by Liana Lopez
On and Off the Stage is a KOOP column that allows readers to get to know local ATX musicians both “on and off the stage.” Readers are introduced to the curated atmosphere of the musician’s concerts or shows, and introduced to the person behind the voice.
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Photographs by Alfonso Patiño
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I have never been to a concert. This was a well-exploited fact throughout my high school years, when the teacher forced dozens of sweating and nail-biting teenagers to participate in “two truths and a lie.” Classmates were always obnoxiously shocked when I revealed the truth behind my truth, but I simply had a hard time justifying spending money on concert tickets – especially when I could enjoy music anytime, anywhere, preferably from the comfort of my own home instead of the overwhelmingly crowded aisles of a venue.
My former classmates would be honored to know that recently “I have never been to a concert” graduated from its position in the icebreaker as one of my two truths into my only lie. Javier Jara’s voice charmed me into attending my very first concert and has changed my approach to appreciating the art form as a whole.
I first met Jara during a private world music jam, where local musicians (and music appreciators) come together deep into the night singing and playing a myriad of genres (and, in my case, sadly hitting claves together in a poorly-timed manner), fostering connections and building community through music. At risk of cliche, I was wonderstruck when I first heard Jara’s voice. There was a break in the music for potluck and chatting; I was sitting on the carpet sipping lemonade and talking with a friend when Jara moved from the living room to a shiny orange stool in the dining room. My attention was stolen when he began finger-picking his guitar and singing with a voice that flowed like honey. You know how when you come down with a sickness and your throat is sore from coughing your lungs out for a couple of days, and the only relief you can get is from a spoonful of honey with a squeeze of lemon juice? This is what Jara’s voice does for your soul–it soothes and makes you forget everything that’s been weighing you down. So, when he announced his upcoming concert at the Long Center at the end of the night, I did not hesitate to book tickets before leaving.
Our Rhythms, Our Voices was a musical project conceptualized by Jara in an effort to combat the negative stereotypes of Latin Americans in the media. Jara and his team conducted interviews delving into the experiences of 12 Latin American immigrants living in Austin. The audience learned about the stories of the executive chef and owner of The Buenos Aires Café, who immigrated from Argentina, a DJ from Brazil, an immigrant rights advocate from Guatemala, and many more, including a tribute to the father and his 23-month-old daughter who drowned in the Rio Grande in 2019 when trying to immigrate from El Salvador. These stories were translated into lyric poetry by Yahir Duran, then turned into musical and orchestral co-arrangements by Jara and the Austin Unconducted Orchestra.
Jara himself is an immigrant from Ecuador. He moved to Austin in September 2003 when he was 23 years old. In accordance with his childhood love for Latin American folk music, Jara attended Southwest University on scholarship to study classical guitar, where he earned his bachelor’s of music degree. He also earned his master’s in music and human learning from UT Austin. Jara taught classical guitar and Mariachi at Manor Middle School for five years before making the decision to focus on pursuing his music career.
Liana Lopez: How would you say your experiences living as an immigrant and a person of color in Austin may have impacted your approach to Our Rhythms, Our Voices, and your music in general?
Javier Jara: One hundred percent. My experiences were the lead motive of the project; talking about the Latin American experience through art. I am an artist and I am an immigrant trying to tell a story. Ironically, it’s not my story. All of the things I’m talking about in the songs are the stories of other people. So I’m kind of like a vessel; these stories are flowing through me. I am an immigrant just as they are, like the people in the interviews. I am from Latin America as they are, and I am stereotyped as they are.
I will never forget when I got ID’d at a taco stand. I’m not kidding you. This was five or six years ago, and I made the mistake of sporting a mustache, right? I remember it clearly that day. I shaved, got to the front of the line of the taco stand, grabbed my credit card and tried to order, then he said, “Hey, can I see your ID?” I was shocked, but of course, you think of the smart, witty line hours after the fact, so I couldn’t do it at the time, but I thought, Why did you need it? Why didn’t you ID the person who was before me and the people who were behind me? He only IDed me because I was the brown guy with the mustache and the accent.
Those instances replicate and spread throughout my existence. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens, right? And in many permutations or different ways of being discriminated against or being treated differently you know it’s because of who you are or who they think you are.
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As everyone was settling into their seats and the performers were getting into their zones, Jara instructed the audience to read and discuss with their neighbors the following question, which was printed on a small white card inside the concert program: “Where do you call home?”
Of course, I groaned when Jara asked this of us, in the same way I felt instant dread when my high school teachers had the bright idea of forcing their students to play “two truths and a lie” on the first day of every school year. I feel such anxiety when making small talk with complete strangers. I had to remind myself that Jara was once a complete stranger, and engaging in the initially awkward small talk with him at the world music jam gave me a new friend and a new perspective on music. Sometimes, you just need that push to engage with your community.
LL: Okay, I’m going to steal a question from you now. Where do you call home?
JJ: Definitely Ecuador; Latin America is my home. Now, I have a second home that is just as strong, which is the United States. I do feel like the political class does not represent the people of the United States. You get to meet people from such diverse backgrounds, with such amazing ideas, who are so open-minded and caring about others within the community. What makes America so powerful is simply and plainly the diversity. Of the new ideas, not just on an artistic level, but I’m sure on a scientific level as well. I know many people who are of Latin American descent who work in very important technological fields.
For example, I have a friend who I wanted to interview for this project, but he was unavailable at the time we were conducting interviews. He is from Colombia and works for NASA. He designed the trajectory of the rocket ship that discovered water on Mars, or something so fucking crazy like that – he is that kind of brilliant and smart.
[When I think of home] I think of him, and now I think of you, and I think of people of different descents who are young, open-minded, and trying to make a difference with the work that they do. I think of housekeepers and the hardships they have to go through. I think of construction workers and how much they give their lives to provide for their families—while literally building the country in every sense.
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LL: Tell me about some of the thoughts you had while on the stage, and what the culmination of you and your collaborators’ hard work felt like.
JJ: I remember trying to connect with every single word I was saying. I remember thinking, I’m telling a story. Sometimes I focus too much on technique and that gets in the way of the thing that makes goosebumps. I wanted to focus more on what I was saying through the words and the music, but not so much the music itself because I was playing with the [Austin Unconducted Orchestra]. They helped take a lot of the pressure off, which allowed me to be very relaxed while playing guitar.
I was seriously thinking, I’m telling you guys the story of this person, and I’m really telling you what happened in their life. Like what happened with Alicia when she crossed the border and what she was thinking about her son and her home, and about how she was doing all of this because of him. I remember thinking every single phrase, and trying to make it as significant and reaching every person possible, even transcending the language, projecting it differently for people who don’t understand Spanish.
And then this was the most important concert of my life and my career. So for the concert to be this much of a success, and to have a standing ovation, where even my classical guitar teacher from 20 years ago was in the audience supporting me, it was a very touching and full-circle moment. It was amazing.
LL: I remember at the end of the concert, during the standing ovation, you were looking out at the crowd, and I could see and understand all of the emotion on your face. It made me really emotional because through Our Rhythms, Our Voices, you were representing such an integral and expansive part of Austin’s community. And then as a minority myself, it felt like seeing another version of myself on the stage; it was very heartwarming. I loved being there, surrounded by people who were like me.
JJ: That is exactly what the concert was meant to do and be. It was amazing. As you beautifully put it, it was an expansive and very significant project that reflects the minority community within Austin and is represented in a beautiful and amazing way with music, with art, with storytelling, and with the deep stuff.
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Photograph by Alfonso Patiño
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Jara will soon be releasing an album consisting of the setlist from the Our Rhythms, Our Voices concert on all streaming platforms. You can stay tuned with the release date and all of his upcoming gigs and projects through his Instagram, @javijaramusica.
Thank you for reading!