faces of son jarocho (scratching the surface of a tradition)

LATIN AMERICAN ENCOUNTERS

Spring / Primavera 2013 | Volume 1 | Issue 1

Faces of Son Jarocho(Scratching the surface of a tradition)Alec Dempster1

“Faces of Son Jarocho” is part of a larger multidisciplinary project combining the documenta-tion of oral history with portraiture, using the printmaking medium. The subjects are elderly musicians, singers and dancers from two neighbouring municipalities in the state of Veracruz, Mexico, whose lives have all revolved around Son Jarocho. This musical tradition has been an integral part of the culture of southern Veracruz since the 18th century. During the 1970’s there was a renewed interest in the rural expression of this music, led by a few influential groups and individuals who initiated what is now known as “El Movimiento Jaranero”. Jaranero refers to someone who plays the jarana. The jarana is a small guitar and an indispensable component of the son jarocho ensemble. During the past thirty years this music has spread far beyond the borders of Veracruz, sprouting up in numerous cities in the U.S.A. as well as Montreal, Toronto and Winnipeg. The community based nature of the music, most evident in the fandango, has had a wide appeal. The fandango is a musical gathering around a dance platform called a tarima. Musicians, singers and dancers familiar with a set repertoire of sones gather around the tarima during fandangos which often start in the evening and continue uninterrupted, until sunrise.

I began theses interviews in 1999 while making field recordings in the area around the town of Santiago Tuxtla, Veracruz and the musicians’ stories became just as important as the record-ing of the music. At the time, I was learning to play son jarocho so these conversations provid-ed me with a deeper understanding of the genre and the culture. Initially, the interviews were conducted with musicians I was familiar with. After living in Santiago Tuxtla for almost a year, I was well known by musicians, which in turn facilitated the interview process. After deciding to create a series of 30 portraits, I begun including musicians from surrounding rural communi-ties in order to form a more complete picture of the tradition in the region. There were specific topics I focused on which included poetry, the fandango, and the violin but the conversations tended to unfold in an organic manner. I didn’t arrive with a questionnaire at each interview nor was I sure who I would meet on my many trips into the countryside. Usually I made notes as to possible questions during the conversation. The circumstances varied in other ways as well. I met one old singer by chance on a bus. On another occasion, I was accompanied by one of the musicians I was learning from, and another interview involved several family members also asking questions based on stories they already knew.

1 Alec Dempster was born in Mexico City in 1971 and grew up in Toronto, where he lived until obtaining a visual arts degree from York University. His training is in printmaking, but also uses paper cut, egg tempera, encaustic and collage. In 1995 he moved back to Mexico, where he lived until 2009. Since then he has been based in Toronto, focusing on art and music. As an illustrator he has done magazine illustrations, CD and book covers, festival posters, educational materials, and logos. He has also collaborated with poets from the folk tradition in Mexico. He has had solo exhibitions in the United States, Canada, Mexico, France and Spain. He has been an artist in residence at Coronado Studio in Austin Texas and Saint Michael’s Print Shop in St. John’s Newfoundland. He has received government grants in Mexico to carry out printmaking projects. He performs with Toronto based son jarocho group Café Con Pan. Their recent CD “Nuevos Caminos a Santiago” was recorded in Toronto, Los Angeles and Xalapa. They are currently working on new material with the support of a Popular Music Grant from the Ontario Arts Council.

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Eva BaxinWhen I was a girl, the wedding ceremonies were very different from what they are today. A certain tree was chosen for the occasion and the groom had to chop it down so that the father of the bride could see that his son-in-law was capable. In the bride’s house the groom was made to eat a plateful of chili peppers. He had no choice but to eat them. The bride had to prove that she could make good handmade tortillas. First she had to grind the corn on a stone mortar. She couldn’t use anything like a tortilla press or even a plastic sheet. A young bull, bought by the bride’s family, was killed for the wedding. When I was married, Ignacio Bustamante played the violin. He had a little group and everyone played together. No one came from afar because we were a lot more isolated then. Each community had their own musicians.

Dancer from Buenos Aires Texalpan, municipality of San Andrés Tuxtla.

Alec Dempster

78 | Latin American Encounters

Faces of Son Jarocho

Latin American Encounters | 79

Bertha Llanos

My father died in 1955 and left me a lot of verses. He had a general store in a house made with long sticks above a ravine. He also sold aguardiente. Each cup cost two “centavos”. People would come and ask for hierba. To make it green he would add spearmint. He made a lot of different kinds of liquors using, for example, apples and quince. For the festivities he would prepare bottles of liquor made with an orange berry called “nanche”, which hasn’t become scarce like many of the other traditional preparations. For instance, he once bottled a drink made with a fruit called zapote domingo which you don’t hear of anymore. My father started writing poems when he was just a kid beginning to put words together. He finished third grade, having by then learned to read and write. He had dealings with the government when Lázaro Cardenas was president of Mexico in 1946. My father sang in Mexicano and in Spanish. Lots of well known singers like Dionisio Vichi and Feliciano Escribano bought his verses from him and these are still being sung in the fandangos today.

Poet from Santiago Tuxtla, Veracruz.

Juana Rosario

When we were just girls, I remember that many learnt to dance by tying a ribbon and balancing a glass of water on their head. Our mother who died when she was 110 would take us. I was about 10 when I started to dance, they would dress me up, put my flower on and we would go to the huapango. My mother would say to me: “yes daughter learn the huapango, that other dancing is ugly…, let’s go to the huapango for a while”. We never danced with a glass of water on our heads but we saw it. They danced nicely, they spread out their petticoats with a glass or a bottle on their heads without it falling. A huapango was held every week.

Dancer form Tilapan, municipality of San Andrés Tuxtla


Alec Dempster


Dionisio VichiMy family used to make baskets. After work I would play music. I learnt bit by bit until I got the hang of it. By the time I was 13, I was already accompanying the local girls during Christmas processions. I played a medium sized jarana which I bought myself because it upset my father when my brothers and I would fight over the little jarana he had given us. Sometimes when my brother was playing the jarana I would grab it from him. Once he got mad and smashed it against a post. I was still a little kid and started to cry. I told my mother that it didn’t matter because I was going to make my own baskets and sell them in San Andrés so that I could buy my own jarana. Everything was cheap back then. The baskets cost 12 centavos. The big baskets cost 24 centavos. We would take them to San Andrés where we could sell them for a bit more. We would walk because there was no bus. When we got there, we would buy things that we needed like clothes or a centavo of thread, a candy for a centavo or three centavos for some brown sugar.

Musician and singer from Santiago Tuxtla, Veracruz.



Esteban UtreraYes, back then we were paid ten of fifteen pesos (to play) and we were given strings. They were cursed. They left your fingers smelling the next day. No joke. They were Gut strings. Some had green ends and others had yellow ends. Lots of strings and for each song you played you had to put strings on! You bought a “gruesa” for each fiesta. Two dozen. If it was any old fandango, half a dozen, media gruesa, in order to last. Those strings were really awful. They lasted but it was likely that two or three would snap during each song and you had to change them. When Román Cobos played, by the end of the song his jarana would have no strings at all. When these (nylon) strings arrived they peeled the skin off his fingers. When these strings arrived, we bid farewell to those cursed smelly strings.

Musician from El Hato, municipality of Santiago Tuxtla

Alec Dempster


Feliciano EscribanoI am sixty eight years old and I started buying verses from Juan Llanos when I was 14. He was already an old man. A lot of verses are common because everybody knows them or has heard them before, but I had some created for special themes which I have hardly ever shared with anyone. A lot of people ask me for them but I keep them reserved. Every singer needs some verses like that to protect him/herself. Juan Llanos knew a lot more than just how to write vers-es. His knowledge stretched a long way. If someone recited a verse to him, he would respond by inventing another one without taking any time to think about it. His daughter doesn’t even have the verses I bought from him. She has sent for me because she wants the verses I have to complete her collection. These are verses from over a hundred years ago. A lot of people invite me to the fandangos but I don’t go anymore. You can ask any of my children, I used to go every Saturday.

Singer from Popoctépec,

municipality of San Andrés Tuxtla.


faces of son jarocho (scratching the surface of a tradition)

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