Cafecito with Azul Barrientos: Searching for the Limit

August 22, 2020 - San Antonio

By Jade Esteban Estrada - Cafecito Columnist, San Antonio Sentinel

It’s a quiet Thursday evening when singer Azul Barrientos pops up on my screen, fully made up from a photo shoot. She looks glamorous and sophisticated, just like she does on stage, so it comes as a surprise when she tells me about the plumbing disaster that just occurred in her home. Her eyelashes flutter as she recounts the scene.

“So you have the glamorous part of your life, mixed with the real-life part of your life,” I say to her.

She laughs, then says, “And they don’t talk to each other very well, verdad?” 

Azul is the Esperanza Peace and Justice Center's artist-in-residence. Her monthly show Noche Azul de Esperanza, which is streamed on Facebook and YouTube, is coming up again this weekend. I ask her how the nerves are before this month’s unique collaboration. This time, she’ll be teaming up with Chef Rómulo Mendoza, who will be making Chile en Nogada, a dish that is usually prepared as part of México’s Independence Day celebration.

“You and I have talked about it before, about letting the flow be cuando algo pasa que no ayuda,” she says, referring to the fact that the date of the show was postponed by a week due to a technical glitch. 

Is there a part of you that still tries to fight that flow? I ask. 

“Yes," she replies. "Part of it is the perfectionism, you know? “It’s so weird that perfectionism can be such a friend but also can be such a huge enemy on yourself, right? It’s that ‘You’re not keeping to your word,’ ‘Are you doing everything that you can?’ That sort of talk."

Goodness, yes. You’re playing the soundtrack of my life.

"And then, there comes that kind of parents kind of toxic thing like, ‘Otra vez?!’ It’s that thinking that I have to do things a certain way and that expectation,” she describes with her expressive hands.

Her words get me thinking about how my own worst enemy has been my need for perfection, particularly in shows. When things went wrong, when people didn’t laugh at the place where I thought they were going to laugh, or my voice cracked, or the set falls down and they laugh and I’m like, 'That’s not supposed to be the funny part!' I would get frustrated because that wasn’t what I had rehearsed.

When she laughs, her dangling earrings sparkle on the screen. 

I continue: I really had to learn to let go of that idea of perfect so that I could allow something new to be born. I think that live performance teaches you that there is another god: There’s one called Perfection and there’s another one called Flexibility, and he just wants to hang out and be your friend. You just never know when you’re going to need him. 

“Absolutely!" she says. "I remember one time, we were at the Esperanza, and we were about to have the show, a dedication to Lydia Mendoza…"

Oh, I love Lydia Mendoza. 

"Es una reina, just a goddess in many aspects. We are about to start the show and the PA doesn’t work."

Oh, my goodness. 

“I had like, you know how it is, a millisecond to freak out and then you just have to keep going," she says. "That was probably the first time that I realized I needed to be super-flexible with everything. Porque claro, nunca sabes."

RELATED: The Show Must Go On: Esperanza to Livestream Noche Azul Concert

Do you get energized by what you’re calling the freak out moment? 

“Of course,” she replies with a knowing smile.

We both laugh and reach for our beverages.

I tell her about my best friend, Cynthia, who lives in New Jersey. She’s a beautiful singer. A very talented woman. She knows me very, very well. So I’ll be in Berlin or Moscow - in some foreign country...and I’ll call her when I finally get checked in and I’m waiting to board like, “Ay, girl. I barely made my flight!" And I tell her all these freak out things, panting, with a freak out voice. She told me once: “I think you like that.” 

Azul and I burst into laughter.

And I heard the ring of truth, Azul! I thought to myself, “You know, I’m not sure that I would be excited about traveling if I was on time for everything.

“Totalmente! she exclaims. “You know, there’s something about it. I absolutely agree. A friend of mine made me realize like, ‘It seems like you kind of leave it up to whatever is happening in the moment. And I’m like, 'Isn’t that a good thing?'"

You know, a lot of people would argue that it isn’t, but most artists would argue that it is. 

“I think so, too.” she says. 

A parallel comes to mind. Is it possible that music is tension and release...or resolution, tension and release...and we might be transferring that musicality into our daily lives?

“I think so," she replies. "And I think it’s like everywhere." She offers relationships as an example. "I think we are always trying to find the limit. It’s more obvious when we are young and we're thinking, ‘Can I do this?’ And then you go and try and sometimes you fall, right? I think we are supposed to test out the limits, if we want to learn…and if you want to stay in your safe corner, that’s fine, too."

Tell me more about that concept.

"So I think, at least for me, in my own experience, I mean, who doesn’t like to be comfortable for a minute? That comfortable feeling when you know a song very well. I’m sure you know in your work when you know one of your songs to the T, that there’s nothing that can change it. It’s cool and it’s safe, and it can be grounding when you’re having that moment of freak out. But, at least in my case, it’s boring if the whole [show is comfortable]. It doesn’t keep my creativity flowing, whereas new things kind of help me to think about other ways of either thinking or doing things. I think for me it’s a constant [to test] limits politically. How much do I understand about that [issue]? How much can we push for social change? How much can I say without having a lot of consequences?" 

That's always a big one to consider.

"Yes, because we all know that free speech is supposed to be...it is...part of our Constitution. At the same time there are consequences of whatever we say. I am always kind of sensing my limits and seeing, ‘Where can I go?’ - or where to kind of back up."

Mexico is in the news again today because of Steve Bannon being accused of taking money that was being raised to build the wall with Gofundme donations. Many people are pleased to see Bannon in hot water but there are negative images of Mexico embedded in that message. What comes to mind when I say this?

"Well, you know it’s super-interesting because I was just thinking [about this] today. Obviously, when I was reading about the news, [Bannon’s] mentality just intrigued me to begin with. I’ve been reading a book about the journey of what makes a Mexican a Mexican in the sense of how our ancestors, if you're from Aztec decent came from Aztlan, searching for Tenochtitlán; how [and] why they came down to Central Mexico. I was thinking [that] I probably I feel connected to this land because this is Aztlan. This is the root of Aztec land. When we talk about Mexico, we in South Texas, to me it’s almost like inevitable - whether we realize it or want it or not - the roots of Mexico are never going to go away from this area because our ancestors started in this area. Then, of course, it bloomed. I was just talking to my husband today about how unfair at times it is that we sometimes think of Mexico from such a limited perspective, right? For some people, Mexico is a border that is beautiful. I think the border is essential for me. Then I fell in love with El Paso. When I saw that duality again, I got really uncomfortable, and then I got really in love."

Could you talk to me about your El Paso experience? I ask. 

"The first time that I went to El Paso, I absolutely fell in love with obviously the scenery, right? The beautiful sky just driving into El Paso…"

It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?

"It just blew my mind!" she beams. 

"And then the bicultural minute-to-minute that they have, that sort of energy and strength. A friend of mine told me “Yeah, we are like the plants here in El Paso. We survive horrible things.’ Which is true. It’s just a very resilient land, very resilient people so my whole perspective of what is Mexico changed again because it’s not only that limited Central Mexico where I grew up."

I know when I went, I was just so floored by what you’re saying, bicultural, bi-everything, you know? Mexico’s just five minutes away and, on a good day in the world, people go back and forth all the time. 

Now she’s got me thinking about border life.

Years ago, I visited my friend in Laredo. He took me to a gay club. Later that night, his friend, this white guy, was hanging out at his house, smoking a cigarette on his couch. Then, out of nowhere, he just switches to Spanish. Perfect Spanish! This white guy! My mind was blown. Seeing that was the beginning of my...what is that word? Conciencia? 

“Conciencia,” she confirms. “Right…”

That was the beginning of kind of understanding that it doesn’t matter what your ethnic background is, it’s like what you said, it’s like the plants, it doesn’t matter if you’re white or Black, if you’re from here you’re from here. So that has been my perspective about border towns, border people, and border life.”

“Totalmente!” she says. “It’s so funny that you mention that because I felt the same way the first time that I ever set foot in Laredo. I had to go to the embassy. It happened to me the same way: I looked around and everyone looked exactly like me - y todo el mundo hablo ingles! So it shocked me for an entire day probably. I was just like wow. ¡Que loco!” she says with a laugh. 

When I was touring with my album, I went to Colombia, I remember when I was speaking to a reporter she referred to me as “el norte americano.” 

“Wow,” she says. 

Which opened my eyes to the idea of like, “Wait a minute, you’re trying to tell me in a way that you're mad that we call ourselves Americans. Meanwhile, you’re Americans, too.” Like I started to get it. 

Azul laughs out loud.

“El norte americano.” I was like, "‘Why would you print that?’ and then I was like ‘Oh, that’s right.” What a lesson; a lesson on the public stage. 

“I love it,” she says, still chuckling. “I love how you take the lessons.”

Let’s get back to the border.

“The border, yes, especially in El Paso, I think is a grounding, sacred space. You go there and that energy it’s so beautiful. To see that newish wall, it’s just so weird. It’s just so painful. Of course, it’s the center of [Bannon’s] political moment that’s come to an end or something. It’s come to a change, for sure,” she says. 

Azul takes note of how the actions of people like Bannon echo long after they are off the scene. The first time she went to El Paso, one of her musicians asked the museum director, “Well, is it really safe here?”

“I almost wanted to hide under my guitar or something,” she says. The organizer took the question in stride. “She said, ‘No, it’s just the news. They want to build this wall so they’ve been misinforming [the public] about crime. Of course, we have crime just like anyone else, but it’s not what you see in the news.’”

She sighs and says, “It just goes to show us how information is being used and unless you live there, it’s hard to know what’s really happening.” 

Unfortunately, that is increasingly true.

I’d like to switch gears. Why is glamour important? I ask. 

“Oof,” she says. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about it, because of the pandemic. With the pandemic, I probably spend two weeks wearing, you know, the same athletic pants. I [usually only] sleep in those. I never wear them. I was so concentrated on what was happening not only with the Covid-19 pandemic, but also with the Black Lives Matter movement, so I just didn’t even care [what I wore], you know? I put on a t-shirt that I was supposed to wash but didn’t wash. I just didn’t even care.” 

I burst into laughter, then she joins in.

“And it made me realize that yes, there are moments where glamour is not important and definitely, to some extent, you should have the space to make it not important in your life, which to me was the first time that I realized that or I went through that because I love glamour. I live for it in many ways and personally, it can be seen from the shallow perspective of beauty or it can be seen as a relationship of how you want to present yourself. A relationship with who you are and what it means. For me, it’s a ritual. Right?” 

I absolutely agree. For me, it calms me down. When I do stand-up comedy, I wear lashes and lipstick. But for me, Azul, the most wonderful part of my day is that moment before the show when I’m putting on my lashes.

“Oh wow!” she says. 

It’s so like, “Ahhhhh. Now I can relax and just be funny!”

She laughs. “I adore that!”

She thinks for a moment, then says, “I think I told you I’m going back to school. I’m trying to kind of use what I am as an artist and what I want to focus as a person into the academic world to, you know, I’m still trying to figure it out.” 

Yeah, it’s a deepening of your understanding. Absolutely.

“Yeah, and it’s a deepening of your security too,” she says. 

I ask her to elaborate.

“Well, it’s a reassurance of your work. In a way, it’s beautiful to perform for your art, creation whatever your gig is. If your gig is art, you know how we have different gigs. Some of them are our gigs, but some of them are our work,” she says.

Our life’s work you mean?

“Yes. Our artistic work. For me, it's kind of easy to see kind of which ones are which,” she says. 

Kind of like a singing telegram vs. singing on A&E for an Hispanic Heritage Month concert?

“Totalmente,” she replies. “I was talking to a neighbor of mine and telling them how important it is for me to dignify my work and do my best. How I braid my hair. How I do my makeup. I consider that part of my art.” 

Azul Barrientos will perform at 8 p.m. Central Saturday, August 22, 2020 and at 2 p.m. Central Sunday, August 23, 2020. See the concert on Facebook Live or on YouTube.

Jade Esteban Estrada is a comedian and the Cafecitio columnist for San Antonio Sentinel. He can be reached at jade@sasentinel.com.