Bachata Vs Duranguense Vs The Mass

I’ll shout it right now: I LOVE AVENTURA. I love bachata period- the rhythms are awesome, and I love how smooth it is. It gets in your blood and makes itself a nice little home there. Its got the right mix of a rap sound, latino sound, and even raggaeton as well. Its from the islands, so you’re going to hear it more in the Dominican Republic areas, probably Costa Rica too. Here’s a song I like:

Really good harmonies, great music to study or procrastinate to.

Mr. Serrano, however, being so ridiculously Mexican its…well ridiculous, loves the corridos, and that Mexican polka stuff known only to those who are in the know (Mexicans or the people who love them) as “Duranguense”. Everyone else calls it what it is: Mexican Polka Music.

This- this is the horror that will make an appearance at my wedding. And not just a cameo appearance either- God help me, because I’m going to need at least a good cumbia or 10 to offset just one of these songs:

That’s El Mechon, and it almost makes me hate Mexico. And that song goes on for the better part of 10 minutes. Somebody wisely cut it short, possibly knowing that that song in particular causes murderous rages on a regular basis.

This one is more representative, and isn’t nearly as rage inducing. However, it is still polka.

And Mr. Serrano is ADDICTED to it. Basically, this appears to also be the hillbilly music of Mexico. Now I know how ghetto kids feel when they hear banjos playing. No wonder they’re glaring at all the people they see- you hear that stuff like even once, and you begin to hate the world.

Please God, allow for lots of cumbia? Bachata? Raggaeton? A mix? I can deal with this polka stuff if its a mix.

I’m going to have to fight to have bachata in the wedding. Sight…. So anyways, what does this have to do with the Mass?

Well, its the one place we can agree Duranguense doesn’t belong. Especially when its blasting. When its loud. So loud you can’t pray. Or think. And the choir sounds drunk.

When are we going to find a parish? The pity is that the Mass was done well, other than the usual liturgical abuse of clapping. There were patens, which made me happy. The Tabernacle was beautiful. The Bible was gorgeous. The right number of candles and everything were out, and it was very traditional. And it was all pretty much ruined by the music.

I thought that this would be the place to come home to…but I was hoping that home doesn’t mean that I have to put up with the crappiest music (and sound system) ever for a Mass. Both Mr. Serrano and I were…shocked. We couldn’t even really talk about it.

God, we need a place to go to Mass in Spanish, and I’m really unsure of how orthodox these people are…I’ll talk to the priest. I’m seriously considering just taking Mr. Serrano to Mass in English at the less freaky parishes I know of, simply because finding a Spanish Mass that hasn’t been turned into a big giant sappy clap fest is becoming impossible….

 

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