Safe in song

Luz Elena Mendoza finds herself in the music

Luz Elena Mendoza is Y La Bamba.

Luz Elena Mendoza is Y La Bamba.

Photo by steffanie walk

Preview:
Y La Bamba performs Tuesday, July 10. Katzu Oso opens. Mezzanine opens 7 p.m.; doors 7:30 p.m.; show 8 p.m.
Tickets: $12
Sierra Nevada Big Room
1075 E. 20th St.
899-6138
sierranevada.com

We’ve entered a tumultuous time in America when long-bottled-up feelings are being uncorked. Realizations of injustices and calls for change in our society and in ourselves have been overflowing into the streets and into our arts. Luz Elena Mendoza is an artist of these times. Through her musical persona of Y La Bamba, she’s in the thick of a journey of self-examination and -empowerment, and the Mexican-American artist is using music as a means to address her identity—oscillating between Spanish and English vocals; combing two cultures into one earnest sound.

“That’s just the artist I am,” Mendoza said. “I don’t mind sharing my vulnerable state, and that has caused me a lot of pain, but I still can’t help it.”

That vulnerability didn’t open up overnight. A decade or so ago, Mendoza moved to Portland, Ore., with not much besides her cat, Bamba. She began writing songs—ethereal folk tunes influenced by her Mexican heritage. Gradually, a band evolved around her, and Y La Bamba picked up some speed and recognition. It was going well, but for Mendoza it wasn’t right. In 2013, she disbanded the group and took a few years to dabble in other side projects. The time also gave her perspective.

“So much has been coming up in my personal life as a woman,” Mendoza said. “Even now in my 30s, I’m just coming to terms with the things that I have to renegotiate from the past with patriarchy and misogyny. [I’m] not saying the men in my life have been assholes or anything like that. When I say patriarchy, I’m starting to feel safe that people will understand without making the men in my life into bad people. The people I used to play with, they were all sweet men. But me in that context—not knowing how to speak up for myself—it takes longer for women to find that strong voice. It took me stopping that configuration.”

With that realization came another: Her heart still lived in Y La Bamba. With the blessing of her old bandmates, Mendoza returned to the project in 2016 as a solo artist, and she took the reins with every aspect of music-making, not just the songwriting, but also recording and performing using tools that were sometimes new to her.

“That took a lot of self-discovery,” she said. “I was asking a lot of hard questions. Not only was I trying to develop the strength to believe I could do that by myself, I was also learning new gear, learning pedals and how to use my recording software a little bit better.”

The result was her 2016 release, Ojos Del Sol, a charmingly lo-fi production and a bilingual blend of sparkling sun-drenched rock and folk. It was fully Mendoza, both sonically and lyrically, and a safe space to address personal trauma and her duality as a Mexican-American.

“I have to really take ownership of what my culture is,” Mendoza said, “Not just my parents’ culture, or the country they raised me in, but to be a first-generation Mexican-American.”

That ownership continues to blossom in Mendoza’s music. She’ll be releasing a new record, Mujeres, this October. The songs lean more toward Spanish, and continue to explore self-identity, and more importantly, self-acceptance.

“I kept writing Spanish song after Spanish song; it was just happening,” Mendoza said. “I think a lot of it has to do with ancestry that’s pushed me forward … and I just feel like I’ve arrived to heal myself.”