Dozens of Mexican and Chilean organ grinders paraded through Mexico City’s historic center, bringing early-20th-century street music back to life with vintage instruments, period costumes, and impromptu concerts.
On Sunday morning, more than two dozen organ grinders from Mexico and Chile transformed the heart of Mexico City into a living tribute to early-20th-century street music. Beginning at 11:00 a.m., costumed performers rolled handcrafted barrel organs along Avenida Juárez toward the Zócalo, delighting families, tourists, and local passersby with nostalgic melodies and the sight of vintage wood-cased instruments adorned with ornate carvings. The two-hour procession, organized by the Secretaría de Cultura of Ciudad de México, marked the latest effort in a growing movement to revive and preserve an art form that had largely faded from urban streets by mid-century.
“This parade isn’t just entertainment; it’s a bridge to our past,” said María Guadalupe Torres, coordinator of the event and director of the CDMX Cultural Patrimony Program. Dressed in a 1920s–inspired flapper dress, Torres explained that the idea originated after a 2024 exhibition on European street musicians drew unexpectedly large crowds at the Palacio de Bellas Artes. “We realized that organ grinders once played a vital role in city life—an acoustic soundtrack to daily routines—and decided to bring that experience back to the public sphere.”
Veteran organ grinder José Martínez has been performing on the streets of Oaxaca for nearly four decades. For Sunday’s parade, he traveled to the capital carrying a 1905 Gebrüder Brudermann organ, its polished walnut casing inlaid with mother-of-pearl. “When you crank the handle,” Martínez said, “you’re not just playing music—you’re telling a story written by generations of street performers.” He noted that many younger participants are now learning the craft through community workshops funded by local governments and cultural associations.
Spectators gathered along the route— from the intersection of Avenida Juárez and Eje Central to the steps of the Metropolitan Cathedral—snapping photos and humming along to familiar tunes such as “La Cucaracha,” “El Jarabe Tapatío,” and “La Valentina.” Impromptu performances sprung up in small plazas and under colonnades, with organ grinders taking turns to entertain coffee-shop patrons and art-gallery visitors. Children chased each other between columns, trying to peer under the organ’s skirt to see the inner workings of the bellows and pinned cardboard music discs.
“The sound carries beautifully against the stone facades,” said Alejandro Luna, a local historian who guided a group of international tourists during the parade. “It’s as if the city itself is amplifying these melodies that once echoed through these same streets over a century ago.” Luna added that organ grinders were once fixtures in Mexico City’s bohemian districts—especially the Alameda Central and Barrio de la Merced—where they provided background music for street vendors, poets, and political rallies.
Sunday’s event was part of a larger festival—Mercados de Sonidos Urbanos—running through May 20. Organ grinders were joined by mariachis, modernist dancers, and itinerant folk poets known as “versadores,” all performing in the vicinity of the National Palace and Teatro de la Ciudad. The aim is to showcase the city’s living traditions and stimulate dialogue about intangible cultural heritage. Officials hope to nominate the parade for UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by later this year.
For many participants, the parade was also a practical demonstration of how vintage instruments can be adapted for modern audiences. Chilean organ grinder Camila Rojas, who specializes in Latin American folk compositions, fitted her 1920s Fritz Kuhn organ with a battery-powered amplification system. “Some tunes are too soft to carry across a crowded plaza,” Rojas explained, “so I integrate a discreet amp at the back. It’s about balancing authenticity with accessibility.”
Local businesses along the parade route reported a noticeable uptick in foot traffic and sales. At Café El Turquesa, owner Luis López said Sunday’s crowd was nearly double the usual weekend morning rush. “People came for the coffee but stayed for the performance,” López said. “It reminded me of how street music can create community—strangers smiling at each other, sharing a moment.” Nearby handicraft stalls sold miniature barrel-organ replicas and themed souvenirs, further blending commerce with cultural celebration.
Not every observer was a longtime enthusiast. American tourist Sarah Johnson, visiting Mexico City for the first time, admitted she knew little about organ grinders before stumbling upon the parade. “I thought it was a marching band,” Johnson laughed, cradling her toddler. “When I realized those weren’t drums but hand-cranked music boxes, I was enchanted. It felt magical seeing musicians in top hats and tails playing old-time tunes.”
Despite the festive atmosphere, organizers underscored the parade’s deeper purpose: to raise awareness about the risks that intangible arts face in rapidly modernizing cities. “Urban development, noise regulations, and digital entertainment have sidelined practices like organ-grinding,” Torres said. “If we don’t actively support these artists—through grants, performance permits, and public programs—they could vanish entirely.” She announced a pilot municipal program that will grant dozen annual street-performance licenses, including stipends for historic-instrument maintenance.
As the parade wound down near the Zócalo’s grand staircase, performers invited the crowd to join a final mass performance celebrating the Mexican anthem’s street-music reinterpretation. Under flags fluttering in the late-morning breeze, more than 50 musicians cranked their organs in unison, sending a cascade of accordion-like notes skyward. The collective effort drew a standing ovation, with the audience applauding rhythmically until the last note faded.
Organ grinder José Martínez reflected on the moment: “This—that roar of applause—is proof that cultural memory endures when you give it room to breathe. We’re not museum pieces; we’re living tradition.” As the sun climbed higher, costumed artists stowed their organs and mingled with the onlookers, swapping stories and autographing souvenir programs. For one bright morning in May, Mexico City’s historic center had become a stage where past and present converged in melody, color, and communal joy.
