AS MAGA HEARS it, the sound of the border is the trill of gunfire and the cry of trafficking victims. For others, it is a lot more heartwarming: the toot of the trumpet, the strum of the guitarrón, the yelp of the grito, the stomp of patent-leather boots. It is the sound of a bunch of Texan high-school students playing mariachi, for love and for course credit.
Instruction in mariachi—the most Mexican of genres—is popular and getting more so in border states. Over 120 public schools in Texas teach it. The best ensembles come from the Rio Grande valley. Interest is growing in other places with big latino populations, too. In Nevada the number of students taking mariachi class in the Clark County school district, which encompasses Las Vegas, is 8,200, up 40-fold in 20 years.
Mariachi’s popularity is a story of migration and diaspora: a third of Texans have Mexican heritage, and one in four of them were born outside America. Jalen from Lubbock practises her vihuela (a stringed instrument) for five hours a day and says that through it she expresses her culture, “which is Hispanic, Mexican and all that”.
Not all players see it this way—some just love the music. Nithila, who was born in India, and Chloe, who is black and from Georgia, got into mariachi at their school near Houston because they found orchestra “monotonous”. Judges at competitions, such as a recent one in Seguin, note the diversity that the girls bring to their troupe. Daniel, a trumpeter, gets called güero, or white boy. He is from the border city of El Paso; playing mariachi “brings me home”, he says.
The uptake reflects a very American tendency: to take extracurriculars to the next level and get fiercely competitive about them, even when few students plan to go professional. This happened long ago with what school music directors call the “big three” (band, orchestra, choir), not to mention sports such as American football.
In mariachi’s case, it is also the result of a decades-long and distinctly American effort to formalise its teaching in academic settings, says Lauryn Salazar of Tarleton State University. Now there is a pipeline of licensed mariachi teachers who graduate university, then get jobs in schools. In Mexico, by contrast, instruction tends to be vocational and at specialised institutes. “Our mariachis are learned; they have degrees,” says Dahlia Guerra, who started a university programme in Texas in 1989. Americans say Mexicans see the scene north of the border and wish they could match its resources and calibre in their schools.
That a folkloric tradition has become so popular among American teenagers is sweet and amusing. The repertoire calls for a wide vibrato and is full of ballads about homeland, beautiful women and life on the ranch. Rural concerns are common themes, such as that feeling when your cow runs away or your vegetable cart breaks down. Pablo, a high-school senior with frosted tips, appreciates that mariachi channels all emotions. “You could cry, you could laugh,” he says. “You could dedicate a song to someone. Like an ex.” Whereas musicians in a symphony orchestra focus on their sheet music or their conductor, says Dr Guerra, mariachis “look into the eyes of their audience”.
Still, the genre is undeniably old-fashioned. Asked about her favourite mariachi style, Azucena, who plays the guitarra de golpe in her school’s varsity ensemble, mishears the question and answers: reggaeton. ■
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