Texas Wesleyan’s mariachi ensemble, Mariachi Oro Azul.
Dedicated educators across the U.S. are bringing mariachi to young musicians, and creating an exciting future for music.
Once again, my travels have put you, the reader, in my thoughts, and my recent trip to Texas inspired me to share more about a sound that has been a big part of my life—one that many musicians and guitarists appreciate for its musical stylings. I’m speaking of one of the more popular ensembles of Mexico, mariachi!
I could write an article on each of the instruments used in a mariachi ensemble, but for now, I want to briefly mention them before focusing more on the impact of this music, with a look at some of the amazing educators bringing it to young musicians.
Although a mariachi ensemble (not a mariachi “band”—you wouldn’t say orchestra “band”) can have variations of the instruments used to make up the grouping, the following configuration is most common. In the armonía or rhythm section, you will have any or all of the following: a nylon-string guitar, Mexican vihuela, guitarra de golpe, guitarrón, and Jalisciense harp. The melodies are played by a violin section, and a trumpet plays countermelodies. I’ll circle back on the armonía instruments in later articles, but right now, I want to talk about music education.
I have the privilege and honor of working alongside some of the most devoted teachers around the United States: music educators. Whether for band, orchestra, choir, or mariachi, these are the people who are bonding with our children, staying late for rehearsals, and going to competitions or performances through weekends and summers. Their long hours and dedication are truly unmatched—one could argue sports coaches do the same, but unlike most sports, music has no season. It continues all year long.
“Their long hours and dedication are truly unmatched … Music has no season. It continues all year long.”
I could highlight dozens of educators who have helped mariachi grow in schools, from Richard Carranza, former chancellor of New York City Schools; to Albuquerque Public Schools’ fine arts director Gina Rasinski; to Katie Dudley, who is growing a program on a shoestring budget in Waukegan, Illinois’ public schools. But in Fort Worth, Texas, there are two leaders who are infectious in their ability to impact students from middle school to post-secondary: Ramon Niño and Wendy Martinez.
Often having had to fight battles to succeed, Niño and Martinez managed to find great support from their high school’s principal and the school’s director of fine arts. Niño and Martinez’s ensemble, Mariachi Espuelas de Plata, has performed across the country, from Carnegie Hall to Nashville to Hershey, Pennsylvania, as well as with top professional mariachi ensembles. Last year, legendary jazz trumpeter Arturo Sandoval joined them on stage for a performance in San Antonio. I’ve been proud to help them introduce new programs at universities like Texas Christian University and Texas Wesleyan University’s Mariachi Oro Azul, through my budget-friendly La Tradición string-instrument line. To see the eager response of college students, many of whom have never played in a mariachi, is truly amazing.
I asked Ricardo E. Rodriguez, dean of Texas Wesleyan’s School of Arts and Sciences, for his thoughts on their mariachi program. “The presence of Ramon Niño and Wendy Martinez has not only provided a basic music foundation for the Mariachi Oro Azul, but they have established a culture of family and inclusiveness as well as the recognition that music crosses all boundaries,” Rodriguez says.
While we have seen hints of mariachi in popular music in the past with songs like Blondie’s “The Tide Is High” and its mariachi trumpet stylings, the wave is larger and stronger than ever now. More and more, I’m noticing that labels are signing Black and Latino artists to genres like country music, a genre where their presences on main stages have been relatively rare. I get calls from artists looking for mariachi musicians to play on their tracks, and hybrid versions of mariachi are popping up on the stage at the Grand Ole Opry with acts like Stephanie Urbina Jones & the Honky Tonk Mariachi. I see these as the knock-on effects of the programs and teachers that have helped introduce mariachi into learning spaces.
The roots and influences that help shape music’s future start at home and in the classroom. Opening students up to forms of music from other cultures helps enrich not just their lives, but ours, too. Thank god for our music teachers, and those who support them.
I met my guitar teacher, Mike Hoover, when I was in 8th grade. Forty years later, I’m still learning from him.
“For us to live any other way was nuts." —Ray Liotta as Henry Hill in Goodfellas
Never imagined I'd be here, but currently I'm homeschooling my 4-year-old daughter. Teaching has taught me that beneath my Zen Hippie Cowboy façade lies a rigid nerd, weirdly unforgiving and bad at concealing my frustration at both myself and the student. I'm the kind of uptight teacher I would've dreaded as a kid. My incompetence makes me appreciate the good teachers I've had in my life.
For a person who doesn't seem particularly bright, I've spent a surprisingly long time in school (17 years). In all that time, not a single educator taught me a fraction of what my guitar teacher, Mike Hoover, taught me.
I met Mike in 8th grade. By then I'd been playing violin (poorly and mandatorily) in the school orchestra for four years. My mother had also signed me up for group guitar classes during the summers, where I learned my basic chords. Sitting in a circle strumming “Tom Dooley" felt about as fun as math class. Sensing this was going nowhere, mom signed me up for private lessons at Hansen Music, a local music store where electric guitars and amps lined every wall, and long-haired dudes in bell bottoms hung out and jammed, sometimes past closing time. Mike greeted us at the front desk looking like a member of the Outlaws and smelling like he'd just smoked a left-handed cigarette. I was a little surprised my mother left me in his care. Like that old Buddhist proverb: “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." Mike was my guy.
In the first lesson, Mike sat across from me with his tobacco-burst Les Paul Artisan and showed me the first position of the pentatonic scale. Mike explained how you can make your fingers dance around that box and come up with melodies. I played some chords while he ripped some blues. It was the first time I saw lead guitar up close: Truly, at the time, this was coolest thing I'd ever seen. Then he said, “Now I'll play the rhythm and you take a ride." That was when playing notes became playing music—something I'd never experienced in four years of orchestra.
My brain's reward system gave me a serious hit of dopamine and I felt positively high. I've been chasing the dragon ever since. This set me on a lifelong, often ill-fated, wildly frustrating yet immensely satisfying journey. For better or worse, this is where I belong and I'm grateful to be living my life rather than one of the other more obvious, yet ultimately wrong, options. I'm thankful to my mother for being cool and to Mike Hoover for the guidance.
Not only did Mike unlock music, he taught me you can actually make a pretty decent living playing it. To illustrate the point, he hired me to play in his band and paid me way more than I'd ever made in my many crap teen-friendly jobs. Gigging with Mike revealed the working musician's playbook. Mike taught me to appreciate guitar craftsmanship and tonewoods, and to write off gear purchases on my taxes. He taught me to wear something cool onstage so you look like you're in the band, not a member of the audience (and write-off those clothes as well). Mike taught me to tip when somebody pours you a drink, even if it's on the house. Perhaps most importantly, Mike taught me that being a musician means you're selling fun, so have as much fun as possible, and if you're not having fun, pretend you are and usually the fun will kick in. He also cautioned me about having too much fun and taught me how to overcome a hangover. My father calls Mike my music father; that's accurate.
I called Mike tonight to tell him about the 1980 Gibson L-5S I recently purchased. In 9th grade, Hansen Music had this guitar on the wall. At first I thought it was just a Les Paul. Then Mike pointed out the deep-carved, figured maple back with a matching wooden control cover, the ornate binding wrapping the thin body, and the 3-piece L-5 maple neck with abalone inlays running up the ebony fretboard to the flowerpot on the bound headstock. I've wanted one ever since and can't believe I bought the same guitar I saw 40 years ago. As an added bonus, the L-5 had been played for decades by a local guitar hero, Ron Schuster (whom I mentioned in my last column). Mike pointed out that Ron's mojo is on this guitar. Civilians think the concept is nonsense but we know that the mystical is real. When I offered to send the guitar to Mike, he laughed and said, “No man. If I don't play my two Les Pauls, they get mad at me and start acting up. They always get resentful if I leave them alone too long." Four decades later, this guy is still teaching me. Mike is the Zen Hippie Cowboy: I remain the student.