Joan Baez talks about her Hispanic heritage

http://www.mercurynews.com/eyeheadlines/ci_13342904

By Andrew Gilbert
Posted: 09/17/2009

For Joan Baez, Spanish is the language of opportunities missed and 
seized, a neglected birthright that also made her a beloved icon 
during Latin America's dark days of military rule.

Growing up in an age of assimilation, when old-country languages were 
often shed without a second thought, Baez heard her Mexican-born 
father, the late physicist Albert Baez, speaking Spanish around the 
house, but she never mastered the language.

Considering the family's itinerant ways, moving regularly around the 
United States, Europe and the Middle East because of his work with 
UNESCO, perhaps it's not surprising there was little time for home 
lessons, though Albert Baez did make an initial effort to teach the basics.

"I remember he made these little stick-figure cartoons of the vowels, 
like a man with his hands cupped around his ears for 'e,' " says 
Baez, 68, a five-decade resident of Woodside.

Despite Baez not learning the language as a child, Spanish has played 
an important role in her music from the very beginning of her career. 
After her star-making appearance at the 1959 Newport Folk Festival, 
she released her self-named Vanguard Records debut, a haunting 
session of blues and folk ballads, including the Mexican lament, "El 
Preso Número Nueve" ("Prisoner Number Nine"). Looking back, Baez 
acknowledges that including a song in Spanish wasn't a coincidence.

"I learned it off an album I heard at my boyfriend's house while I 
was pretending to be in school," she says, referring to her brief 
tenure at Boston College. "I knew I could imitate any language, and 
yes, maybe it's significant that I chose Spanish. I knew it was in my 
blood. I wasn't going to learn a German song."

When she returned to "Número Nueve" on her 1974 Spanish-language 
album "Gracias a la Vida (Thanks to Life)," Latin America had taken a 
dire turn, with military regimes perpetrating widespread human rights 
abuses. Baez recorded the album as a gesture of solidarity with 
Chileans persecuted after the 1973 coup.

A song that made a particular impression was "Te Recuerdo Amanda (I 
Remember Amanda)" by Chilean songwriter Victor Jara, who was tortured 
and killed in the bloody days after Salvador Allende's overthrow.

"At that point the music became a part of me," says Baez, who was 
outspoken in her opposition to U.S. foreign policy in Latin America. 
She never let her support for progressive causes compromise her sense 
of identity, though, an independent streak that a radical Chicano 
group discovered when it tried to push her on its bandwagon.

"This is typical of my stubbornness," Baez recalls. "I was working 
with César Chávez, and these Brown Berets wanted me to say with them, 
fists in the air, 'Brown power!' I raised my fist and said, 'Not any 
more than I feel Scots power,' " a reference to her Scottish-born mother.

With her performance at the San Jose Mariachi and Mexican Heritage 
Festival on Sept. 25, Baez is again looking to make connections 
through Spanish. She plans on sizing up the festival audience to 
decide her set list, figuring that if faces look familiar she'll draw 
from her recent albums focusing on contemporary songwriters. She's 
also ready to delve more deeply into her Spanish songbook. Either 
way, she sees the festival as an opportunity to expand her audience 
and repertoire.

"I'm there to learn," Baez says. "I don't know much of anything when 
it comes to mariachi. I told Linda [Ronstadt, festival artistic 
director], 'I'm here to support you.' "

Baez's band is on the spot, too. She tours with Irish guitarist John 
Doyle, who's also her music director, ace bassist Todd Phillips, her 
son Gabriel Harris on percussion and multi-instrumentalist Dirk 
Powell (a leading expert on Appalachian fiddle and banjo and 
accomplished Cajun-style accordionist).

"John's a fantastic musician, but he's got to cram for anything to do 
with Latin music," says Baez, noting that when Doyle's not performing 
with her he often works with traditional Irish fiddle master Liz 
Carroll. "I told him he's got to put down the fiddle."

Whatever creative opportunities Baez can explore at the festival, 
there's one connection she won't be making. Other obligations mean 
that she's going to miss Carlos Santana's tribute to César Chávez on Sunday.

"We've been talking about working together for years," Baez says. 
"This would have been a great opportunity, but I'm missing him by one 
day. That's OK, I know it'll happen."

.


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