Rodriguez performing at Carnival City on 12 February 2013, in Johannesburg. Photo: Gallo Images / Foto24 / Denzil Maregele
Sixto Diaz Rodriguez, whose musical career rose like a phoenix from the ashes after the 2012 Oscar-winning documentary Searching for Sugar Man told the stranger-than-fiction story of how worldwide fame and recognition eluded him for decades, has died on Tuesday, 8 August.
The news of the once obscure Mexican-American singer-songwriter’s passing at the age of 81 was shared on his official website:
“It is with great sadness that we announce that Sixto Diaz Rodriguez has passed away earlier today. We extend our most heartfelt condolences to his daughters – Sandra, Eva and Regan – and to all his family. Rodriguez was 81 years old. May His Dear Soul Rest In Peace.”
Born 10 July 1942 in Detroit to Mexican-American parents, Rodriguez worked on assembly lines while moonlighting as a musician, putting out two albums brimming with hauntingly good inner-city poetry: Cold Fact (1970) and Coming From Reality (1971).
The Detroit music maestro’s counterculture chanson was a unique marriage between Lou Reed and Bob Dylan – the nonchalance of the mean streets of Reed’s underworld and the gritty grind of Dylan’s protest…as well as some Nick Drake awesomeness.
He was signed by famed Sussex Records boss Clarence Avant aka The Black Godfather, who had high hopes for the talented musician.
The Mirror reported that Rodriguez, however, was cripplingly shy and turned his back on the audience while playing on stage at a key concert in Los Angeles. He sold only six records in the US, according to Avant.
Back in the ’70s, bootleg copies of Rodriguez’s debut album, Cold Fact, somehow made its way to the shores of South Africa, as well as Australia and New Zealand.
His vitriolic folk songs about big-city misery, the Vietnam War and the myriad of societal ills were musical politics and poetry rolled into one.
Unbeknownst to Rodriguez, in the the 70s and 80s, Cold Fact became the anti-establishment anthem of liberal South Africans opposed to the injustices of apartheid, the stifling conservatism of the regime and military conscription.
Despite the apartheid government banning a number of his songs, his albums sold 500,000 copies in South Africa – more than the sales of both Elvis and the Rolling Stones’ albums in the country.
Cassette tapes of Rodriguez songs became as commonplace on the border as Tannie Elize pakkies and “Dear John” letters during the time of the Angolan War.
To quote from the CD sleeve of the 1996 re-issue of this iconic album:
“From the utterly stoned Sugar Man to the hard-core cynicism of I Wonder, the songs were blasted out in motels in Trompsburg, on secluded beaches on the South Coast and in schools and varsities around the country.
“Housewives would iron to lines like: ‘jumpers, coke and sweet Mary Jane’ and presumably think the song was about jerseys, Coca-Cola and the cousin from Port Elizabeth.”
In the US and the rest of the world – through some inexplicable twist of fate – his albums sank without a trace, along with Rodriguez for almost four decades.
Rumours did the rounds among fans that their music hero was either dead, on heroin, in prison after having shot his wife, or had set himself on fire on stage.
Try running for mayor (the county spelled his name wrong on the ballot papers) and getting a degree in philosophy, while working as demolition man instead.
Neither word of his popularity in then-isolated South Africa nor royalties from the hundreds of thousands of his albums sold, trickled back to the US and his empty pockets.
In an one-on-one interview with Rodriguez back in 2016 during his final South Africa concert tour, he summed up his decision to quit and return to the daily grind of dusty construction and demolition jobs, with the following pragmatic words:
“I gave it up after ’74, thinking it was not going anywhere. I would have loved to have continued, but nothing beats reality, so I pretty much went back to work.
“I was too disappointed to be disappointed.”
If it wasn’t for two die-hard Cape Town fans who spent years searching for any clues as to the whereabouts of the elusive “Sugar Man”, that would have been the cold hard facts etched into Rodriguez’s mind
The tireless search of record shop owner Stephen “Sugar” Segerman and music journalist Craig Bartholomew Strydom paid off when in 1996, one of Rodriguez’s three daughters, Eva, came across a website set up by Segerman.
She contacted him via the site’s message board, notified him that her father was very much alive and well, and, within hours, connected the two by telephone.
Shortly thereafter, Segerman visited Rodriguez at his humble home in Detroit without a television, computer or even cellphone in sight.
“He came, and showed me the [bootlegged] CD, and described this fanbase I had. Seeing is believing, you know,” Rodriguez recalled the surprise meeting.
“You’re hoping that he’s going to be this hip Dylan-esque character and he is, but more,” Segerman told Daily Maverick at the time.
“He’s not completely at your disposal. I’ve spent a lot of time with him by now, we’ve had some good raps, but, y’know, he holds a lot back. He’s got a lot of real mystery about him.”
Nine months later, Rodriguez and his daughters flew to South Africa, where the musician played to sold-out arenas in 1998
He kicked off his South African tour in Cape Town on 3 May with the epic words: “Thank you for keeping me alive”.
“Performing at sold-out venues in front of thousands of people, it blew my mind,” Rodriguez marvelled afterwards.
If it wasn’t for the masterful music biopic Searching for Sugar Man by Swede Malik Bendjelloul, most Americans would probably never have had heard of Rodriguez, his music and incredible story.
The award-winning documentary led to Rodriguez’s belated success and catapulted him to super stardom status in the US, followed by worldwide concert tours…at the age of 70.
Segerman told News24 that Rodriguez had been ill for some time before his death following a stroke.
The Sugar Man singer turned 81 last month and celebrated with a gathering of musicians in Detroit.
“He was there for a little while but he wasn’t in great shape,” Sugar said, adding that the celebration ended in a “massive tribute concert”.
Fans are invited to share tributes via the SugarMan.org Facebook page, to remember “a man that has touched the hearts of so many people around the world”.
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