One day, in his adolescence, César Castro came home at night, battered from a fight. With the lights off in his house, he wanted to go unnoticed so his mom wouldn’t see him.
“I went to take a shower. In those popular neighborhoods in Veracruz, people turn off the lights because of the heat and to save electricity, so I thought she wouldn’t see me. But my mother sensed it. She said, ‘He comes from the street and goes straight to shower, ajá!’ She took care of my wounds and talked to me. My mother has always been ‘esos angelitos’ whose voice I heard in my right ear. That helped me stay on the right path, with discipline and facing life’s challenges,” says César, a renowned exponent of son jarocho in Southern California.
Castro, a recipient of one of the grants from The CA Creative Corps Fellowship at Community Partners, is not only a promoter and exponent of son jarocho but has also dedicated a significant part of his 20 years in California to conducting workshops in schools, prisons, and cultural centers.
“I think I learned this from my mother and being a member of the Mono Blanco group. We must always aim to transmit our music, but with discipline and community interest,” he says.
In the summer, he travels to his parents’ town, Tlalixcoyan, Veracruz, where he gives free workshops to the population.
Since his childhood, this musician born in Veracruz was exposed to music. “We lived in a working-class neighborhood, and music is a part of the city. Toña ‘La Negra’ and ‘Negro’ Pellegrino were born in the neighborhood. They rehearsed for the carnival in front of my house. From childhood, it has been a part of my life,” he adds.
His mother, Martha Beatriz, played a significant role in his upbringing. From a young age, she would take him for walks to the city center, where he was exposed to more music. He played on the waterfront, loved watching the boats.
“You hear music everywhere. In buses, you also saw the ‘hombre orquesta’ who played several instruments at once. Life was on the streets; in Veracruz, we live with open doors,” he says.
He seriously considered becoming a musician at the age of 16, having already played the jarana for three years. “That’s when you face the dilemma of what to do with your life. At 13, I went to find a friend to play soccer, but he was in jarana class. I picked it up, gave it the first strum, and had a sensation that shook me. It was very intense, and my teachers Andrés Alfonso Vergara and Chuy Sandoval took care of the rest,” he recalls.
Since then, playing the jarana became an obsession. He attended classes with Andrés and then went to workshops with the legendary Mono Blanco group, one of the foremost exponents of son jarocho in the world.
This musician, seemingly destined to be a great exponent of this music, at the age of 16, was already included in a tour by Mono Blanco to Houston and San Francisco. At 17, he was already in charge of Mono Blanco’s workshops in Veracruz.
Tours began, everything was well-coordinated, a lot of coming and going, so he decided to stay for a while in Mexico City. With a solid career ahead, he left school and decided to dedicate himself to music.
However, at the age of 27, he decided to take another turn in his life… and his career. He left the Mono Blanco group.
“I always wondered if there was something more, I said, ‘What would I be without Mono Blanco?'” he says.
An invitation came to him to work on a project with none other than the Quetzal group. He was a recognized jarana player, and they knew they could trust him. He had discipline, talent, and would contribute a lot to what they planned to do.
“That voice, ‘la angelita de mi mamá has always accompanied me. Her expressions of love had their effect. Music also served me; if I arrived late to Mono Blanco rehearsals, they made it known. That wasn’t right,” he adds.
His arrival with Quetzal helped him reach another stage in his career. The Folklorico Floricanto group was part of the project.
“I learned new songs, other genres, transformed my jarana with a pickup. These musicians are wonderful; they play anything,” he says.
He briefly returns to Mexico to later have Quetzal’s representative secure a work visa for him, and he decides to return to Los Angeles for five years; he has now been there for 20 years.
Initially, he played with Quetzal and also started giving workshops in different places.
“We have to give back to the community,” he adds. “In schools, sometimes students look at me strangely, laugh, but when I start singing, they are surprised. I tell them, ‘You like rap, singing son jarocho is like rapping,’ and they laugh.
“There was already an understanding of what son jarocho was. It connected very well with Latino communities. Son jarocho has a lot to do with subversive ideology, with social justice. We have a parallel struggle,” he says.
Castro has given life to numerous groups; he also teaches classes and workshops in various locations in Los Angeles, on social media, in prisons.
“I found my passion in teaching. It would be a big mistake to abandon it,” he adds.
In the summer, he travels to his parents’ town, Tlalixcoyan, Veracruz, where he gives free workshops to the population.
“We have to give back to the community,” he adds. “In schools, sometimes students look at me strangely, laugh, but when I start singing, they are surprised. I tell them, ‘You like rap, singing son is like rapping,’ and they laugh.
In January, he starts a continuing education course with his wife Xochitl Flores, Eduardo Martinez, and Tamara Martinez, as part of the grant he received.
“It’s called ‘Tarima y Tambor’; we will bring together son jarocho, fandango, and Afro-Colombian percussion. We must seek social relevance, social justice. Music and dance are health,” he concludes.
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