LA BAMBA

I remember hearing Los Lobos's rendition of Ritchie Valens's 'La Bamba' one day whilst headed to meet my mates in a small nearby park, set back and sandwiched between two local housing areas.

"Para bailar La Bamba" this gangly Bash Street-looking youth in his shiny grey Puma tracksuit seemed to be saying very loudly over and over again, almost dislocating his jaw in the process.

I thought the Plug-looking guy had some sort of speech impediment at first until I realised he was attempting to sing along to the high energy track on his ghetto blaster but finding himself being continuely lapped by the music which he was failing miserably to keep up with.

"Para bailar La Bamba"

Having never heard the Mexican language spoken, or indeed sung before, it was even stranger hearing it given a Gloucestershire dialect, with its sort of unique West Country twang.

"Y arriba, y arriba
Por ti seré, por ti seré, por ti seré"

Luckily the music was loud enough that I could hear the track above his discordant, out of time accompaniment and just as with all good music, it hit me like a thunderbolt.

Nothing prepares you for a track as life giving as 'La Bamba' and when I say La Bamba I do want to emphasise the Los Lobos version (sorry Ritchie Valens) which is simply definitive, no matter how acclaimed the original is. If the spirit of Mexico could be straight wired into the heart then it could do no worse than either song, 'Guantanamera' or 'La Bamba' for starters.

And so, then, increasingly, the song followed me around as songs often do (both good and bad) and it increasingly became a big part of my life.

Later, watching the music video for the track on 'Top Of The Pops' around that same time, I came to learn that the song was from a film of the same name. Back in the 80's/90's growing up, it wasn't trailers we got so much excited about but music videos from the soon to be and newly released films, showing a montage of clips that whetted our appetites for the full thing.

Being too young to see a 15 rated movie at the cinema at this time, I had to wait for it to arrive at Astrovision, our local video emporium where invariably the title you wanted would be endlessly rented out due to its high demand.

Thankfully, one of the renters who had got a hold of 'La Bamba' early on happened to be a friend's dad.

"You want to see that 'La Bamba'? My dad got it out."

It's a testament to my shallow loyalty that Robbie Chance immediately shot to the top of my friendship priority rating as a consequence of this invitation and I zoomed round to his house quicker than Billy Whizz, or perhaps before you might say 'Yo no soy marinero'.

Watching the film in the afternoon with curtains drawn, I was instantly immersed in the Northern Californian orange groves where Ritchie Valens and his family are employed to pick fruit and live in a rough looking tent city. It's not long, though, before his brother, Bob, drags his family to Los Angeles to break free from their poverty and the road to stardom becomes increasingly mapped for the young musician.

By the time the actual song 'La Bamba' is performed in the film, I felt as if the song had become even more meaningful to me as I now understood the origin story behind it and the obsession was further deepened, one might even say entrenched. Looking for a 'La Bamba' fix wherever I could find one, like some sort of child junkie, I would either be looking for a rental buddy to watch it with again, playing the soundtrack on repeat on my cassette recorder or singing the song myself with my guitar. If there was a Guinness World Record for most listens to a song back then in 1987/1988 then I'm pretty sure I must have broken it.

I was 9 years old and the Ritchie Valens legacy was bigger than ever in the foothills of the Shire.

Even my grandmother in Exeter found out about my 'La Bamba' obsession and one time, hearing that her friend, Carol, had rented out a copy of the film managed to get me round one afternoon to watch it with her teenage son. There was no sense of embarassment or self-awareness that my obsession was leading me to end up in random people's houses just so I could get my fix.

Atmospherically, I even remember the descending steps to Carol's house and thinking they had a Californian vibe to them. Once again, I was trying to bend the universe into my perception of reality as a movie, one where the world you live in is an extension of the film you're watching at the time.

And for some reason I always ended up watching the film in the day, having to draw the curtains so the sunshine didn't interfere with the image on the screen. There was something almost Vampire-like about my habit, a kind of Mexican/Gloucestershire Nosferatu hybrid.

I wonder what that sullen teenager made of this curly headed kid watching 'La Bamba' alongside him and practically attempting to teleport himself into the screen.

After it was finished, there was no post film review; I'd got my fix and I was off, looking for the next renter of the film to watch it with by hook or by crook.

It's been awhile since I last watched it, even though I have my very own copy of the film now.

A small part of me thinks I need someone to call me up and tell me they've rented it so I get that frisson of excitment at seizing the opportunity to indulge the obsession.

When you have your copy, you can get complacent.

Right now, on this somewhat dull Saturday morning, I'm playing the song on my headphones, willing the sun to warm up and bring Spring along with it. If I close my eyes I can just about smell those oranges and feel the warm dust of tent city on my face.

Para bailar La Bamba
Para bailar La Bamba
Se necesita una poca de gracia
Una poca de gracia
Pa' mí, pa' ti, ay arriba, ay arriba
Y arriba, y arriba
Por ti seré, por ti seré, por ti seré