Deep rivers of pride and pain commingle in Eugene Rodriguez’s new memoir, “Bird of Four Hundred Voices: A Mexican American Memoir of Music and Belonging” (Heyday Books, 224 pages, $28). Writing with profound purpose and unmistakable passion, the founder of the San Pablo-based Mexican cultural arts academy Los Cenzontles reveals the oceanic culture of his Mexican American and Chicano heritage. Chronicling his journey as the leader of the nonprofit dedicated to connecting young Chicano musicians to their origins and identity through music, Rodriguez not only describes the ensemble’s maturation, but his own.
Los Cenzontles was formed in 1989 with the express goal to provide music education for young people of the Mexican diaspora living in the Bay Area. From its earliest days, with Rodriguez’s drive, curiosity and intense focus on promoting Mexican American communities and culture, it attracted high-profile collaborators such as Linda Ronstadt, Jackson Browne, Los Lobos, Taj Mahal, Lalo Guerrero, Ry Cooder and the Chieftains.
Although his identity was formed growing up in a middle-class Mexican American family in predominately white Glendale in the 1970s, Rodriguez came to understand himself in the East Bay’s rich and diverse ecosystem. Living in Richmond among people who were Black, Latino, Creole, Asian, Native American and of other races and ethnicities, Rodriguez found identity as an adult primarily through engaging in and teaching traditional Mexican music and ballet folklórico (dance), the two cornerstones of Los Cenzontles.
“Cenzontles” refers to a multi-voiced bird and translates in English to mockingbird, a name he writes is a misnomer, because cenzontles do not reject, but learn and adopt, surrounding sounds. In similar ways, Rodriguez incorporated multiple musical influences to fashion his philosophies about art, society and culture that are the foundation for Los Cenzontles’ practices and programs. Students at the academy learn classic forms of Mexican music genres such as son jarocho, rancheras and mariachi, and dance moves shared at fandangos during trips to Mexico. They also gain awareness of music as a universal language by connecting those traditions to contemporary American music and dance.
Rodriguez writes, “Many think of tradition as a fragile relic or a pageant that we must observe from a safe distance so as not to disturb its purity. But culture is much deeper, complex and dynamic, constantly moving through time and change.” Later he adds, “And when we try to grasp only the trappings of culture in an effort to harness them, we lose sight of its true lasting power.” He remains firm in the belief that within tradition there is room, strength, and stability that allows and fosters growth and evolution.
If the memoir makes obvious Rodriguez’s zealous energy and efforts to counteract the invalidating of Mexican culture—and community-based youth organizations—in America, it does so through numerous stories of hard-fought battles over decades. Inadequate funding, rigid guidelines that pit social programs against arts programs, foundations and corporations more focused on self-promotion than on the causes they claim are central, trend-driven philanthropy, and the unsurprising complexities of arranging international travel for the ensemble’s tours and cultural visits in South America all characterize the group’s history.
Miraculously, Los Cenzontles—also the name of the musical group associated with the academy —has survived and even thrived. More than two dozen albums (including a Grammy-nominated album), and starring or co-starring roles in a series of documentaries are evidence.
Among the book’s notable anecdotes is a description of a recording project with Los Lobos that was held up by earthquakes, contract disputes and delays that eventually had Rodriguez skipping his scheduled flight to Los Angeles. The face-off concluded when the label faxed the missing contract. Greeted upon arrival with an expletive-laden “Who do you think you are?” Rodriguez replied: “I am the guy with the project and a contract.”
Spunk and chutzpah show up in other business decisions, such as hiring staff from within and writing grants in everyday language and eschewing jargon (“I know the difference between meaningful plain speak and the blather of affectation,” he writes). Multiple stories make the point without emphasis or self-aggrandizement of Rodriguez’s respect and sincere gratitude for artists includiing Ronstadt, Bonnie Raitt, David Hidalgo, and others who have long supported his work and Los Cenzontles.
If Rodriguez’s memoir was not powered by the love of music, humanitarian community-based activism and devotion to an organization larger than its leader, some of the stories might leave a bittersweet aftertaste. But the book is an uplifting voyage and a tale well told with resilience, humor and wisdom.
Looking to the future while expressing feelings of pain and pride, Rodriguez writes: “Ultimately, it is not for any one generation to decide what the next will do; we must simply do our best to guide them as act of faith and love. One of my life’s biggest and most painful lessons was from our first child, Ariel, who died when he was only one month old. I realized, in time, that I grieved for who I hoped he would be, while, in fact, he had his own destiny. I had no choice but to accept that.”
Eugene Rodriguez speaks about “Bird of Four Hundred Voices” and Los Cenzontles performs at 3 p.m. Sept. 14 at Bookshop Santa Cruz, 1520 Pacific Ave., Santa Cruz. Visit bookshopsantacruz.com/eugene-rodriguez.
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