Sixto 'Sugar Man' Rodriguez's legend will live on long after he's gone
An incredible story that became even more amazing with the 2012 documentary.
They say music never dies. For a while, it seemed Sixto Rodriguez never would either. He finally succumbed to this tough, leather-skinned required reality last week at the still-too-young age of 81. But he leaves behind a treasure chest stuffed with robust songwriting and an unbeatable spirit.
The Detroit music legend wasn’t a known commodity until a documentary called Searching for Sugar Man brought his underdog story out of the woodwork. A pair of South African music aficionados went swimming for the tunes of a man called Sixto--someone who haunted dark stages in dimly lit Motown bars. The duo found this allure in the singer from Dave Matthews covering his song at live concerts.
Sugar Man was the song, and it was only a big hit in South Africa and Australia. It was only after a couple random fans fell in love with his tunes that Rodriguez’s fame was set on fire. That’s due to the fact that the film, directed by Malik Bendjelloul, didn’t play out like a normal documentary; Searching for Sugar Man carried the aura of a classic cinema mystery.
Did he take his own life on stage at a show?
Did he just drift away and die?
The truth was he didn’t disappear, more like earning a living. Dreams and a job don’t always mix when your music isn’t as well-received in the U.S. as you would have hoped. Rodriguez worked as a laborer in warehouses and demolition work, collecting and playing (under the radar) his music.
Think of his voice and songwriting and guitar-playing as a brother from another mother of Bob Dylan. The lyrics are wise beyond their years but too raw for viewers’ ears, at least in the states. The guitar is more Van Morrison free and easy than aggressive, allowing the voice to expand and the sound to breathe. He had it all, once the documentary came out.
For half of the running time, we didn’t know what happened to him. Then, he’s located in the snowy metro area of Detroit, walking stiffly yet healthily out of a house for the morning grind. A man who encased genius in his brain still had to get his hands dirty. No free lunch, as they say.
I can’t describe to you properly how satisfying it was to find out he wasn’t only alive and well but soon-to-be celebrated in the U.S. The movie was screened at the now-closed Tivoli in the Delmar Loop, and I walked out of that theater imprisoned to the man and his story. How he pushed his given-talent down in order to make a living; that spoke to me beyond words.
When I found out he had died last week, I was delivering plumbing supplies in Hazelwood. It was raining out, one of those days where the sky didn’t seem to zip its pants. I had made a delivery, saw the news, and had a chance to pull over and read about the story at the next stop. 81 years is far more than a fair amount, a good run for a guy who played at Coachella and Glastonbury during his late career renaissance.
If the sum of a life well-lived is determined by what you were able to accomplish and able to leave behind, Sixto Rodriguez excelled big time.
Rent the movie for cheap (worth every penny) right here.
