A short autobiography

I was born in the small republic of El Salvador, Central America, during a time known in the U.S. as the summer of love. Although my parents never learned to play any instruments, music was strong in our blood. Grandfather was an accomplished accordionist. It seemed as if he played for hours, amusing himself and others, interpreting tangos by Carlos Gardel. We all loved to sing and the one who did it best was little Memo, especially during his showers and bathroom breaks. The first guitar arrived to the family when I was four years old and it was a birthday present for my sister Lidia. Not knowing anything about the care and maintenance of music instruments, we ended up shredding it to bits. After this misfortune, our household would never again be short of music instruments. I took care of that detail with an iron hand.

Early music influences

I started taking guitar lessons when I was eight years old. I was under the unusual circumstance of having two guitar instructors simultaneously, and neither of them knew I took lessons from both. One of them was an artist whose vocation was greater for story telling than for songs. His name was Eduardo Ponce de Leon and he became my pop guitar instructor. Eduardo, apart from being a guitarist, had also been a boxer, a car racer, and a bass player in some almost-famous band, similar to the Spanish supergroup Barrabas. The second one was a former student of the Paraguayan maestro Agustin Barrios Mangore, his name was Mr. Francisco Pineda, and he became my classical guitar instructor. Francisco was a guitarist of impeccable performance skills and of a deep understanding of interpretation beyond my comprehension. He would have been my ideal guitar teacher if it wasn't for one irredeemable trait: he had no sense of humor. I was used to Eduardo's end of the month jam sessions complemented with floats, eclairs, and stories of car crashes and knockouts. On the other hand, with Francisco, nothing in life was harder than holding the guitar properly and learning to read music was exactly like getting vaccinated twice at once minus the lollipop of bravery. The highlight of these lessons was when Eduardo started to teach me rock riffs, which I learned right away. Proud of my playing, somewhat driven by mischief, and utterly fed up with Carulli, I played these rock riffs in my classical guitar to Francisco, just to see what happened. Contrary to the reaction I expected, he took it well. He was happy to see that, after so many pain-in-the-ass guitar lessons, I was showing signs of hope and finally lending an ear to his wisdom.

The "real deal"

I had just turned fourteen when Dad came home from work with the good news that he had been appointed principal at the rural school of San Jose Villanueva. Some of the students and teachers were going to start up a pop music combo and I was invited to participate. Not being able to establish a big difference between my boxing lessons and jamming, I accepted the invitation somewhat indifferently, but nonetheless, with good disposition. I was totally unprepared for the impact that this modest music combo was to have in my life. I went to our first rehearsal and heard the group play. It was love at first sound. Raulito was on lead guitar, Rigo on bass, and Edwin on drums. The rest of us took turns on lead vocals, shared the electric rhythm guitar and did background chorus. My life changed completely and forever. I did my first shows with them and for the first time I felt that I was truly learning music. This was the real deal. By then, I knew that music was the number one thing in my life, but I was still a young beginner and not skilled enough to make any serious decisions nor meaningful commitments. I kept the feelings to myself and started on the endless path of learning. There were times when Raulito or Rigo would ask me to sit in on lead guitar or bass. It was the closest I could get to the feeling of levitation, or the feeling of getting ...... for the first time. I thought we were going to be together forever and nothing could get in between us - until one Friday evening, when the town of San Jose Villanueva was inadvertently the target of a military operation. Women and children were held at gunpoint and some civilians were taken away never to return. Dad and I were lucky not to be there. At once, Dad resigned as principal and I was never to see San Jose Villanueva again. Quitting the combo was perhaps the only decision Dad made about my music that I wasn't about to contradict. But from here on, my poor parents were about to get steamrolled whenever there was a disagreement about my career choice.

Conjunto Chaleco

The year to follow was of bleak misery. After losing San Jose Villanueva, losing my girlfriend, and tortured by academia and the stupidity of the Jesuits who ran my school, I had to move on. My new school was Colegio Santa Cecilia. Here, they encouraged the young not only to excel in grades, but also in poetry, painting, theatre, sports and, of course, music. Colegio Santa Cecilia was known to have a whooping basketball team, a hot music group, a huge theatre, and it was famous for the week-long celebration of youth culture, Semana de la Juventud. This time I knew what I was after and I was ready to admit that nothing mattered to me more than music. I passed the entrance examination with flying colors and won the electric guitar that Dad had promised me to buy if I aced the exams. I also passed the audition of the school's music group and was accepted as lead vocalist/harmonica player/ rhythm guitarist. We started the year slowly, experimenting a lot with sound unsuccessfully, until the position of lead guitarist became open. By peer pressure I was forced into the spot and a new front singer was assigned. Our sound changed. We became known as Conjunto Chaleco and it was my first music undertaking. Gigio and Watusi were on keyboards, Peach on drums, Careloco was the lead singer and Ojos de Sapo was the bassist. We played everywhere, from music festivals to T.V. shows, and we felt we were going somewhere. We were even discussing the possibilities of releasing a 45 record as well as booking professional performances, when my destiny took a huge turn. Mom and Dad came back from Mexico City with big news. A family plan which I never took seriously had finally crystallized. I was completely in denial, until I found myself in the seat of a plane, wearing a three-piece suit and addressing the flight attendant in broken English. I remember as if it was only yesterday when Dad patted me on the shoulder and smiled to me the same way he does after a couple of drinks: Start packing up your things and say good-bye to your friends because we are moving to Canada.

Life and music in Canada

I arrived in Canada in the fall of 1983, with one thing in mind: to do music. Since then, that is all I have done. This is a period in my life when so much happened that I am not able to contain it in such a short autobiography. These events are so wonderful, strange and odd, that I choose to compile them, if God permits, in memoirs to be written when I become of an older and wiser age. In short, I attended Mount Royal College to study jazz, and transferred to the University of Calgary, where in 1993, I obtained a degree of bachelor of music in composition. In 1995, I obtained the degree of Master of Music from the University of Toronto. Once my studies were completed, I returned to Calgary and started to work as a professional musician. My discography includes the stories behind each recording.

For further information, contact music@serpasmusic.com