If you've strolled through the Jardin in the evening, you have at least a passing acquaintance with Mariachi, the brassy musical genre that hails from Jalisco. And most likely you've heard "La Bamba" more times than you can count, or maybe even Lilah Downs or Los Lobos' covers of other classics of Son Jarocho, a musical style with roots in the state of Veracruz. But you're probably not familiar with what was once an equally vibrant regional Mexican music called Tierra Caliente. The name refers to a geographic and cultural zone that makes up parts of Michoacan, the State of Mexico and Guerrero, a place where the isolation that once fostered a unique creative outpouring is now endangering it.
We knew that this infectious hillbilly music wasn't well-known when we invited Conjunto La Endiablada to come share it at Conciertos Casa Elena (April 26). But until we sat down to talk to the band, neither of us fully understood the reasons behind its obscurity.
"I have a little bit of resentment," Cloe Pérez Valladares admitted when we first touched on the genre's marginalization. Pérez has been exploring the cultural forms of Tierra Caliente for the past ten years, first as a dancer, now as the tamborita player in La Endiablada. She explained how her discovery of this tradition came about in a roundabout way.
Born and raised in Morelia, Pérez encountered Son Jarocho on a trip to the Yucatan peninsula and was immediately attracted to its collectivity and inclusivity. When she returned to Michoacan, she sought out the Son Jarocho community. Through these contacts she was surprised to learn about an equally communal, musically sophisticated genre much closer to home: la música de Tierra Caliente. "I had no idea about the musical richness that existed in my own state." Once she did, she was "hooked."
La Endiablada violinist Adrián Lara Pérez described a similar moment of surprise: "When I started to enter into the world of the music of Tierra Caliente, a huge question came up for me around why this music wasn't as popular and well-known as other genres when it has the same level of complexity and beauty."
Guitarist Alejandro Santos Bucio echoed his bandmates' concerns, noting that while other styles of Mexican music get a lot of airtime, the music of Tierra Caliente has become, "muy underground." He continued, "For us it's super valuable to bring attention to this form of expression, not only because of the high quality of the music, but because of the people and communities it represents."
This cultural expression grew out of unique geographical and historical circumstances. Tierra Caliente has always been a borderland, beyond the control of tribes, church or state. It was once on the frontier of the Tarasca and Nahua empires, then the division between Catholic diocese, and now it sits on the forgotten fringes of three different states. A hot lowland between rivers and mountain ranges, temperatures regularly break 40°C (104°F) and small children are taught never to lean against walls lest they get stung by a scorpion, just one of the many venomous vermin endemic to the region. Residents struggle to eek out a living with livestock and agriculture in the dry, cactus-filled landscape. Its municipalities consistently rank high on the poverty index.
Map of Tierra Caliente (red) *
Anthropologist Jorge Amós Martínez Ayala writes that historically the inaccessibility of Tierra Caliente made it a refuge for people persecuted by the state, including, "runaway slaves, murderers and adulterers." Apart from Africans and indigenous people, this isolated region also attracted a wide range of Europeans fleeing service to the Austro-Hungarian empire, French, Belgian, Dutch, Italian and Greek settlers among them. While most of these migrants publicly professed Catholicism, many secretly practiced Judaism or Islam. Chinese and Filipino folks conscripted on Spanish galleons made their way inland from Acapulco to join the mix.
This mestizaje of far-flung peoples produced a distinctive regional culture. According to Martínez, its apogee was the fandango. At these parties that could last for days, people placed a piece of wood under the shade of a towering tree, making a platform for dancers whose stomping steps provided percussion for the band. The guitar set the rhythm for the dancers while the lead violin directed the elaborate improvisation that is la música de Tierra Caliente. Song lyrics often featured anthropomorphic animals or compared humans to animals (usually unfavorably) or praised the sacredness of cattle.
While the dance style and subject matter speak to the genre's African origins, the music itself drew on a deep vein of European influences, including waltzes and minuets, the two step and the foxtrot. Ideally, Martínez observes, a perfect harmony between music, poetry and dance emerged at these events, which he calls, "a complicated art form produced by simple people."
Calentano musicians and dancers *
The same circumstances that fostered this cultural efflorescence are now major factors in its decline. In recent years, Tierra Caliente has become a hot bed of narco activity, as its isolation made it the perfect place for clandestine drug labs. In this well-armed and independent place, many communities fought back, forming autodefensas, paramilitary organizations that challenge cartel hegemony. One effect of this violence has been the disruption of the transgenerational transmission of the region's artistry.
As Conjunto La Endiablada talked about the impact of this rupture on their art form, it became clear that the presence of narcos is not only about economic domination. Their infiltration also involves a cultural project that superimposes its own values and aesthetics onto its zones of influence. Many young people started dressing like gangsters and listening to narcocorridos that glorify drug lords. La música de Tierra Caliente started to be perceived, as Santos put it, as "música de viejitos," or uncool old folks music. This perception shift changed the market, and the cultural spaces (think birthdays, weddings and funerals) that once nurtured this regionally distinct virtuosity are largely gone. Many traditional musicians have to work as mariachis to get by.
While none of the members of La Endiablada are from Tierra Caliente, all share a commitment to "doing justice" to a style of music that they love. Like Perez, Santos is also from Morelia, and Lara grew up in Zumpango in State of Mexico before moving to Morelia. While the band has been together for three years, tololoche (stand up bass) player Abraham Bautista Salinas joined their ranks six months ago. Bautista was born into a musical family in Paracho, Michoacan, and grew up playing traditional Purépecha music (featured at Conciertos Casa Elena on May 24). He says that he switched genres in order to learn about his instrument, "from another perspective."
When we asked the band what people can expect at their show at Conciertos Casa Elena, baby-faced Bautista blurted out, "Dancing!" His bandmates laughed. "Well, yeah," he continued, "because it's party music, so it's for enjoying. And for tossing back some drinks."
Santos piped in, promising to get the party going as well, before becoming more circumspect. "There will also be space to listen," he noted, as the band presents a range of compositions representative of Calentana, the sub-genre of Tierra Caliente music that is their specialty.
Conjunto La Endiablada *
Lara added, "Whenever we play, we are very grateful for the spaces that invite us, because we truly believe in this music and we know it's worthwhile for more people to hear it." Pérez echoed him: "People are losing the opportunity to experience something very valuable because there aren't many venues for it. But the truth is that these spaces aren't open because people just don't know about it."
Learning more about the history of la musica de Tierra Caliente has made us even more excited about giving these committed young musicians a space to share their love for this endangered art form. Whether you're attracted by the dancing, the drinking or the serious listening, come see for yourself. We're hoping that this event won't be the last time that this delightful genre is given space to shine in San Miguel.
Saturday, April 26: Música de Tierra Caliente with La Endiablada
Saturday, May 24: Música Purépecha Tradicional with Kustakua
Saturday, June 21: Sonidos Prehispanicos with Jadhex
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Nicolas Licea 7B in Colonia San Rafael. Doors open at 6pm, show begins at 7pm. Limited first come, first serve seating. $300 cover & cash bar.
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Ellen Sharp is a writer and an IFS-trained therapeutic practitioner specializing in recovery from narcissistic abuse. Prior to moving to San Miguel in 2020, she spent a decade developing ecotourism and forest conservation projects at a monarch butterfly sanctuary in rural State of Mexico. She's at work on a memoir about this experience. Sharp holds a PhD in cultural anthropology from UCLA.
Jared Jiménez, originally from Morelia, Michoacán, is a musician and visual artist who explores pre-Hispanic themes in both artistic practices. Jiménez has played with Jadhex Sonidos Prehispánicos since 2008, touring with them throughout Mexico. He moved to San Miguel de Allende four years ago. You can learn more about his projects on social media: Facebook, Instagram.
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