I have a question for you to start things off
today. Okay, shoot. When you think of the golden
age of Mexican music, or really just Latin music
in general, during the 1940s and 50s, what image
pops into your head? Oh, usually it's big cinema
stars. You picture someone like Pedro Infante
on a horse, or maybe this massive orchestra playing
in a tuxedo -filled ballroom down in Mexico City.
Right, right. It's those spotlight moments, the
legends with their names and lights on the marquee.
Exactly. But today we were actually doing something
a little different for this deep dives. We were
shifting that spotlight about, I don't know,
five feet to the left. Is that a frame? Exactly.
We're looking at the guy standing just outside
the frame. The one who is basically holding the
whole architecture together. Which, to be honest,
is often where the real story is. Yeah, it really
is. So we were talking about Felipe Bochalo Gil.
Now, depending on who you ask, he's either this
minor footnote in a biography somewhere, or he
is the secret architect of arguably the most
famous sound in Latin music history. Though most
people back then just knew him by his nickname,
El Charro. El Charro, yeah. And that nickname
alone does a lot of heavy lifting. It tells you
exactly how he wanted to be seen. But his actual
musical contribution is, well, it's... Way more
complex than just a guy in a cowboy suit. Oh,
absolutely. It goes so much deeper than the branding.
So here is our mission for today's deep dive.
We have these stacks of discography lists from
the late 1930s and 40s. We've got some really
dense biographical records and historical notes
on his family tree that are honestly a little
hard to follow at first glance. They get very
complicated very fast. They do. But we need to
figure out how this one man, Felipe Gil, essentially
built the incubator for the romantic Bolero.
Incubator is the perfect word for it. Because,
and this is the part that I'm still trying to
wrap my head around, the sources imply that without
Felipe Gil, the legendary group Trio Los Panchos
never exists. Right. And if Trio Los Panchos
never exists, the entire soundtrack of Latin
Romance looks completely different. I mean, is
that a fair assessment or are the sources being
a bit dramatic? No, I really don't think it's
dramatic at all. In fact, it might even be an
understatement. Really? Yeah. Trio Los Panchos,
they are essentially the Beatles of the Bolero
world. If you take them out of the timeline,
you lose the entire template for the Latin guitar
trio. And Felipe Gil is the one who assembled
those parts. OK, wow. So before we get to the
Beatles of Bolero. We need to understand the
man who brought them together, who was Felipe
Gil. Like, where does he even come from? Well,
we have to start in 1913. Felipe was born in
Misantla, which is in the state of Veracruz,
Mexico. And we really need to pause on Veracruz
for a second. Why is it just a geography thing?
No, it's about the musical ecosystem. Veracruz
is this incredible gateway. It's a major port
state on the Gulf of Mexico. So you have indigenous
traditions, you have Spanish influence, and you
have these heavy African rhythms coming through
the Caribbean. And it all just mixes right there
on the port. Exactly. It all mixes there. So
being born into a family of musicians in Veracruz
in 1913 means you aren't just learning standard
songs. You are absorbing incredibly complex rhythms
from day one. The historical notes do mention.
He studied the music of his local area from a
very young age. Right. And specifically, that
usually means styles related to the Sanjurocho
or the Huapango, which we'll definitely talk
about later. It's technically demanding music.
He wasn't just a casual strummer. He had a serious,
serious foundation. OK, so let's clear up the
name thing real quick, because I definitely got
confused reading the introductory notes. His
full name is Felipe Bochel Aguil. Yes. But he
becomes famous. Just going by Felipe Gil. Right.
So it's standard naming convention in Spanish
speaking countries. Bohalil is his father's surname
and Gil is his mother's surname. Usually you
would go by the father's name. But he didn't.
Well, Bohalil is actually of Lebanese origin.
There was a very significant Lebanese migration
to Mexico around that time. But if you are picking
a stage name in the 1930s. You want something
that sounds a bit more local. Exactly. Felipe
Gil sounds more, let's say, traditional. accessible
for a mass Mexican audience. And then he adds
El Charro to the front of it. That is the pure
branding. El Charro is the traditional Mexican
horseman. It's this massive symbol of rural pride,
of masculinity, and of Mexican nationalism. Kind
of like the American cowboy. Very similar, but
with way more intricate embroidery and a much
bigger sombrero. By calling himself El Charro,
he was actively aligning himself with the nationalist
movement in the arts at that time. He was putting
a flag in the ground saying, I represent the
true Mexico. Okay, so he's got the musical charm.
from Veracruz, and he's got this strong nationalist
brand. He starts performing, and the timeline
shows he forms a group in 1936. Right, called
El Charo Gil y Suscaparrales. Which translates
to what, El Charo Gil and his foreman? Yeah,
his foreman or his ranch hands. Again, really
leaning into that whole ranch aesthetic. So the
original lineup for this group is Felipe, a guy
named Alvaro Ancona, and a third member named
Jesus Navarro. Though it seems everyone just
calls him Chucho. Chucho Navarro, yes. And keep
that name. in mind. OK, so they're playing together.
They're touring, doing the radio circuit. But
then we hit the year 1940. And this is where
that butterfly effect really kicks in. What exactly
happens? So in 1940, Alvaro Ancona leaves the
group. We don't have a lot of granular detail
in the sources on exactly why. Maybe it was creative
differences. Maybe the touring life was just
too much. But the result is Felipe has an empty
spot in the band. Exactly. Felipe needs a guitarist
and a voice quickly. So he looks at his own family
tree and he calls up his brother, Alfredo Gil.
OK, so the new lineup is Felipe Gil as the leader,
his brother, Alfredo Gil and Chucho Navarro.
You got it. And this specific trio, Felipe, Alfredo
and Chucho, they play together. for roughly four
solid years. But why is that specific combination
so incredibly important? I mean, bands change
their members all the time, right? They do, but
it matters so much because of what Alfredo and
Chucho would go on to do after this. You see,
playing in a trio format is incredibly intimate.
Well, it's not like playing in a 20 -piece ballroom
orchestra where you can hide behind the brass
section if you make a mistake. In a three -piece
group, you have to breathe together. Your vocal
phrasing has to match absolutely perfectly. Oh,
I see. It's almost like a three -legged race.
You had to be totally in sync. That's a great
way to put it. And for four years, Alfredo Gil
and Chucho Navarro were locked inside this musical
incubator being led by Felipe. They were refining
this incredibly tight sound. They were learning
exactly how their voices blended best. And then,
in 1944, the sources say the band breaks up.
Right. And look at what happens immediately after
they disband. Alfredo Gil and Chucha Navarro
leave Felipe's group. They go out, they find
a third singer named Hernando Aviles, and within
weeks they form Triolos Panchos. And they just
become absolute legends. Titans of the industry.
They codified what we now know as the Romantic
Bolero. If you've ever heard a classic Latin
song with smooth three -part harmony, soft maracas
in the background, and that incredibly fast,
high -pitched guitar. Oh, I know that sound.
Yeah, that's them. They created that template.
Actually, you just mentioned the guitar picking.
I saw the term requinto thrown around a lot in
the discography notes. Was that part of this
whole sound? A crucial part. The requinto is
a smaller guitar, and it's tuned higher than
a standard guitar, so the sound can physically
cut through the other instruments and the vocals.
Alfredo Gil is widely credited with inventing,
or at least popularizing, that specific instrument
for Trio Los Panchos. But where was he practicing
and developing those insane guitar skills before
Los Panchos? Exactly. In Felipe Gil's band. For
four years. Wow. So Felipe Gil essentially...
ran the training camp, he brought these two guys
together, let them simmer and perfect their craft
for four years, and then they went off and conquered
the world. Precisely. If Felipe hadn't replaced
Ancona with his brother Alfredo back in 1940,
Alfredo and Chucho might never have even met.
They certainly wouldn't have spent four years
touring in close quarters. That is wild. The
entire Los Panchos sound, which went on to influence
everyone from 80 Gourmet to modern pop artists,
it simply would not exist. One hiring decision
literally changes the course of a whole genre.
But I want to pivot a bit here because Felipe
wasn't just some stepping stone for his brother's
career. Yeah. He had his own massive standalone
career. And a lot of it centered around his relationship
with Eva Garza. Oh, Eva Garza is a fascinating
historical figure on her own. She was Mexican
-American. Born in Texas, but she became a massive
star all across Latin America, just a total powerhouse
vocalist. The notes say they met in 1939 during
a concert tour in Juarez, Mexico. It was a total
whirlwind romance. They met on tour, fell in
love, and got married that exact same year. And
then they made a decision that I think is really
key to understanding their massive success. They
packed up and moved to New York City. Yes. See,
that surprised me when I read it. I tend to associate
the style of Mexican music with... Mexico City
or maybe Los Angeles. Why New York City in the
late 30s? Context is everything for that move.
Think about the geopolitical situation right
then. It's the late 1930s, early 40s. The world
is heading straight into World War II. Europe
is becoming completely inaccessible for trade
and culture. So the U .S. government under FDR
kicks off what they call the good neighbor policy.
Basically, a political move saying. Let's be
really good friends with Latin America so they
don't side with the Axis powers. Exactly that.
And because of that policy, suddenly there is
this massive cultural push in the U .S. to embrace
and broadcast Latin music. New York City becomes
the absolute hub for this. Because of the radio
networks. Yes. CBS Radio, Columbia Records, they
are all headquartered there and they are starving
for authentic Latin content. Felipe and Eva land
in New York right at the bleeding edge of this
boom. So they weren't just playing niche underground
clubs. They were part of this massive mainstream
cultural wave. Correct. They were broadcasting
live to both North and South America simultaneously.
They were recording for the major labels. Eva
Garza would frequently guest perform with Felipe's
band. They were a genuine power couple in the
truest sense of the word. I was looking at the
discography list we have from the sources, specifically
the tracks they recorded around. time and i realized
i don't actually know what some of these genres
sound like which one stood out to you we'll take
a song like el cascabel it's listed as a huapango
i know that's a regional style but if i actually
press play on that record what am i hearing you
are hearing pure unadulterated energy. A huapango
is not soft background music. It originates from
the Huasteca region in Mexico. It's usually driven
by a violin and there's a specific guitar strumming
pattern that is incredibly percussive. Like a
fast rhythm. It gallops and the vocals are sung
very high. They use these falsetto flips that
are notoriously difficult to execute properly.
So it's an aggressive sound. It's highly spirited
and it's virtuosic. For Felipe to be recording
a raw huapango like El Cascado, Cabell in 1938,
it means he wasn't watering his culture down
for the American labels. He was bringing that
complex regional fan straight to a mass audience.
Now contrast that with something else on the
list, like I Jalisco No Tarajes, the record show
they recorded that in New York in 1942. Ay, Jalisco
no te rajes. That translates to Jalisco don't
back down. That is a classic ranchera. It's a
total anthem. It's all about regional pride,
bravery, drinking tequila, being a macho man.
It is the quintessential song of the charro.
And singing that specific song in New York City
right in the middle of World War II. It sends
a massive message. It's a loud projection of
Mexican identity on a global stage. Just imagine
being a Mexican immigrant living in New York
in 1942. You turn on the radio and you hear Felipe
Gil belting out this defiant anthem of Jalisco.
It must have been incredibly powerful for people.
We also see a lot of songwriting credits for
Felipe himself on these Columbia records for
tracks like Eso Si, Eso No. He wasn't just a
singer. No, and that's a very important distinction.
He was writing constantly, songs like Lu Longo,
El Pijul, El Perendero. And when you look at
the other songwriters they were covering on these
sessions, guys like Lorenzo Barsalada and Tito
Guizar, it really paints a picture of a tight
-knit musical community. Who was Tito Guizar?
I see his name popping up all over these liner
notes. Tito Guizar was essentially the original
Mexican crossover star. He starred in this huge
movie called Awa en El Rancho Grande in 1936,
which basically... launched the golden age of
Mexican cinema single -handedly. He was the handsome
singing cowboy that everyone wanted to emulate.
Oh, so he was huge. Massive. So the fact that
Felipe Gil and his band were recording Guizar's
songs and presumably running in those same elite
circles in New York, it puts Felipe at the absolute
top of the food chain. It also seems like they
were just incredibly productive. The track list
for late 1938 alone is exhausting just to look
at. They were doing sessions in Los Angeles.
in October and November, October 7th, October
18th, October 26th. They basically lived in the
studio. That was the hustle of the era. You had
to constantly feed the jukeboxes and the radio
stations, but notice the sheer variety in those
L .A. sessions. They do the Complexo Pongos,
they do the Roncheras, and then they do standard
pop tracks like La Cucaracha. But the notes say
it was arranged by Gil and Navarro. Meaning they
put their own unique spin on a classic. Exactly.
They weren't just playing it straight. They were,
you know, caporalizing it, probably adding those
intricate vocal harmonies and fast guitar runs
that Chucho and Alfredo were busy perfecting
in the background. So we have this incredible
peak period, the New York years, the Good Neighbor
radio broadcasts, the recording frenzy with Eva
Garza. But Felipe's story has a relatively early
end, doesn't it? Tragically so, yes. The biographical
records show Felipe Gil died in 1956. He was
only 42 or 43. That is shockingly young, especially
when you consider that 1956 is exactly when the
Bolero craze, the very thing he helped incubate,
was completely dominating the world charts. He
missed the biggest wave of the movement he helped
start. It's one of those really sad ironies of
music history. He built the stage, but he didn't
get to stand on it for the final bow. However...
The name Felipe Gil didn't just disappear from
the record sleeves. Yeah. And this is a part
of the deep dive that I think is really special.
The musical DNA kept going. It certainly did.
Felipe and Eva Garza raised three children together
in New York before they divorced in 1953. And
one of those children, named Felipe Gil Jr.,
went on to become a massive figure in the Latin
music industry in his own right during the 70s
and 80s. We're talking about a very serious career
in film, television, and theater. Huge career.
a major songwriter, won the OTI Festival, which
is basically like the Eurovision of Latin America.
But what's truly fascinating is looking at the
evolution of identity within this single family
line. Right, because there's a footnote here
about Felipe Gil Jr.'s later life. Yes. In a
very public and courageous move much later in
life, Felipe Gil Jr. transitioned and is now
known as Felicia Garza. Which I just think is
such a beautiful historical bookend to this whole
story. You start the century with the father.
El Charro, who represents the absolute archetype
of the macho, mustache -wearing, traditional
Mexican cowboy. Right. And then the legacy continues
decades later through Felicia, who represents
a completely different, modern, and fluid kind
of identity. But the constant through it all,
the absolute constant is the music. Exactly.
The raw songwriting talent in that bloodline
is undeniable, regardless of gender or genre
or era. It floats straight from the Beaujolais
family in Veracruz to El Charro in New York,
all the way to Felicia Garza. It really challenges
that static image we have of tradition, doesn't
it? Yeah. We tend to think of tradition as this
fixed, unmovable thing, but... This family's
history shows it's always evolving. Absolutely.
Tradition isn't just about doing the exact same
thing over and over. It's about maintaining the
core quality while the world changes around you.
So when we zoom out and look at Philippe Bourgelieu
-Gill, not just as a name on a dusty record,
but as a historical force, what is the ultimate
takeaway? Why does he matter to someone listening
to us today who might not speak Spanish or know
a Fopango from Ranchera? I think he matters because
he is the ultimate connector. We live in a pop
culture world where we obsess over the front
man, the Beyonce, the Elvis, the Pedro Infante.
But culture is actually built by the connectors,
the people who know exactly which guitarist belongs
in a room with which singer. The people who see
the chemistry before it even happens. Exactly.
Felipe Gil had the ear to hear that his brother
Alfredo and Chucho Navarro belong together. He
had the vision to take regional Veracruz rhythms
and package them for New York network radio.
He connected the rural to the urban and the past
to the future. And he connected the U .S. and
Mexico during a time when the entire world was
falling apart. That too. He was essentially a
cultural diplomat with a guitar. I keep going
back to that what -if scenario we touched on
earlier. I want to leave the listeners with that
thought. The alternate history of the bolero.
Yeah. Just imagine it's 1940. Felipe Gil is stressed
out. His guitarist just quit. He has a massive
radio tour booked. He could have hired literally
anyone. He could have hired a local mariachi
player. He could have hired a jazz guitarist
off the street in New York. He had his pick of
the litter. But he calls his brother. And because
of that one single phone call, those three guys
spend four years in a bus or a car or a train.
harmonizing. They invent a group dynamic. They
perfect the recanto style. And that specific
sound becomes the soundtrack for millions of
first kisses, weddings, and heartbreaks for the
next 50 years. It's the butterfly effect in pure
action. Music history hangs by a single guitar
string. History hangs by a guitar string. I love
that. It's so true, though. If he hires a different
guy, maybe we don't have Besamucho the way we
know it today. Maybe Los Panchos never happens.
The ripple effects are just endless. It makes
you wonder who the Felipe Gills are today. Who
is out there right now assembling the band that
will completely change music in 2035? But we
don't even know their name yet. They are definitely
out there, probably in some garage or a basement
studio right now, introducing to people who have
no idea they're about to make history. Well,
if you are listening to this right now and you
are that person, keep going. We need the connectors.
We really do. And actually, that brings up one
final thought I want you, the listener, to mull
over. We just talked about how vital these connectors
are. But think about how we consume music today.
With streaming algorithms just feeding us endless
individual tracks, it's harder than ever to see
the liner notes. It's harder to see who is producing,
who is introducing the artists, who is playing
the background guitar. Oh, that's a great point.
The credits are buried. Exactly. The algorithms
hide the connectors. So maybe the challenge for
all of us is to start digging into those credits
again. Find out who is building the incubators
today because they are the ones actually steering
the culture. Couldn't agree more. Look past the
marquee. Well, that is all the time we have for
this deep dive. Thank you for exploring the life
and legacy of El Charro with us. It's been a
truly fascinating ride from Veracruz to the Bronx
and back. A pleasure as always. And to our listeners,
thanks for tuning in. Check the show notes for
a link to I Jalisco No Te Rajas. Give it a listen
and just imagine you're sitting in a New York
City apartment in 1942. We'll catch you on the
next deep dive.