VERACRUZ, Mexico — In the historic Gulf Coast port city of Veracruz, musical pride resonates hourly as the clock tower bells ring out “La Bamba.” This is not the rock ‘n’ roll adaptation popularized by Ritchie Valens in 1958, but rather the traditional tune that has echoed through the region for centuries.
“It’s our hymn,” said one long-time musician regarding the song, which serves as the signature track of son jarocho, a regional musical genre deeply tied to Veracruz’s identity.
Son jarocho is performed at fandangos, joyous community fiestas that have existed for more than 300 years. These gatherings emerged from the diverse population along Mexico’s Gulf Coast following conquistador Hernán Cortés’s establishment of Veracruz as the country’s first port in the early 1500s. The music represents a fusion of European, Caribbean, and Indigenous influences.
While interest in these traditions has grown globally, Veracruz remains the epicenter for authentic experiences. During a mid-August Saturday night event, attendees endured the lingering coastal heat to watch dancers perform on wooden platforms. Women in floral dresses and men in traditional jarocho straw hats and sweat-soaked shirts pounded out rhythms with their heels.
Musicians played a variety of instruments, including the quijada—a donkey jawbone scraped and slapped to create rattling sounds—and the jarana, a small eight-string guitar native to the area. As the night progressed, audience members joined the initial trio, swelling the group to dozens of players strumming in a mass jam session.
The performance of “La Bamba” often extends far beyond its standard length. Tacho Utrera, a Grammy-winning jarocho musician and instrument maker, noted that while 15 minutes might seem lengthy to outsiders, it is merely a fraction of what occurs at larger events. In nearby Tlacotalpan, fandangos can feature up to 80 musicians, with the song and dancing continuing for an hour or more as dancers rotate continuously.
This vibrant resurgence stands in stark contrast to the 1960s and 70s, when son jarocho fell out of favor and was dismissed as low-brow music. Gilberto Gutierrez, a founding member of the seminal band Mono Blanco and a key figure in the genre, recalled a time when the music was associated with drunkenness and many musicians abandoned their instruments or moved to Mexico City in search of work.
Today, however, the tradition is experiencing a renaissance, with cultural centers and workshops preserving the craft of instrument making and performance for new generations.
From being called low-brow to a cultural renaissance, that resilience is what makes this tradition so powerful today.
Why does nobody talk about the quijada? That donkey jawbone rhythm is the heartbeat of the genre.
It is amazing that stomp percussion is still alive. You can feel the history in every footfall.
Eighty musicians playing for an hour is incredible. I had no idea the tradition was this extensive!
I grew up in Veracruz and nothing beats the energy of a live fandango. Truly our soul.