This week’s blog introduces our readers to another historically rich sonidera scene in northeastern Mexico. Following a previous post on Monterrey’s sonidera history, guest blogger Daniela Hernández Ruiz now takes us to Saltillo, home of Sonido Radio Pirata and the birthplace of cumbia wepa.

by Daniela Hernández Ruiz

“El Gallinero” is the name César and Napoleón give to the space where they produce their radio program, Una esquina, una historia. Every Wednesday, they broadcast Colombian music—cumbia and vallenato—over the Internet, sending greetings to all the gangs in Saltillo, Coahuila, in northeastern Mexico.

There, I met Napoleón, a communication specialist and founder of the Radio Pirata project, which dates back to 1999 and also lends its name to his sound system.

“In my neighborhood, Los Piratas were always around, so I named the sound system Radio Pirata. That’s where my interest in audio really started. I was already involved in social work, bringing people together and organizing dances, which is how I got to know all the gangs in Saltillo.”

In both Saltillo and Monterrey, the defining genres of sound systems and working-class neighborhoods are Colombian cumbia and vallenato. Among their most devoted followers are young people known as colombias.

Napoleón reminds me that Colombian music first arrived in the center of Monterrey and from there crossed the San Luisito Bridge, spreading into what is now known as Colonia Independencia. That is where the Dueñez sound system dynasty resides, recognized as one of the pioneering families in the reproduction of cumbias rebajadas and credited with expanding the genre to San Luis Potosí, Coahuila, and other surrounding states.

According to Napoleón, the Dueñez family has been a driving force in the informal distribution of Colombian music between these territories. In the late 1960s, within this very context, Gabriel Dueñez began selling cassettes on the San Luisito Bridge in Monterrey, recording tropical songs from his vinyl collection—an activity that quickly gained popularity and spread to other parts of the city.

It is significant that, throughout this process, the appreciation for what was once broadly known as tropical music has gradually narrowed, first focusing on cumbia and now on vallenato. Today, this musical taste plays a key role in shaping identity recognition in both Monterrey and Saltillo.

Paseo 2255. Image © Daniela Hernández Ruíz.

The Colombias—street corner youth [1]—are widely credited with blending this tropical sound with DJ culture, remixing, and electronic music. Napoleón, known as “Barra” in the neighborhood, tells me that cumbia wepa first emerged in Coahuila.

The cumbia wepa, or what we call the edited cumbia, was created in Coahuila by Daniel Alejandro (DJ Masta) and me; we are the creators of that genre. Daniel Alejandro started making his mixes, got in touch with me, and we began producing music together, selling folders of edited music to Kiss Sound El Rey del Wepa, Super Changa, Batichica, Internacional Sonido La Cotorra, and other sound systems. That’s how edited cumbia spread. There are many cumbias by Enrique Díaz and Carmelo Torres that, at that time, were not made in four beats; it was the whole orchestra recording together. By extracting key samples of songs, making loops, and adding beats and guacharaca, we turned music that wasn’t danceable into something that could be danced to.

The time Napoleon refers to takes us back to the late 1980s, when Estudio 85, now closed, first opened in Saltillo. It was the first dance hall in the city to play recorded Colombian cumbias, the only one of its kind at that time, and was replaced 10 years ago by Paseo 2255. The latter is a dance hall that still opens its doors on Sundays from 8 pm to midnight to all the gangs in Saltillo, while the edited cumbia from Sonido Radio Pirata plays and the host announces greetings to the gangs through the microphone with a delay effect. The resident sound system at the venue consists of four 18-inch subsonic frequency boxes and two 15-inch double medium speakers, which are often pushed to their maximum power of 136dB, creating a feeling of expansive vibration.

Napoleon aka Sonido Radio Pirata. Image © Federico Jordán.

Napoleon plays there and he recently invited me to their tenth anniversary. Before entering the hall, there is a courtyard where a long line forms to pay and undergo a thorough security check. The majority of the attendees are men between the ages of 10 and 30, with only a few women present. Three types of affiliation to Colombian music can be identified: listeners, dancers, and producers; and three types of audiences: adults, young adults, and jóvenes esquineros (corner youth) (Olvera, 2005, 121).

Upon entering, I walk towards the stage to greet Napoleon at the edge of the room, just a short distance from the crowd that has gathered across the length and width of the dance floor. They are all with their respective gangs, shirtless, and a line of about ten security guards stands in the middle to contain them. Here, it’s not just about marcarla (as the Colombian cumbia dance is called in the northeast of Mexico); the gangs also come to size each other up outside their neighbourhoods and to settle scores. The fights begin with shouting and gestures; during this time, the gang signs are thrown, insults exchanged, and personal challenges issued. One, two, or three members of each gang move quickly along the entire combat line, while others stand proudly with heads held high and arms extended. After this, they rejoin the group, and with short but determined steps, they approach the other gang for an initial exchange of slaps and blows that ends in mere seconds with the intervention of the guards. After the scuffle, they return firmly to their side of the room to continue exchanging insults and dancing, jumping, and spinning in circles.

Corner gang guys at Paseo 2255. Image © Federico Jordán.

The sound system announces over the microphone that someone has left a sneaker behind, asking the person who lost it to come claim it. Just before midnight, the dance floor starts to clear, and those who remain take the opportunity to show off their best cumbia jumps, as if performing kicks and martial acrobatics. And, of course, there’s always the final group photo with everyone throwing up their gang’s signs.

Corner gang guys at Paseo 2255. Image © Federico Jordán.

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Notes

[1] Street corner gangs (bandas esquineras) are made up of working class youth, deeply rooted in their home neighbourhoods, with little aspiration for upward mobility. Within the gang, members have specific roles, along with clearly defined duties and responsibilities. (Whyte, 1972: 19)

About the Author:

Daniela Hernández Ruiz is a criminologist, collaborating in violence prevention projects with a focus on human rights. She works towards semiotic subversion and cultural dissent. She is a dancer and passionate about cumbia.

References

Olvera, Jose. Colombianos en Monterrey. Génesis y prácticas de un gusto musical y su papel en la construcción de una identidad. UANL. México, 2005.

Whyte, William. “Street corner society”. University of Chicago Press. E.U. 1943