
Luz of Y La Bamba — photography by Christal Angelique
Luz Elena Mendoza began Y La Bamba in 2008 — the name not only deviates from the traditional folk dance, La Bamba, it’s reflective of Mendoza’s persona, her identity which proudly entwines with her Mexican roots. Like the traditional folk dance (bambolear, meaning to sway), there’s a distinct kind of movement in the way Luz carries herself even when she’s not on stage performing. This energy could be compared to a quiet but steady undercurrent, a pulse that hums powerfully but only clearly evident to those pausing to listen.
Mendoza’s journey began in a challenging place, an upbringing in a Mexican American household that engulfed her entire existence. Early on, the artist found herself face to face with life decisions many will never have to endure in their lifetime, a survivor who left home early on to explore a musical path. The journey hasn’t been easy for Mendoza, she wears her history, her turmoil, her passion and wisdom on her sleeve, she’s not hiding from her story but she emphasizes its layers. No story is simple.
These personal characteristics roll over into her offerings, music something that fills the many chapters of her adult life. Released in 2016 through Tender Loving Empire, Ojos Del Sol delivered a mixture of her native tongue, Spanish and also English. It’s an album that touches on Catholicism, her parents, and Mexican folk narratives. In “Libre” (translation: free) there’s a meandering, spiritual presence punctuating the song’s mood; a choir builds on Mendoza’s vocals, there’s something imaginative as the lyrics paint a picture of natural elements, animals, dreams and a place where it all comes together.
“I heard a screaming coming straight out
Of the evening
Where all the animals came
Together to have a talk
They spoke to higher places to protect
Of what the claim to stalk and all the
Fruits that they know so well if they
Come or not”
Melodic through and through, the song shifts over to Spanish halfway, the poeticism feels so true to Mendoza, it’s personal and while not hidden, can be easily overlooked if not paying attention.
A translation flows into something that deviates into prayer, it’s a beautiful plea asking for peace for her first mother, then her father, and brothers. This piece of the song is like a suspension in time and emotions, she honors her ties and the blood that connects them together.
These dual complexities run steadily throughout Ojos Del Sol, the good and bad, tribute to both present and past. Listeners will battle with the question of knowing if the artist is acknowledging both sides or if she is stuck in purgatory between the two.

Luz Mendoza of Y La Bamba — photography by Christal Angelique
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