El Parche (The Patch): Steve Jordan

By Hector Silva Chacon

I had not seen or talked with Steve Jordan in over twelve years. I arrived in Austin in July of 2007. I decided to wait a while before I contacted Steve and get to see him, talk with him, and listen to some of his new recordings.

It felt like now would be the right time to finally contact Steve: my mentor, music/life teacher and friend. On July 25, 2008 I was in San Antonio attending a work-related conference and found out Steve might be playing with his two sons at Saluté that Friday night. I called my brother Manny and found out that, sure enough, Steve and his sons were scheduled to play that night. I arrived and Steve and the boys are playing a Bolero. Its romantic-aggressive rhythm embraced and filled the atmosphere. Steve took the lead vocals, and his two sons joined in on the chorus: “Porque faltando me tu…” “Da, da da, da…” answered the accordion. Steve attacked the next riff, the lyrics continue, then suddenly all the music stops. And silence. Then back to a smooth romantic song. I sighed to myself and smiled at Manny. After another two songs comes the “break song.” “Con permiso…vamos a descansar” (with your permission, we are going to take a break and rest), said the song, which was Steve’s signature song from the ‘60’s. Break time.

Steve, Manny, and I hung out together while musicians, fans, friends, and other folks came by to say “hello” to Steve, shake his hand, give him a hug, or offer comments like, “I always wanted to hear your music.” This included me. Although, for me it was more than just the music - I wanted to hear how Steve was doing. Manny had told me that his health was serious and Steve vouched to that. Steve told me that his medications needed to be injected his arm, and not just any arm – the arm he uses to play the accordion. This had caused serious consequences, physically, and interfered with his riffs on the squeeze box. I held his hands, and said, “sorry, Bro.” I kissed his hands as if I was asking for a spiritual intervention to heal and comfort him. Then as we continued to talk and catch up on other musicians, I found out that some musician friends are now dead or very ill. I then realized how time had created a space of non-communication.

Steve starts to get back on stage to finish his set after the club manager asks, “Steve are you alright?” Steve replies, “I’m coming in to play the last set.” He looks at us and asked, “Ready to go in?” As if we had to confirm! After the last set is over, we talked some more and he reminds me to attend the Tribute to Steve Jordan on August 10, 2008 in Austin. I exchange phone numbers with Steve and leave the club. I cry on the way back to the hotel, and I laugh and smile on the recollection of the stories we’ve shared, which made my heart soar with joy and a peace that makes me feel like I’ve lived two lives. One life as a professional musician, and another life (I’m currently living) as an ex-guitar player. Maybe it is a parallel musical universe. I walk in and out of these lives at will. Que viva la musica.

Hector Chacon was Steve Jordan’s guitar player turned bass player and toured for many years with Jordan. Mr. Chacon currently resides in Austin, TX with his wife, Sharon.