ARTICLES
January 2004 ARTICLES
Contents © 2004
by Jim Holman.
All rights reserved.
I'm a Radical
Latina Gospel Singer Will Not Compromise
BY JONATHAN FIERRO
Here, at the Riverside convention center, the main attraction is a black-haired singer who dominates the old but well-lit stage with her powerful but soothing voice. Five thousand souls chant to Sandy Caldera's every lyric. The vocalist wears jeans and a dark top. At 5'7", Caldera, with a microphone in hand, seems to tower over the stage due to her voice, which fills every part of the theater.
Some in the audience liken her to an angel. Others, moved by her songs of hope or hymns to God, are led to raptures of joy or tears.
A rock star? A Latino Celine Dion?
Not quite. Caldera, a blind 20-year-old psychology student from Tijuana, is one of the biggest-selling Catholic gospel singers in the Latino world.
Her songs, mostly dedicated to Jesus or the Virgin Mary, bring hope to thousands, if not millions, of listeners from Alaska to Argentina, said Marilynn Kramar, head of Charisma in Missions, one of the largest Latino ministries. Kramar added that many credit Caldera's songs for bringing them spiritual healing, as well as a deeper meaning to their faith.
For the most part of her young but exciting career, Caldera has preached to her large group of teen fans to stay away from drugs, practice abstinence, and, above all, to follow in Christ and His Blessed Mother's footsteps. She's also been known to dress modestly, in a way that the Virgin Mary would approve.
There's more. Caldera juggles her music career while majoring in psychology. She ran a suicide prevention hotline when she was still in high school and she answered each and every call. "She's one of a kind," said Kramar, who has known Caldera since the singer was 12.
Caldera frequently appears at Catholic Latino events or at parishes across Southern California. Her mother, Constanza Martinez (who often leads her daughter onstage), says those who invite her daughter pay for her travel expenses and that she does not get paid for her appearances, relying on donations and the sales of her CDs. At the Riverside concert, Caldera took some moments to preach to the women-only massive retreat crowd. She delivers her message of hope to everyone but particularly to teenagers and young women. "Now is the time of our lives where we have to decide what we are going to do," she told the crowd. "Now is the time that we will decide if we are going to remain where we are at, or if we are going to move forward."
Months after the Riverside concert, Caldera, decked in jeans and a gray blouse, hurries down the spiral set of stairs in her mother's home in Playas de Tijuana, a middle-class suburb west of the city. She takes a seat on one of the white couches in the circular, Ionian-style living room. A four-foot statue of the Virgin of Fatima commands attention in the greeting room. Angels hang from the whitewashed walls; a spidery, gray chandelier hangs from the tall ceiling.
Caldera knows that her life story, good looks, and, above all, her voice, led executives from Latino giant label Fonovisa to sign her for a one-album deal four years ago. Still, some artists in the Catholic gospel industry complain that artists like Sandy -- whose contract with Fonovisa ended -- do not receive the support that they need because most of the heads of that company's spiritual division are evangelical Protestants who shun Catholics.
Caldera doesn't complain. She said that her latest CD, Por Mis Pecados (Because of My Sins), is doing just fine and that the year that she spent with Fonovisa was a good experience; she's moved on. "It's God's work," she said. "Singers like me will take our music to those who want to hear about Our Lord, with or without companies like Fonovisa."
Martinez said that Caldera has been doing "God's work" since she was five years old. But at first, the singer's mother thought that God had punished them through her daughter's handicap. Caldera was born blind, said Martinez. At an early age, doctors told Martinez and Caldera's father (a lawyer), who are a devout Catholic couple, that their daughter would never be able to see.
"When we found out, we questioned God. Why us? We, who are always in church? Why do you do this to us?" recalled Martinez. "Then we understood that you shouldn't question God, only accept His Will. Little by little, we understood that He had a plan for her."
The "plan" went like this: at age five, little Sandy began singing in the church choir. By age 9, their pastor suggested that the girl, who was already the lead voice in the cathedral choir, record an album. The proceeds of the album would go to the building of a much-needed room for the poor parish's catechism program. Caldera dedicated the cassette to slain Guadalajara cardinal, Juan Jesus Posadas Ocampo. Since then, Caldera's family has financed all of her CDs. Most of her dozen albums have been produced and recorded in the San Diego area.
The vocalist's spiritual life has grown as well. Caldera said that she credits the writings of St Augustine and St. Therese, the "Little Flower," for inspiring her to a closer bond with God. "I used to see my handicap as a limitation. Now I see it as a gift. It brings me closer to people," she said. "It strikes me to see kids who are ill. Far from ignoring them, I want my message to reach them."
After reading a story about Caldera in the Los Angeles Times and seeing her on a Spanish news channel, a Fonovisa executive signed her in 1999 for a one-album contract for that label's newly-created spiritual division, which includes evangelical singer Rabito. Caldera was touted as the next big thing.
Yesenia Flores, a well-known recording artist in the mainstream Spanish world who also records Christian CDs on the side, says that Caldera has a good chance of one day becoming a bona fide hit outside the gospel industry. Flores, through her now-defunct D'Colores label that included a host of Catholic singers, was key to Caldera's stint with Fonovisa.
"She has it all to succeed," Flores said.
But Caldera, who claims to have had other offers from mainstream producers, said that she will not abandon her gospel roots. She added that if she is to make it in the mainstream, it will be by singing to God. "A throat that has sung to God, will never be satisfied by singing to another creature," she said.
And though Caldera likes some of the works of Christian vocalists who have left their roots for mainstream success, she said that is not her thing. She added that, for her, it would be like living a double life. "I don't believe in fanaticism, but I do think there should be some coherence. I am a radical; either you are or you are not," Caldera said. "If I am telling teens to have values and a life with God, and then my life is a mess, I think that would be un-natural: we can't be with a foot in and a foot out."
Lately it is Caldera who has struggled with the issue of coherence, she said. Two years into her studies as a psychology major, she has had to reconcile her orthodox Catholic faith with the more progressive ideas taught in her classes. The singer concedes that most of modern, pop psychology tends to uproot Christian values -- very subtly, though. But on the other hand, Caldera said that her Catholic doctrine always comes first, not the other way around. "Often, psychology doesn't offer the solutions to some problems," she said. "That's when the supernatural power of God comes in." Despite the possible setbacks, Caldera has a bold ambition: "I want to blend Christianity and psychology," she said.
Two years left into her psychology studies, Caldera has been busy working as an intern, seeing men and women three days a week for 50-minute sessions at Nuestra Señora de la Salud (Our Lady of Health), one of the poorest parishes in Tijuana. The church barely seats about 80 people. Never mind not being able to see, Caldera walks with a young woman, her first patient of the day, past the church into a construction site, where gnarled wires sprout up from the ground. There, beyond an old, iron door, is a catacomb-like room turned into a makeshift office. Inside, a Winnie the Pooh doll welcomes some of Caldera's patients, who are often children. Behind a cubicle is a medical table and some charts.
Back at the parish office, social worker Maria Guadalupe Armenta shows Caldera's evaluations: "excellent," "very good," and "very tender with patients." "The only problem with her [Caldera] is that most of the people who come here for help want Sandy to see them," Armenta said. "Some of the other interns have trouble finding patients."
As far as music is concerned, Caledera's next step is to discard some of her pre-recorded instrumentals that she has to use during her concerts and trade them for a live band. "It's my dream," she said. "I know that God will grant me that gift." Her next studio recording is in the works, she said. And as soon as she gets a band, she plans to record a live CD so that she can launch a double album.
But not all is work for Caldera. She has a boyfriend, goes to parties, travels, and loves to sip iced, chocolate, foamy cappuccinos at trendy Tijuana coffee shops. The singer said that joy is part of a Catholic living. "I don't know if I will marry or will stay single forever," she said with a smile, before heading-off to see another patient. "All I know is that I will go where God wants me to go."