spanish Harlem Mona Lisas.
There can be no doubt about it. Santana’s "Smooth" was mathematically designed to become a global hit for the ages. It arrived just in time — June of 1999, the summer of "Genie in a Bottle" and "Livin’ La Vida Loca" — as the Latin music explosion of Shakira, J-Lo and Enrique Iglesias was in perfect synch with the cultural zeitgeist of a brave new pop world. The smash single also summed up the contents of Supernatural: hot, tropically infused; playful, ready to connect with the American mainstream through a direct line of blockbuster gold.
Santana’s Supernatural became one of the best-selling albums of all time. It won nine GRAMMY Awards, surpassing the record established by Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Most importantly, the album, inducted this year into the GRAMMY Hall of Fame, signified the against-all-odds comeback and reinvention of its principal architect, Tijuana-born, Bay Area-raised guitarist Carlos Santana.
It may appear far-fetched now — history has vindicated Santana the artist, now a 10-time GRAMMY winner — but 30 years ago, the career of pioneering Latin rock band Santana had fallen into a sleepy and unpleasant lull. Gone were the days when hits such as "Black Magic Woman" and "Oye Como Va" generated a crackling wave of electricity among the Woodstock generation, who eagerly tapped into the group's raw fusion.
Both as a solo artist and with his trusted band, Carlos Santana had spent the 1970s exploring the avenues of mystically tinged jazz, fiery blues workouts, and even the occasional touch of ambient atmospherics. But the advent of digital recording technology in the 1980s did precious little to expand Santana’s stylistic palette. Sales of his 1992 album Milagro — recorded and mixed digitally — were lackluster. By the late 1990s, he was still a celebrated performer in the nostalgia circuit, but the overall atmosphere had become stale.
Watch: Which Songs Put Santana In The Record Book? | For The Record
"I want to be with passionate people, people who have the necessary vision to place my music back on the radio," Santana told me during the summer of 1998 in a daylong interview for the Los Angeles Times, just as he was ready to enact his own personal and artistic coup d’etat. At the time, Santana's office/instrument storage space in San Rafael was a flurry of activity ahead of another tour. But there was a steely determination in Santana’s voice — the need for an immediate kick in the pants.
This arrived through the transformative guidance of record executive Clive Davis. Years earlier, Santana had participated in a documentary about Davis, and the guitarist’s then wife, Deborah, advised him to contact Davis. After seeing Santana in concert, Davis offered him a deal with Arista, with the specific intention of reviving his career with a million-selling album.
"I’ve always had a tremendous regard for Carlos and his music," Davis told me at the time. "I love the fact that he’s ambitious, hungry and inspired with all kinds of musical ideas. Santana is as relevant today as he was before."
It turns out, my interview with Carlos Santana happened while he was immersed in the process of recording Supernatural; the album would be released nearly a year later during a party at the Boathouse restaurant in New York City. In retrospect, he obviously knew that he was in the process of crafting a return to past glories.
"There’s nothing wrong with having passions," he told me during the L.A. Times interview. "Wayne Shorter has it. Herbie Hancock does. I never saw Miles Davis bored, or being boring. I always saw him with big eyes — looking at the food, looking at the girls. So, I admire people who have unending passions... that bubbly thing. You don’t want to drink a 7-Up that doesn’t have bubbles."
The mainstream pop album as a star-studded affair where every track involves a guest feature by a major star has become a bit of a cliché. But when Supernatural dropped, the sheer amount of musical genius involved felt groundbreaking. In interviews, Santana insisted that this happened organically, not the result of a concerted effort.
The session opens with "(Da Le) Yaleo," a solo track that wastes no time in transporting us to the propulsive, gasoline-fueled jams of Santana’s heyday — his guitar sharing the spotlight with soulful chanting and Afro polyrhythms. Then, the parade of luminaries begins.
"Smooth" was the album’s bona fide hit, but other standout moments include the hip-hop-inflected "Maria Maria," with R&B duo The Product G&B; the jazzy, nocturnal "Do You Like the Way," with Lauryn Hill and Cee-Lo; and "The Calling," a somber track with a funky backbeat featuring guitar god Eric Clapton. Arguably the album’s weakest song was also a hit: "Corazón Espinado," a swanky, montuno jam with Mexican pop-rockers Maná.
That said, Supernatural transcended the superficial aspect of its notorious guest list. Listening to the entire album from beginning to end, it becomes apparent that the LP as a whole is bigger than the sum of its parts. Its artistry relies not only on the tracks themselves, but also on their sequencing, their ability to gel into a cohesive narrative of the heart.
For Santana, the experience signified a new beginning. "This music is not entertainment," he told journalist Greg Haymes. "This is healing music."
In addition to its platinum status all over the world — from Argentina and Switzerland to Mexico and Japan — Supernatural also generated a massively successful tour. Reviewing a 2000 performance at the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles, I wrote: "Santana and his big band showed its most ferocious side, creating an intense musical stew that anchors itself in the timeless power of Afro-Cuban percussion."
The album also swept the 2000 GRAMMYs, winning both the Album Of The Year and Best Rock Album awards, while "Smooth" emerged triumphant in the Record and Song Of The Year Categories. Months later, Supernatural won three awards at the inaugural Latin GRAMMY ceremony.
Since then, the guitarist has released an additional nine studio albums — including this year’s Sentient — with varying degrees of success. But it was Supernatural that launched his extraordinary third act.
"I want to transform, illuminate and elevate my consciousness, and other people’s consciousness as well," he told me for the Times, never at a loss for words. "I’d like us to go into the new millennium with a new vision."