 This story first appeared on the the Grammy.com website in July 2005. Usedwith permission of j. poet and NARAS. |
Ry Cooder became a household name for producing the Buena Vista Social Club and its spin offs, but for him it was only another excursion into the world of forgotten music. In his career, he's championed many regional and international sounds, none as compelling as the music he discovered in his own backyard. Chávez Ravine tells the story of a thriving Mexican-American culture bulldozed into oblivion in the name of progress, using various nostalgic musical styles to deliver his message. The 15 tunes - originals from the 50s and others composed by Cooder and his collaborators - give voice to the poor and powerless. You could call Chávez Ravine a folk opera without being too far off point.
"Once upon a time, and I'm old enough to remember it, L.A. was a mixture of nature and city, linked together by a trolley system, with mountains and oceans close by," Cooder said. "In 1949, photographer Don Normark took a panoramic shot of the city and captured Palo Verde on film, an almost Mexican village with chickens and livestock and children running around. City Hall was only a mile away."
The neighborhoods of Palo Verde, La Loma and Bishop occupied the valley known as Chávez Ravine. In 1950, the City and Federal Government decided to build low rent housing there, but the plan didn't pan out. "Developers were building suburban enclaves for profit and didn't like the government building houses for poor people. Poor people are always in the way. They don't contribute to campaigns; they don't buy houses. The developers came and using anti-Communism as a battering ram, they choked off the project and did away with it. It worked so well that Republicans and right-wingers have been using the same methods ever since. You call people bad Americans, divide them against each other and start wars."
Cooder was inspired to tell the story of the Ravine after seeing Normak's photos, but he knew it would be difficult from the beginning. "It's a Chicano story, that's one drawback. Nobody'd written any songs about it. Whatever memories there were of [those days] hadn't found their way into music. We don't convert events into music anymore, they way we did years ago. So it was an exploration and an experiment, an open-ended story about the Mexican community in East LA, and I found my way as I went along."
It took Cooder three years and a lot of his own money to complete the project. He studied history, geography, sociology and music, and enlisted the help of three legendary Chicano musicians, Don Tosti, Lalo Guerrero and Willie G. leader of Thee Midniters. "When Mexicans first came to LA they moved in next door to the Blacks. Tosti blended swing, R&B and Mexican music to create the Pachuco sound that was popular in the 40s, so I looked him up. Lalo is the godfather of Mexican-American music, and when I told him I wanted to translate this story into song he said he'd help." Willie G. is still an active musician; he contributed vocals and co-wrote five tunes with Cooder.
The project, which has a timeless, otherworldly feel, was recorded in Cooder's largely acoustic studio. "I like a sound you can walk into and recorded with fewer mikes; it builds up excitement when you put more information into fewer mikes. There are also lots of samples and pro tools tricks, but they've all been wrestled to the ground so to speak. This is not music for background activities, but a theatrical experience. We had to make you believe that you were in a different time and place. It took three and a half years to do it."
Lalo Guerrero lent his impressive 89 year-old pipes to "Los Chucos Suaves," an R&B rumba that was a hit for him back in 1949, as well as "Corrido de Boxeo," which sings the praises of Carlos and Favela Chavez, popular Chicano boxers in the '50s. "Don't Call Me Red" is a challenging sound collage that blends Cooder's vocals, beatnik jazz and kitschy TV show theme music with sampled voices from Jack Webb and Raymond Burr to tell the story of Frank Wilkinson, who worked for LA's public housing program. He was labeled a communist and sent to prison for refusing to testify before The House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC.) Willie G. turns in an exuberant vocal on "Three Cool Cats," a tune with an interesting background. "Lieber and Stoller listened to Don Tosti, which you can hear. And Tosti and Mingus had the same teacher, so you scratch the surface and find all these interesting connections. I used the old tunes cause I can't say what they said, and wrote new songs to say what they didn't say."
The result, as promised, transports us back to a time when LA's Chicano culture was vibrant and all things seemed possible, an LA that was about to vanish forever. In the end, public outcry stopped the developer's land grab and the property was "given" to the Dodgers for their new stadium, but Chávez Ravine isn't only about one neighborhood, or even LA. It's a parable for what's going on all over America. "It's a story that continues to happen," Cooder said wearily. "The freeways were strategically placed to seal off poor neighborhoods; they see an architecturally unique theater and rip it down. Malls don't define a community. They're theme parks, which is interesting, because theme parks were invented here - ersatz experience as a substitute for real experience. I'm 58 years and old and I've seen it all change; it's pretty interesting, and distressing."
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