After that night, taking the coastal route is out of the
picture. From Tepic, Highway 15 turns inland, climbing into the highland heart
of the country. To the north, an unbroken chain of mountains stretching all the
way to the United States border. To the south, dormant volcanoes dominate the
horizon, the occasional lava flow interrupting a fertile, well-watered savanna.
The free highway is an overused, potholed two-lane road, winding around the
hills and through the centers of small farm towns, tractor trailers rumbling
down narrow cobbled streets, barely missing parked cars and overhead wires.
Just across the Jalisco state line, I find a scenic overlook off a lightly used
road and park to roll a joint and take in the view.
Green hills, blue sky, harmonious colors, a land of
overwhelming visual beauty. The day is perfect, partly sunny, happy white
clouds floating by overhead. A new album begins playing; tinny recording, but
oh so soulful, the anticipatory clatter of cymbals backing a soft and mellow
electric guitar. Then they are jamming, every part perfectly fitting into the
whole. The entirety of my conscious brain power focuses on this musical magic.
Bass guitar romping up and down lays the foundation for a chilled-out drumbeat.
Leading the way is the electric guitar, its clear and simple warble clearing a
path for the acoustic to follow and embellish. Vocals complete the melody, an anguished
soul-cry in the first words: “How can you say where I’ll be from day to day,
when I don’t even know myself.” The bass riff on the chorus becomes omnipresent
as I slip into a trance, a breathy flute the very voice of the mountains, these
or those or any mountains, dancing like a happy fairy spirit up and down the
scale. My eyes are closed, but the music has possessed them too, and fleeting
images of indescribable pathos pass through my head. “And you’ll never hear us
say, we might be back again some day, well we won’t, we’ll be running like the
wind.” Never before has a song so reached the core of my being, unspeakable joy
in the release of sadness.
The next song, a story in music. An old singing cowboy
performing in a bar, the last of the breed. “He’s blind, you see; don’t tell
him the only eyes he had was you and me.” Then another sad and languid
lament…”does anybody here have an extra key to a broken heart”, a man perplexed
over the misery of love, crying through his guitar. This is the interlude, a
time to rest from manic focus and prepare for whatever comes next.
And here it is, starting off plain and simple, a tale of
love wasted; tortured and heartbroken, the man runs unto these hills,
penniless, despairing of life, seeking refuge in solitude. Having released his
misery through song, he lets loose a slow jam of heart-wrenchingly beautiful
despair. The drummer taps a steady beat as a sighing saxophone plays softly,
the acoustic strumming rhythmically and guiding me upward through his
outpouring of quiet distress. Just like a glowering mountain rainstorm swept
away to reveal a sky of deepest azure, the lead guitar joins in, playing softly
a melody of utter perfection. Time ceases its passage; I am lost, happily lost,
deep within the music, the future light-years away. To my newly opened eyes,
the world around me is exotic, strange, and yet unmistakably beautiful, perfect
in this very moment.