Season 2, Episode 6:  “I’ve Been Writing the Same Song Since the First Song I Wrote” ft Helado Negro 

NARRATION: So, about a decade ago, I was doing this oral history art project, talking to Ethiopian and Eritrean taxi drivers in the Bay Area. And there was this one man I met whose story just stuck to me. Let’s call him Dawit. 

Dawit said that back in Addis Ababa, there weren’t enough cars so drivers would share a taxi, and take shifts. And of course, there were never enough shifts.  Eventually Dawit moved to the Bay Area to reunite with family, and started driving a taxi in Oakland, which he loved. He said, “being a taxi driver here gives you independence. It's your own small business. It allows you to work as long as you want. 12 hours, 14 hours, 15, 16  hrs.” In other words, there was always another shift, so no one would ever tell him to stop.

As a kid, I never heard these words said as explicitly as Dawit expressed, but the immigrant work ethic was literally everywhere I looked.

And that work ethic, yes it can be beautiful like for For Dawit, he was able to save up enough money to buy a house and support his extended family. But it can also be vulnerable. A motivation to work work work that so often leads to exploitation, even to someone exploiting themselves.

So what happens when this kind of immigrant work ethic gets applied to art? 

Earlier this year, I was vibing with the incredible singer songwriter Helado Negro’s new album, Phasor, and I thought to myself, wait a minute, another new album already? I mean, lucky us, but how many was that for him? So I checked. 13 albums in 15 years. And I was like, how is this possible?

Do you know what it takes to write, record and release an album? It is so much! Put on top of that the art installations, composing for visuals, touring, and video work that Helado Negro does. 13 albums in 15 years. And I started to wonder, so where is this wild productivity coming from? Is it a compulsion? Golden handcuffs, or just gold? I had to ask. 

My name is Meklit and this is Movement, music and migration, remixed.

Meklit: Can I ask you to introduce yourself to us? However you like to introduce yourself. 

Roberto: Yeah. My name is Helado Negro and I, I'm a sound maker, song, song, song finder.

Meklit: Song finder. That's interesting. Tell me about that. 

Roberto: Yeah, I think everybody who makes music's looking for songs, right? And I remember somebody said that to me a long time ago when she was describing art, how like, oh, art is kind of looking for the poem. It's not literally a poem, but it's just like everything kind of is a poem once you find it. And you're like, Oh, wow, it's just, so wonderful and wondrous, you know?

And it's kind of like, just abstract something that's like, not in your hand and kind of in your head and sometimes outside your mind when you sing it or say it. 

NARRATION: Helado Negro, by the way, is an artist name. It translates to “black ice cream.” His everyday name is Roberto Carlos Lange. He is the son of Ecuadorian immigrants, born and raised in immigrant communities of South Florida. 

Helado Negro’s music is like stretching out in a gently swinging hammock on a warm, breezy day. He’s a crooner with a gentle, vibrato filled voice animating lyrics in both English and Spanish. His sound is analogue, with a light touch of 80s throwback. The frequencies seem like they are coming to you from underwater and they will make you want to daydream the afternoon away. 

I was interested to see that the first track on his new album is really about labor. Labor as love, labor as income, labor as the need to create something new. So that’s where we started our conversation. Talking about a craftswoman who built legendary guitar amplifiers.

Meklit: I was wondering, could you tell us, who was Lupe López and how did you first learn about her story?

Roberto: I was deep in my nerddom looking for an amplifier that I once worked with, it's a called a fender champ. It's pretty like common. It's a small little amplifier. It's really fun to use. And so I was kind of like on this trip where I was like researching, like, should I get a new one? Should I, get a used one? Where the used ones, like how expensive are they? You know what I mean? I was just kind of like on this. 

Meklit: All the questions. 

Roberto: Yeah, so I stumbled upon this forum that was talking about these amps and then there was this photo of Lupe Lopez working at the Fender manufacturing building and in like the fifties and she's at her work bench, and she's actually building these amps. There's like three on the floor and there's one on her bench. And I just found the photo, the image is so like, interesting. Like cool. I guess I never really thought who was making this, and to my surprise also like never really thought like, oh. Like a Mexican woman, a Mexican American woman was making this. And, 

Meklit: Yes. 

Roberto: And then like being like, well, that maybe, you know, I'm not trying to be presumptuous, but I was like, oh, maybe that was obvious. But maybe not because like during the 50s, like my thought was like, It's like this very, like symbolic era of the United States where everything is, like a American made. And, you know? And through my own kind of like prejudices and kind of like predisposed ideas I was just like, oh, maybe it was just like, it wasn't people from other countries making this, you know? It's kind of like the, It's kind of like the narrative that's drawn in your mind. 

And so then, so I was like, oh, okay, so this is definitely you know, it became enticing like that But then like I was like, oh, why is everybody like fanning out on lupe right now? I was nerding out on lupe and then you know They're just talking about how, because obviously that was my first take but it's you know, I was seeing that it wasn't like everybody else's take on it. 

Everybody else's take was like, talking about her care and her touch of these amplifiers made a distinct sound and tone that was kind of, sought after by people who played guitar. Or played sounds through these amplifiers. And through her care and focus, like, you know, this like kind of resonated over time. And still, to this day, like people appreciate the amps that she built, you know. 

And other people built these amps. It's like, she wasn't the only person working there. There was a lot of other people, and you can read on this forums, like, you know, there's a lot of Mexican American people who are working there. But for some reason, her amps, cause, and they knew they were her amps, because on the inside for quality control, they would write Lupe  and write it on a piece of tape and then put it on the inside. So like, If something happened or whatever, if there's like a recall, they were like, Oh, lupe built these or whatever.

Meklit: Right. 

Roberto:  What I connected with was just like there's a lot of people that I know that I grew up with that were, that she reminded me of you know? I came from, like a very worker family and so, you know, you're just, it's a job. And you're doing a job because you're getting paid and you gotta, probably kids you gotta feed and rent you gotta pay. 

So, it's in that respect, it's insignificant in the grander scheme because they're probably thinking about the more important things, like, I love my family. I want to take care of them. I'm not thinking about the soder. Like it's not the most important thing in my life, but it's just something. It's a means to get to a richer life within, you know, the life that I have.

NARRATION: The song is called LFO: Lupe Finds Oliveros. 

I love how the song brings together two very different women.

Lupe is of course Lupe Lopez, this worker on a factory floor, where her relentlessly repetitive actions produce a legendary piece of sound equipment. And Oliveros is Pauline Oliveros, who is almost a mystical sage of contemporary music. She composed for film, wrote five books, was a University professor, co-founded the San Francisco Tape Music Center, and taught the world to listen via radically egalitarian workshops. 

LFO is not just about imagining what might have happened if Lupe and Pauline met, to me, it’s also calling out these two sides of who Helado Negro is. He is both the worker and the sage. In a way, the song is him. 

Meklit: I was wondering, when you were talking about Lupe, you talked about your family as a family that was very much Worker Family. And I see this so much, and we all see this so much in so many folks that are steeped in immigrant communities. I, you know, my parents work ethic was like, whoa. Like, I remember my mom used to work five days in a row, 24 hour shifts, and she would take us to the movies. So she could have a place where she could fall asleep. 

Roberto: She's like I'm gonna keep my kids entertained while I rest.

Meklit: Yes and that's what going to the movies was. And I just wonder if you could say a little bit more like, what was your family like? 

Roberto: My dad is a CNC machinist, you know, he works on like, works with metal, like aluminum. And he builds like, these like chassis or forms that go around electronics, you know? So I would go to his shop my whole life, you know? I would actually have to wake up at like four in the morning and then be at work with him at five and then like. And then lie to him and tell him that I had homework to do so I didn't have to go like sweep the shop, you know? 

Meklit: What would you do at five in the morning there? Would, did you have a role or were you chilling? And it was like he had to go to work. So you had to go too. 

Roberto: I had to go with them because then it was closer to like the school, you know. So my mom didn't have to drive me that far, my dad could, you know. So then my dad would have somebody who worked at the shop drive me to the shop, you know? In like the work truck, which is like this like crazy ass like chicken truck looking thing, you know? 

Where it's just like, you know, pulling up to that, like, as you're like a developing teenager,it's just like destroys any kind of like self esteem you might have about like mystery of like who you might be or, you know what I mean? Everybody's just like, oh damn, this is Roberto and the chicken truck, you know? So it was a lot of that, you know, being there a lot in the mornings, either like working with my dad or, you know, or something he would ask me to go do very like nothing like intense, but just definitely like busy shit.

Meklit: Yeah, yeah.

Roberto: He's Like Oh, I need you to go clean these like 1000 little pieces of metal. And I'm just like doing that for like two hours or something like that before I had to go to school. And it was like, it definitely made me want to leave and go to school, you know? Some kind of Jedi mind trick. 

Meklit: It is. That is a Master Jedi mind trick. Are you still a morning person? 

Roberto: I am! So I think he definitely embedded that into me. And that's like, you know, it's a blessing and a curse. Where it's like on tour it really works out for me. I'm able to really get up and get myself together pretty quickly. But then it also like the curse is like sometimes like, you know, I hit the bed at like three or four in the morning and then like, my eyes are just like open at 7:30. I'm just like, you know? And I'm like I can't go back to sleep.

Meklit: Can you tell me a little bit about your own kind of work habits? Like, do you have a routine to the way you write and record music or are, or is it more like the process of finding the poem like you were describing before? 

Roberto: I think it's like always showing up first, like getting in my studio and then being motivated to do something. 

Meklit: Isn't that funny how showing up is so much of the, of what it is? 

Roberto: It really is. It's, you're like, is that it? That's all I got to do, you know? And you're like, yeah, that's literally all you got to do is show up. And you're like, really? You know, you're kind of like, you're having this like self doubt in your head, you're in a conversation and you're like, Like it's gotta be more. I gotta come prepared with something and like, no, you could just, you could literally just go to your studio and do and like be. Just get in there and you don't have to have anything. 

You know what I mean? Like you kind of put these like internal pressures and internal dialogue and you're like, you feel like you got to have a lot ready. You got to be like ready. And you're like, sometimes you're just not ready. And you could just go and be like, at least I went in there today.

Meklit: Yes, and yet you are like, wildly prolific. Is that, is that something that suits you? Do you thrive on that kind of engine of activity? 

Roberto: I think so. You know, going back to this idea. I think it's just kind of like the worker in me. It's just like everything I've ever known comes from this idea of just like, yeah, you just gotta. I've always just done these things. I've seen everybody around me always just doing these things, not necessarily isolated, but just putting in this work. How many records are you in right now? 

Meklit: Six records. I, the sixth one will come out next year. It's not, it's so five. and then, you know, lots of little collaborations here and there. And then I'm a serial project starter and holder of containers for telling stories together with other artists that are bigger collective stories than I can tell alone. 

Roberto: Right.

Meklit: So all of that. 

Roberto: And do you feel like you, your work in terms of like your, like, obviously I don't know your, your family story, but I mean, do you feel like your work is like, holds onto these places as well? Like moving, from one place to another. 

Meklit: Okay. Listen, this is not a Meklit interview, but fine. I'll give you one minute.

Roberto: No, but I want to know.

Meklit: I'll give you this. The list goes, Addis Ababa, Dusseldorf, Washington DC, 

Roberto: Love Dusseldorf. 

Meklit: Cedar Rapids, Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa, Brooklyn, Jacksonville, Gainesville, Miami, for just a few months, London, New Haven, Seattle, and San Francisco for almost 20 years. 

Roberto: Damn

Meklit: So, it's,

Roberto: Look at you!

Meklit: it's, all a lot. It's all a lot. 

Roberto: Talking about migration.

Meklit: You know, we're working, we're working out our stuff.

NARRATION:  What I didn’t say in the moment, is that yes, my work absolutely stems from having moved from one place to another. I love to jokingly say that starting over so many times was like strength training for a life as a touring musician. Waking up in a new city every day? No problem. Walking into a room full of strangers and winning them over in a heartbeat? Check. But it’s more than that too. Being an artist is working for yourself, being your own boss. It requires harnessing a huge amount of energy to connect a dream, with the methodical steps it takes to bring that vision into reality, which also just happens to fit who I am. 

As a child, I never sat still. I’d ask my infinitely patient mother, what are we going to do first today? And after that? And after that? And what about after that? I needed to know how each day was structured, start to finish, what action would fill it. I had so much energy that the only way to manage it was to know how time would break down step by step. I’m pretty much the same way today. 

Which is why it also feels so good in those rare moments when I can just stop, and be still.  

Meklit: When I listen to you singing, your voice to me feels very relaxed. And it, as a listener, I also find your music often feels like an invitation to slow down and like, be in the world, bask in the world and observe it. Does Your music have that effect on you too? Does it have that effect of inviting you to slow down? 

Roberto: I hope so. I don't know that when I'm making something I have like a super literal intention to be like this is, this is my world slow down track. You know what I mean?

Meklit: Right, right. 

Roberto: And I don't, I don't mean that in like a humorous way. I mean like literally like, I'm not like just as I'm not writing songs in kind of a linear sense, you know? Like I'm really like writing a lot of things as they come in a really vertical sense. Like a lot of what I write is vertically, you know? It's building layers and building layers and then I'm kind of like breaking it down into parts and then like rearranging it like that. 

Meklit: Got you. 

Roberto: So that's what I mean in terms of like, it's harder for me to conceptualize like, something like slowing down, when I'm writing. So it's abstract to me what, what's happening, you know. But then when it happens, I don't know, sometimes I'm like, oh, this is different and then I'm like, oh, this is the same. It's like, and I've told people this before, I'm feel like I'm you know, I do feel like I've been writing the same song since the first song I wrote and, 

Meklit: Really?

Roberto: Yeah I do. I do think that and I think that in the sense that you, have a voice and then your voice changes, but your voice is always your voice, you know? It's like the voice you somebody can always recognize through time even though you sound a little older. You sound a little tired. You sound a little scrappier. You sound like chipper, you know? But it's still your voice and I think that's what I think about a lot. It's just kind of something that's, it's the same song but it's you know, it sounds a little bit different every time. 

NARRATION: I asked Roberto why he feels compelled to keep writing songs, when on some level we are just writing the same song over and over. 

And would he ever stop?

He said no.

Roberto: I think honestly, just I don't know what else to do. Like, I think you find something that you're good at in life and, you really get happy about doing that thing that you're really good at. 

NARRATION: That was Roberto Carlos Lange, who performs as Helado Negro. His new album Phasor is out now, including the song LFO: Lupe Finds Oliveros. 

So in the end, after spending an hour and a half with Roberto, he did answer my question about his prolific creative life. Turns out, Helado Negro’s practice is just him showing up to do what he loves, what he’s good at, what he’s had success at. Plain and simple. And yes, there’s deeper history stirred up in there, but Roberto has made peace with who he is, what his path is.

Then, I step back, just a bit further, and I wonder so what about me? Is this what it means to be a workaholic? It’s a weird label, with a little bit of shame attached to it, but it’s not far off. Songwriting, recording, music videos, multiple community projects, podcasts, radio, talks, teaching. I have trouble taking days off. I have trouble stopping, not on weekends, not even on vacation. Like Roberto, it is also just who I am. But there’s more mixed up in there. I think to myself, so what happens when immigrant work tendencies match how the American economy wants all of us to behave? Quickly, I realize, me, I am not at peace with this. 

My mind flashes to that book Rest as Resistance, and how much I still have to unlearn. I think about how many of my ancestors were not even allowed space to rest, and here I am doing it to myself? Why? But then I get an idea for a song, and off to the studio I go. Not gonna solve it today, I guess. 

Just for this moment, when I am in my turmoil, maybe I should take a walk around the block, and throw on a Helado Negro song, and let his gentle vibrato, along with his calm acceptance of self, invite me into a daydream. 

Movement is produced by Ian Coss and myself, Meklit Hadero. Our co-creator and podcast godmother is Julie Caine. Our broadcast partner is The World. We are supported by the Mellon Foundation and distributed by PRX.

If you enjoyed this story, consider sending it to a friend, or leaving us a review on Apple Podcasts. Believe me, this stuff really does help people find the show. And if you happen to be curious about my albums, or performances, you can learn more at meklitmusic.com. Movement will be back with new episodes every Tuesday through the summer and fall.