# data[].attributes.headline
Mexican band Tigres del Norte fined for singing about drug smugglersBy Kate LinthicumMay 25, 2017 at 5:25 PMLos Tigres del Norte were fined after they performed a narcocorrido in Chihuahua Mexico, breaking a law that bans the songs.Los Tigres del Norte were fined after they performed a narcocorrido in Chihuahua Mexico, breaking a law that bans the songs. (Antonio Uribe)REPORTING FROM MEXICO CITY — It was a well-known ballad about Camelia the Texan — a woman who smuggles drugs into the United States and then murders her lover in a jealous rage — that got Los Tigres del Norte into trouble.The wildly popular band played the song — one of their many hits chronicling the lives of drug smugglers — during a packed performance Sunday afternoon in the northern Mexican city of Chihuahua.AdvertisementIn doing so, they violated the one hard and fast rule for musicians who play Chihuahua: No singing about narcos.Now the band owes $25,000 in fines for violating city law.The penalty against the Grammy-winning group is another high-profile salvo in Mexico's war against narcocorridos — a popular genre of accordion-driven norteño music that some Mexicans believe glorifies drug trafficking and violence.A few years ago, Chihuahua leaders made it a crime punishable with fines and jail time to play narcocorridos in public, saying such performances were "acts against public security."

# data[].attributes.subject
Mexican band Tigres del Norte fined for singing about drug smugglersBy Kate LinthicumMay 25, 2017 at 5:25 PMLos Tigres del Norte were fined after they performed a narcocorrido in Chihuahua Mexico, breaking a law that bans the songs.Los Tigres del Norte were fined after they performed a narcocorrido in Chihuahua Mexico, breaking a law that bans the songs. (Antonio Uribe)REPORTING FROM MEXICO CITY — It was a well-known ballad about Camelia the Texan — a woman who smuggles drugs into the United States and then murders her lover in a jealous rage — that got Los Tigres del Norte into trouble.The wildly popular band played the song — one of their many hits chronicling the lives of drug smugglers — during a packed performance Sunday afternoon in the northern Mexican city of Chihuahua.AdvertisementIn doing so, they violated the one hard and fast rule for musicians who play Chihuahua: No singing about narcos.Now the band owes $25,000 in fines for violating city law.The penalty against the Grammy-winning group is another high-profile salvo in Mexico's war against narcocorridos — a popular genre of accordion-driven norteño music that some Mexicans believe glorifies drug trafficking and violence.A few years ago, Chihuahua leaders made it a crime punishable with fines and jail time to play narcocorridos in public, saying such performances were "acts against public security."

# data[].attributes.headline
Did the instruments develop from european, like with the accordian that may have been from Germans brewing beer in Mexico?

# data[].attributes.subject
Did the instruments develop from european, like with the accordian that may have been from Germans brewing beer in Mexico?

# data[].attributes.body
LC

# data[].attributes.headline
Really struck by "heavily decentralized" / "constrantly readjusted" nature of corridos (p43) and notion of everyman, biographer representing communal stories. And how the repietitiveness of the musicality interplays with this accessibility. 

# data[].attributes.subject
Really struck by "heavily decentralized" / "constrantly readjusted" nature of corridos (p43) and notion of everyman, biographer representing communal stories. And how the repietitiveness of the musicality interplays with this accessibility. 

# data[].attributes.body
- Josh

# data[].attributes.headline
Such a long piece, like a novel. Epic to memorize this. Would it be read? 

# data[].attributes.subject
Such a long piece, like a novel. Epic to memorize this. Would it be read? 

# data[].attributes.body
LC

# data[].attributes.body
I'm interested in Chew Sanchez's observation that corridos, especially migrant corridos, are written by men about men; women's existence is marginalized to girlfriend, mother, wife. Lynette

# data[].attributes.headline
I am curious of the lyrical part of the Corridos to bring meaning to the song versus the words. - Cliff

# data[].attributes.subject
I am curious of the lyrical part of the Corridos to bring meaning to the song versus the words. - Cliff

# data[].attributes.headline
La Jaula de oro translations vs here and on the you tube - I'm interested in the ballad aspects - Cynthia

# data[].attributes.subject
La Jaula de oro translations vs here and on the you tube - I'm interested in the ballad aspects - Cynthia

# data[].attributes.body
(question too long to type it all)

# data[].attributes.headline
Could we explore the musicality of the corridos? I experience them as sonic ethnoscapes.

# data[].attributes.subject
Could we explore the musicality of the corridos? I experience them as sonic ethnoscapes.

# data[].attributes.body
Susie

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
I Am Joaquin
by Rodolfo Corky Gonzales

Yo soy Joaquín,
perdido en un mundo de confusión:
I am Joaquín, lost in a world of confusion,
caught up in the whirl of a gringo society,
confused by the rules, scorned by attitudes,
suppressed by manipulation, and destroyed by modern society.
My fathers have lost the economic battle
and won the struggle of cultural survival.
And now! I must choose between the paradox of
victory of the spirit, despite physical hunger,
or to exist in the grasp of American social neurosis,
sterilization of the soul and a full stomach.
Yes, I have come a long way to nowhere,
unwillingly dragged by that monstrous, technical,
industrial giant called Progress and Anglo success....
I look at myself.
I watch my brothers.
I shed tears of sorrow. I sow seeds of hate.
I withdraw to the safety within the circle of life --
MY OWN PEOPLE
I am Cuauhtémoc, proud and noble,
leader of men, king of an empire civilized
beyond the dreams of the gachupín Cortés,
who also is the blood, the image of myself.
I am the Maya prince.
I am Nezahualcóyotl, great leader of the Chichimecas.
I am the sword and flame of Cortes the despot
And I am the eagle and serpent of the Aztec civilization.
I owned the land as far as the eye
could see under the Crown of Spain,
and I toiled on my Earth and gave my Indian sweat and blood
for the Spanish master who ruled with tyranny over man and
beast and all that he could trample
But...THE GROUND WAS MINE.
I was both tyrant and slave.
As the Christian church took its place in God's name,
to take and use my virgin strength and trusting faith,
the priests, both good and bad, took--
but gave a lasting truth that Spaniard Indian Mestizo
were all God's children.
And from these words grew men who prayed and fought
for their own worth as human beings, for that
GOLDEN MOMENT of FREEDOM.
I was part in blood and spirit of that courageous village priest
Hidalgo who in the year eighteen hundred and ten
rang the bell of independence and gave out that lasting cry--
El Grito de Dolores
"Que mueran los gachupines y que viva la Virgen de Guadalupe...."
I sentenced him who was me I excommunicated him, my blood.
I drove him from the pulpit to lead a bloody revolution for him and me....
I killed him.
His head, which is mine and of all those
who have come this way,
I placed on that fortress wall
to wait for independence. Morelos! Matamoros! Guerrero!
all companeros in the act, STOOD AGAINST THAT WALL OF INFAMY
to feel the hot gouge of lead which my hands made.
I died with them ... I lived with them .... I lived to see our country free.
Free from Spanish rule in eighteen-hundred-twenty-one.
Mexico was free??
The crown was gone but all its parasites remained,
and ruled, and taught, with gun and flame and mystic power.
I worked, I sweated, I bled, I prayed,
and waited silently for life to begin again.
I fought and died for Don Benito Juarez, guardian of the Constitution.
I was he on dusty roads on barren land as he protected his archives
as Moses did his sacraments.
He held his Mexico in his hand on
the most desolate and remote ground which was his country.
And this giant little Zapotec gave not one palm's breadth
of his country's land to kings or monarchs or presidents of foriegn powers.
I am Joaquin.
I rode with Pancho Villa,
crude and warm, a tornado at full strength,
nourished and inspired by the passion and the fire of all his earthy people.
I am Emiliano Zapata.
"This land, this earth is OURS."
The villages, the mountains, the streams
belong to Zapatistas.
Our life or yours is the only trade for soft brown earth and maize.
All of which is our reward,
a creed that formed a constitution
for all who dare live free!
"This land is ours . . .
Father, I give it back to you.
Mexico must be free. . . ."
I ride with revolutionists
against myself.
I am the Rurales,
coarse and brutal,
I am the mountian Indian,
superior over all.
The thundering hoof beats are my horses. The chattering machine guns
are death to all of me:
Yaqui
Tarahumara
Chamala
Zapotec
Mestizo
Español.
I have been the bloody revolution,
The victor,
The vanquished.
I have killed
And been killed.
I am the despots Díaz
And Huerta
And the apostle of democracy,
Francisco Madero.
I am
The black-shawled
Faithfulwomen
Who die with me
Or live
Depending on the time and place.
I am faithful, humble Juan Diego,
The Virgin of Guadalupe,
Tonantzín, Aztec goddess, too.
I rode the mountains of San Joaquín.
I rode east and north
As far as the Rocky Mountains,
And
All men feared the guns of
Joaquín Murrieta.
I killed those men who dared
To steal my mine,
Who raped and killed my love
My wife.
Then I killed to stay alive.
I was Elfego Baca,
living my nine lives fully.
I was the Espinoza brothers
of the Valle de San Luis.
All were added to the number of heads that in the name of civilization
were placed on the wall of independence, heads of brave men
who died for cause or principle, good or bad.
Hidalgo! Zapata!
Murrieta! Espinozas!
Are but a few.
They dared to face
The force of tyranny
Of men who rule by deception and hypocrisy.
I stand here looking back,
And now I see the present,
And still I am a campesino,
I am the fat political coyote–
I,
Of the same name,
Joaquín,
In a country that has wiped out
All my history,
Stifled all my pride,
In a country that has placed a
Different weight of indignity upon my age-old burdened back.
Inferiority is the new load . . . .
The Indian has endured and still
Emerged the winner,
The Mestizo must yet overcome,
And the gachupín will just ignore.
I look at myself
And see part of me
Who rejects my father and my mother
And dissolves into the melting pot
To disappear in shame.
I sometimes
Sell my brother out
And reclaim him
For my own when society gives me
Token leadership
In society's own name.
I am Joaquín,
Who bleeds in many ways.
The altars of Moctezuma
I stained a bloody red.
My back of Indian slavery
Was stripped crimson
From the whips of masters
Who would lose their blood so pure
When revolution made them pay,
Standing against the walls of retribution.
Blood has flowed from me on every battlefield between
campesino, hacendado,
slave and master and revolution.
I jumped from the tower of Chapultepec
into the sea of fame–
my country's flag
my burial shroud–
with Los Niños,
whose pride and courage
could not surrender
with indignity
their country's flag
to strangers . . . in their land.
Now I bleed in some smelly cell from club or gun or tyranny.
I bleed as the vicious gloves of hunger
Cut my face and eyes,
As I fight my way from stinking barrios
To the glamour of the ring
And lights of fame
Or mutilated sorrow.
My blood runs pure on the ice-caked
Hills of the Alaskan isles,
On the corpse-strewn beach of Normandy,
The foreign land of Korea
And now Vietnam.
Here I stand
Before the court of justice,
Guilty
For all the glory of my Raza
To be sentenced to despair.
Here I stand,
Poor in money,
Arrogant with pride,
Bold with machismo,
Rich in courage
And
Wealthy in spirit and faith.
My knees are caked with mud.
My hands calloused from the hoe. I have made the Anglo rich,
Yet
Equality is but a word–
The Treaty of Hidalgo has been broken
And is but another threacherous promise.
My land is lost
And stolen,
My culture has been raped.
I lengthen the line at the welfare door
And fill the jails with crime.
These then are the rewards
This society has
For sons of chiefs
And kings
And bloody revolutionists,
Who gave a foreign people
All their skills and ingenuity
To pave the way with brains and blood
For those hordes of gold-starved strangers,
Who
Changed our language
And plagiarized our deeds
As feats of valor
Of their own.
They frowned upon our way of life
and took what they could use.
Our art, our literature, our music, they ignored–
so they left the real things of value
and grabbed at their own destruction
by their greed and avarice.
They overlooked that cleansing fountain of
nature and brotherhood
which is Joaquín.
The art of our great señores,
Diego Rivera,
Siqueiros,
Orozco, is but another act of revolution for
the salvation of mankind.
Mariachi music, the heart and soul
of the people of the earth,
the life of the child,
and the happiness of love.
The corridos tell the tales
of life and death,
of tradition,
legends old and new, of joy
of passion and sorrow
of the people–who I am.
I am in the eyes of woman,
sheltered beneath
her shawl of black,
deep and sorrowful eyes
that bear the pain of sons long buried or dying,
dead on the battlefield or on the barbed wire of social strife.
Her rosary she prays and fingers endlessly
like the family working down a row of beets
to turn around and work and work.
There is no end.
Her eyes a mirror of all the warmth
and all the love for me,
and I am her
and she is me.
We face life together in sorrow,
anger, joy, faith and wishful
thoughts.
I shed the tears of anguish
as I see my children disappear
behind the shroud of mediocrity,
never to look back to remember me.
I am Joaquín.
I must fight
and win this struggle
for my sons, and they
must know from me
who I am.
Part of the blood that runs deep in me
could not be vanquished by the Moors.
I defeated them after five hundred years,
and I have endured.
Part of the blood that is mine
has labored endlessly four hundred
years under the heel of lustful
Europeans.
I am still here!

I have endured in the rugged mountains
Of our country
I have survived the toils and slavery of the fields.
I have existed
In the barrios of the city
In the suburbs of bigotry
In the mines of social snobbery
In the prisons of dejection
In the muck of exploitation
And
In the fierce heat of racial hatred.
And now the trumpet sounds,
The music of the people stirs the
Revolution.
Like a sleeping giant it slowly
Rears its head
To the sound of
Tramping feet
Clamoring voices
Mariachi strains
Fiery tequila explosions
The smell of chile verde and
Soft brown eyes of expectation for a
Better life.
And in all the fertile farmlands,
the barren plains,
the mountain villages,
smoke-smeared cities,
we start to MOVE.
La raza!
Méjicano!
Español!
Latino!
Chicano!
Or whatever I call myself,
I look the same
I feel the same
I cry
And
Sing the same.
I am the masses of my people and
I refuse to be absorbed.
I am Joaquín.
The odds are great
But my spirit is strong,
My faith unbreakable,
My blood is pure.
I am Aztec prince and Christian Christ.
I SHALL ENDURE!
I WILL ENDURE!

# data[].attributes.body
Spanish ballads drawing from the epic tradition that emphasize heroism, war, and chivalry. 16th-17th century in particular. Usually "a narrative poem written in lines of sixteen syllables which adhere to one single assonance throughout." Often four line stanzas rhyming abab or abcb, but other rhymes are also possible. Grows out of devotional poetry and is a popular genre.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
"Legends & Romances of Spain" by Lewis Spence. Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read. Each Good Press edition has been meticulously edited and formatted to boost readability for all e-readers and devices. Our goal is to produce eBooks that are user-friendly and accessible to everyone in a high-quality digital format.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
"Legends & Romances of Spain" by Lewis Spence. Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
A , or ballad, is a form of folk song used to tell a story. Typically, corridos are highly stylized and often romantic ballads that celebrate Hispanic history and culture along the Texas-Mexico border. The earliest border corrido can be traced to Juan Nepomuceno Cortina. Cortina became the first border Mexican hero when he shot an American marshal in the late 1850s for mistreating one of his mother's young servants. This incident led to an open conflict with American authorities. Cortina's actions helped spark a long series of border conflicts, involving legal, political, and cultural clashes between Mexicans and Americans living on both sides of the border. It was during the time of Cortina's revolt that the first such ballads were heard, thereby setting the general pattern of the border corrido. The subject matter of this genre ordinary involved a Mexican, usually outnumbered, defending his right with a pistol in hand against the evil rinches ( Texas Rangers).

Probably the best-known corrido of the entire turn-of-the-century period is "El Corrido de Gregorio Cortez." Although this ballad celebrates an event that occurred a century ago, it is still very popular among Spanish-speaking people throughout the American Southwest and northern Mexico. Typical of ballads in all societies, "El Corrido de Gregorio Cortez" is based on fact, but it also has been richly embellished. The event that inspired it occurred on June 12, 1901, in Karnes County, at the W.A. Thulmeyer Ranch. Gregorio Cortez and his brother Romaldo, who worked as ranch hands on the Thulmeyer property, were approached by Karnes County sheriff W. T. Morris and his deputies John Trimmell and Boone Choate. The sheriff and his men went to the ranch to look for a horse thief who had been trailed to Karnes County. As the sheriff interrogated the Cortez brothers, Choate, who acted as interpreter, apparently misunderstood several of Gregorio Cortez's replies. For example, when asked if he had recently traded a horse, Cortez replied "no." Choate seemed unaware that, in Spanish, there is a distinction between a horse ( caballo) and a mare ( yegua). Cortez, in fact, had traded a mare but not a horse.

As the misunderstanding escalated, the sheriff became convinced that Cortez was lying. When Morris tried to arrest the brothers, Gregorio refused, telling the sheriff, " No me puede arrestar por nada" (You can not arrest me for nothing). Choate misinterpreted this statement as well and reported to Morris that Cortez was saying, "No White man can arrest me." Believing the Cortez brothers were unarmed, Morris drew his gun. Romaldo tried to protect his brother by lunging at the sheriff. Morris shot and wounded Romaldo and then fired at Gregorio, narrowly missing him. Cortez immediately shot and killed the sheriff. Cortez fled the scene and headed for the Rio Grande. He was soon pursued by hundreds of men, including several Texas Rangers. He was able to evade his pursuers for several days but eventually was captured after one of his acquaintances, Jesus "El Teco" González, informed a posse that Cortez was hiding at Abrán de la Garza's sheep camp in Cotulla. On June 22, 1901, Cortez was arrested and taken to San Antonio.

The Cortez incident quickly came to symbolize the ongoing border conflicts, and the ballad that it inspired helped establish the Mexican corrido as a means of expressing racial and cultural tensions along the border. As Cortez eluded his captors, they only grew more determined to capture and punish him. However, Cortez also gained a huge following of supporters, especially from within the Hispanic population, many of whom began to view him as a hero. Those who admired him pointed to the fact that, on the run, he had walked nearly 100 miles and ridden more than 400, while being pursued by search parties of up to 300 men. By the time of his arrest, Cortez had killed two sheriffs and evaded capture by numerous posses. Most of his supporters feared that he would not receive a fair trial. He was sentenced to life in prison. However, when he eventually won early release, many of his admirers saw this as the final triumph of justice. Because of his remarkable ability to prevail against great odds, Cortez came to be seen as an almost mythic symbol of heroism to many Hispanic people in Texas and Mexico. His heroic exploits and his triumph over a legal system that seemed biased against Mexican Americans have been celebrated for decades through "El Corrido de Gregorio Cortez."

Numerous ballads have derived from the original corrido. It was these different variants that were responsible for the growth of Cortez's image as a folk hero. It is widely believed that the original version of the Cortez corrido was written as the drama was unfolding by an unknown guitarrero who performed the ballad in various cantinas along the border. Soon after Cortez's capture, other variations of the corrido appeared. Some of the earliest expressed the concern that Cortez would never be given a fair hearing:

Between Cortez's capture and his sentencing, from 1901 to 1905, the corrido grew increasingly popular and could be heard on ranches, in bars, and at public gatherings throughout the Southwest. In at least a few cases along the Texas side of the border, singers sometimes were arrested, beaten, or even lost their jobs if they performed it in public.

The corrido was sung in different variations and in different areas for distinct reasons. Nevertheless, the Cortez case united Mexicans and Mexican Americans in a common cause that caught attention as far away as Mexico City, where a broadside ballad of Cortez was used to collect funds for his defense. Through the corrido, Cortez ostensibly was able to appeal directly to the audience for contributions. Along the border and in Texas, however, there is no evidence that the ballad was used to collect funds. For the most part, the border corrido focused more on Cortez and his deeds and less on trying to resolve a seemingly hopeless situation. Many Mexican Americans saw Cortez as the kind of hero they needed.

Cortez entered the Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville on January 1, 1905, to begin serving his life sentence. After his imprisonment, the ballad soon fell into the category of old corridos about past events. Not until his release from prison in 1913 was "El Corrido de Gregorio Cortez" revived. This was the time of the Mexican Revolution, and, with Cortez's release, the ballad generated immediate interest, especially along the lower border, where there was a demand for such heroic themes. In numerous ways, Cortez personified the spirit of the border strife. Over the next few years, the original corrido continued to evolve and be reinterpreted into countless versions. By the 1920s, details had become less important, and the focus was directed more toward the general story of Cortez. During the 1940s the corrido continued to be a favorite among Mexican guitarreros and the Spanish-speaking public. In 1958 historian Américo Paredes examined the legend of Gregorio Cortez in a book, With His Pistol in His Hand: A Border Ballad and Its Hero. This study helped to popularize the story again among the Mexican-American population and to reintroduce Cortez to the Anglo-American public, thereby stirring up some old controversies. A former Texas Ranger even threatened Paredes and claimed that he wanted to "pistol whip the son-of-a-bitch who wrote that book." In 1982 Hollywood made a movie entitled The Ballad of Gregorio Cortez. The Cortez corrido can still be considered the prototype of the border-conflict ballad.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A , or ballad, is a form of folk song used to tell a story. Typically, corridos are highly stylized and often romantic ballads that celebrate Hispanic history and culture along the Texas-Mexico border. The earliest border corrido can be traced to Juan Nepomuceno Cortina.

# data[].attributes.body
English lyrics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSO6pnZRwSc

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Los Tigres Del Norte - La Jaula De Oro (Con Letra)