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When I was out walking the other day, this song began to play on the list Spotify had created for me. It’s not a new song, but music is a living, breathing art form that affects the soul, and I suddenly heard the lyrics for the first time. Or, I should say, they impacted me for the first time. It is, I guess, my current theme song. I will post the lyrics and a video below. Yes, of course I’m now learning to play it on the accordion. It’s by Los Cadetes de Linares. I don’t have the energy to translate it for you. I don’t do that when I listen to songs, anyway. Head translation is a difficult hurdle to leap over when conversing in a second language. I can happily say on some level I understand song lyrics I’m familiar with and don’t have to go through the tedious process of translation. Anyway, most people know at least a little Spanish these days. The English-only movement in this nation seems to be dying with the boomers and silents. It was always a stifling stance, albeit one that colonizing nations use to defeat other nations — any language suppression, that is, not just English-only. The Spaniards obviously used this tactic, too, or Latin America wouldn’t speak Spanish. This is because language is an essential part of culture.

I didn’t start this meaning to be so long-winded. I have no moralistic attitude towards colonizing nations; this is simply the history of the world. I have rather more an educative attitude towards it. Speaking multiple languages is a valuable skill; why be so snooty about speaking only one? My own grandparents were like this, despite being otherwise lovely, generous Christian people. I sorely wish I could be a better conversationalist in Spanish, but I often remind myself I’m awkward at having conversations in English, too. That’s all I have to say. The song says everything else. Well, almost everything else. Like so many norteño songs, it’s a lost-love song from the masculine perspective. Ultimately, what matters is the concept of new beginnings, turning over a new leaf — which is the English idiom matching the title and sentiment of the song. Life gives us crossroads at critical junctures — do we remain on the same path, even if it’s grown dark and weedy and impossible to traverse, or do we turn down a new one? In the context of the song, he chooses the new path. I have been so tired lately, and I have found myself halted at the crossroads. That’s the reason I haven’t written anything here. Also, I discovered I hadn’t worked on my book about the delivery-driver detective for over a month, even though he is currently my favorite protagonist, and his face haunts my mind. My life is an empty book. Yours? Is it empty, too? I used to listen to bedtime stories made for insomniacs. Maybe life is closer to these stories than to an empty book: meandering, turning, never ending until death with no heightened climactic moments. I prefer to see life as a library with many completed stories, and fresh, bright empty ones waiting to be filled.

Es inútil que vuelvas
Lo que fue ya no es
Es inútil que quieras
Comenzar otra vez

No interrumpas mi vida
Ya no te puedo amar
Solo sé que tu boca
No la vuelvo a besar

Tengo un libro vacío
Y lo voy a empezar
Tengo sed de caricias
Tengo ganas de amar

Hoy comienza mi vida
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Hoy me enseña la vida
Que me quiera ella más

Es la historia de siempre
Un amor que se fue
Y yo espero mañana
Comenzar otra vez

Sin rencor ni temores
Quiero vivir en paz
Quiero encontrar mi suerte
Y no dejarla jamás

Es la historia de siempre
Un amor que se fue
Y yo espero mañana
Comenzar otra vez

Sin rencor ni temores
Quiero vivir en paz
Quiero encontrar mi suerte
Y no dejarla jamás

La decisión más importante…

…es, ¿cuál marca de acordeón debería comprar? When I first started playing, the decision seemed obvious. The most common student accordion is the Hohner Panther, and its sound is surprisingly nice for a cheaper instrument. Hohner is a trusty brand of German-made accordions, though I’m guessing the Panther is cheaper because it’s made in China.

As a self-taught musician, I’m no expert on brands. I can only listen and follow what sounds magical to my ears. That was why I chose a Gabbanelli to replace my Hohner. I realized that most of the musicians I enjoy play Gabbanellis. I also listened to numerous videos of people demonstrating the various brands of accordions, and I tended to prefer the Gabbanelli sound.

But now I’m considering buying another accordion, and I’m wondering if I should buy a different brand. I could return to the Hohner brand with an upgrade from the Panther. The Hohner Corona was originally designed with Flaco Jimenez in mind, and as far as I know, he’s always played Hohners. So did Celso Piña when he was alive; they’ve now developed an accordion called the Rebelde after him. The band Los Tigres del Norte also prefer Hohners. Again, the company has an accordion in honor of this legendary band. For the record, I find Los Tigres a little too whiny and brassy for my taste, but I have still loved a good many of their songs over the years. Their repertoire is enormous, and I can’t judge an accordion brand over their whininess.

Then, to confuse me further, the Cantabella is the brand I’ve seen my latest favorite band, Los Dos Carnales, playing. Their songs have a wonderful sound. I would love to hear that sound when I play. Not that it ever works that way precisely. I never sound exactly like other musicians. Some people are good imitators. I’m not. I’m not proud of this because it means I’m deficient at hearing and replicating. By the way, Ramón Ayala also plays Cantabellas. He’s a poster boy for that brand. But he also plays Gabbanellis. His iconic Mexican flag accordion bearing his name is a Gabbanelli. One of them is, anyway. The other is a Cantabella. The Gabbanelli has little fish on it. I will always recognize those iconic little fishes. My Gabbanelli has the little fishes on either side of the brand name. See below this post OR below this paragraph. His little fish are surrounding his name.

The acordeonista for another favorite band, Calibre Cincuenta, plays a Dino Baffetti. Speaking of sound quality, it’s hard to beat this accordion. The creator of the Acordeonísticos site I subscribe to for tutorials plays a Dino Baffetti in recent years and might even be a sales rep for the brand. I’m pretty sure I read that on one of his social media sites. Not being on social media sites (except this one), I don’t pay regular attention to anyone. When I was looking into subscribing, however, I read his other sites. I’m guessing this brand is in the same price range as the Gabbanelli accordions, but it’s hard to tell, as they don’t post prices on their site.

Yes, this post was mostly an excuse to write about accordions, despite that I don’t have an audience that cares or is in the market for one. All of that is immaterial, she said with a snooty wave of her deft, accordion-playing fingers. I want to buy one; I’ve been pinching my pennies to afford another. However, what I thought would be an easy decision is not. I plan to visit the Gabbanelli store this summer (yes, there is only one store in the entire world that sells them). Maybe I will be so overwhelmed by the bling that I will never buy another brand.

Los mejores de los mejores

It’s long past time that I make a list of my favorite acordeonistas. I mean, it’s really not, but I won’t let that stop me. Obviously, I’m coming at this from a different perspective than most. I didn’t grow up with the music I love. I tuned in one day to the Mexican channels because all the other music playing on the radio in Albuquerque bored me to tears. But when I paused on the Mexican channels, it was like magic to my ears. The accordion. The brass. The vocals.

In the early days, I did a lot of exploring, looking up the bands I’d hear on Radio Lobo (the other Mexican channels never lasted long, but Radio Lobo has remained) and buying the CDs. Seriously. I have a giant collection of Norteño CDs somewhere. Out in a box in the garage, probably. I also did what I used to do with my life: research. It’s hard to believe that approach to the world was appealing to me at one time. I wrote essays in both Spanish and English about the history of Tejano and Norteño. I did presentations on the music for my classes at UNM–Southwest History 120 or Spanish 400 or whatever it was. The response to my obsession from professors and students was general bewilderment. That’s nice Jill; you do you. What a dumb way to be. Never again.

I’ve decided recently that I want to be completely braindead. Like, if I were the Scarecrow in Wizard of Oz, I would sing I would while away the hours, talking to the flowers, singing in the rain, if I didn’t have a brain. That is my fantasy right now. Never analyzing anything. Just writing in fragment sentences and having natural reactions to life. How amazing! I WANT TO BE BRAINLESS! I expressed this to my husband the other day, and he said, Good for you! as if I’d managed a major life breakthrough. At least I get support.

All that nonsense about research and being brainless was really meant to give you an idea of why I have experienced many of the classic accordion players that are not played on the current Mexican channels, such as Tony de la Rosa or Narciso Martinez. My mix of greats has a range from different eras, up through young millennial musicians (there’s actually just one millennial on my list, Eden Muñoz of Calibre Cincuenta [who has recently left that band]; the other Muñoz is a gen-Xer). Speaking of the classics, I’m not ever going to forget seeing Flaco Jimenez play live. Because of that–watching him as an old man dance with his Hohner–he’s on the list. Your list might differ. You might not have a list. You might write a top-ten reasons I don’t make lists list. The top reason on my list of why I don’t write lists is owing to my newfound braindead state.

In no particular order, here are my favorite acordeonistas:

  • Flaco Jimenez
  • Ricky Muñoz
  • Paulino Bernal
  • Ramon Ayala
  • Lupe Tijerina
  • Reynaldo Gonzales
  • Eden Muñoz
  • Celso Piña
  • Jesus “Chuy” Garcia

I’m leaving the last spot empty because I can’t decide. The others fit neatly into my braindead state, as they were no-brainer picks. They are the people I can’t stop listening to for style or innovation or general magic, but I could not decide who else should be on the list. If I decide, I’ll fill in the spot. There were a few Tejanos I was considering… I might need to do a binge listen to old CDs.

A few on the list have passed away–Lupe Tijerina, Celso Piña, Paulino Bernal–may God rest their souls; I’ve also seen quite a few of them live. Others I regularly miss (such as Ricky Muñoz of Intocable) because I’m broke when they come round these parts. Or working. Or hugely pregnant. I actually saw Ramon Ayala live when I was two weeks from giving birth. I was sooooo exhausted, my brain wishing it were dead. I had just finished a dissertation in which I translated Sor Juana’s poetry into English. I hadn’t yet bought my first accordion, so I longed instead to write brainless odes to accordion players in my terrible Spanish, which I did right after graduating. I guess you could say Señor Ayala inspired that.

If I ever start studying again, just shoot me. Or give me a lobotomy and wipe up my drool so it doesn’t spill on my accordion.

El Tema Más Importante

I wrote several very long paragraphs on the Social Contract and then put it aside in my drafts because I honestly hate preaching about subjects such as this. While I appreciate reading about philosophy, politics, and religion, and how they intermingle, there comes a point where people are preaching and nobody is listening. Furthermore, nobody is changing society at all. Oh, yes, of course, one can change society little by little through the infiltration of ideas in schools and universities; progressives did this throughout the 20th C and are still at work today. But sadly, my post was triggered by irritation at the manipulation behind the phrase social contract…and if I keep going, I might as well just pull out my post from its place in the dreaded wasteland of drafts. Another tantalizing yet frustrating subject I had brought up in that post is my unpopular opinion that lowering the teenage pregnancy rate is not positive progress but negative decline. And on that note…

The most important subject is obviously the Gospel. However, the most important subject to this blog has become music. Accordions. My mind has been dwelling on purchasing a new one. After spending $4K on one, you’d think I wouldn’t buy another one for a long time. What you don’t understand is that accordions are like very expensive harmonicas, and acordeonistas need different keys. The one that died in the traffic accident was a GCF. After reviewing numerous norteño songs, I discovered that most are played on the FBbEb accordion. Hence, I purchased one. However, I would still like to have a GCF again, as that is the second most commonly played instrument. Someday, I will purchase an EAD because that one is also occasionally played in the genre. In fact, the master Ramon Ayala often plays an EAD. This confused me for a long time, as I thought EAD was commonly played, but I was being swayed by the sound of Ayala’s songs.

Apart from desiring a GCF accordion, I would also like an accordion with bass buttons that aren’t dummy buttons. Yes, that’s correct; my expensive Gabbanelli has dummy buttons. I suppose this is so that bass blocks could be added at some point; there are tiny tornillos that can be unscrewed to open up the left-handed bass side of the instrument. I’ve heard it’s difficult to persuade the company to put in bass blocks because it will create a weightier instrument with an altered sound. When norteño as a genre has a familiar sound due to the fact that so many of the musicians play Gabbanellis, it’s a bit risky to make any changes. The only way to have pre-installed bass blocks is to buy a cheaper instrument. Therefore, I’m considering purchasing a Hohner Corona II or Classic, which are quality instruments (made in Germany), in order to practice with the left hand again. Also, if the accordion is the only instrument available, and I’m playing for family or friends, songs would be more complete with their bass parts. Of course, norteño bands have rhythm instruments, so they don’t use the left hand anyway. In fact, one of my favorite online accordion tutorial teachers has a video on how to remove the bass blocks from your instrument for the above stated reason. There is already a bajo sexto y bajo in the group.

But that isn’t to say no norteño acordeonistas use the left hand — Celso Piña, who has now passed away, used his bass buttons in cumbias. I enjoy his songs because they have a different sound. I also really enjoy watching videos of him playing live. It’s exciting, the music infectious. He played a Hohner Corona, by the way. Believe it or not, you will even find musicians who play piano accordions in this genre. One of my favorites is Fidel Rueda. I don’t know how to describe his music, except as “sexy” but that sounds crass and doesn’t quite express what I want to say when his vocals, the accordion, and the brass blend together. I should probably make up a word, instead.

Speaking of word invention, there is a word for that in Spanish. It is jitanjáfora. I learned this word some time ago when I was trying to figure out what El Pávido Návido means. That’s the name of a song, and it disheartened me when I realized one day I had no idea what it meant, and I’m tired of my poor Spanish vocabulary. Don’t get me wrong; I can understand the music tutorials and interviews I listen to because they have necessary context. But then I’m thrown by a catchy song title. As it turns out, the title is a jitanjáfora. That’s either a relief or not, since I don’t know Spanish well enough to recognize nonsense rhyming words. Today, I will post pictures of the two rebel accordion players I mentioned. You can seek out their songs if you choose.

From Wiki Commons
This is an album cover; I hope it’s okay to post. I wanted an image with accordion!

“Mexicano hasta al tope…” and other not so random thoughts

The part in quotes is a line from Corrido de Juanito, which, as you know, I’ve been learning on the accordion. Because I listen to the song on repeat, I have it permanently stuck in my head and consequently sing it all the time, especially the line above. The funny thing is the line ends up sounding like a commercial when sung on repeat, por ejemplo, “The best part of waking up is being Mexican to the top!” I’m sure you can hear the Folgers song in there, no need to spell it out.

Most of the time, I live in my musical fantasy world, my favorite songs filling my head and keeping me going after my three hours of sleep per night. But then I will have moments when reality wakes me out of my sleep-deprived reverie, and I ask myself who exactly I think I am. I’m certainly not Mexicana hasta al tope. Because of that, some old college friends might call my norteño obsession and accordion playing cultural appropriation. Is it, though? Is it really?

The accordion is German in origin; the name comes from the German akkordeon. Mexicans appropriated the instrument from another culture, in other words — from the German immigrants who settled in Texas and Northern Mexico. This is what happens when cultures rub shoulders. They influence each other. It is unavoidable, or should be. When cultures share music, dancing, and food with each other, they tend to get along a lot better than if they stay suspicious and aloof from each other. There is much cultural snobbery and myopia when people get their hackles up over hoarding aspects of their culture.

I will never forget the article I read years ago, in which a Chinese-American woman claimed the bone-broth fad was appropriation of Chinese culture. It didn’t seem to occur to her that cultures all over the world might have been cooking bone broths for millennia. This doesn’t even fall under the category of sharing; it rather signifies our forebears’ mutual necessity to utilize all parts of the animals they slaughtered. The Chinese were not alone in this.

If I were to only play the music of my culture, I would play the fiddle or one of those tiny accordions popular with hillbillies and the Irish. My family was part of Irish dance culture for years, and I distinctly recall hearing the accordion playing the same jigs and reels fifty times over. I mean, it’s not a matter of recall. All those jigs and reels are indelibly printed on my psyche along with big wigs and bling. But alas, the Irish don’t count Americans of Irish ancestry as being Irish, and there goes my culture. Like so many Americans, I simply have a mezcla of cultural parts and pieces, which includes Mexican pieces because I’ve lived around them my entire life.

Is there such a thing as cultural appropriation in America? I’m going to say yes. I was thinking about this at dawn, having been awake for hours. My body was achy and sore and I thought I might like to do some yoga. I don’t do yoga, though. Oh, sure, I used to. I appreciated its efficiency in strengthening and stretching the body at the same time. I also argued with other Christians who claimed it was wrong to participate in another religion’s worship. They argued against it because yoga, after all, means yoked, as in yoked to spirits and gods Christians don’t worship. I’ve always found it a little bizarre when Christian churches offer yoga hours in their fellowship halls, but doing it as exercise in one’s living room, sans spiritual components, I thought was quite all right.

The way Americans practice yoga is areligious to be sure, but it’s hugely disrespectful of another culture’s religious practice. I’m not sure what hyper conservative Hindus, who still believe in modesty, think of Americans who do Yoga Booty while wearing pants so clingy you can see every bump and jiggle on the legs and backside, wearing the pants to show off the effectiveness of the exercise. The way we practice yoga might very well be what people mean when they cry, Cultural appropriation! It’s rude and offensive. That and maybe chintzy plastic Native American dolls and fake moccasins. Marketing off a culture we very nearly wiped out to extinction no doubt leaves a bad taste in the mouth of the extant native tribes.

Speaking of weird activities Christian churches get up to, along with showing off their jiggly booties…no, I don’t think they make moccasins or plastic dolls or even bone broth. At one time, it was standard charity in England for bones to be used multiple times, once at the wealthy person’s house, who supped on the richest broth, of course, until finally the picked-clean bones were ransferred to the poorest of the poor to make broth with. But church food pantries these days are more inclined to collect canned vegetables and beans than spare animal parts. No, the weird activity I was going to mention is doing counseling sessions using the Enneagram personality typing system. In response, Reformed-style Christians are horrified, despite the dubious occultic roots behind Enneagram.

There are no known accusations of cultural appropriation regarding Enneagram; I just find it amusing that Christians have latched onto it AND that more Reformed types are making a fuss of it. I wouldn’t care one way or the other if Christians didn’t have a peculiar problem with lacking self-awareness. They make lofty claims that we shouldn’t be looking to any other source but the Bible for help, but what they really mean is “I don’t want to know anything about what I’m really like inside.” In other words, they don’t want to be faced with their own egos. Obviously, the ones using the Enneagram are busy identifying with their egos, looking straight into them, but that is not to say that there aren’t many Christians who refuse to look.

I took the Enneagram once, at my husband’s insistence, as he found it gave him an accurate description of his personality. Modern Enneagram type descriptions are incredibly detailed, unlike the truly occultic horoscopes. This might be why some people have an aversion to Enneagram. It’s not always pleasant to read that you fit an archetype that isn’t 100% positive. Was the type I tested as an accurate description of me? Sure, it was…at the time. And I really didn’t like it; hence, it motivated me to not be “my type” as much as possible.

Being self aware is a good starting point for making good choices in this life; I suppose one could be self aware and still make wrong choices. For example, a truly invested thief could be a proud criminal. Or maybe in more ordinary circumstances, a person might learn to identify with their negative traits and never seek growth. Well, I admit I still have personality traits I’m working on. I often shut the world out so I can pursue my personal goals, which my Enneagram description predicts. That pattern of behavior is so ingrained I believe it would be difficult to change. Like my pursuit of the accordion, for example… No, no, I have examined my interior and decided playing norteño on the accordion is a good choice. A wonderfully positive choice. It had better be. That norteño style accordion I bought was really expensive. Plus, I love singing in Spanish. Here it comes again. I. Can’t. Stop. Singing… Mexicano hasta al tope. It’s somehow gratifying to sing a song about someone with an intact culture, even though part of the song’s sadness is the subsequent loss of culture in the US, loss brought on by Juanito’s children no longer speaking Spanish.

Always Seeking Goodness

I’ve been attending the 8 a.m. Mass at another parish in town; the earliest Mass at my parish is 9. When you are an early waker, as I am, you tend to get impatient before 9 a.m. Mass. I wait until after Mass to drink my coffee and eat my breakfast. This is certainly not required by the church; I simply prefer it. Also, there is the ever-present problem of being a parish secretary who is already at my parish forty-plus hours a week. Sometimes, I need a break. Maybe next Sunday, I will go to 7:15 a.m. at the Poor Clare’s.

What can I do before Mass if I wait until 9? Read? I suppose. Recently, I discovered an author, Veronica Heley, whose books I would read any time because they are my special crack: they are cozy mysteries that don’t shy away from the darkness of evil. I’m partial to mysteries; most are cerebral and character-focused and use detection to bring about justice. Yet so many have sleazy main characters who are essentially nihilists hopping into bed with whomever, who don’t understand their own drive for godly justice. Heley’s books, while not having an American preachy quality (the author is English), feature protags who aren’t nihilists, albeit they aren’t perfect, either. The author clearly has Christian faith. That was a long diatribe to say that most books I have no desire to read before Mass. So, yes, the earlier the Mass, the better — before I’m distracted by worldly thoughts and cares. By the way, when I say they are crack, I mean it. I read the first four in her Abbot series back to back in about a week’s time. Then I gave myself a break. I will come back to them soon and read more.

Now it’s noon, and I’ve been to Mass and eaten and had my coffee and….watched a Lawrence Welk documentary that Color Storm linked to in my previous post’s comments. It’s an A&E Biography, and it’s worth an hour of your time (less, if you pay for YouTube and don’t have to watch the ads.) Aside from British mysteries and Mexican music, I have a general affinity for all accordion music except perhaps Tango. Tango* is just too pretentious for me. I’m like Lawrence Welk: I like to keep things light, goofy, and joyful. Life is full of darkness and evil with war and rumors of war — the evil one is always crouching at the door. But you know what? Goodness is also part of reality. It is True reality with a capital T, as that is what God represents. If anything, it is the evil one who usurped reality and turned it into a dark and terrible place, right outside the Garden where weeds consume healthy plants and blot out the fruit. And we humans fall for it. We’ve been falling for this illusory reality from the beginning. Yes, of course, I understand that weeds are very real in our world, but the purer reality is that when a garden is nurtured properly, it will produce fruit. And that is a true metaphor, both for inside our souls and outside in the physical world we must currently live in.

Lawrence Welk represents goodness to me, as far as humans can. He had a very public image and no real controversies that I’m aware of. Even his widow said he was an honest man of integrity, and she was the one who had to suffer for his music career that kept him away from his family for great lengths of time. She could have had mixed feelings or bitterness towards him, done a “tell-all, nitty-gritty, shocking bio” about living with a musician, but she did not. Yes, I’m obsessed with the accordion and want to make the case that the accordion is part and parcel with Welk’s desire for goodness. That’s not it, though, is it? If you want to like Mr. Welk, watch the biography, but please be aware that the A&E producers completely left out the reason for Welk’s staunchness about who he was and what his show would be pushing. That doesn’t surprise me — does it you? Lawrence Welk was a very devout Catholic Christian, who grew up in a German settlement of Catholic Christians. The ever-popular Lennon sisters were also from a devout Catholic Christian family. The intriguing part about the Lennon sisters is they are quintessentially American, with a genetic makeup of German, Irish, and Mexican. I understand that in many cases wholesomeness is just a put-on for the camera, especially if it comes from Hollywood. This show was not Hollywood, though. It was Lawrence Welk to a T. He wouldn’t do the show the way the network wanted to, and by God’s grace the network capitulated to him.

*Ja ja ja, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that Tango is dark and evil. I don’t like it because it’s too serious for my tastes. The accordion is romantic and happy and magical to me, and I play it with all seriousness, but I want it to remain light to my soul…like bubbles in wine.

El Tau Tau

Since this is the year of the accordion, it has suddenly occurred to me that I should be playing El Tau Tau. Why? you ask. Well, it’s one of the greats. It’s played everywhere, at every party. Like most cumbias, it’s highly repetitive, and it might be simple, but the accordion parts are played very rapidly. In other words, it’s easier to pick out the tune than it is to play it with aplomb and adornos. Adornos are what make norteño and tejano accordion distinctive. The trills and noodling are downright magical. No matter that I now know the secrets to the magic tricks; like any apprentice magician, my own sleight of hand could use a great deal more practice.

The song is by one of my longtime favorites, Grupo Control. Their songs give me a thrill of happiness. Funny thing, I caught my son singing El Tao Tao today, and he admitted he had a playlist with Grupo Control on it. Being my son, he’s grown up listening to Mexican music but always professed to dislike it. His cover is now blown. It is funny the synchronous moments life brings us. I generally play my accordion while he is at basketball practice, so he isn’t exposed to my new song obsessions. I had been playing the song like a mad woman, and then I went for my walk-jog-dance through the neighborhood (it’s been below freezing for days, but the old lady dog still needs her walk — this old lady does too). When I returned, my son was home and singing El Tau Tau as if the notes of the accordion were still hanging in the air.

Grupo Control is not just distinctive for their magical cumbias; they also happen to now have that rare breed in norteño, a female accordion player. Her name is Jennifer Degollado; she’s the daughter of the main singer and bass player for the band. Previously, they had a male accordion player, though I’m not sure what he is doing now. Miss Degollado can also sing, which does not surprise me. Musical talents tend to be clustered in families. I’ll post a couple of videos below, one of the titular song, and another with Jennifer Degollado singing and playing.