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CHICANO! 500 Years of Struggle |
El Andar Magazine, Spring 1999 GUITAR LICKS, ALMA IN
CALIFORNIA'S CENTRAL VALLEY SIEMPRE HE ESTADO AQUI For many years, I never thought it was not my place to approach musicians and tell them, lamely, "Man, you guys play good" or, remembering American Bandstand, to comment, "Wow, I like the beat." I was scared of musicians. They knew where to place their fingers on the frets of their guitars or on the keys, not to mention the buttons of their accordions. I remember taking a guitar class from Fresno's Cletus Clark, a true master of the country and western guitar, but all I learned in my six weeks with was how to close the guitar case for good. I had a tin ear. I had the rhythm of a drunk tottering about on Thunderbird wine. I have a much better ear now and some kind of rhythm, so this past winter I got up the nerve to call Agustin and Pat, who make up two-thirds of the musical group Alma. I wanted to get to know them. We enjoyed Chinese food, then a long boozy talk (from my end, at least) in their home in Fresno, California. I had recently seen them perform songs from their new CD Siempre He Estado Aqui, a collection of eleven songs, seven of which were written or adapted by Agustin. The two have been playing together since the late l970s. Patricia, you mentioned to me that sometimes when you're playing, your finders run across the frets. Actually, you described them as "flying." Please explain this sensation. During the first years I would psyche myself into thinking I wasn't nervous, but inside I would feel nauseous, sick with fright. I would look at my fingers, trembling like crazy, and hope that people couldn't see. Once I almost passed out on the stage through a rendition of "Quihubo Raza," but by the end of the song, I came "back." As for "flying," I get this sense that there is no physical effort on my part; the strings seem to be playing themselves. This is what makes the music fly. Can history be told through song? (Agustin answers) Definitely. People all over the world have used songs to tell their history. They have used it not only as a medium through which to express their whole range of emotions, but also as a way of keeping track of their deeds. For example, the ballads or corridos of the Mexican Revolution tell of great battles and fierce warriors like Emiliano Zapata and Pancho Villa. Were it not for these surviving musical documents, we probably would know very little about them. The Chicano movement and its artists were determined not to let their history die. So they researched it and brought it back to life in the form of books. Alma recreates it through songs. Agustin, you wrote seven of the eleven titles on you CD. Tell us about the writing process. Where does the music begin? My ideas for songs come from everywhere -- my personal experience, other activist organizations, the media, the Internet, my friends. I am also an avid student of Latin American history; most of my information comes from books. When I put a song together I work on the melody first. By the time it is completed I know the mood. Then I worry about lyrics. I try to make each song as original as possible by concentrating on its structure and making sure it does not sound like other songs I know. I compose melodies at different time of the day and night. The night is my favorite. I work in a large wooden room without rugs on the floor so the sound of my guitar can bounce all over. It's heaven. Patricia, can you recall a truly memorable concert? Yes! Taos, New Mexico, in spring 1997. At the time there was a dispute over the closing off of a road, one which families had used for centuries. Wealthy newcomers had purchased the land and closed the road. Throughout our concert, the audience had an ongoing conversation with us; it was something like love. The audience was warm and lively. And it so happens that the people in the audience--or some of them -- the next day drove out to the road that was once theirs and tore down the no trespassing signs. Because our songs are political, the audience, in turn, became political. Our music is about action. Agustin, you were one of the founders of El Teatro Campesino. What were those days like? The early days of the UFW strike in 1965 were highly charged and chaotic. Our teatro was in the center of it all, performing on picket lines, at meetings and rallies, and before labor and cultural groups. Many times I felt like I was riding a wave which had its own direction. It was one of the most dynamic and creative times of my life; I was 19 when I first joined the union and began the Teatro with Luis Valdez. I became a man under the banner of the black eagle. When did the Chicano movement end?What happened to its leader? Its followers? (Agustin) The Chicano movement has not ended. It's just not being televised, so people think it's gone. After 1975, the media in cahoots with the government, began using the term "Hispanic" to replace the word "Chicano," which was replete with overtones of liberation. I'm on the road a lot because of my work, so I get to see many different types of organizations which are still involved in human rights issues. Some of our leaders, like Cesar, have passed on. Others are still active today, and some of them have sold out or were convinced by federal secret organizations like Cointelpro to stay quiet. The government has killed many in the movement, jailed others, and has recognized a few, raising them to the status of semi-gods who now are being paraded before us as "role models." And yet the movement goes on. Gary Soto is a poet, writer and a high ranking officer in the Royal Chicano Navy. |