Dozens of cultures meet on the border of Texas and Mexico, intertwining branches: the traditions and beliefs of the aborigines of Aridoamerica are complemented by the architecture of manors imitating the legendary Alhambra. Here, the music of the Moors, reinterpreted by the Spaniards, gets a new life in the interpretation of former Indians, Germans, French and Irish. Here, on Texas territory, is the city of San Antonio, famous not only for the Alamo monastery, but also for the fact that on June 20, 1968, after a nine-month wait in the Mexican Rodriguez family, shouting “¡holas cabrones!” a new citizen of the Gringolandia was born, who was immediately christened Robert, it really hurts it’s consonant with “cabron”.
Having regained consciousness after his infantile maximalism (all those AC/DC-style screams, Guns’n’Roses-style diapers, well, the child makers are aware), Robert found himself in the company of brothers and sisters, and some were just on their way, taking turns taking a place inside Mama Rodriguez. However, apparently, mom and dad were able to captivate their little Gavrikovs: undoubtedly, Robert read Larry McMurtry, Ambrose Bierce, and Cormac McCarthy, whose novel about the life of Texas in the 1840s, “Bloody Meridian,” was panned by critics in faceted glasses even in the year of publication, 1985, and later recognized by the same insects as one of the greatest American literary works.
But the passion for cinema flared up after watching “Escape from New York” directed by John Carpenter. It should be noted that most of the directors of the “new Hollywood” had lost ground by the mid-1980s, and comedy had replaced drama and realistic brutality, which fit into all genres of all categories, whether horror, action or… more horrors. There was plenty of laughter in other areas before that, but the Yuppie generation wanted to cackle at every bloodletting, as the CIA had established cocaine shipments from Latin America through Central America. The mucous membranes of the nose of every Yuppie, without exception, were burned by Colombian dope. It was during those years that drug addicts got wind of the entire real sector of the US economy, sending it to China and other countries branded by the powdery-nosed “masters” of the “third world”. And in Texas, due to the activity of drug cartels, the number of executions broke all records in the country. These facts are not presented here to reveal the dirty essence of American capitalism, they are a necessary context.
As a director of feature films, Robert Rodriguez debuted with the idea of fighting the white death traffickers, and later developed it into the so-called “Mexican trilogy”: “El Mariachi”, “Desperado”, “Once upon a Time in Mexico”. Salma Hayek’s character owns a bookstore that doesn’t have any customers. The cartel’s money helps her maintain an unprofitable enterprise. The nameless boy gets a new guitar every week, but the guitar, stuffed with cocaine, sounds muffled. Do not think that this is a screenwriter’s fantasy, this is a social background from which you can scoop up plots with spoons, this is the past and the pain of the Mexican border states.
The fact that Rodriguez is a jack of all trades should be recalled: he is a screenwriter, a director, a cameraman, an editor, and even a make-up artist if it gets really hot. For the filming of “Once upon a Time in Mexico,” he once brought natural barrels to Mexico, which were seized by zealous border guards. As a result, the actors were given rubber imitators, which Antonio Banderas could not get used to for a long time, accompanying each shot with a cry of “Bang!”. Well, few people know that Robert Rodriguez is also a wonderful musician. Talented, which is rare, in everything he touches.
Meanwhile, since 2000, in Austin, Texas, brothers Mark and Rick Del Castillo, both virtuoso guitarists, have been practicing the full range of Spanish-language music with their band with the simple name Del Castillo. Their performances immediately became a local sensation on both sides of the border, and meeting Rodriguez was only a matter of time. Robert invited the brothers, as well as their vocalist Danny Ortiz, to collaborate on a project called Chingon, which can be interpreted from sombrero slang into English as “bully” or even “badass”. Robert was on his way to the final episode of the Mariachi trilogy, which included songs from both the freshly baked Chingon and Del Castillo proper. But today we will sniff and tag Chingon’s only (unfortunately) album “Mexican Spaghetti Western”. ¡Vamos, los perros de la Luna, vamos!
Se Me Paró is a perfect example of searing texana, one of the varieties of Latin rock. The dance is paired. On all fours of genuine passion.
Malagueña Salerosa is a Mexican masterpiece, first officially published by Peer International in 1947. The authors are Ramirez and Galindo, although experts tend to doubt their compositional data. Before the appearance of the Chingon version, Placido Domingo’s opera serenade could be considered the best of two hundred rehashes. Chingon, with his exertion of cactus riders, beat both him and the other 199 who tried. No wonder Tarantino dragged them into his “Kill Bill 2”, where only music saves the deplorable clowning, drenched in decaliters of tomato juice.
Fideo Del Oeste literally translates as “Western noodles”, and the pathos of the composition is off the scale just enough to draw in the listener’s mind’s eye a lonely spaghetti hero in a lonely spaghetti town of the vermicelli West. The hero has a coffin, a trunk or a hatbox with him, from where he extracts various firearms, smearing all the moustachioed cockatoos with a slipper. Franco Nero approves, Jamie Foxx is quietly jealous.
Severina is a Mexican blues rock in the spirit of Carlos Santana, written by Robert in collaboration with his sister Patricia Vonne. She also performs the vocal part. Having recorded more than a dozen albums with a place for traditional country, tex-mex and rockabilly, Patricia deserves a separate article, which we promise you.
Alacran Y PistoleroIt was written and performed by Tito Larriva, the leader of the very “fuckin’ band” Tito & Tarantula from the movie “From Dusk till Dawn”. There is something of a Russian romance in this vignette…
El Rey De Los Chingones, “The King of Badass” is a pompous cocktail of blues, surf and hispaniola. Totally devoid of kitsch, oddly enough. Perfect for a “Mexican spaghetti western”.
Bajo Sexto is the name of a Mexican twelve-string guitar, where six double strings are bass strings. Hence the name. In addition, this is the only song in the album sung in English. Musically: a curious fusion of tex-mex and rockabilly.
Cielito Lindo begins where Richie Valens’ “La Bamba” ended – the same Latin rock, albeit with a more modern sound, and the song itself is even more popular among Mexicans than “Cucaracha”. And it will make the Russian soul turn around like a native.
Mexican Sausage Link is a wordless and damn beautiful surf on the oil breakers of the Gulf of Mexico, which some Donald Duck renamed American. High-pitched brass instruments give a special mood.
Siente Mi Amor is a pop-rock ballad with a Spanish flavor, of course, and Salma Hayek, beloved by all Moondawgs, on vocals. The brevity of the number is attributed to the fact that instead of a scarf, Donna Hayek has so far used a boa constrictor.
Cuka Rocka is tequila-soaked debauchery and revelry, and possibly mayhem. But beautiful, fuck them El Diablo!
The album contains the rustle of the Rio Grande waves, the howl of tornadoes, and the trampling of mustangs in Texas. What is missing here is the weak points. And if in any town a moustachioed cucaracha conceives arbitrariness and resistance to God, a macaroni hero will appear to the music of Chingon and, taking a coffin out of a hatbox, a guitar case out of the coffin… And so on. ¡Buenas noches!
