MUSIC The Chicano futurists of No Sé Discos share cosmic sounds from the working class

that, I want to know how he got to be so down with the cause. How did he pick that slogan?

“I am living it, we are living it,” he says, “as people, as a family, as artists, as Brown people living in Brighton Park. Nothing is fancy. We are living a simple life and trying to just make it every day. I went to the food pantry yesterday so we could save some money, so we could try to do what we love. We also feel the inequality, the fact that we’re basically lower-income Brown people.”

Ledezma is a musician and producer, and he’s part of a tropicalia-influenced Latine psych-rock band called Allá with his wife, Lupe Martinez, and his older brother, Angel. He and Lupe also have a six-year-old daughter named Oona. “We’re a family and trying to do all these things as a family, and you realize all the things that are stopping you from just trying to make art and connecting with your community and having a family that has dinners together and weekends. I know so many Brown kids that didn’t have that. Lupe and I didn’t have that. My brother Angel and I didn’t have that, because my father worked all night. So we value that stu .”

By SANDRA TREVIÑO

Musicians such as Woody Guthrie, Victor Jara, and Chuy Negrete have championed the working class in their struggle for dignity, justice, and fair pay by telling their stories in song. In Chicago, Brandon Johnson’s victory in the mayoral election demonstrated the power of the working class (and of young people), and he’s named his transition committee “Chicago for the People.” In the world of indie music, “working class” is sometimes just a costume worn by kids with rich parents or trust funds, but on May 1—also known as May Day or International Workers’ Day—the Empty Bottle hosts a celebration for the working class with music from the working class. That celebration is a showcase of artists on Brighton Park-based label No Sé Discos.

My interview with label cofounder Jorge Ledezma is supposed to dig into the history of No Sé Discos and what he calls its “cosmic sounds from the working class.” But before we do

Of course, our society doesn’t value those things—at least not for working-class people. “They don’t say it, but there are policies and other things in place that you’re like, ‘This job doesn’t pay much, so I have to work more, but that means less time with my kids,’ and it just becomes this cycle,” Jorge says. “I feel that. We’re not immune to it. So that’s why I’m down with the cause.”

Jorge, Angel, and Lupe launched No Sé Discos in 2021, having arrived at the idea of starting a label the year before. But that idea had been incubating for years—at least since 2017, when Jorge got to talking music with his friend Chebaka, an up-and-coming Mexican hip-hop artist from Waukegan who worked with him at Whole Foods. They confided in each other about feeling like outsiders with their out-of-the-box music and art concepts.

Allá’s music, Jorge explains, isn’t necessarily Latine, and its strong experimental bent further confuses listeners who expect something specific from Brown artists. “It’s not Latin rock; it’s not alternative Latin music. It’s a kaleidoscope of all kinds of music, some in Spanish,” he says. “We felt like the weirdo Brown people.”

Chebaka suggested collaborating with Allá. “This is all happening while we’re at work,” Jorge says. “This is where the working-class part happens. We’re not emailing each other about it—we’re working.” He started sending Chebaka unreleased Allá music to play around with. “Even though we don’t do hip-hop, we’ve always wanted to,” he says. “Plus we have so much music, a library of stu —so I sent him some tracks, a little bit of everything. I was shocked at what he did with it.”

Chebaka used his phone to rap absurd, philosophical verses over those Allá tracks. Ever since the sessions for the band’s 2008 album, Es Tiempo , Allá had been recording mostly