The sonidero movement

BY MARIA GALLUCCI
Special to The News
Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Manuel López's deep voice bounces off the stone walls of Mexico City's Santo Domingo plaza, the thumping beats of cumbia and salsa exploding in the background. Strobe lights dance across the square as hundreds of people swivel their bodies to the music.

López is a "sonidero," tweaking the rhythms of tropical Latin and electronic music with his turntable and control panels. He's an emcee, a deejay, a sound engineer and the master of any dance party.

López and his brother Raúl together form Sonido Sonorámico, founded in 1974 by their oldest brother Rodolfo and based out of the Impulsora borough in Nezahualcóyotl City.

They brought their beats to the plaza Saturday night as part of the Proyecto Sonidero (Sonidero Project), featured now through April 27 at the Centro Cultural de España en México, in Mexico City's Centro Histórico.

The project explores Mexico's sonidero movement through concerts, round table discussions, workshops, a bazaar and a photography exhibit. A concert on April 4 will feature artists DJ Pato, DJ Angelito Campos and others in the Casa Vecina Espacio Cultural, also in the Centro.

Mariana Delgado, the project's co-director, said the activities aim to celebrate the sonidero culture and to acquaint the unfamiliar with the music and dance phenomenon.

"We're working with communities of sonideros to open new spaces for them, and we support their day-to-day efforts to maintain and spread their culture," she said, sitting in the sun-streaked terrace of the cultural center. "It's not a marginalized or criminalized culture, but rather a relevant and contemporary culture."

Delgado couldn't say for certain how many sonideros perform throughout central Mexico, but she guessed there are "thousands, thousands, thousands" of sonideros , almost exclusively male.

She said prominent sonidero barrios in Mexico City, such as Tepito and Peñón de los Baños, each house hundreds of artists.

50 YEARS IN THE MAKING

The sonidero movement began more than 50 years ago in the barrios and boroughs of central Mexico. Families and communities who couldn't host live bands or mariachi at weddings, baptisms or birthday parties began using audio equipment to bring fiestas to life.

While the movement has mostly remained within Mexico's center, it has also followed migrants north into the United States, finding prominence in cities such as Los Angeles, Miami, New York and Chicago.

Early sonideros traveled throughout Latin America in search of new sounds; they were the first to introduce Colombian cumbia and Cuban salsa to Mexican villages. They also took their beats to the street, bringing the dance parties outside and downtown.

Manuel López said sonideros continue to seek out fresh music - his search has taken him to Colombia, Panama, Peru, Guatemala, Costa Rica, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua, El Salvador and the United States. He mixes the different beats and rhythms to create a sound that is uniquely his own.

Half a century later, today's sonideros are revolutionizing the movement through new audio technology and the Internet. They mix music with laptops, beat boxes and samplers. They record videos and CD's to distribute at events and in market stalls across Latin America, bypassing mainstream music production altogether.

Stage shows include not only dancers but also intricate light displays and graphic designs projected onto screens.

Sonideros have mastered the virtual music scene as a means of self-promotion and publicity; they circulate in online chats and blogs with their counterparts in Colombia, Venezuela, Brazil and the United States.

"They're using their own technology to be subversive, creative, and they're transforming the panoramas of the culture and discography industries," the project's Delgado said.

Guadalupe Tlacomulco, however, still puts on shows with her decades' old sound equipment, blasting cumbia, guaracha and salsa as she calls out to her audience over the microphone. The 43-year-old became of one of Mexico's dozen professional female artists in 2003.

Taking a rest on the church steps of the Santo Domingo plaza, "Lupita la Cigarrita," as she's known on stage, says she was born with the sonidero culture in her blood. She spent her childhood dancing at home and in the streets to Colombian music and to La Sonora Matancera, the Cuban group first formed in the 1920s.

Although she was born in the barrio 20 de Noviembre, Lupita says her roots are in Tepito. It was there she began experimenting with her equipment while living with the father of her two sons, himself a sonidero.

She developed professionally under the guidance of sonideros Rey De Bajo Sonido Caribali and Sonido de la Changa: El Rey de Reyes.

"My music, my sound . everything comes from Tepito," she said, hugging lanky 8-year-old Zaira Ramos Gutiérrez between her knees.

Ramos often dances during Lupita's performances, showing off her salsa moves as she soaks in the crowd's applauds and adoration.

"We sonideros want to reach out to children, and let them know that we're here for them," Lupita said. "They're the next generation of sonideros."

STRUGGLING, GROWING TOGETHER

Despite more than 50 years of growth and a transnational reach, sonideros still face certain complications, Delgado said, adding that the Sonidero Project began nearly two years ago to tackle such issues.

Sonideros constantly strive for prominence and independence within a world of music controlled by record labels and radio stations, for example, and few artists can support themselves professionally as sonideros.

The movement, which first began in the streets, must now comply with public ordinance permits regulating their often-spontaneous street shows and limiting performance spaces.

In addition, Sonideros must fight the association between their music and the criminal images of their barrios. Tepito, for example, is riddled with crime, drugs and weapons; any movement born from the area carries the same dangerous connotations.

As for Lupita, she faces a struggle unique to only a handful of artists: the gender gap.

"As female sonideras, men don't want to completely open the doors for us, they don't want to let us in - but that's where we're going," she said, smoothing down her short, platinum blond hair. "The life of a sonidera is a fight. You're a mother, a caretaker. You don't get to leave behind your duties."

However, artists and communities are combating such challenges by working together as each other's lifelines. Sonideros share techniques, equipment, ideas and sometimes cash to advance one another's careers.

They're also reaching out to non-sonidero movements.

Jorge "Clorofila" Verdín, an artist within the Colectivo Nortec, said he is glad to play alongside sonideros because both movements share the Mexican dance hall tradition.

"Nortec" combines the norteño and techno music, genres less frequently incorporated by sonideros.

Based out of Tijuana, the five-man collective filled the Santo Domingo plaza last Saturday with quick-pulsing house music and visual displays projected onto a huge screen. The group opened for Sonido Sonorámico to both support the sonideros and to make the crowd move.

The Sonidero Project in Mexico City will continue bringing artists and communities together for the next six weeks, before heading to Puebla for an additional two weeks.

For more information on the Sonidero Project at the Centro Cultural de España en Mexico, visit: elproyectosonidero.wordpress.com.