Thanks first to a David Holmes cover version then to some recent reissues of his records, I knew the approximate story of Detroit singer-songwriter Sixto Rodriguez. Roughly speaking: intelligent but borderline down-and-out Detroit musician is discovered, makes two amazing albums in the early 1970s, fails to sell anything, and turns his back on the industry to find steady work and raise a family.
Meanwhile his records become the centre of a cult among white liberals in South Africa and symbol of the struggle against Apartheid. South Africans assume he's dead, and thanks to some industry skullduggery he never finds out his records are selling, so he never capitalises on this – until in the late Nineties, some fans turn detective, track him down and bring him over for successful shows. Happy ending!
What I didn't know, though, is just HOW big he was in S.A. - bigger in sales terms than the Stones or Elvis – nor how passionately his music was loved, by people who had literally no idea who he was beyond a few cryptic clues on record sleeves. Neither did I have a clue exactly how charismatic and cool a performer and bizarrely Buddha-like figure he had been and, it seems, still is.
This charming film gets all of this over without ever over-egging the pudding, and in so doing tells a story that is inspirational in many, many ways. Soundtracked by Rodriguez's gorgeous original recordings, which somehow manage to sound somewhere between Bob Dylan and Curtis Mayfield, Astral Weeks and Nick Drake, and filmed by people with a real sense of place who are able to bring the contrasts between Detroit and Capetown to life, it's a delight through and through. If it has a downfall it's that its quiet tone leaves a lot of questions unanswered, but the Making Of piece on the DVD extras goes some way towards helping with that, and the chance to watch and re-watch offer rich rewards. Unreservedly recommended.
Watch the Searching for Sugar Man trailer
