I think by now, we all know the story of Sixto Rodriguez. A poet, a songwriter with lyrics like Dylan, haunting melodies, infectious music that digs into your soul and never leaves. Forgotten by America, loved, adored and worshipped in South Africa. Or so the Oscar winning Documentary goes.
I grew up straddled across the end of apartheid. Half my childhood happened before it ended, and the other half happened in a bright new Rainbow Nation struggling to find its identity without imploding on itself.
For me Rodriguez was, and always will be a superstar. I reckon I could sing the words to “I Wonder” before I could talk in full sentences. My parents loved his music, my grandparents loved his music.
When children grow up as digital natives, they do not comprehend a world where you have to wait to phone someone for any reason whatsoever, similarly for me, it just never occurred to me that there could be a world, where “Sugarman” was not as big or as popular as any song from the Rolling Stones or Beatles.
So, finally in 2012, when I watched Searching for Sugarman from my home in Melbourne Australia, I was blown away. I could not immediately and fully process the fact, that the man I had thought of, and known as a mega-superstar, was completely unknown in his home country until recent years.
I was using my iPad while watching the DVD to google the director and producer of the movie, convinced that this was some elaborate hoax.
And since then, I have watched as he has finally been recognised as an artist in the USA, and across other parts of the world.
I had the opportunity to see him perform live in 2014. And I was not disappointed.
There are no pyrotechnics in his show. He has none of the trappings of being famous normally associated with musicians his age. He is also a bit frail, and reportedly suffering from eye issues, so had to be escorted onto stage.There are no props, dancers, or any other extra bits normally associated with a live performance.
And yet – it was the best live show I have ever seen. Hands down.
Rodriguez’ talent is humble, and great, all at once. He stands on stage, plays his guitar, sings his songs, and for everyone, it is enough. In fact is it more than enough, it is everything.
Rodriguez teaches us, that fame corrupts. That success is a matter of opinion. And what makes us happy, gives us meaning, and fills our souls, is what we should be doing with our days, our lives and our work.
And while it sounds like the enthused ravings of an obsessed fan, just stop and consider the brilliance, sincerity, and timelessness of his music.
He has new fans now, because the album is amazing. Not because we all feel sorry for him. Empathy alone could not translate into sold out shows across the globe. Facebook likes don’t pay the bills or fill stadiums.
We will never know how badly disappointed he really was all those years ago, but all of us that have tried and failed know exactly what it is to put your life-blood into something and have it come to nothing.
We all know the heartache of making something that has every bit of our soul poured into it, and then finding out that actually no-one wants it.
So finally – what Rodriguez teaches us, is about failure. And how it’s never the end.
We learn to pivot and be happy, there is always another market, a different space, and sometimes the problem is timing.
So while many people focus the sad and “lost years” of non-fame in the USA. I prefer to ponder the joy of his later years.
No matter what your age, when you pour your soul into creating something, be it music, art, a company, or a product, there is always a small part of you that will find satisfaction in the recognition of your work.
I for one, take heart from Rodriguez, that somewhere, sometime, what I do will matter, and I will make a difference. It will come.
In 1971 the USA lost out on a great talent, but it’s never too late for an American Dream apparently, and so, at the “south side of 72” in 2014, Rodriguez has finally won.
