PREMIERE | Kevin Dickerson, "Guadalupe Rivera Marín"

The autobiographical aesthetic of Kevin Dickerson; photographed by Katie Thyken.

Bay Area by way of Alaska artist Kevin Dickerson possesses a unique approach to the craft of song composition. Somewhere between observational items cataloged in a journal to a stream of conscious focus shift to chance happenings and day to day occurrences transpiring in the imperfect tense; Dickerson presents a day in the life of hanging out in the Mission neighborhood of San Francisco with the world debut of "Guadalupe Rivera Marín". The song is centered around attending a speaking event hosted by the daughter of Diego Rivera on Father’s Day, where the reminder of reaching out to one’s own father amid all the happenstance and encounters serves a core motif of heart, human connection and an for guitars.

Kevin Dickerson begins "Guadalupe Rivera Marín" with exhibitions of frustrations that revolve around the amateur installation of new curtain rods. The date is Father's Day, June 17, 2018 as Dickerson makes his way down 24th Street to the Brava theater to attend Un Río Dos Riveras: An afternoon with Guadalupe Rivera speaking about her father Diego Rivera. Kevin recalls his fresh pressed formal shirt, conversations with those in attendance, the translator's issues that were not received well by a largely privileged audience of predominately gentrifiers along with a heart-wrenching story told by Guadalupe about embracing her father before his moment of passing. All the emotions involved are expressed in a colloquial tone of human resonances, from ditching the speaking event's cocktail party for a burrito at the nearby Taqueria El Farolito right before calling his dad located in his hometown of Alaska to wish him a happy Father's Day.

The artist jokes with his dad that he could have put up those curtain rods in ten minutes time (versus the six or seven hour ordeal described at the beginning of the song), accentuating a paternal connection of love and joy that is contrasted with the recounted losses of Anthony Bourdain and Stephen Hawking, who both passed in 2018. Dickerson lampoons the eye-roll inducing aristocratic classes that abound throughout the Bay Area, delivering ecstatic praise of the local blue skies, golden sunshine and the joy of being able to call one's father to wax poetic about guitars all afternoon. "Guadalupe Rivera Marín" explores the connections (and inherent generational dissonance) that we share with our parents, the connections we share with ourselves, others and our environments along with all the unexpected items that happen in between itineraries, events and calendar curated landmarks.

Kevin generously shared the following expansive thoughts about the inception and song craft processes in creating “Guadalupe Rivera Marín”:

Like many of my songs, “Guadalupe Rivera Marín” mixes spontaneity with whatever themes were floating around my head leading up to the session. I like to work a lot and try my best to get my ideas out, but making and releasing music isn’t always a linear process. This particular session happened to land on a Father's Day when Guadalupe Rivera Marín came to my neighborhood, The Mission District in San Francisco. She spoke about her relationship with her father, a famous artist. I love my dad and our relationship is really important to me, too. He is a very independent person. He’ll be happy to disappear to a cabin by a lake for days or weeks at a time, reading books, looking at the wildlife, and playing his guitar. He was born in the early 1940s and had a kind of free upbringing I can’t imagine. Like me, he grew up without money. He built a cabin in Alaska by himself. I struggle just to put up some curtains. Growing up in Alaska is like growing up in another country. When he tells me about his day it’s hilarious every single time. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to get my dad on the phone to wish him a happy Father’s Day, so that was on my mind leading up to the session. My dad’s in his seventies and I know one day he’s not going to be there to answer. That’s why I try to tell him how much I love him whenever I can.

My parents taught me how to play guitar when I was young and over the years that became a part of me. As a graduation present my mother and father gave me a beautiful blue electric guitar. Every time I pick it up I think about how hard they worked for it. I remember taking it out of the case for the first time. “Tahoe Blue” was written in felt pen on the hang tag to describe its color. Sixteen years later every time I pick that guitar up I think of my parents. I listened to Mrs. Marín talk about being by her father’s bedside when he passed and how all parents wish for a better life for their children. But I think we’re still far away from the utopian vision that Mrs. Marín’s father depicted in his art. The struggle and ugliness is so much more visible now that everyone has a camera in their pocket. Everyone in that theater was upset and complaining when the translator ran into some troubles. It turned me off and I ditched out on the opportunity to meet Mrs. Marín. I got a burrito instead. As I write this the sky in San Francisco is grey and filled with ash, and the election’s coming up fast.

I try not to let my songs stray too far from my reality. The feel changes slightly depending on who the engineer is, or the drummer. I worked with two geniuses on this song: Beau Sorenson and Jeff Sauer. I know their style really well and have total trust in their work, so while Jeff was playing drums I walked outside and called my dad. The song would have been different if my dad hadn’t picked up and told me about his lawnmower. I’m doing fine living in San Francisco, despite some challenges. Back when I lived in Oakland, Tony Bourdain came to my neighborhood and a few months later I was evicted. I’ve moved five times since then, been flooded, and relearned how to walk again for the fourth time. Flash forward to today and Bourdain hanged himself with a plush cotton belt in the Le Chambard Hotel in Alsace. John Prine’s gone. The sidewalks of Oakland are covered with unwanted furniture dumped by the same people who’ve been displacing Oaklanders for the last decade. Boots Riley is right, we could be heading towards a revolution—but next time I call my dad we’re definitely going to talk about guitars.

Kevin Dickerson’s single “Guadalupe Rivera Marín” will be available September 25 via Loom Records.

Single cover art for “Guadalupe Rivera Marín”.