In San Diego, the taco shop
is an institution. From fast lunches to after-hour munchies,
San Diegans flock to order up their carne asada burritos and
rolled tacos with cheese and guacamole. And salsa?
". . . Salsa
el choque
chipotle
la chispa
ese, tu chile
tu fruta, tu amor."
(Salsa
the crash
chipotle
the spark
that one, your chile
your fruit, your love.)
- from "Salsa,"
by Miguel Angel-Soria
Sitting down for a meal
at any one of these havens of speedy Mexican cuisine, one can
witness an interesting cultural heterogeneity: business types,
construction workers, teachers, children, even homeless people
all gravitate toward the nearest shop to satisfy their hunger.
According to the Taco Shop Poets, "Taco shops are places
where people eat, talk, and leave behind social and class barriers
in search for the perfect carne asada burrito. [They] have become
the new meeting places for a cross-section of society."
Taco shops are places where the reality of pluralism enters our
psyches and we can no longer close our eyes:
". . . we live in a
world
where the topless sex bar
and taco bell make people
feel
they have a shell from hell.
. .
we live in a world
where the closing of your
eyes
means everybody dies."
- from "Anda,"
by Miguel Angel-Soria
"The Taco Shop Poets
was originally a series of poetry readings that were sponsored
by the Centro Cultural de la Raza," explains Miguel Angel-Soria,
one of the four poets, along with two musicians, who make up
San Diego's Taco Shop Poets. "It was meant to be just that,
a series of readings by random poets from San Diego, Los Angeles,
and Tijuana in taco shops. But after the series was over, we
decided, some of us that had participated, 'Hey, why don't we
make this a regular thing?' And here we are, six years later."
It was a gradual progression
that took a loosely knit group of voices and molded them into
a smaller group of focused individuals: Adrián Arancibia,
Adolfo Guzmán, Tomás Riley, and Miguel Angel-Soria.
"The original readings went on for a month. People went
in and out. The majority of the people participated only in the
first set of readings. From there we decided to make it a regular
thing -- but not everyone wanted to."
As the group shrunk in number,
its dynamics continued to shift as the poets attempted to find
the right combination of styles and attitudes. "We've gone
through so many changes," says Angel-Soria. "We've
been an almost all-women group. I was one of only two males with
eight women. We've had up to 16 people in the group. We've been
anything and everything you can think of. We've had older members
in the group, middle aged people. We've had the very young people
who hadn't even graduated from high school yet, 16, 17 years
old. It was a very diverse, multi-generational, multi-sexual
oriented [sic] group. We covered it, man."
After this period of frequent
change, the Taco Shop Poets decided a year and a half ago that
it was time for some stability. "We were going to gigs not
knowing when or who to rely on. There was always this core group
of people. So some members were asked to leave and we went through
a little purge and we whittled it down to this; we acquired the
musicians, and other people left in time for various reasons."
In addition to solidifying
the troupe of poets, they took it upon themselves to add another
dimension to their performance: live music. "We are fortunate
to have these [musicians: Michael Figgins and Kevin Green]. They're
both great, professional jazz musicians," says Angel-Soria.
"They have a great understanding and they're also very generous
in the sense that they let us play up the scene -- ham it up,
if you will. For me, I'm the so-called artistic director of the
group, and my challenge has always been to show them off more.
It's difficult."
The Taco Shop Poets' new
CD, Chorizo Tonguefire, offers listeners not only the sounds
of the poets reading their aggressive-yet-stylish work, but some
pretty fine musicianship, as well. "If you listen to the
CD, we have basically two musicians aside from the flute player
who sat in. For most of the pieces, it's just those two guys
going to work like there's no tomorrow."
The group has also published
its first book -- by the same name -- which presents an anthology
of their work. Also included are the works of many of the poets'
collaborators -- their "partners in rhyme."
Chorizo is an example of
the type of material the Taco Shop Poets perform as they continue
to slowly, but surely increase their audience. "We've been
reading in taco shops literally all over the country and also
across the border. Wherever we go, whichever city we visit, we
make sure to do a taco shop. Those are free readings. Whoever
shows up, whoever happens to be there at that time, gets to experience
our show. There are very diverse reactions -- from people loving
it to people walking out and saying, 'What the hell is this shit?'"
Regardless of the response,
the group continues to make headway in the Latino market as well
as mainstream America. "We get a lot of universities and
cultural centers, some festivals. . . that's pretty much our
stronghold," Angel-Soria says. "Sometimes for cultural
festivals people book us. We just recently started breaking into
the straight-ahead music scene. We just did a festival up in
L.A. and we went on right after the Black-Eyed Peas. We've done
Street Scene. Tomorrow, we're doing a performance for Second
Language Educators (bilingual teachers).
"I think one of the
unique things about us is that we can do that. One day we're
opening for the Black-Eyed Peas and the next we're doing a show
for a group of teachers. I don't think many performers can say
that."
While the Poets' double-edged
delivery can be powerful, it's that same split personality that
leads to some inconsistent perceptions of the group. "People
don't know what to make of us," Angel-Soria admits. "We
have music, but we also have poetry. We do different types of
music and it challenges the notion of classification that people
have the tendency for. 'Well what do we do with these guys? They
read poetry at taco shops -- where do they fall in the music
bin?' I think it's a little more than spoken word."
Perhaps most promising of
the Poets' current endeavors is their inclusion in the upcoming
Edward James Olmos-produced film, Americanos. "It's a documentary
dedicated to showing Latino life throughout the U.S. The book
version is basically the Latino answer to Life magazine's 'A
Day in the Life.'
"According to Edward
James Olmos, we're not going to be disappointed in the segment
in which we're to appear," adds Angel-Soria.
Initially intended as an
HBO special, Americanos is now slotted to make the rounds at
film festivals before airing on HBO in March. It was good news
for the Poets -- as they now have their collective spatula at
more
than one grill. They feel
it's time for the rest of the country to share in the phenomenon
that we in San Diego know as the taco shop.
"I think this country's
dying for more of those projects," says Angel-Soria. "Unfortunately,
we don't have enough of them."
As the turn of the millennium
nears, America faces the reality of being home to the largest
population of Latinos outside of Latin America. The Taco Shop
Poets cast away the confrontational notions of the majority becoming
the minority, or the tendency of the majority to shun minorities.
Instead, they suggest that it's time to look into ourselves and
at what
our country has once again
become: a place of the people, not a flag, nor a president, nor
immigration policy -- but of Mother Earth and God's creatures.
". . . a fleshy chain
of ants
enter the stomach
of our earth
again
hiding maiz
so that we may look
inside our land to eat."
- from "Muerte y Maiz
(Death and Corn)," by Miguel Angel-Soria
See the Taco Shop Poets
at a free show, Oct 9th at 7 p.m. in the Gaslamp at the Culy
Bldg., 338 7th Ave[, San Diego, CA.]
