during World War II doesn't read like much of a party: discriminated against yet drafted to fight, economically disadvantaged in a time of rationing, and recalling with fear the mass deportations of the '30s. How available should the pachuco be to the blindly spinning wheels of pop commercialism? To be Hispanic living in L.A. It's hard to know what the pachucos themselves would think of their current role in Hispanic history-they've been politicized, made into symbols of a militancy they may or may not have felt-but they live on in many aspects of Latin style, particularly lowrider culture. The best known of these, L.A.'s "pachuco riots" of 1943, were called "the ugliest brand of mob action since the coolie race riots of the 1870s" by Time and featured marauding servicemen pulling pachucos-or those they took for pachucos-out of theaters and off of street cars and beating them up. The pachuco's high profile made him a lightning rod for specific oppression that mirrored a widespread discrimination, and there were numerous riots in Southern California during the war as a result. His style was embodied by the zoot suit, an exaggeration of almost every aspect of men's haberdashery-giant lapels, way-baggy pants with high waists, and astoundingly wide-brimmed hats-that had been borrowed from the jitterbug fad on the East Coast a few years earlier. A child of the great northern migrations Mexicans made in the first quarter of the 20th century, he was likely the first of his family to be born and raised in America. was a tough guy, possibly but not necessarily a gang member or gangster. The playing is sharp, and the tunes are fun, but there's a dissonance that creeps in around the band's borrowings, particularly where the pachuco comes in. and David Johansen playing Officer Toody in Car 54, Where Are You? This character informs much of the music on the Revue's first major-label album, Mugzy's Move, appearing like a carnival barker between songs and choruses. The Revue created a persona for its tunes, sort of a cross between the pachuco of World War II-era East L.A. The seven-piece band, heavy on horns, references the dance-band swing of the '40s and has created its own little hometown scene, heavy on the "noir martinis 'n' cigarettes" vibe so popular these days. Los Angeles' Royal Crown Revue is a case in point. weenie worrying about the implications of Mrs. You don't want to be insensitive, but you also don't want to be some P.C. Thinking about these issues has engendered some of the most tedious writing this side of the Playboy Philosophy, but issues they remain.
As we run around borrowing willy-nilly from any and every era and culture, do we betray a certain winner's arrogance? Are we giving props or taking plunder? That's often a good thing: We're better off if 20-year-olds know about Tony Bennett, or a 30-something Fab T-Birds fan can buy the Charlie Patton box set, but sometimes it can raise some troubling questions. Chalk it up to pop's voracious need for product-ideas for which have to come from somewhere-and it's particularly true in music. The past is revered-well, referenced-to an unprecedented degree by pop culture today roots and history are important in a way that would've been unthinkable a decade ago.
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