A superficial delve into my new favorite thing, Corridos Tumbados

Corridos Tumbados

The musical sub-genre of corridos tumbados is my new favorite thing, though perhaps not the lyrics, but the trumpet, the guitar, the raw voices. It makes me feel, taps into something ancestral. It first started to percolate into my consciousness when I realized one day that our neighbor, Eder, had been playing Peso Pluma every single morning during our visit to Puebla.  I normally have very little appreciation for neighbor imposed music, for some reason though, Peso Pluma and his anthem “Ella baila sola” have been able to transcend this rigid preference. 

Czech Waltz + German polka = something Polish

On one such morning, or was it the evening, I decided it was time to scratch at this pestering itch and delve superficially into the online world of corridos tumbados. Turns out, according to one man and his one YouTube video, that the corridos have roots in the czech waltz and German polka! I did the agonizing math, (czech waltz + German polka) and came to = something polish. Finally, it all made sense.  Years of wondering this earth, a decade in the enchanted land of Mexico, all this time I’ve been searching for bits of pieces that would bring me back to my motherland of Poland.

Hand shook and vision blurred

After this realization I became obsessed. Every morning I would lie in bed with coffee in hand awaiting impatiently for my new anthem to ring out from the neighbor's 4 foot speaker and flutter up towards our rooftop like a magical fairy telling me everything is going to be alright. But on the days when Eder happened to change his musical preference to Mexican rap or Banda, my inner world would spin out of control, my hands shook and my vision got blurry. Thankfully though, my Popoka quickly toggled to his messenger account and, with a few swift finger taps, brought my world into cohesion again.

"The view from our bed in his mother's house", Acrylic on Canvas, 2023

A counter-spell

Upon our return, it was of outmost importance that I make a playlist to bring to my studio, to splash the paint in rhythm, to sing out of tune. It helps me to leave the world behind, be in the moment and open my heart. quiet the voices in my head and ignore those sad little thoughts that lurk around the corners and hide under the tables plotting my demise. I will have none of it, I say to myself. Turn on the music and let the brassy notes of corridos tumbados fill my fearless, tender heart.