Have you ever heard of the folk singer from the early 70’s
known as Rodriguez? He released two albums back-to-back. His record producers
also worked with such well-known and esteemed acts as Michael Jackson, Marvin
Gaye, and other big Motown hits of the era. That’s because Rodriguez was based
in Detroit and, well, any big record producer in Detroit in the early 70’s
certainly worked with a big Motown act. Rodriguez sold half a million records,
was nationally popular, and his music spearheaded a national political
movement. You still say you’ve never heard of him? That’s because the only
popularity he ever had was in South Africa. The president of the now-defunct
record label that put out Rodriguez’s records says he probably sold about six
copies in the U.S. No one associated with Rodriguez ever knew of his immense
popularity in South Africa.
It is the subject of the documentary Searching for Sugar Man, a British and Swedish co-production from
Swedish director Malik Bendjelloul. The legend in South Africa says that
Rodriguez’s music was introduced by an American traveler visiting a boyfriend
and it was passed around in bootleg copies, becoming hugely popular and
eventually spurring the revolution that dissolved apartheid due to the freedom
local musicians felt after taking his lyrics to heart. But the people of South
Africa, his fans, knew nothing about Rodriguez. There were no newspaper or
magazine articles, no interviews, nothing. Later, when his records were
properly released, they discovered the liner notes provided no additional
information on the musician. So when mystery shrouds an artist, what follows
are legendary stories of his untimely demise, which in this case centered on
dramatic on-stage suicides.
In the 90’s, two men started investigating what happened
to Rodriguez. One was a music journalist and the other was a big fan who was
asked to write some liner notes for one of Rodriguez’s album releases. They
eventually discovered something that no one in South Africa expected. The movie
coyly builds to this point, this big revelation, although if you’ve seen the
trailer or read the Wikipedia entry on Rodriguez, you won’t be so surprised. SPOILER: Rodriguez isn’t dead. What
happens after they discover this fact is what sets the documentary alight and
makes everything that came before resonate more deeply.
Through the film’s first hour we listen to men including
Rodriguez’s producers, his colleagues in construction, South African music
historians and journalists, and members of a band in South Africa that used his
music as a jumping off point to feel free to write anti-establishment music of
their own. We hear them all speak in elevated language and tone about the
brilliance of his music and the great mystery of his lack of popularity in the
States. We hear South Africans refer to him as something akin to the voice of a
generation. The mythology extends to basically making Rodriguez personally
responsible for the end of apartheid. This seems a little far-fetched and the
grand praise from everyone grows repetitive if you’re a bit incredulous as I
was. That is until you see him perform, finally, before a crowd of 20,000
adoring fans in Cape Town.
Bendjelloul lays out the facts in a concise, and
precisely told, story that charts Rodriguez’s short career as a recording
artist, picking up again in another part of the world with people trying to
ascertain his ultimate fate. It’s a real hoot to see awe-inspired fans and
musicians talk about him and then get to meet him, talk to him, and see him
perform. Best of all for American audiences is that because Rodriguez is not
known, we get to watch as objective observers. The documentary is devoid of any
personal feelings we might bring to a documentary on The Beatles, for example.
So the film becomes a portrait of fandom and adoration.
It’s actually not that hard to understand why his records
didn’t sell in this country. His music is good, and to my nearly middle-aged
ears that now long for more grown up sounding music with meaningful lyrics, it
sounds like something I might enjoy listening to. But the more songs you hear
on the soundtrack and the more they repeat the best two or three, the more you
realize his music’s a little flat and not all the surprising or interesting,
especially when you consider he was a folk music-writing Bob Dylan retread a
decade after Dylan had already become hugely popular. Add to that a Hispanic
name on the album cover, which was likely to lead people to believe it was
Latin-influenced music (there is no Latin influence anywhere in his music).
Maybe if, like Ritchie Valens’ producer in the late 50’s, they had given him an
Anglo-sounding pseudonym, he might have sold more records. Sad as that may seem
to us, a more enlightened 21st century audience, it is a cold fact
if you’re coming from reality.
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