“World-class songs”: the 1987 album Linda Ronstadt wanted to transcend everything
In 1946, the University of Arizona published a booklet called Canciones de Mi Padre to honour Linda Ronstadt’s aunt, Luisa Espinel, who’d risen to fame in the 1920s as a singer.
Growing up, Ronstadt had remained incredibly close to this heritage, completely absorbing the sounds of Lola Beltrán and enjoying the times Eduardo ‘Lalo’ Guerrero would visit her childhood home to sing the songs of his ancestors.
Ronstadt would later enjoy success with her own material named after the same booklet, but it took her a while before she felt ready to directly embrace these sounds and release a record filled with traditional Mariachi music. It was always her dream, of course, but although she carried much of it with her the moment she left her humble beginnings in Tucson for Los Angeles’ bustling Troubadour scenes, most of the time this arrived in a diluted fashion to sustain her position as one of the scene’s best rising stars.
That said, this didn’t always seem like a conscious choice. After all, Ronstadt, like most of us, grew up around that which she’d later consider the norm, her heritage becoming as much a part of her wherever she went as people from other walks of life with different musical backgrounds. Life at The Troubadour no doubt opened her eyes to many of these perspectives, especially with people travelling from all over for a chance to get in on one of the greatest modern musical hubs in the world.
However, Ronstadt didn’t officially show off the true extent of her Mexican heritage until later in her career, after the release of several of her career-defining records, including Heart Like A Wheel, Simple Dreams, and the one that put her on the global map, 1976’s Greatest Hits. By the time it came to Canciones de Mi Padre, therefore, Ronstadt was already a major name.
But things were different when it came to this project, and the record itself was a complete labour of love, made as a way for Ronstadt to channel how “enchanted” she was by her heroes, like her aunt, whenever they visited as a child. Although she wasn’t lucky enough to see Espinel on stage, this magic was constantly felt in the home, evoking a kind of warmth and intimacy that Ronstadt kept intact throughout her own record.
However, it also stretched beyond just that, with Ronstadt also recreating those moments of community she experienced as a child, whether it was when she was listening to Espinel sing, or singing other Mexican songs they’d heard and imitated from her mother and father. This also allowed her to let go of the reins she’d kept on her heritage throughout her time away from home, when it often felt like she was the only one who understood it.
But with Canciones, she let it roam free, not only for artistically selfish reasons but also for others to see the kinds of artistic beauty such sounds could carry, reinstating the power she always held within her after years of playing down who she was and where she came from. After its release, Ronstadt explained why the record was so special, not only to her but to anyone who gave it the time and space to let it sink in.
It’s an album she’d always wanted to make, she admitted, mostly because it’s an authentic ode to her heritage, but also because she genuinely loves and feels emotionally connected to the musical traditions that come with it. In her mind, these were “world-class songs”, ones that could “transcend the language barrier” and show people a different side to music that made them feel just as much a part of it as she had been her whole life.
