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Overview
Lalo's autobiography takes readers on a musical rollercoaster, from his earliest enjoyment of Latino and black sounds in Tucson to his burgeoning career in Los Angeles singing with Los Carlistas, the quartet with which he began his recording career in 1938. During the fifties and sixties his music dominated the Latin American charts in both North and South America, and his song "Canción Mexicana" has become the unofficial anthem of Mexico. Through the years, Lalo mastered boleros, rancheras, salsas, mambos, cha-chas, and swing; he performed protest songs, children's music, and corridos that told of his people's struggles. Riding the crest of changing styles, he wrote pachuco boogies in one period and penned clever Spanish parodies of American hit songs in another. For all of these contributions to American music, Lalo was awarded a National Medal of the Arts from President Clinton.
Lalo's story is also the story of his times. We meet his family and earliest musical associates—including his long relationship with Manuel Acuña, who first got Lalo into the recording studio—and the many performers he counted as friends, from Frank Sinatra to Los Lobos. We relive the spirit of the nightclubs where he was a headliner and the one-night stands he performed all over the Southwest. We also discover what life was like in old Tucson and in mid-century L.A. as seen through the eyes of this uniquely creative artist. "In 1958," Guerrero recalls, "I wrote a song about a Martian who came to Earth to clear up certain misunderstandings about Mars. Now I have decided that it is time to set some things straight about Lalo Guerrero." Lalo does just that, in an often funny, sometimes sentimental story that traces the musical genius of a man whose talent has taken him all over the world, but who still believes in giving back to the community. His story is a gift to that community.
The book also features a detailed discography, compiled by Lalo's son Mark, tracing his recorded output from the days of 78s to his most recent CDs.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780816546503 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | University of Arizona Press |
| Publication date: | 02/01/2001 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 216 |
| File size: | 6 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Lalo
MY LIFE AND MUSIC
By Lalo Guerrero, Sherilyn Meece Mentes
THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA PRESS
Copyright © 2002 Edward Guerrero and Sherilyn Meece Mentes.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0816522146
Chapter One
The Dream
It's a nightmare! Everybody's staring at me. I'm on a stage in front of a huge audience surrounded by famous people—actors, writers, musicians. The President is here. And the First Lady. They're coming right at me. They want to give me a medal. But I can't stand up! The old guy on the next chair keeps dozing off and falling over on me. Then the medal is around my neck.
The First Lady turns to leave. I can't let her get away; I gotta have a picture of this. I grab her by the waist. The President Laughs and says into the microphone, "The old guy still has his salsa."
It's not a nightmare; it's real. It's one of my daydreams come true. I look down at the gold medallion and read, "The National Medal of Arts awarded to distinguished artists and scholars whose work reflects the strength and diversity of America's cultural heritage."
When I think back on that morning, I still shiver. That was such an incredible, marvelous, beautiful feeling. Up to that moment—I don't know exactly how to explain it—I thought of myself as a Mexican who happened to be born in the United States. When I looked at that medal, for the first time in my life, I felt like a real American.
While the President and First Lady were moving on to the next recipients, I was remembering a barefooted boy in a dusty barrio in Tucson and wondering how in the hell he got to the White House.
And I started to think that it was as if my whole life had been guided toward that moment. The people that I met and the choices that I made or that were forced on me by circumstances all sort of fell into place as if someone had been leading me by the hand.
Barrio Viejo
Viejo barrio, barrio viejo Viejo barrio, old neighborhood, Solo hay lugares parejos There are only empty spaces Donde un día hubo casas, Where once there were houses Donde vivió nuestra raza. Where once our people lived. Solo quedan los escombros Only ruins remain De los hogares felices Of the happy homes, De las alegres familias Of the joyous families, De esa gente que yo quisé. Of these people that I loved. Por las tardes se sentaban In the evening, they would sit Afuera tomar el fresco. To enjoy the coolness of the Yo pasaba y saludaba, I would pass by and greet Ya parece que oigo el eco It seems that I can hear the ¿Como está Doña Juanita? "How are you, Dona Juanita?" Buenas tardes, Isabel. "Good evening, Isabel." ¡Hola! ¿Qué dices Chalita? "What do you say, Chalita? ¿Como está Arturo y Manuel? How are Arturo and Manuel?" Viejo barrio, barrio viejo Viejo barrio, old neighborhood Queen mi infancia te gozé That I enjoyed in my childhood. Y con todos mis amigos, And with all my friends Iba descalzo y a pie. I traveled shoeless and afoot. De la Meyer hasta El Hoyo, From Meyer Street to El Hoyo, Desde El Hoyo hasta la acequia, From El Hoyo to the irrigation De la acequia hasta el río, From the ditch to the river, Ese era el mundo mío. That was my world. Dicen que éramos pobres They say that we were poor, Pues yo nunca lo noté But I never noticed that. Yo era feliz en mi mundo I was happy in my world De aquel barrio que adoré. In that neighborhood that I Viejo barrio, barrio viejo Viejo barrio, old neighborhood, Yo también ya envejeci, I too have gotten old Y cuando uno se hace viejo And when you get old Nadie se recuerda de ti. No one remembers you. Vamonos muriendo juntos Let us die together. Que me entierran en tu suelo Let them bury me in your soil Y seramos dos difuntos And we will lie together Rodeados de mil recuerdos. Surrounded by a thousand
The Beginning
On a bitterly cold Christmas Eve in 1916, in the old barrio in Tucson, Arizona, "la señora Concepción de Guerrero dío a luz," as we say in Spanish, "brought to light" a healthy baby boy, and that was me. I was born at home and there was no doctor present. Mamá had had four children already, so I guess she thought she knew the routine. My aunts were all there—my mother's sisters.
But something went wrong. I'm not sure but it may have been my fault. It was so cold that night that icicles were hanging from the cactus needles and the coyotes were wearing serapes. It was so cold that after I stuck out one little toe, I changed my mind. I didn't want to come out.
They kept at me, and finally I had to give in. Just as I was being born, Mamá fainted. Her sisters tossed me down to the end of the bed while they revived her. After a while Mamá came to. When she was okay, somebody—I think it was the oldest sister, La Prieta—looked around and said, "¡El niño! ¿Dondé esta el niño?" (The baby! Where's the baby?)
El niño was at the foot of the bed, turning blue already. I could have frozen to death down there! Right then I realized how important it is to be the center of attention. I've been working at that ever since.
My aunts had a big discussion about my name. Every day in the Mexican calendar has a saint and the baby is supposed to be named for that saint, which is why you find a lot of Mexican boys named Maria.
So Tía Panchita looked at the calendar and said, "It's Santa Delfina's Day, so his name is Delfino."
Then Tía Joaquina said, "It's Christmas Eve, La Nochebuena; you have to name him Jesus."
But, thank God, Mamá was conscious by then and she said, "No way! His name is going to be like his father, Eduardo." So that was that.
Mamá
The angels sang in Bethlehem on the first Christmas Eve, but the first music that I remember was my mother's voice. She'd hold me close and croon, "A la roo roo baby, A la too roo ya. Here comes that man with a tail and he will eat you up." Or "There's a hole up in the sky where old Calzones de Cuero (Leather Pants) looks down on you. (I still don't know who Leather Pants is, but he doesn't sound very nice.) And below the sky is a hole where a rat comes out. Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!"
Every lullaby I ever heard in Spanish is frightening. Mexicans scare their kids to sleep. The bebés conk out as fast as they can so they don't have to listen to that stuff.
Mamá had a beautiful soprano voice and she was always singing. If she was in the kitchen cooking, she was singing. If she was in the yard planting flowers, she was singing.
In the evenings, she would bring out her guitar and sing to all of us. She used to play some really difficult songs like Ave Que Cruza por Lejanos Cielos (Bird That Crosses to Faraway Skies). She had one special love song that she would sing to Papá: Cuando Escuches Este Vals (When You Listen to This Waltz).
Everybody loved her because she was all heart and she was always happy—always laughing, always smiling, always singing. When she'd walk down the street, everybody would call to her, "¡Doña Conchita! ¡Doña Conchita! ¿Como estas?"
Mexicans are usually short, but Mamá was two or three inches taller than Papá—maybe 5'10" or so. She had a good figure, black hair so long that it hung down to her tailbone, and big dark-brown eyes that dressed up her whole face.
She loved to dance, especially the Spanish dance La Jota Aragonesa. She'd wind up the Victrola and she'd dance through the house laughing, clicking her castanets, and kicking her heels way up.
Excerpted from Lalo by Lalo Guerrero Sherilyn Meece Mentes. Copyright © 2002 by Edward Guerrero and Sherilyn Meece Mentes. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.