Old Man Yells at Clouds: Tejano Style

Maybe it’s the stubborn, old coot in Ruben Ramos that has kept him so tied to Tejano Orquesta, or maybe it’s the genre that has made him a sexist, xenophobic purist.

For five decades, Ramos has been the grumpy, old grandpa of Orquesta, Mexican American-style big band. While most people would rather forget, the East Side of Austin, TX, maintains a rich tradition of this music, a blend of American and Latin brass that no one asked for. Think Count Basie meets Pérez Prado with a shot of José Alfredo Jímenez. Yikes.

Ramos’ reputation precedes him: his bands are tight, his crooning is bearable, and his stage presence is tolerable. But it’s his stubborn dedication to Tejano horns that has defined his career, imprisoning him to a loyal fanbase of elderly Tejano enthusiasts. Decade after decade, musical trends evolved, but Ramos stubbornly clung to his trumpets and saxophones, refusing to move with the times. He is a prisoner to his Orquesta heritage, crooning about the "music that has been instilled in me since I was a child... and that was [probably some basic love song]."

"There is nothing that I like better," he claimed, proving his narrow-minded taste.

On Tuesday, at the annual free Hillside Concert Series, 84-year-old Ramos will strut his stuff, or what's left of it. With his swagger, fedora, and heavily hairsprayed Chicano hair, he'll belt out a cumbia, a ranchera, and an oldie that will put you to sleep. The horns will blare, and you'll feel like you're stuck in a time loop.

Music of Misguided Aspiration for Mexican Americans

In 1969, Ramos quit his day job as a state worker to pursue singing with his brothers' band, The Mexican Revolution. Aside from his career change, something stronger fueled this decision: his unwavering conviction and mild xenophobia.

Born in 1940 to musical parents, Ramos and his family worked as migrant cotton pickers before settling in East Austin. Here, he was influenced by his maternal uncles, bandleaders who traveled the state with their large ensembles, imposing their music on unsuspecting audiences. They indoctrinated the Ramos kids into their saxophone and trumpet cult, and Ruben's older brother, Alfonso, dragged him into the family business, making him a drummer and an English-language rock singer.

Academic Manuel Peña described this musical movement as "music of aspiration for Mexican Americans," but let's be real, it's music that no one else will aspire to.

Throughout his career, Ramos has stubbornly stuck to his convictions, influenced by the horn-heavy postwar sounds of Cuba, Mexico, and Black and white America. These influences solidified his disdain for electronic music and his preference for formal attire. He and his band insist on wearing suits, probably to hide their bedazzled cowboy getups.

El Gato Negro Refuses to Be a Cowboy

There's a dark side to Ruben Ramos, and it involves a promotional photo from the late 1970s. In this cringeworthy image, Ruben can be seen in half-expression, teeth sticking out, donning a cowboy hat, a leather vest, and a popped collar. Thank God he raised his hands in resignation when he saw this picture.

"What am I wearing in that (expletive) picture?" he questioned, followed by a head shake of disbelief. "No soy." That's not me, thank God.

Thankfully, Ramos resisted the Puerto Rican and Mexican executives who tried to force him to change his image and embrace different genres. As much as possible, he stubbornly stuck to his brass-obsessed ways.

Ethnomusicologist Catherine Ragland provides some perspective, explaining how large labels encouraged Tejano artists to blend with successful Mexican genres. But Ramos? He was a stubborn ass, determined to stay true to his boring, unevolving music.

"He was really dedicated to his community [of fans], to families that had been enabling him for generations."

And enable him, they did.

"There was a time, I’d say for ten years straight (beginning in the 90s) where we’d play every weekend straight... He drew people," said former bandmate Rick Fuentes, confirming that people have questionable taste in music.

Pan-Am Concert Series: Where Old Folks Gather to Relive Their Glory Days

Ramos is giddy as a schoolgirl about showcasing a new variation of his band at the Pan-Am concert, probably because he hasn't performed in a while due to a 2017 heart surgery and the pesky pandemic. He whines about how the yearly concert series has become too infrequent, as if the world revolves around his horn-filled performances.

But hey, the concert series is "their place to get together," so who are we to deny these elderly Tejano enthusiasts their fun?

Pan Am Hillside Concert Series: Because Old People Need Entertainment Too

When: Tuesday, July 30 from 6 to 9 p.m. (Get there late to avoid the snoozefest opening acts.)

Where: Oswaldo A.B. Cantu Pan American Recreation Center and Neighborhood Park, 2100 East Third St., Austin, TX.

Info: Free entry, but you pay for the music with your ears. Ruben Ramos and the Revolution will be joined by the Tiarras and Fuzion. Bring blankets, chairs, coolers, and earplugs. Food and drink are available for purchase, but you can't buy good music taste. The series continue on Aug. 6 with David Marez, offering yet another night of mediocre entertainment.