Two hundred and seventy miles north of Edinburg, Abby Garcia walked into mariachi rehearsal at Texas State University on a Wednesday in September.
Three years ago, she filmed with a documentary crew for “Going Varsity in Mariachi,” which Netflix released on August 29 after it dazzled the Sundance Film Festival and SXSW in 2023, racked up rave reviews, and won myriad awards. The film followed the Edinburg North High School’s “top echelon” Mariachi de Oro ensemble from the first day of school to a state competition — not entirely unlike High School Musical or Glee, except with more instruments. And more Spanish-speaking.
At the start of the documentary, Garcia wore turquoise braces while feeding her family’s livestock before practicing violin in her bedroom. “I’m the only musician in my family,” she told the cameras. “Everyone else shows pigs. They’ve never even touched an instrument.” She was learning to drive. There were homecoming mums on her wall, and she worried about both affording college and having the courage to leave.Now, Garcia’s a junior at Texas State on a music scholarship, and she’s in a 15-person ensemble called Mariachi Nueva Generación. No more braces (her friend is still trying to teach her to drive).
“It’s been crazy since it came out,” Garcia told The Barbed Wire last month, as she opened her purple violin case. “I’m not used to getting this kind of attention ever. I’m a really quiet, shy person.” It’s a long way from where she grew up in South Texas. Garcia is the first in her family to pursue music studies and to move so far away for college.
“I was really scared to leave because my family was really close,” Garcia said. “I love my family, but it’s really nice to be able to grow as a person, as a musician, as a student.”
The rehearsal room was like any other at Texas State, with white walls, sound panels kissing the ceiling, plastic chairs, and black music stands. The difference here was the kind of music.
“We’re going to play Las Mañanitas for Mr. Campos,” a fellow mariachi member whispered into Garcia’s ear minutes before rehearsal began. Cirilo Campos is the director for their ensemble and the head of Latin Music Studies at Texas State. That day, Garcia and her bandmates were celebrating his birthday.
As Garcia tuned her violin and her fellow band members found the right notes, Campos stood at the front of the room. There was a silent pause in all the noise, and then, seconds later, the opening notes for Las Mañanitas filled the room.
🎶Estas son la Mañanitas que cantaba el rey David, hoy por ser dia de tu santo, te las cantamos aquí 🎶
The room was filled with reverence, admiration, and care. The melodies, trumpets, violins, guitarróns, vihuelas, guitars and voices collectively came together through music to celebrate their director’s birthday. For Mariachi musicians, performance is a way to share unexpressed love through sound. But sometimes that gets lost in translation for the uninitiated.
“Mariachi can have sometimes a negative connotation,” Garcia said. “You think of those people as like, ‘Oh, they’re the ones that gig at the restaurants when I’m trying to eat and stuff.’” For people unfamiliar with Mexican culture, the comedian John Mulaney has a viral bit in one of his standup specials about the feeling of dread when clocking a group of Mariachi musicians on a tightly packed subway car — and there are quite a few answers on Quora and Reddit in response to questions like, “Why is mariachi so loud?”
It’s important to understand that Mariachis are loud on purpose. They’re meant to heighten the excitement when they show up to help people celebrate at weddings and special occasions. As NPR put it, there’s often a “cathartic, joyous yell” involved, also called gritos. Part of the film shows the students, including Abby, each practicing one (many of us who grew up in Mexican households know that it’s a right of passage at any family carne asada). The vibrant sound is by design, as Mariachi music matches big emotions, and that may mean drowning out weeping at a funeral or helping hype up cheers and laughter.
“It’s not just a group of people playing together,” Garcia explained. “It’s an art form, and it has so much meaning and so much emotion attached to it.” She says music is how people can communicate when sometimes life has no words: “Put some respect on Mariachi.”
Mariachi music dates back to the 1500s. The sounds were born when “people from Spain and African slaves and their descendants mingled with hundreds of American Indian cultures to create” their own musical traditions in Mexico, according to the Smithsonian. But it’s evolved over time and now has “special meaning for many Mexican Americans as an emblem of their cultural heritage and a source of pride and community connections.” That only became stronger after the early days of the Chicano Movement in the 1960s, and now even some sports teams have their own official Mariachis, including the Houston Texans and Texas Rangers.
“Whether I’m playing at a funeral or a quinceañera, the emotions are always high, and being able to help others express their grief or joy through music is so powerful,” Garcia told The Barbed Wire. Mariachi music soaks up the energy in any space and reverberates back into people’s souls, according to Garcia. “There’s so much work that goes into it — and so much effort and time that everyone sacrifices to make the group sound good. I’m glad that people are finally seeing that.”
The traditional suit worn by the ensemble — called a traje de charro — includes meticulous white or gold embroidery on pants, jackets, and even the charro bow tie. Garcia’s suit is maroon, the colors for Texas State. Some are black, but others are green or blue — even yellow. And the customary matching hat typically has a brim more than 20 inches wide.
The documentary chronicled her high school Mariachi journey, and her parents’ reservations about Garcia leaving home. She learned from Coach Abel Acuña and performed in competitions with her peers while wearing bold eyelashes, red lipstick, navy accessories, glitter eyeshadow, and a gold jewelry-adorned traje. Then she auditioned for Texas State.
After filming, and moving to San Marcos, Garcia decided to not pursue a music major. Instead, she has a new goal to do social work, and even get licensed in music therapy, so she can work with people diagnosed with Down syndrome, like her aunt who passed away last spring.
“I grew up around her,” said Garcia, as her eyes watered. “I really want to honor her.”
She dreams of helping others enjoy life, in all its complexity, through music.
“I want people to take that leap of faith” to achieve their dreams, said Garcia.
“Playing Mariachi means being able to keep my culture alive and making beautiful music for other people,” she added. “I feel a sense of happiness that almost makes me cry sometimes.”