Ken Burns Hates Mexicans

Chicano Art

Chicano art collective Asco makes the cover of Artforum. Very badass.

Inside the mag is a must-read discussion of Los Angeles art, the scene, the work, the history, and, suprisingly, critiques of L.A.'s sometimes Anti-Mexican sentiment as well as a reference to the killing of Ruben Salazar by LA County Sheriff Deputies in 1970. What tha--?!

Now how did a mention of the Chicano Moritorium make it in an art conversation about “center/periphery” and the "conceptual grasp of the mass entertainment"? Because one of the roundtable contributors was Acso co-founder Harry Gamboa Jr., who can throw down and contextualize with the best of them:

The term radical was an official governmental epithet under COINTELPRO that effectively neutralized dissent and creative acts during the ’60s and ’70s and into the ’80s. My late-twentieth-century experiences with Asco in East LA were in the eye of that storm. Performing in the streets was interspersed with threats of official violence and other punitive actions.

Decoy Gang War Victim is an Asco image that I photographed in 1974. It shows a young man stretched out, seemingly lifeless, across an East LA street lighted by road flares emitting reddish sparks and by the bluish hue of mercury vapor lamps. The resulting 35-mm color slide was delivered to various local TV stations and accompanied by the notice that the “last gang member” had been killed, thereby ending violence in the barrio. The image was televised by at least two TV stations. The project was a response to the incendiary tabloid-style journalism of the two major Los Angeles newspapers, which often listed the names, addresses, workplaces, and gang affiliations of victims or their family members in an effort to maintain high levels of reciprocal gang violence, thus selling more newspapers. The desired effect of Decoy Gang War Victim was to generate a pause in the violence in order to rob the newspapers of their daily list of victims.

Art and politics and Chicano. Cheeky, que no?

The Films of Efrain Gutierrez

Here’s how you make a no-budget narrative feature film:

Spend a year writing and rewriting a screenplay. About 100 pages or so. Don’t pay yourself. Organize about 30 friends to show up at 6 AM to work ten hour days. Persuade them to do this for free. Next, convince total strangers to let these 30 or so friends into their home or place of business to use their living room as a movie set. Again, for free.

Repeat every day for two or three weeks. It’s a wrap. Congratulations, you are now 1/3 of the way done. You now have to edit the film, prevail upon musician friends to donate songs for the soundtrack, for free, and dodge creditors.

Did I mention? It’s the mid 1970s. There is no such thing as HD video. No Final Cut Pro. No websites with handy low-budget production tips. Instead, dozens of rolls of 16mm film have to be shipped to a lab hundreds of miles away for processing. If that living room scene comes out too dark (or not exposed at all), too bad, you cannot afford to reshoot. There is no Fed Ex. No Sundance premiere as mythic goal justifying it all. No cell phones to wake oversleeping actors.

Imagine making this feature length film with no training, no PBS grants, and no rich uncles. Indie role models to emulate don’t exist yet: Spike Lee is still in Junior High; Jim Jarmusch not yet in film school; Slacker, and the so-called birth of the American independent film movement, still 15 years off. You have no choice but to invent DIY cinema as you stumble along.

All you know for certain, from the very beginning of your long strange trip, is this simple fact: At the end of the day, at the end of your struggles, Hollywood will not buy your movie. It will not screen in mainstream theaters. It will never play on TV. You are Chicano. They are not interested in your life. You live in the West Side of San Antonio. Your subject matter is the inner-city community around you.

This simple fact does not deter you.

To get fellow raza to see your film -- and they will, by the thousands -- you will have to pack your single, precious movie print, all that you could afford, into the trunk of your car and drive the countless miles from Texas to California, renting theaters along the way, charging tickets at the door. You eke out a profit. You are exhausted. Your personal life in shambles.

You do this again. Three times in five years.

Welcome to the world of independent filmmaker Efrain Gutierrez.

Live! From Guadalajara, Mexico...

Vexing: Female Voices from the East L.A. Punk, just opened last night in Guadalajara, Mexico, as part of the city's big annual bookfair. This current edition of Vexing, a hybrid show of historical objects and contemporary art, film and video, is an encore presentation from the original exhibit held last year at the Claremont Musuem of Art.

I have a couple of films in the show, was at the opening, rubbed shoulders with L.A. mayor Antonio Villaraigosa (who, I discovered, like most Hollywood actors, is way shorter in person), and met legendary punk rockers Alice Bags and Teresa Covarrubias. Interesting show. Free champagne in real glass flutes. Met a bass player from a Journey tribute band AND a guitar player and drummer from a Kiss tribute band -- all of them female. Ran into artist Shizu Saldamando. Great night.

Tonight is an outdoor concert featuring the Sirens, straight outta Highland Park, LA; Chicana punk rock supergroup Las Tres; and Lysa Flores. Pics to come. Until then, here's a video about the OG Vexing show starring my fave Pflugerville academic Colin Gunkel.

UPDATE: Turns out Colin's been blogging all week about the Vexing show...photos, videos, commentary. Here's a clip from the opening where the camera walks through the rooms. That's me, by the way, at 0:17 talking to Lysa Flores. Antonio Villaraigosa is nowhere to be seen.

Some Kind of Raza

My favorite moment in the Metallica documentary Some Kind of Monster was when Lars, James, and Kirk told Robert Trujillo he would be the legendary band's new bass player. A reaction shot of the exuberant Trujillo, literally jumping around in delight like a ten year old kid, demonstrated the joyous power of rock and roll, never mind the heaviness of metal, or the menacing, hulking, beefy, Brown, long-haired metal musician.

Prior to his current Metallica gig, Trujillo was  best known as the bass player for the Venice hardcore/punk band Suicidal Tendencies, a distinctly L.A. group where lead singer Mike Muir often dressed like a cholo. As the band's second bass player, Trujillo fucking rocked on Suicidal's post-punk, metal thrash period, and the influence of Trujillo's funk based leanings clearly heard on the band's then evolving sound. 

Yesterday the new inductees for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame were introduced. Metallica was among them. There will plenty of time in the future to debate the merits of the band's inclusion, but for now, let us praise Roberto Agustin Trujillo, a Mexican American in the Hall of Fame.

So go here to see the audition sequence from Some Kind of Monster. Highly, highly recommended, not only as great documentary filmmaking, but an insightful discussion by Lars et al which articulates the unique musical and technical bass stylings of Trujillo. And I leave you with a clip of a Trujillo bass solo, an extended opening of Metallica's For Whom the Bell Tolls. Classic.

UPDATE: Ooops. My bad. It seems I jumped the gun. An astute reader has corrected me on my error. The RNR Hall of Fame list, of which Metallica is only one of the nine names, are the nominees. Not the five inductees. They will be announced later. So let's keep a vela lit for Mr. Trujillo. And also for fellow nominee War, of Lowrider fame.

Set Your TiVos for Some Secret History

Since my favorite rock and roller of all time is probably Alejandro Escovedo, I'm sure you've read the various gushing fan boy posts I've scribbled on the Texas native these past two years on KBHM. Apologies for repeating myself, but the guy is fucking badass. I caught him this past Monday night at the Troubador in L.A. (Variety review here) and homeboy did not disappoint. Big guitars for days, references to Mott the Hoople, Iggy Pop -- and when was the last time you heard someone who used to hang out with Sid Vicious at the Chelsea use the word Chicano in a joke criticizing both George Bush and the stupid wall our government is building on the border?

Opening for Alejandro were Carrie Rodriguez, Austin transplant now living in Brooklyn, and fellow alt rocker Texas native David Garza, who joined Escovedo for his encore songs, including a weird and wonderful version of the Stones Beast of Burden. Talk about a post-brown boho lineup. Ed Morales would be proud.

After thirty plus years of under-the-radar cult acclaim, and a reputation as a musician's musician, Escovedo recently signed with Springsteen agent Jon Landau. In record time, a YouTube clip of Al jamming with the Boss began making the rounds, he's getting some mainstream press, NPR interviews, a gig at the Democratic National Convention (very badass first person account of the night here), and tonight Escovedo will perform on the tonight show. All good things come to those who wait, even 57 year old rockers. I leave you with a two clips of Alejandro, first from 1997 and a performance of his song Gravity, and second, a thrashing cover of Iggy Pop's I Wanna Be Your Dog. Rock on.

Another Secret History

Carolina Gonzales from the very fine Soundtaste blog posted an interesting story in the context of the California Supreme Court's decision this week to allow gay marriages. Another Secret History, and another example of my theory that if you throw a rock at most any historical social and/or political event in U.S. history and you'll hit a brown person. Carolina's post is too delicious not to post in its entirety:

I have to admit, I only read the headlines in California's Supreme Court gay marriage decision this week.

So I did not notice the revealing tidbit that Gary Dauphin footnoted a couple of days ago: the Supremes' decision was largely based on the 1948 case Perez v. Sharp, which challenged interracial marriage bans way before Loving v. Virgina (1967) and involved a Mexican American woman and a Black man.

The reason the couple was denied a wedding license and the case went to court was that Andrea Perez was considered "white." Gary posted her picture. I'm re-posting it here. If she's white, I'm downright Aryan.

Like Mendez v. Westminster, the anti-school desegregation case that predated Brown v. Board of Ed by almost a decade, Perez v. Sharp was also a key precedent-setter with Latino plaintiffs that crowbarred the door open to extend fundamental civil rights to others.

Gary argues that it's no coincidence that this case (I would argue both cases) took place in the other state I consider home, California. This supports Roberto Lovato's theory that California is ground zero for Latino-led radical social change in this country.

Yet another instance in which we are erased from the history of fighting for American civil rights, human rights. Been here all along, time to make sure others notice.

And while we're on the subject of law and order let's not forget the equally precedent-setting case of Hernandez v. Texas, a 1954 case argued before the Supreme Court by Gus Garcia, which decided that Mexican Americans and other racial groups had equal protection under the 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. Garcia's argument was considered by Chief Justice Earl Warren one of the best ever presented before the court. Of course it's been lost. Oh well.

I have to admit, I only read the headlines in California's Supreme Court gay marriage decision this week.

So I did not notice the revealing tidbit that Gary Dauphin footnoted a couple of days ago: the Supremes' decision was largely based on the 1948 case Perez v. Sharp, which challenged interracial marriage bans way before Loving v. Virgina (1967) and involved a Mexican American woman and a Black man.

The reason the couple was denied a wedding license and the case went to court was that Andrea Perez was considered "white." Gary posted her picture. I'm re-posting it here. If she's white, I'm downright Aryan.

Like Mendez v. Westminster, the anti-school desegregation case that predated Brown v. Board of Ed by almost a decade, Perez v. Sharp was also a key precedent-setter with Latino plaintiffs that crowbarred the door open to extend fundamental civil rights to others.

Gary argues that it's no coincidence that this case (I would argue both cases) took place in the other state I consider home, California. This supports Roberto Lovato's theory that California is ground zero for Latino-led radical social change in this country.

Yet another instance in which we are erased from the history of fighting for American civil rights, human rights. Been here all along, time to make sure others notice.

The Brown Buffalo

Came across this clip of Oscar Zeta Acosta live, reading from his book, The Revolt of the Cockroach People. A rare glimpse of the man, the myth, the legend.

The Zelig of Rock and Roll

In my view, no Mexican American performer better embodies the notion of Secret History and/or Phantom Sighting than Alejandro Escovedo. During his long rock and roll career Escovedo was present at the birth of West Coast punk in the late 70s; opened for the Sex Pistol's for the legendary English band's infamous last gig at the Winterland in 1978, hung out with Sid and Nancy in the days before the couple's last days at the Chelsea; invented cowpunk with his NYC band Rank and File; helped form in the mid 80s what we now know at the Austin music scene; all the while creating some of the most heartfelt rock and roll all under the radar of the national media. From a link where you can hear Alejandro as he is best heard: live in front of an audience:

Born into a large Mexican immigrant family in San Antonio, Escovedo was heavily influenced by his father, who loved music and often sang in local mariachi bands. His career began with The Nuns, a mid-'70s punk outfit from San Francisco; later, he co-founded the country-influenced punk band Rank and File. He began to make a name for himself in True Believers with his brother Javier, with national tours supporting the likes of Los Lobos, and his solo career took off with 1992's critically acclaimed Gravity. Since then, Escovedo has recorded eight albums under his own name, in the process winning numerous awards and accolades, including "Artist of the Decade" from No Depression magazine.

One of my favorite cover songs of all time is Escovedo's transcendent take on the Mott the Hoople classic All the Young Dudes. Just a few days ago Alejandro played with Bruce Springsteen at the Boss's Houston concert. Several friends have sent me the link. I share it with you now. And for further Alejandro clips to enjoy go here to see him perform my second favorite cover song of all time, Escovedo's version of Iggy Pop's I Wanna Be Your Dog; and in a Must See clip go here to see a story on the old 80s MTV show The Cutting Edge highlighting one of the biggest and baddest big guitar bands in rock and roll history, The True Believers, which Alejandro fronted with his brother Javier. Chicanos with Guitars. Badass.   

The Day the Music Died

Ooops. I forgot to mention yesterday another significant event of March 31. So here it is, a day late, and I'll let another one of the entries from our "The Truthful History of the Conquest of Nuevo Aztlan" explain it all:

March 31, 1997 1995
Corpus Christi, Texas
Tejana singer Selena is gunned down at a Day's Inn motel. Mainstream media outlets from the BBC to the New York Times try to understand why sixty thousand mourners file past her casket in eleven hours. People magazine publishes a special issue devoted entirely to the life of the fallen singer. This had been done only twice before, after the deaths of Jackie Onassis and Audrey Hepburn. The Selena issue easily outsells them both combined. Soon after, the company launches People en Espanol A market is noticed.

And I'll end, via Perezhilton, with this way cool fan tribute video.

Even More Phantom Sightings

Four more entries from the Phantom Sightings timeline written by Ruben Ortiz and myself. The official title of our piece is called "The Truthful History of the Conquest of Nuevo Aztlan." It's supposed to be funny and ironic. Oh well. In any case here are some art inspired entries and a music video visual aid. The show opens this week. I'll still be in New York. Someone attend and please get back to me with Opening Night chisme:

1979
Los Angeles, California
Newly arrived Mexican immigrant, and art school student, Guillermo Gómez-Peña wraps himself in a serape, binds his body with rope, and lies in an intentionally pathetic heap on the floor of a well-traveled elevator in a downtown Los Angeles office building for twenty-four hours. Uncomfortable yuppies in business suits ignore the performance, titled Loneliness of the Immigrant. Twelve years later the MacArthur Foundation awards Gómez-Peña a fellowship, one of the so-called “Genius Awards.”

1988
Compton, California
California rap group NWA releases Straight Outta Compton and forever changes the iconic, East Coast hip-hop style of Adidas track suits, Kangol hats, and large gold chains to the more cholo style of Pendleton shirts, baggy khaki trousers, bandannas, and tattoos in Old English fonts. Two years later Arturo Molina, better known as Kid Frost, releases the classic hip-hop album Hispanic Causing Panic, featuring the single ‘La Raza.’ In the accompanying music video, Chicano nationalism goes MTV as lowriders, bigotes, gang signs, Dickies, the Aztec calendar, and other barrio signifiers, are beamed into surburban gringo dens from Orange County to Long Island.

July 7, 1993
Seattle, Washington
Mia Zapata, lead singer of the influential rock band the Gits, is murdered in a dark alley just as the national press discovers the so-called grunge movement of the Pacific Northwest. Artistic contemporaries of Nirvana and Pearl Jam, Zapata and the Gits will not enjoy a major-label record deal, never get MTV airplay, and never grace a Rolling Stone cover. A phantom sighting.

2002
San Antonio, Texas
Pedro Herrera, the son of Mexican immigrants, hosts a hip-hop show on his Trinity University college radio station. In the dark anonymity of the studio the quiet scholarship boy transforms himself into Chingo Bling, a trash-talking rapper with a voice described as “somewhere between B-Real’s nasel tone, Tony Montana’s fierce growl, and you cousin Pepe’s Mexican accent.” With his Nike-swoosed ostrich boots, black cowboy hat, platinum teeth, and often holding his beloved pet rooster Cleto (not to mention an entrepreneurial empire that includes Chingo Bling bobble heads, spring-break “Girls Gone Wild”-type DVDs, and a line of Tamale Christmas ornaments), the self described “ghetto vaquero” and performance artist out-Gómez-Peñas Gómez-Peña.