Fandango 24/7

IN this misty mountain town tucked in the Sierra Madre, far from Mexico’s tired tourist track, a musical revolution is unfolding. In the clubs that dot Xalapa’s winding streets and alleyways, young musicians are preserving -- and transforming -- a traditional folk genre called son jarocho.

It’s a soulful, foot-stomping style (think “La Bamba” but better) typically played on small guitars plucked in jazzy improvisations or strummed faster than the eye can see. Performances often turn into all-night jams called fandangos, cathartic marathons of song and dance that unveil the joys and sorrows, the injustices and absurdities of life, love and politics.

Tipped by L.A. enthusiasts, I came here last month to survey a music scene -- jarocho, of course, as well as jazz, folk, classical, pop and salsa -- that tells the story and reveals the character and culture of Xalapa. But my contacts hadn’t warned me to avoid tables next to the stage, where the explosive dancing can rattle your cucaracha, a coffee and tequila cocktail.

That’s where I sat at La Tasca del Cantor, a club whose nondescript facade on a quiet residential street camouflages the alluring environment within. On the semicircular stage was Son Luna, a five-man group that injects testosterone and urban attitude into this rural music. No folkloric outfits or white country hats, just jeans, shirts and ponytails.

The players build a rhythmic frenzy on their jaranas and requintos -- small guitars -- and on a rustic wooden crate used for percussion and a large tambourine that vibrates like a coiled rattlesnake. They then take turns dancing on a tarima, a small wooden platform used to amplify the crackle of their flamenco-like footwork.

From my seat, all I saw were black boots in syncopated motion. One dancer was so forceful that he pushed the platform against my table, which shook as if this whole volcanic region had been hit by an earthquake.

“It’s unbelievable what has happened in Xalapa,” says Ramon Gutierrez of Son de Madera, another top group based here for the last 12 years. “When we first got here, we were considered strange creatures. But son jarocho started taking hold as an artistic activity, and today, I can tell you there are a dozen groups who do fandangos with so much energy you’d think every night was their last.”

I first discovered Xalapa (the Indian spelling; the X is pronounced like an H) as an accidental tourist 15 years ago. My brother and I had gone to Veracruz, about 75 miles from here, searching for that port city’s famed musical life.

Instead of a musical paradise, we found a grimy and remarkably colorless place where decrepit marimba bands and gaudy mariachis played for tips in the plaza. So we bolted back toward Mexico City. Xalapa, the capital of Veracruz state, was to have been a stop along the way.

Yet it was so instantly enchanting that we stayed to explore what turned out to be the region’s real center of culture, a college town teeming with artists, musicians, writers and actors.

I could sense the change in atmosphere -- in culture and climate -- almost immediately. The port of Veracruz is muggy, laid-back and spread out, but Xalapa, at 4,670 feet, is cool, slightly formal and compact. Here, everything is just a quick walk or a cheap cab ride away. In the short time my brother and I had, we caught an accomplished jazz group at the Teatro del Estado, home to the city’s acclaimed symphony, and peeked in on a rehearsal by a rousing ballet folklorico at the University of Veracruz, the city’s cultural magnet.

Standing in Xalapa’s vibrant central plaza, I promised to return someday.

I got the chance last month after covering the annual son jarocho festival in Tlacotalpan, a coastal town about four hours by car southwest of here. The festival features hundreds of bands from throughout the region, but I kept encountering people from Xalapa, including one of my L.A. sources who had flown down for the event, Xalapa-born DJ and concert promoter Betto Arcos.

Xalapa, Arcos said, had gotten as hot as the jalapeno peppers that took their name from the city. On my four-day visit, I found that the city’s cultural life had mushroomed right along with its population, officially 400,000 (excluding the seasonal influx of students).

Today, there are more cafes, restaurants, galleries and cultural centers, more bands and bigger festivals, such as the Junio Musical that each June has jazz, jarocho and other live music.

On its outskirts, Xalapa boasts a new Costco and Home Depot, but you still won’t find a Starbucks; importing Yankee java seems superfluous in this rich coffee-growing region.

One thing hasn’t changed: The people are as friendly as ever. Even a foreign reporter and photographer found open doors without special permits or passes.

Backstage on opening night of the season for the Xalapa Symphony Orchestra, for example, we were allowed to roam freely among the tuxedo-clad musicians tuning up. In one back room, I noticed a gray-bearded man leaning on his upright double bass. His name was William Love, a New Orleans native who moved here in the 1970s to join the then-expanding orchestra.

“I fell in love with the place and wound up staying 30 years,” says Love, 59, who attended the Manhattan School of Music. “It hasn’t really lost its small-town characteristics. But there is, let’s say, something very exceptional about this city. Xalapa said it wanted to have a good orchestra and it took care to actually do it.”

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The arts, all around

CONCRETE signs of Xalapa’s unflagging commitment to the arts are visible around its delightful central plaza, one of the most charming in a country of charming plazas. An afternoon stroll around Juarez park offered visible evidence of the city’s cultural evolution.

On one side cater-corner from city hall, the new Carlos Fuentes library occupies a multistory building that once housed a furniture store and government fishery offices. From the elevated plaza, you can see straight into the upper levels of the remodeled modernistic complex, its book stacks visible through walls of glass.

Directly across from the library is the Pinacoteca Diego Rivera, a smartly designed gallery named for the famed muralist and native son of Veracruz. The state-run space, opened in 1998, holds a collection of three dozen Rivera paintings and promotes contemporary artists such as Francisco Toledo, who donated his darkly surreal works to pay off the tax collector.

Around the corner is yet another remodeled cultural center, the Agora de la Ciudad, a name referring to the civic gathering places of ancient Greece. The center sponsors film screenings, live performances and art exhibitions, with some works displayed on the walls of a tunnel-like underground gallery with a coved stone ceiling.

These modern spaces have been harmoniously hewed into historic structures. The aesthetics of old and new, contemporary and colonial, coexist naturally, just as this ancient city itself seems naturally hewn over centuries from the terraced slopes of Mt. Macuiltepetl. This volcano is now the site of a nature preserve where Xalapenos love to exercise.

The mountainous topography provides a privileged vantage point and sweeping views from the heart of Xalapa. Its broad plaza sits on a plateau jutting from the surrounding hillsides. If you approach it from the narrow, winding streets above, the vistas suddenly open up across the tree-shaded square.

On the far side, the city falls away amid rolling hills and canyons. In the distance on a clear day, the snowcapped Pico de Orizaba, Mexico’s tallest peak, is a dramatic backdrop to the zocalo scene where couples coo on park benches and various bands play on Sundays.

It’s a natural environment that seems designed to inspire creativity. Visitors can take it all in over coffee at the library’s rooftop cafe or the terrace cafe outside the Agora.

“People here are very respectful of this place,” said Veronica Paiz, a young employee of the state’s culture ministry. “My father was 17 years old when he came through here and had coffee in this very place. He looked around and said, ‘I have to live here!’ So he moved here and married my mother.”

As we chatted in the dusky light, a strolling violinist serenaded guests with classical music.

“Now that fascination that my parents had for this city,” Paiz continued, “they’ve passed it down to us.”

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Colonial legacy

WHEN the Spaniards marched on Mexico City after landing at Veracruz in 1519, they passed through a cluster of Indian settlements in what is present-day Xalapa, a site inhabited since before the birth of Christ. The ruins of a house said to belong to explorer Hernan Cortes can still be seen in nearby La Antigua, where the invaders also built the first church in continental America.

Today, the turn-off to La Antigua is near a tollbooth along a spiffy new highway that makes travel between Veracruz and Xalapa smooth sailing. I made the drive in less than two hours on a Thursday night, arriving in the capital in time for the midnight salsa show at a club called Liquids.

Xalapa’s taste for Afro-Cuban music reflects the profound African influence, a legacy of the Spanish slave trade that helped shape popular culture here.

By 12:30 a.m., Liquids was packed for the performance by Son Residentes, the tasty house band whose sound, like several of its members, is strictly Cuban. They play perched on a balcony overlooking the dance floor of this terraced disco with its wavy, scaly blue seascape decor.

“I go to the port all the time, and it doesn’t cut it,” says Sergio Lago, the group’s rhythm ace on the tres, a Cuban guitar. “They may like to party more, but when it comes to music, there’s more quality here. And there’s more competition, so it’s more difficult. In Xalapa, artists are looking to grow.”

In some ways, though, Xalapa is still provincial. Credit cards, for instance, are considered a modern nuisance. Many establishments won’t take them.

Despite government plans to attract more tourism, information at the tourist booth outside city hall is skimpy, and local guide maps are rudimentary. You’ll have better luck finding information on the Web about local attractions, such as the anthropology museum, considered the best in the country outside Mexico City.

I could find no source that offered an up-to-date calendar of entertainment events, so I had to hit the streets and explore to find out what was happening. (English is fairly widely spoken.) That can be a hit-or-miss strategy, but it also can be fun.

This is a walking town, after all, and it’s still relatively safe to stroll at night. The climate is comfortable too, even in a light drizzle. Streets follow the landscape, not a master plan. They rise and fall, twist and curve, always inviting you to see what’s around the corner. When they intersect, it’s rarely at right angles.

Many cafes and bars are tucked away in winding alleys paved with volcanic rock and named for old legends. The picturesque Callejon del Diamante (Diamond Alley), named for a legend of murder and marital betrayal, is crowded with jewelry dealers who set up small tables along both sides. As you squeeze past the shoppers, you’ll come to a well-lighted cafe called La Sopa, a mecca for artists and intellectuals that features weekly shows by Trio Xoxocapa, another respected folk ensemble, and demonstrations of danzon, the elegant Cuban ballroom dance.

Later, I swung by Patio Munoz, a funky complex where Son de Madera’s Gutierrez holds workshops in son jarocho and other people teach painting, sculpture and dance. The place was quiet that afternoon, but it was worth the visit to experience the mural adorning the curved walls of its tunnel-like entrance. The artwork seems to move as you pass through to the inner patio.

Somehow in Xalapa, all roads lead back to the central plaza. My last day was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon in Parque Juarez, bursting with color and life.

“This is definitely a wonderful place to come,” says Roy Dudley, an eccentric American expatriate known as “El Gringo Jalapeno” who leads walking tours for English-speaking visitors. “I always tell people, ‘You can get bored in Xalapa -- if you really work at it.’ ”

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Arts haven

GETTING THERE:

From LAX, connecting service (change of plane) to Veracruz is offered on Mexicana, Aero California and Continental. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $397.

TELEPHONES:

To call the numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (the international dialing code), 52 (country code for Mexico) and the local number.

WHERE TO STAY:

Hotel Xalapa, 163 Guadalupe Victoria, Zona Centro; 228-818-2222, www.hotelxalapa.com.mx. Newer hotel with a swimming pool, two restaurants and a lobby bar with good-quality live music. Doubles from $97.

Posada la Mariquinta, 12 Alfaro, Centro Historico; 228-818-1158, www.lamariquinta.xalapa.net. Intimate hillside inn close to downtown with lovely terraced gardens. Doubles from $49.

Meson del Alferez, 2 Sebastian Camacho, Centro Historico; 288-818-0113 or 288-818-6351, www.pradodelrio.com. Two blocks from the central plaza in a 200-year-old house once occupied by the last Spanish viceroy; accommodations are rustic and service is only adequate. Doubles from $59.

WHERE TO EAT:

Asadero Cien, 89 Avenida Maestros Veracruzanos, Colonia Modelo; 228-817-8062. Traditional Mexican grill specializing in beef, chicken and ostrich entrees from $6.50-$22.

Plazoleta Restaurante-Cafe, 46 Zamora, Centro Historico; 228-818-9330. Pleasant location for a variety of Mexican-style breakfasts served in a sunny inner courtyard, $3.30-$4.40.

Churreria del Recuerdo, 158 Guadalupe Victoria, Zona Centro; 228-818-1678. Folksy, informal setting for light Mexican dishes (tamales, chilaquiles, panuchos), $1-$6. Churros are 50 cents, when the churro machine is working.

TO LEARN MORE:

Mexico Tourism Board, (800) 446-3942 (for brochures) or (310) 282-9112, www.visitmexico.com.

Agustin Gurza

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To hear a sampling of son jarocho music: latimes.com/xalapa.