We missed the anniversary for Texas Sounds Like this year.
Life’s been life and I guess we sort of just forgot. I did realize however that I’ve never talked about the beginning. I can’t speak on Oscar's motivations. I suppose he wanted a place where his photos could live as archival Rembrandts of the music scene.
My reasoning was a bit more personal. I had an uncle who passed away from dementia. He was a once famous mariachi, but as his memory faded, so did the stories of his accomplishments and the impact he’d made. The only reminders I had were some old newspaper clippings, a few grainy videotapes, and fragmented recounts from family members. The stories written about him in the papers were my lifeline to his legacy. I’m grateful to the music journalists of the 80s that found importance in his story, recounting his charitable work, the songs he sang for sitting presidents, his appearances in soap operas, and his collaborations with Mexican songwriting legends.
However, what really kicked off our launch for me was the death of Hispanic Elvis.
During college, I worked at Market Square and saw Hispanic Elvis regularly. He was always dressed up, always in show mode. I was intrigued by him and wanted badly to learn and tell his story. I Googled him endlessly and never found answers to my questions. He was an enigma, with layers I couldn’t get to. I had this idea to one day make a documentary about him, to spend a day following him from the moment he woke up and assembled his costume, to his nightly bike and bus rides. I wanted to capture the life behind his persona.
I pitched this idea to friends and coworkers who warned me that he was private and rarely shared the non-Elvis side of himself. I got discouraged and never pursued. I am a nobody after all. Why would he want to speak to me or tell me his story?
When he passed away, I was hit with an anvil of regret. He was a piece of San Antonio’s soul, and his story remained untold. Maybe he would’ve shut me down, maybe he wouldn’t have wanted to share. But the thing that weighs on me most was that I never even tried.
After his death, I called Oscar. I said, “Are we doing this or not?” I didn’t want to let any more stories slip away like that. There are so many voices in this city—so many artists, musicians, and people who make up the fabric of our culture—and I didn’t want their stories untold or forgotten.
Nos pusimos las pilas, and got to work. We designed a logo, built a website, and tried to form a semblance of a plan. There were countless late nights, a lot of beer drinking, and endless Google Docs exchanged between us, and thus Texas Sounds Like was born.
Although I’m no longer involved in this project, I’m proud of what we built, the stories told, the moments captured and the people whose voices were amplified.
For me, Texas Sounds Like was never just about music, but the lives and legacies of the people we cover. Whether it’s a mariachi who once performed for Bill Clinton or the local legend who biked through Market Square every night dressed as Elvis, their stories matter.
