Immigrants from Zacatecas and Jalisco no longer dominate the social and cultural life of Southern California - it’s now people from Sinaloa, Oaxaca, Mexico City. Machismo, the moral code that defined Mexican manhood for centuries, is no longer winked at or accepted.
Their style of mexicanidad is now in its winter. What made Vicente Fernández so consistently spectacular across four decades? Start with these songs.
He, like our parents, moved on into the realm of myth, until no longer quite human but living relics.Īppreciation: 10 essential songs of ranchera legend Vicente Fernández My generation went from hearing Chente as the forced soundtrack of our weekends - he remained on the radio even as we begged our parents to let us play Nirvana or 2Pac - to a nostalgia act. Latinos became the largest minority in the United States as Chente and my dad’s generation became older. There were never any excuses offered for hardships - just pride in being able to beat them down. His tunes documented the pain and pride he and his fans experienced through life. The star and his fans conquered el Norte by adhering to rancho libertarianism, a philosophy that celebrates bootstrap individualism in a way that makes Ayn Rand seem like a commune-dwelling hippie. My dad and his brothers went from sharing beds to buying their own suburban homes. The singer went from performing at old movie palaces in downtown Los Angeles to arenas and stadiums across Southern California and beyond. In a time and place where Americans and even Mexican Americans shunned Mexican immigrants, my dad and his peers felt seen, and their way of life validated.Ĭhente’s triumphs became the triumphs of Dad and his generation as they found their own success. What particularly thrilled my dad and his friends was how Chente always shouted out his own village of Huentintán, Jalisco. “They’d blast the volume on the radiola!” my dad said with glee, rattling off the names of long-gone cantinas he haunted - El Hernandez, La India Bonita, Flamingo Inn - and Chente’s big songs back then, “Tu Camino y El Mío” and “El Remedio.” Papi laughed at the memory, then said, “And we drunks would yell and throw back our cervezas and sing along.” The soundtrack in all the bars along Olympic and Whittier boulevards back then? Chente. He was suddenly 18 years old, a self-described mojado - a wetback - who had just arrived in East Los Angeles in 1969 to join his brothers in a new country. Covering the issues, politics, culture and lifestyle of the Latino community in L.A., California and beyond.Ī minute after we hung up, Papi called me again (he always does that).
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