IN LIFE there are no coincidences, and Luz Elena Mendoza’s first name is proof. The heart of Portland band Y La Bamba, Mendoza is a warrior of light, resilience, and creative ingenuity. Born singing mariachis of Michoacan in Southern Oregon, her haunting yet calming bluegrass folk vocals are rooted in Mexican tradition. Mendoza’s voice resounds with a profound sense of history, her guitar strumming soft but with gripping presence. Ojos del Sol, Y La Bamba’s fourth album, chronicles a deeply intimate journey of personal growth and perseverance. The record comes after a nearly four-year-long hiatus that Mendoza spent processing and healing from past traumas. The Chicana views her music and art as the bridge between her own experiences and the shared histories of her family and ancestors. Mendoza and I have never met, but recently discovered we are related by blood.
Throughout our conversation, nearly every question I ask slowly morphs into stories of Mendoza’s family. That’s because as much as this album is her story, it’s also equally her family’s. “Every time I make a record, I think of my family,” she says. “It’s for them. I always want to write music that they can understand and connect to.” She yearns for acceptance and reciprocation of her love, a theme constant in her music.
Mendoza feels the weight of the world on her soul, mourning her own losses with those of others past and present. Instead of becoming paralyzed, she has fought hard over the past years to free herself of anger’s grasp. This evolution in finding her sense of peace is marked in her verses throughout the album. On “Ostrich” she sings, “I may have lost all of my reason so I could love the way that I can.”