Santana on Reuniting Classic Lineup, How to Fight Trump
In 1997, Santana’s Woodstock lineup (minus Brown and Carlos) released an album under the name Abraxas Pool. But once again the members learned the public had no interest in a Santana-free Santana. “That was a really good record,” says Shrieve. “But if Carlos wasn’t there, people didn’t care.”
Shrieve – whose biggest brush with fame post-Santana was playing percussion on the Rolling Stones’ Emotional Rescue – swears he wasn’t bitter at the success that Carlos achieved without him and his bandmates, not even when Supernatural swept the 2000 Grammys. “I cried in joy,” Shrieve insists. “He deserved every bit of it.”
The classic Santana lineup played its Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony in 1998, but members remained skeptical a full reunion would ever happen. It took a series of random encounters with Schon to convince Carlos to reunite the band. “I kept running into Carlos in the Bay Area,” Schon says. “I said to him, ‘If you really want to turn everybody’s head around, we should get the original band back together.'” Schon eventually wore Carlos down. “It seemed like everywhere I go, this cat is there,” says Santana. “His eyes became very vulnerable, very ego-less.”
Finally, in 2014, Schon was summoned to Santana’s rehearsal space in Las Vegas for what he thought was a meeting about a possible reunion. “I arrive and hear [the band playing],” says the guitarist. “I said, ‘I thought we were gonna talk.’ He goes, ‘No, man, this is the meeting.’ It was surreal.”
The bandmates cut an album of new material within weeks and called it Santana IV to make clear they were carrying on right where they left off. “When we play together, it can’t help but sound like anyone but us,” says percussionist Michael Carabello. “It feels good to be home.”
The morning after the reunion concert, Santana is sitting in the conference room of his new Las Vegas office. An original Woodstock poster hangs on one wall, along with a mural of ticket stubs from his 1984 co-headlining tour with Bob Dylan. There’s a tiny meditation room with an image of Buddha on the wall near a detailed chart of the seven chakras.
Santana is feeling good about last night’s show. “The Doors are my favorite group,” he says, “and I keep saying we’re like them if only they had the sort of discipline that doesn’t lead to distraction and destruction.” But even in the wake of such a triumph, his mind drifts to other places. He wants to fight the rise of Trumpism by staging a grand summit of peace and love: “What I want is to invite the pope, the Dalai Lama, Desmond Tutu, and others who have won Nobel Peace Prizes, seven men and seven women, and invite them together, like in a Star Trek movie. We can go to the Sydney Opera House or a resort in Honolulu.”
Future plans for the original Santana are unclear. Rolie spent the past four years as the keyboardist in Ringo Starr’s All Starr Band and is back on the road with them this summer; Schon has more than 50 Journey dates on the books. “There’s been no talk of a tour,” says Shrieve. “It drives you crazy, but I’ve come to the realization that if it’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen, just like this whole thing.”