R.I.P. Rodriguez

Not your typical obituary. But it was not your typical story.... R.I.P. "Sugar Man"

Sixto Rodriguez has died. He was 81. The “Sugar Man” had a second shot at fame on the back of the documentary Searching For Sugar Man, which was fast and loose with the truth but endearing in its attempts to lift the rock.

You see, as Rodriguez, he had released two albums that pretty much bombed. His was almost a Nick Drake story. Not appreciated in his own life. But there were two things that stopped that: First of all Rodriguez kept on living. He might have quit the music industry and broken his back as a labourer instead, but he didn’t die young, forgotten. Secondly, his music actually made a huge impact in Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. The documentary tells the South African story only, since it’s most intriguing. But Rodriguez toured down under and wasn’t quite forgotten. And his music was regularly reissued, and the album Cold Fact became a well known gem, songs appearing on film soundtracks too.

But why let all that truth get in the way of the seeds of an amazing story, so Rodriguez was reborn via a documentary. He was sent out on the road to play the songs after. But there was one huge problem – he really couldn’t.

This is not how an obituary should go. I know that.

And my baggage is that I loved the albums – particularly Cold Fact – and wanted it kept that way. The documentary was not without its charms, but the selling of his spirit to the Film Festival crowd, and then seemingly the Beer Festival crowd  was a cruel irony. This was small music, kept alive in bedsits, whispered to one another via mixtapes. Now it was blasting from shop speakers – and being mentioned over a wine during bookclub.

It never sat well with me.

Worse, still, when I saw him play (twice). Review is in the link above. He was inadequate as a musician and the Hero Worship was horrible to hear and be in any way connected to.

I interviewed Sixto before one of his shows, and it was nice to talk to him – but he seemed as baffled as I did that anyone cared now. He’d all but given up (on) music.

After seeing his two appalling shows, I gave up listening to his music. Maybe now, I’ll be able to hear Cold Fact for the minor masterpiece that it is. A little bit Dylan and Van Morrison, so of the time. A little bit psychedelic-folk-fuzz. And a little bit cod street-poetry. But it was the soundtrack to a time – for many of us. We all had our own little connections to the discovery of this.

Back when music was whispered.

I feel like I already wrote about the death of Rodriguez (for me).

And to hear this news today is of course sad, the passing of any human life after all…

But so many of the headlines you’ll read today, announce him as the star of the documentary. That’s now how you’re supposed to remember someone. Documentaries are not star-vehicles, they are also meant to be quiet observations. Rodriguez died his professional death quietly. The resuscitation was loud, and this won’t be the accepted take, but it was loud. And therefore cruel. It didn’t mean to be perhaps. But that’s how I felt about it.

R.I.P. Rodriguez