Music Without Borders: The Timeless Voice of Chavela Vargas

Singer Chavela Vargas challenged music and culture in every way, from her strong, raspy voice to the men’s pants she wore. Now, she’s a part of Mexico’s musical canon.

Music has the power to transport listeners to cultures and places different from their own. In Music Without Borders, our writers introduce you to international artists, bands, and genres that explore the sounds that bring us together.

Written by Victoria Canales

Photo courtesy of STR/AFP/Getty Images

“Ay, de mí llorona … llorona, llevame al rio…” (“Oh, my weeping woman… weeping woman, take me to the river…”)The haunting melody blends perfectly with the powerful voice wailing out to her lover. Though the song “La Llorona” has been interpreted countless times, one voice stands out above the rest: the husky, pained cries of Chavela Vargas. Known for her tumultuous life, she passed away in 2012, but she is still one of the most important figures in Mexico’s history, and her music continues to speak to millions of people worldwide. Highly respected and regarded as a queen of ranchera music, Vargas is one of the most famous singers and personalities to come out of Mexico.
Though Vargas closely identified with Mexico, she was actually born and raised in Costa Rica. However, ever since she was young, she knew she wanted to live in the North American country; at the time, it was a cultural powerhouse with its burgeoning film and music industries. She moved to Mexico as a teenager, and she has said that her adoptive country taught her how to sing and be a woman “not with hugs and kisses, but with punches and slaps.”. Though it was difficult, she eventually made a name for herself through her unique voice and proficiency in traditionally masculine pastimes like drinking and shooting guns.

Photo courtesy of Chavela Vargas

As a ranchera singer, she paved the way for femme singers after her. She was one of the first women to keep original pronouns in the songs by male artists she covered. For example, in “Paloma Negra” (“Black Dove”), she sings to a woman who broke her heart. Consistent with her refusal to change pronouns, the title of the song itself uses feminine word endings, along with the feminine accusation “parrandera” (“partier”) in a later verse, to confirm that the black dove in question is indeed a woman. The song starts off with the simple yet melancholy guitar that defines so much of her music, and when her soft, sad whispers come in, she causes the listener to hold their breath in anticipation. When Chavela growls out her accusation —“¡Ya agarraste por tu cuenta la parranda!” (“By your own accord, you’ve taken to partying!”) — she both startles and relieves, as the listener now knows the power her voice is capable of. Later on in the song, Chavela does end up making a lyric change: Instead of saying “Quiero … vivir mi vida con quien me quiera” (“I want to live my life with who loves me”), she demands, “Quiero… vivir mi vida con quien yo quiera” (“I want to live my life with whomever I love”). This line becomes much more poignant in the context of her secretive love life — she pleads to be able to love freely.

Chavela is easily recognized by her rough voice. Many ranchera singers have crystal clear voices ready to belt in perfect vibrato, and while Chavela could certainly belt, it is nothing like what the genre is used to. Her singing often sounds like painful wails, and she always sounds broken-hearted, like she just lost the love of her life. Her most famous rendition, “La Llorona,” works so well because her voice complements the mournful subject matter nicely. She sounds like La Llorona herself, crying out to her lover with passionate wails. She sings of confessing her sins to an iron statue of Christ and moving the statue to tears. With a voice like hers, it seems possible.

Her best known collaborator, the famed composer Jose Alfredo Jimenez, was also her drinking partner, and they would kick back shot after shot of tequila together, often spending days clearing out hotel bars on binges. She breathed new life into his songs, such as “Las Simples Cosas,” where she croons, “Uno se despide insensiblemente de pequeñas cosas” (“One, without sense, says goodbye to the small things”), allowing her intense wisdom to shine through. Along with her friendship with Jose Alfredo, her relationship with artist Frida Kahlo lies in the forefront of cultural memory. Kahlo, 12 years her senior, was one of Chavela’s rumored first loves. Chavela has said that she thought Kahlo was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, and described her eyebrows as “a swallow in flight.” She disliked sharing Kahlo’s affection with the latter’s husband, Diego Rivera, and it drove a wedge between them, but Chavela remembers Kahlo’s love fondly. She often sang of love, and she has said before that “If you haven’t loved, you haven’t lived.”

Photo courtesy of AP Photo/Colección Museo Frida Kahlo, Lucienne Bloch

Chavela’s romantic experiences did not stop with Frida Kahlo, though. At the age of 81, she officially came out as lesbian in her autobiography, but her sexuality was a poorly-kept secret for decades before. She wore pants and donned short hair in 1950s Mexico, and her affairs with movie stars such as Ava Gardner were legendary. In the song “Macorina,” Chavela seductively tells La Macorina, a woman based on a poem of the same name by Alfonso Camin: “Ponme la mano aqui, Macorina” (”Put your hand on me right here, Macorina”). La Macorina was the name of a Cuban sex worker, also known for smoking cigars and driving fast cars, who ended up being the first woman in the Americas to hold a driver’s license.  She put the poem to music, and the song has since become a lesbian anthem. Coincidentally, the word “macorina” is an anagram for the feminine version of “m*r*c*n,” a slur aimed at queer men.  Chavela has always celebrated womanhood and admired other rebellious women around her, and “Macorina” is one of her shining accomplishments.

Her life was not always so exciting, though. Her ability to “keep up with the men” while drinking resulted in severe alcoholism, and she disappeared from the limelight for 20 years while she was recovering. But she came back stronger than ever and continued performing into her old age. Chavela died at the age of 93 with the last words, “I leave with Mexico in my heart.”

And she remains in Mexico’s heart. A true visionary, Chavela paved the way for countless women after her to pursue their own musical careers, and songs such as “Paloma Negra” are now more famous for the women who have interpreted them than the men who originally performed them. One of her most famous songs, a Jose Alfredo Jimenez piece called “Un Mundo Raro,” ends with a lovely sentiment that seems to come straight from her heart: “Les diré que llegué de un mundo raro / Que no sé del dolor, que triunfé en el amor / Y que nunca he llorado” (“I will tell you that I came from a strange world / That I don’t know about pain, that I triumphed in love / And that I have never cried”).