You might be wondering exactly what a mariachi is. Here’s a brief overview. I’ve collected some of the corresponding songs on a Youtube playlist. You can listen to my audio version on YouTube.
What Is Mariachi?
Mariachi is a folk music. It seems to have started in the late 18th-century, evolving in small towns in the general area of Jalisco. Even the name is a mystery. No one is sure where it came from. “Mariach,” however, is the name of wood in a native Indian language, and this wood was often used to make the platforms that people danced on for special occasions.
The first mariachis consisted of stringed instruments. Rhythm-wise, the vihuela (which looks a bit like a mandolin) is used for the oomps and the guitarrón (which looks a bit like a stringed bass but is carried across the chest) for pahs. Violins played the melody. With the advent of the radio in the 1920s, trumpets were added in because broadcast beautifully. They’ve been a part of mariachi ever since. For a big concert performance, a mariachi might also include a guitar and/or a harp. Most of the songs, though, are written for three-part harmony in the violin and two-part harmony in the trumpet.
What distinguishes mariachi music besides the instrumentation?
A couple of the rhythms are specific to mariachi: the son (such as “La negra,” “El relámpago,” “Maracumbé”) and huapangos (such as “Serenata huasteca”)
Other rhythms commonly used include boleros (“Bésame mucho”), rancheras (“Cuatro meses”), corridos (“Golpe traidor”), cumbias, and European rhythms such as waltzes (“Alejandra”) and polkas (“Jesucita en Chihuahua”).
What are the songs about?
Some are instrumental such as “El zopilote mojado,” “The Wet Buzzard,” Others might record a special event such a horserace as in “El moro de cumpas.” Yet others are borrowed from other countries or genres “Guantanamera” comes from Cuba while “Cuando, cuando, cuando” comes from Italy.
The main categories of the songs we do include:
1/ I love my country songs
Lots of cities or regions have their own songs. You may have heard “Guadalajara,” for example. Some of the songs are even tongue in cheek. In the “Corrido de Mazatlán,” José Alfredo Jiménez insists that the men are noble and the women are beautiful, and “as long as you forget about the spiders, Mazatlán is great!”
2/ Love songs
The one we take the most requests for is “Sabor a mi.” The problem is that it doesn’t translate easily. Literally, the title means something like “flavor of you,” but that sounds a bit … carnal! For this song, that’s not the intent. Instead the idea has to do with “even in eternity, your lips will carry the traces of my kiss.” Here’s the deal, though. In Spanish it’s perfectly okay to be sappy. When I’m singing in Spanish, it’s like taking on a whole new identity.
3/ She-done-me-wrong songs
The vast majority of mariachi songs are written by men about women. Perhaps it’s understandable that the gist of many of the lyrics is that “since she done me wrong, I now have a terrific excuse to go drink for three days.” Probably the most famous of these is “Volver, volver,” meaning “Come Back.” The idea is that the man wants to come back, come back, come back, to his lover’s arms once again. Hrmph! I lived in Durango, Durango, Mexico, for five years. I loved being there. But I can assure you that most of the guys did not deserve to be forgiven!
The song that I really love to hate, however, is the 1971 hit by José Alfredo Jiménez titled “El rey.” The first verse claims that “even though you’ve thrown me out, I know that you’ll cry and cry the day that I die.” As if! She’ll probably be throwing a party directly after your funeral! The chorus of the song is even worse: “Even though I don’t have a throne or a queen, I’m still the king!” Ugh. That’s not true either! The song drives me crazy. Here’s the silly thing; lots of times even women ask for it—I guess they don’t know what it means!
In Dizzy in Durango, I finally put this song to good use. The bad guy in the novel is crazy about mariachi music and so crazy about “El rey” that he listens to it over and over—he’s like a Mexican Don Quixote! So I finally took my revenge on “El rey,” but I had to sing it 9 million times first.
6/ Revenge songs
These are by far my favorite! For example, there’s the lovely “Serían las dos,” meaning “It Was Two O’clock.” The verse says, “It was two, three, four o’clock in the morning, and I saw you outside your mistress’s window!”
My very favorite of all is the Juan Gabriel song “No vale la pena,” meaning “it’s not worth the trouble.” The song starts “your love for me is so small that it’s not worth the trouble.” But in many Mexican songs there’s a double meaning, and in this one, it’s that something else is so small that …
I love the revenge songs so much that I started writing them. I even recorded a CD, “Diana canta la venganza,” meaning “Diane Sings Revenge.
Where do the songs come from?
They’re so old--who can remember? But often our repertoire comes from the albums of famous singers such as Jorge Negrete and Vicente Fernández.
Other famous songs come from movies. Mexico used to have a thriving movie industry that rivalled the work of Hollywood. Famous singers would star in movies and sing songs that promptly became hits.
The best example is probably Pedro Infante, a drop-dead gorgeous man with an equally gorgeous voice. Although he died in a plane crash at 39, he appeared in some 60 movies! A few of the songs he made famous through film include “Mil amores,” “A Thousand Lovers,” “Cartas marcadas,” “Marked Cards,” “Angelitos negros,” “Black Angels,” and my favorite, “Yo no fui,” “It Wasn’t Me.” “It Wasn’t Me” is a cute, humorous song along the lines of, “Don’t believe what they told you; I didn’t do it!”
Other songs become famous through telenovelas, Mexican-style soap operas. Still others get reinvented when famous modern singers record them. My favorite Spanish-language singer, Luis Miguel, is a perfect example. He’s recorded several albums with mariachi. Thus he’s given a brand-new life to hits such as “Si nos dejan, “If They Let Us,” and more recently “El balajú.”
What’s special about mariachi? It’s tradition! In Mexico in particular, songs are handed down from one generation to another. So people know their grandparents’ favorite songs. That’s wonderful culturally, but it makes our job harder—we’re supposed to know everybody’s favorite song!
Typically we learn by ear, which calls for different skills than learning with printed music. Musically, there’s an interesting dialogue between the trumpet and the violin. With the exception of formal concert performances, we’re right there with the audience as opposed to being far away on a stage.
Often we play under trying conditions: When we’re not dodging waiters or trying to be heard over noisy partiers, we’re wallflowers no one pays attention to! We play requests all the time, which means we have to think on our feet. (Just imagine, you don’t go to the symphony and shout, “Hey, we feel like hearing some Vivaldi!”)
We punctuate people’s lives by playing for parties, weddings, anniversaries, quinceañeras, and even funerals. In general, the spirit of our work is best reflected in the song “Mariachi loco,” “Crazy Mariachi!”
You’re probably saying, I can’t wait to learn more! Then please read Secrets of a Mariachi Violinist, my memoir about learning mariachi and adventures we’ve had performing it.
For everything else, there’s Youtube—and the Andy Veracruz Murder Mystery series about my mariachi violinist. I try to work a lot of small facts into the texts—and some of the best clues!
What Is Mariachi?
Mariachi is a folk music. It seems to have started in the late 18th-century, evolving in small towns in the general area of Jalisco. Even the name is a mystery. No one is sure where it came from. “Mariach,” however, is the name of wood in a native Indian language, and this wood was often used to make the platforms that people danced on for special occasions.
The first mariachis consisted of stringed instruments. Rhythm-wise, the vihuela (which looks a bit like a mandolin) is used for the oomps and the guitarrón (which looks a bit like a stringed bass but is carried across the chest) for pahs. Violins played the melody. With the advent of the radio in the 1920s, trumpets were added in because broadcast beautifully. They’ve been a part of mariachi ever since. For a big concert performance, a mariachi might also include a guitar and/or a harp. Most of the songs, though, are written for three-part harmony in the violin and two-part harmony in the trumpet.
What distinguishes mariachi music besides the instrumentation?
A couple of the rhythms are specific to mariachi: the son (such as “La negra,” “El relámpago,” “Maracumbé”) and huapangos (such as “Serenata huasteca”)
Other rhythms commonly used include boleros (“Bésame mucho”), rancheras (“Cuatro meses”), corridos (“Golpe traidor”), cumbias, and European rhythms such as waltzes (“Alejandra”) and polkas (“Jesucita en Chihuahua”).
What are the songs about?
Some are instrumental such as “El zopilote mojado,” “The Wet Buzzard,” Others might record a special event such a horserace as in “El moro de cumpas.” Yet others are borrowed from other countries or genres “Guantanamera” comes from Cuba while “Cuando, cuando, cuando” comes from Italy.
The main categories of the songs we do include:
1/ I love my country songs
Lots of cities or regions have their own songs. You may have heard “Guadalajara,” for example. Some of the songs are even tongue in cheek. In the “Corrido de Mazatlán,” José Alfredo Jiménez insists that the men are noble and the women are beautiful, and “as long as you forget about the spiders, Mazatlán is great!”
2/ Love songs
The one we take the most requests for is “Sabor a mi.” The problem is that it doesn’t translate easily. Literally, the title means something like “flavor of you,” but that sounds a bit … carnal! For this song, that’s not the intent. Instead the idea has to do with “even in eternity, your lips will carry the traces of my kiss.” Here’s the deal, though. In Spanish it’s perfectly okay to be sappy. When I’m singing in Spanish, it’s like taking on a whole new identity.
3/ She-done-me-wrong songs
The vast majority of mariachi songs are written by men about women. Perhaps it’s understandable that the gist of many of the lyrics is that “since she done me wrong, I now have a terrific excuse to go drink for three days.” Probably the most famous of these is “Volver, volver,” meaning “Come Back.” The idea is that the man wants to come back, come back, come back, to his lover’s arms once again. Hrmph! I lived in Durango, Durango, Mexico, for five years. I loved being there. But I can assure you that most of the guys did not deserve to be forgiven!
The song that I really love to hate, however, is the 1971 hit by José Alfredo Jiménez titled “El rey.” The first verse claims that “even though you’ve thrown me out, I know that you’ll cry and cry the day that I die.” As if! She’ll probably be throwing a party directly after your funeral! The chorus of the song is even worse: “Even though I don’t have a throne or a queen, I’m still the king!” Ugh. That’s not true either! The song drives me crazy. Here’s the silly thing; lots of times even women ask for it—I guess they don’t know what it means!
In Dizzy in Durango, I finally put this song to good use. The bad guy in the novel is crazy about mariachi music and so crazy about “El rey” that he listens to it over and over—he’s like a Mexican Don Quixote! So I finally took my revenge on “El rey,” but I had to sing it 9 million times first.
6/ Revenge songs
These are by far my favorite! For example, there’s the lovely “Serían las dos,” meaning “It Was Two O’clock.” The verse says, “It was two, three, four o’clock in the morning, and I saw you outside your mistress’s window!”
My very favorite of all is the Juan Gabriel song “No vale la pena,” meaning “it’s not worth the trouble.” The song starts “your love for me is so small that it’s not worth the trouble.” But in many Mexican songs there’s a double meaning, and in this one, it’s that something else is so small that …
I love the revenge songs so much that I started writing them. I even recorded a CD, “Diana canta la venganza,” meaning “Diane Sings Revenge.
Where do the songs come from?
They’re so old--who can remember? But often our repertoire comes from the albums of famous singers such as Jorge Negrete and Vicente Fernández.
Other famous songs come from movies. Mexico used to have a thriving movie industry that rivalled the work of Hollywood. Famous singers would star in movies and sing songs that promptly became hits.
The best example is probably Pedro Infante, a drop-dead gorgeous man with an equally gorgeous voice. Although he died in a plane crash at 39, he appeared in some 60 movies! A few of the songs he made famous through film include “Mil amores,” “A Thousand Lovers,” “Cartas marcadas,” “Marked Cards,” “Angelitos negros,” “Black Angels,” and my favorite, “Yo no fui,” “It Wasn’t Me.” “It Wasn’t Me” is a cute, humorous song along the lines of, “Don’t believe what they told you; I didn’t do it!”
Other songs become famous through telenovelas, Mexican-style soap operas. Still others get reinvented when famous modern singers record them. My favorite Spanish-language singer, Luis Miguel, is a perfect example. He’s recorded several albums with mariachi. Thus he’s given a brand-new life to hits such as “Si nos dejan, “If They Let Us,” and more recently “El balajú.”
What’s special about mariachi? It’s tradition! In Mexico in particular, songs are handed down from one generation to another. So people know their grandparents’ favorite songs. That’s wonderful culturally, but it makes our job harder—we’re supposed to know everybody’s favorite song!
Typically we learn by ear, which calls for different skills than learning with printed music. Musically, there’s an interesting dialogue between the trumpet and the violin. With the exception of formal concert performances, we’re right there with the audience as opposed to being far away on a stage.
Often we play under trying conditions: When we’re not dodging waiters or trying to be heard over noisy partiers, we’re wallflowers no one pays attention to! We play requests all the time, which means we have to think on our feet. (Just imagine, you don’t go to the symphony and shout, “Hey, we feel like hearing some Vivaldi!”)
We punctuate people’s lives by playing for parties, weddings, anniversaries, quinceañeras, and even funerals. In general, the spirit of our work is best reflected in the song “Mariachi loco,” “Crazy Mariachi!”
You’re probably saying, I can’t wait to learn more! Then please read Secrets of a Mariachi Violinist, my memoir about learning mariachi and adventures we’ve had performing it.
For everything else, there’s Youtube—and the Andy Veracruz Murder Mystery series about my mariachi violinist. I try to work a lot of small facts into the texts—and some of the best clues!