Willie Bobo might not be the best known name in jazz percussion, but he serves as the connective tissue between the nascent Latin Jazz thing spawned during the fifties and the eventually inclusion of live percussion in hip hop. That’s a lot of ground to cover, but Bobo did it all himself – well, kinda.

Growing up in Spanish Harlem granted Bobo an early audience with Mongo Santamaria, probably the best known Latin Jazz drummer in recorded history apart from Tito Puente, who we’ll get to. Being associated with such a huge name in the business immediately allowed for Bobo to record as a session man as well as working alongside his avowed mentor.

As time wore an and various strains of Latin music become popular, Bobo moved to the West Coast in order to work wit Carlos Santana’s band as well as functioning as percussionist in Bill Cosby’s house band while the comedian had a variety show.

With this relocation, though, came an entirely different set of Latin influenced music – the kind which yielded acts comprising the Los Angeles’ funk scene. El Chicano as well as innumerable other group’s were gigging around down there and most likely served as an influence on Bobo’s son Eric, who know performs alongside a deejay and a few emcees in Cypress Hill. And that, honestly, a huge portion of Latin music’s recorded history in the United States.

In 1968, though, Bobo issued a disc entitled Do What You Want. Coming across as the confluence of jazz, Latin music and funk as a whole, the album should have made the percussionist a well known name in the genre. Instead, it’s turned him into a name that deejays look for while scouring albums in order to locate proper samples for pilfering. And if there’s one thing – apart from dancing – that is music is good for, it’s that.

In the same fashion that a huge portion of Santamaria’s catalog is all cribbed funky joints recast as Latin music, this Bobo led date isn’t too different. There’s a nasty rendition of the Beatles’ “Come Together” that’s hardly recognizable. But along with the most well wrought efforts here are a pair of slow jams, one a vocal cut, that doesn’t do too much for the album’s legitimacy. Neither “Dindi” nor the B.B. King cover, “The Thrill is Gone,” are worth hearing more than once. The rest of the affair, though, needs ample time for listeners to fully grasp the level of musicianship that’s reveled over the album’s nine tracks.