All about a man called Sugar Man

In one of our most amaz- ing experiences this year, we got to know about a singer- songwriter whose story could teach lessons to anyone on how life should be lived to its fullest.

Our journey towards this came by sheer accident last May 1 in Madrid, Spain. Of course, we knew it was Labor Day but were nonetheless jolted to find a dead city downtown. Folks drinking beer to accompanying jamon serrano told us that the only other place open was a strip of artsy cinemas showing foreign films from all over the world. We chose a documentary titled Searching for Sugar Man, which featured a Mexican-American who looked like Freddie Aguilar and also like Freddie, had his taste of fame.

Last Feb. 24, before an audience of a billion people, the name Sixto Rodriguez as star of Searching For Sugar Man won the Oscar for Best Documentary, a record-breaker in the 85 years of the Academy Awards, where only a handful of music-oriented films have won the documentary prize.

But this is getting ahead of our story. The documentary touched us in a way no other of the same genre ever did. Born July 19, 1942 to Detroit immigrants from Mexico with a hardworking-class background, Rodriguez had become entranced by his father’s heartbreaking songs of love in Spanish played on the guitar. Clearly, the father was a big influence on his son’s latter life.

The young Rodriguez went to school at Detroit’s Wayne State University, playing his songs at school events, focusing on movies and music. By 1965, Motown had put Detroit on the musical map with The Beatles and Rolling Stones, while Rodriguez found his turf in small gigs at out-of-the-way bars thriving on anti-social, anti-mainstream behavior. Eventually, word reached the ears of Detroit-born Dennis Cof- fey and partner Mike Theodore, then employed by Harry Balk who ran a record company. “When Ro- driguez came in, he was like some strange character who sang with his face to the wall, his back to you,” chuckles Theodore while recalling his unorthodox performing style. “Rodriguez was counter-culture, but when he opened his mouth you were just blown away. His melodies are simple, but his lyrics are explosive. They were the kind of things you could paint musical landscapes to.” The producers were so confident of their material, released the song to radio and awaited orders of vinyl. That never came. A second album was released with worse results hat they were shocked and disap- pointed.

Fast forward to several years later in South Africa, home of apartheid where the youth, choking under military rule had discovered the songs of Rodriguez and adapted them as their anthem. In America, no one knew of Rodriguez, but out there in Africa his songs were selling like hotcakes. No one knew how they got there, nor who he was and where he lived. The mystery surrounding him gave way to anecdotes of legendary proportions, including one that told of his last performance where he had set himself on fire onstage.

Meantime, someone who had vis- ited South Africa returned to America with these stories. A journalist elated by possibilities of a story put out a call for anyone who knew anything about Rodriguez. In Detroit, daughter Eva Ro- driguez read the inquiry and confirmed that her dad was very much alive, was still playing occasionally but had a regular job working on home repairs.

This led to an invitation to visit South Africa to give a show, and we saw vid- eos of screaming fans who wept at the sight of their idol, singing his familiar songs while plucking at his guitar. One thing led to another, more concerts around South Africa, more screaming fans, until a documentary was shot, submitted to the Academy Awards and as they say, the rest is history.

Through the documentary, which featured interviews of Rodriguez, his neighbors, children and his producers, we got a fuller understanding of Rodriguez, now known as Sugar Man, the person, and we’re even more impressed. As far as he was concerned, nothing much had changed in his life. He had gotten married and had children, but lived in the same house, and was concerned with giving them a good life. His children got the best education, which he himself supervised personally. He brought them to museums, theater, movies and taught them to respect what hard work brought. Neighbors still see him walking to his work on home repairs.

Since 1998, again in 2001 and recently in 2004, Rodriguez returned to per- form in South Africa. People wonder how he treated these invites since they didn’t seem to change his life. Rodriguez dis- avows this impres- sion, answering: “Music’s been my salvation. I can’t impress that enough,” he explains. When Tony Bennett was asked if he ever gets tired of sing- ing I Left My Heart in San Francisco, he told them the song gave him the keys to the world. When asked if he was happy singing songs he wrote 40 years ago, Rodri- guez, too, answers, “Oh yeah, they gave me the keys to the world!”

The carrier single Sugar Manof his album Rodriguez Cold Fact is a paean to all disenfranchised, anywhere and anytime. Some of the lyrics give one an idea of how he delivers his message:

Sugar man, won’t you hurry... ‘Cos I’m tired of these scenes. For a blue coin, won’t you bring back all those colors to my dreams...

Silver magic ships you carry; Jumpers, coke, sweet Mary Jane...

Sugar man you’re the answer that makes my questions disappear.

Sugar Man, Sugar Man, Sugar...

(E-mail me at bibsymcar@yahoo. com.)