Episode 115 – The Music Man – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 115 Show Notes

Source: Aztec Folklore

This week on MYTH, we’re headed to the ancient city on the lake, Tenochtitlan in the Aztec Empire. You’ll see that tricksters can be tricked, that the Sun is selfish, and that the gods love a good drum solo. Then, in Gods and Monsters, some love stories are timeless and universal. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 115, “The Music Man”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
This week’s story comes to us from Hal Ober’s 1994 illustrated book How Music Came to the World by way of 1983’s Mexican and Central American Mythology by Irene Nicholson. That text in turn draws from Historie du Mechique by Andre Thevet and from Historia Eclesiastica Indiana from 1596 by Friar Geronimo Mendieta. Thanks to Mexicolore for doing the legwork on that one. As I’ve mentioned before, the Spanish conquest made a deliberate and concerted effort to snuff out the local culture and traditions, so many stories have been lost. Many of those we do have were recorded in accounts written by friars and missionaries, so even the surviving tales have to be taken with a grain of salt. Anyway.
One day, long, long ago, two gods met on a wild, windswept plain. The first was our old friend Quetzalcoatl, the wind god and resident trickster. The other was Tezcatlipoca, god of the night sky (among other things) and one of the primary gods of the Aztec pantheon. Both were major gods and both were extremely powerful in their own unique ways. As such, they had a…complicated relationship. It’s hard to be friends with a trickster, especially when you yourself are the god of conflict. As you can imagine, these two gods often found themselves in opposition but at other times, they were able to put aside their differences to work together.
“You’re late. Where have you been, Quetzalcoatl? What took you so damned long?” The wind god shrugged. “I was busy dude. Chill. It’s hurricane season, bro. It takes time to whip up the waves to proper stormy height.” The night god, whose name translates to smoking obsidian mirror, snorted derisively. “This is more important than some silly storm. I need you to take this seriously for once.” Quetzalcoatl rolled his eyes. “Whatever dude. What’s so fucking important that you called me away from my important work?”
“If you’ll stop huffing and puffing for a moment, I’d have a chance to tell you. Okay? Now shut up and listen. What do you hear?” Quetzalcoatl was annoyed but Tezcatlapoca wasn’t one to waste time on frivolity. If he said it was important, it probably was. Putting his ego aside, the wind god did as he was bid. He stopped and listened carefully, but all he heard was silence. He gave his colleague a confused look. “Nothing, Tezcatlipoca. I hear nothing.” The night god grinned. “Exactly! The world is too quiet. Nowhere do you hear a voice lifted in song or a note quavering in the air. There’s basically nothing at all to hear unless one of your hot air storms comes by to stir things up. We need to do something, Wind. We need to wake up the world with some powerful sounds (and I don’t mean rushing wind). The world needs music!”
The wind god wasn’t really sure what to say to that. “Um, okay… Even if that’s true bro, why call me? I don’t have any music up feathered sleeve, my dude. Why talk to me about this?” Tezcatlipoca took a deep breath. Dealing with the quicksilver wind god always tested his patience. “I know you don’t have music, but do you know who does? The Sun.” See Episode 34 if you want some background on the origin of the current Sun, which is considered to be the Fifth Sun. “The bright bastard surrounds himself with talented singers and quick-fingered musicians who play and sing for him all day. He has literally all the music in the world and he won’t share any of it with anyone else.”
That perked the trickster’s ears up. “Wait, he has more than he needs and he won’t share with the rest of us? That’s not fair! What an asshole.” Tezcatlipoca nodded seriously. “You’re right, WInd. It’s absolutely not fair and I think you and I should do something about it. You in?” Quetzalcoatl didn’t hesitate. “Hell yeah I’m in. What’s the plan?” “You fly up to the House of the Sun and sneak in. Find all the best singers he has and the best musicians too. Gather them together and bring them all back here.” The story doesn’t say what the god of the night sky was going to be doing in all of this but I like to think he did something other than outsource the work. Given that he was also the god of sorcery, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that he was supporting the trickster in his upcoming heist with his magical arts (possibly helping to open the way to the House of the sun), but that is pure speculation on my part.
Quetzalcoatl was a wind god, which made him tempestuous and impulsive. The terrible greed of the Sun God simply could not stand! He leapt high into the air and spread his wings (being a feathered serpent comes with some nice perks, especially since he could also pass as completely human when he wanted to). The god soared over the land and the sea scouring the world below for a single small beach. It was completely nondescript and innocuous unless you knew what you were looking for – and Quetzalcoatl did. Being a deity, he knew that this was the only spot from which you could reach the House of the Sun.
At last, he saw what he was looking for. Coming in for a sandy landing, the wind god strode across the beach with a whistle. “Cane! Conch! Water Woman! Water Monster! Come on out – I need to get up to the House of the Sun, so hop to! Chop chop!” All four stepped out from, well, from nowhere materializing on the beach at the god’s behest. “Thanks for coming. You’re probably wondering why I’ve called you all here. I need to get up to the House of the Sun and to do that, I need you all to form a bridge. Do your thing!” Nodding in acceptance, the four servants stepped to the center of the beach. They pulled some real Voltron shit (or Power Rangers, if that’s your preference – no judgment) and merged together. Their forms melted and shifted and interlocked until the four elemental servants had been replaced by a long, slender rope bridge to the heavens.
Trusting the magical process implicitly (and being able to fly probably helped his confidence), Quetzalcoatl strode up the long, magical bridge. Below and behind him the earth shrank to a tiny speck as he approached the House of the Sun. Ahead, the wind god could see its tall towers glittering with golden light in the distance. They stretched higher and higher above him as he neared until they towered into the sky. Soon enough, he came to the second obstacle along this solar path: a maze. The way to the palace wound through a warren of narrow, twisting streets in an empty city straight out of some apocalyptic story. Picture one of those ancient Cyclopean cities from Lovecraftian horror and you’ll be in the right ball park.
As a trickster god, Quetzalcoatl was quite clever and well able to handle a battle of wits but even he struggled with this sprawling city. It was so easy to get lost in the winding streets, to circle back on yourself, never quite sure if you’d passed this crossroads before or if it just looked like a dozen other identical intersections. The walls stretched high overhead, blocking out any sight of the golden towers he could have navigated by. The frustrated god was soon completely turned around and lost in the maze. Well shit.
He wandered and wandered until he was just about ready to give up and abandon this whole quest (which had been Tezcatlipoca’s idea in the first place so it’s not like he was that invested) when something caught his ear. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard before, something sweet and light and utterly enchanting. The twinkling, throbbing sound carried on the wind through the twisted streets towards the wind god. It was music.
Even if he hadn’t been lost, Quetzalcoatl wouldn’t have been able to help but follow it. It was exquisitely intoxicating and, like the scent of pie in a classic cartoon, it nearly carried him through the air towards its source. Fortunately, that source happened to be at the other end of the maze. He followed the music out into the great courtyard of the Sun. There he saw flautists dressed in shimmering gold piping a bright melody of buttery yellow; wandering minstrels wove a flowing melody of royal blue; quiet singers interlaced a sleepy lullabye of sparkling white; and passionate singers belted out amorous love songs in deep crimson. In the center of this assembly of musicians sat the bright Sun himself.
Entranced by the incredible music, Quetzalcoatl didn’t do much of anything to hide his arrival. He just kind of stumbled into the courtyard. Thus it wasn’t terribly hard for the Sun to notice the arrival of the interloper, even distracted as he was by his private concert. “Oh shit, it’s that asshole wind god! Stop! Everyone stop! Stop playing this instant! Don’t speak to him, don’t even look at him, or he’ll drag your asses back to that terrible silent planet of his.”
Quetzalcoatl smiled. Shaking out his luxurious emerald wings of feather and scale, he preened on full display for the surprised artists. “Musicians, singers, and all talented dudes and dudettes – come with me!” Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The wind god glanced around. “Singers! Musicians! The Lord of the Winds and the Skies commands you!” Still no one responded. This wasn’t going how he expected. He was something of a showboat and his least favorite thing in the world was being ignored. Anger roiled through him like lightning, like a sudden storm on a clear day. I warned you that he was quicksilver, ever changing like the winds he embodied. It exploded out of him like a hundred hurricanes all crashing ashore at the same time. Literal lightning cracked across the sky and thunder rolled in a chest-rattling boom. Clouds appeared out of nowhere filling the sky in the House of the Sun and dimming his golden light. Daylight dropped to twilight and then to darkest night.
At the heart of it all, the wind god’s voice roared on and on without breath or break as only a god can. I can’t help but picture that scene from the Mummy (the 1999 version, of course) where Imhotep’s face rises from the sand and screams a storm at the protagonists. That’s pretty much what happened here. The usually brilliant light of the Sun dwindled down to a spark, to the weak flicker of a dying candle. Terror crashed down amongst the assembled musicians like a physical blow and they cowered in a fear like nothing they had ever known. With their benefactor the Sun clearly defeated and on the ropes, they rushed to the only port in the storm – its eye, the wind god himself.
As the musicians huddled around him, cowering beneath his outspread wings, Quetzalcoatl’s rage broke like a spring rain and passed as if it had never been. Thunder died away and the clouds broke and scattered on the wind. Taking the terrified musicians in his godly arms, he leapt into the air and sped back towards the earth. This time, he passed through the labyrinthine streets as though they weren’t even there. He was no longer challenging a god in his own domain, he was literally in his own element, soaring towards his home on the heels of a successful theft. Nothing could stand in his way at this moment. Great joy and satisfaction filled his soul as he flew. Crossing the bridge across the sky, he knew that he had done something both good and great today. He felt like a father bringing his rescued children home at last.
As he approached, the earth itself could feel that something important was happening. Something new was coming, something it had never realized it had sorely missed but somehow secretly wished for. A quiet breeze drifted across the land like a contented sigh, or maybe a relieved one. Fruit ripened and flowers bloomed as Quetzalcoatl and the musicians came home, but somehow more than ever before. The tastes were sweeter and the colors brighter, all of it deeper and more complex with the approach of music. It was like the world was waking from a long, deep slumber at long last.
Quetzalcoatl stepped down on the sand of the beach and set the singers and musicians down before him. They looked around curiously at this new, wide, open world. It was still and silent. Waiting. Trading looks amongst themselves, they came to a decision. And they began to play.
They wandered aimlessly across the earth, careless and tireless, playing all the while. Their song filled the forests and the valleys, the deserts and the mountains, the solid earth and heaving oceans. And it filled the ears and hearts and minds of the people who lived in all these places. As they listened, the people learned to sing and play as they had seen the musicians do. Likewise, the birds and trees, the wolves and whales, the babbling brooks, the chirping crickets, the croaking frogs – all of them felt the music in their souls and poured it out upon the world. Before long, music covered the entire earth in glorious song. Quetzalcoatl listened contentedly. Far above, Tezcatlipoca the god of the night sky looked down in silent satisfaction. For their part, the musicians were happy with their new home. It was bigger and wider and much more interesting than the hidden courtyard of the Sun. There was much more to sing about here. Thus, ever since, the world has been filled with wonderful music.
I love this story because it has such a strange, wonderful mix of the trickster god getting used and also carrying it off completely. Quetzalcoatl had absolutely no intention of going and stealing musicians from the Sun when the day started, so it was entirely thanks to Tezcatlipoca (a mysterious and sometimes dark figure) that music exists. It shows the complex duality of a lot of Aztec gods – a concept especially embodied in Ometeotl, the lord of duality who is actually a pair: Ometecuhtli and Omecihuatl.
In the version captured by Friar Mendieta, it is actually a human, a servant of the dead god Tezcatlipoca (you can see that missionary mindset invading the story here) who goes on this quest at the behest of three figures who are not named but are almost certainly the gods. The figures summoned at the beach to make a bridge are the whale, the siren, and the turtle. The human trickster sings his own song to the Sun’s musicians, who are warned not to answer back lest they be swept away by the song back to earth. Unfortunately for the Sun (but lucky for us), the musicians found this strange new song incredibly melodious and began to sing along. They followed this singer back across the bridge like the Pied Piper of Hamlin, bringing with them a pair of Aztec drums known as the huehuetl and the teponaztli, which were and are used in festivals and prayers.
And so, with the world awash in beautiful harmonies, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s heroic couple are Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl.
As is common with stories in the oral tradition, there are a number of different versions of this particular tale. I’ll start with the most popular one and we’ll discuss some of the variations at the end. Long before Cortes and his conquistadors invaded Mexico, the Aztec Empire stretched over the land, centered in Tenochtitlan (known today as Mexico City) and ruled by the Emperor. He and his wife had a daughter who everyone said would one day grow up to be as beautiful as her mother. They named her Iztaccihuatl, which means White Lady in Nahuatl.
The people loved little Izta, as she was often affectionately known, and everyone looked forward to the day when she would sit the throne as Empress. She grew into a young woman who was every bit as beautiful as everyone had predicted and she soon caught the eye of a brave young warrior named Popoca who served in the Imperial army. They soon fell deeply in love with each other but Izta’s father refused to allow her to marry a man so far beneath her station. The Emperor grew older and frailer, which his enemies saw as a golden opportunity. They gathered an army and attacked, throwing the Aztec Empire into chaos.
War raged across the land and the rebels made significant gains in their attempt to overthrow the Emperor and take the throne for themselves. After much fighting, Popoca was sent south at the head of a large force to turn the tide of battle and end the war. “Win this fight, end this war, and bring back the head of the rebel chief leading the enemy forces. If you do all of that, I will give you my permission to marry Izta.” That was all Popoca needed to hear. He said a hopeful goodbye to Izta and headed south at the head of an army.
The fighting raged on for several more months with the balance constantly teetering on a knife’s edge. During all of this, word of the Emperor’s offer to Popoca spread to the rest of the officers. Popoca was a good man and a valiant warrior, but he was not without enemies and some of them happened to be fighting in his own southern army. Popoca’s strategy finally paid off and he led his men over the wall. He met the enemy chief in single combat and, with a powerful blow, struck the head from his body. The war was over. The Empire was saved.
Seething with hatred at their fellow fighter, Popoca’s enemies cooked up a vengeance scheme. These cruel warriors forged an official-looking message back to the royal court and swapped it for the actual missive from the general. This new message stated that their heroic general Popoca had died in the final effort to take the head of the enemy chief. The war was won but their leader was dead. The Emperor was sad about how it had turned out, especially since Popoca had proved himself worthy just too late to marry Izta. For her part, the princess was utterly heartbroken when she heard the fake news. She fled to her room weeping uncontrollably.
Izta cried and cried and cried. She refused to come out of her room, refused to eat, refused to rest. Several days went by but her sadness only deepened. She soon fell ill and, without any reason left to live, she stopped fighting and died of a broken heart. Cue your classic Romeo and Juliet moment: Popoca arrived back in Tenochtitlan the next day with his jubilant, victorious army. The Emperor, grief-stricken at the loss of his beloved daughter, was nonetheless thrilled to see his could-have-been son-in-law alive and well. “Popoca, you have exceeded all my hopes and expectations in this war. You have won a resounding victory for the Empire and destroyed our enemy. You have proven yourself worthy, Popoca, and I wish to name you my heir. The throne will be yours.” The heroic general bowed towards his ruler. “You are too kind, my Emperor. I am but a humble soldier, unfit to follow in your exalted footsteps. I wish only to be wed to your daughter, my beloved Izta. Where is she? I wish to tell her the happy news.”
Crestfallen, the Emperor revealed that Izta had died of heartbreak, fooled into believing that Popoca had died. Enraged, Popoca found and slaughtered the traitors who had sent the false message. Thirst for vengeance slaked, Popoca went to see the body of his dead love. Taking her in his arms, he walked out of the palace, out of the city altogether. He walked and walked until he reached the mountains. His men had followed their beloved leader in a somber funeral procession. At his command, they built a funeral table and loaded it high with flowers with Izta lying in state on top. Kneeling down beside her body, Popoca wept over the loss of his one true love until he too died of a broken heart. Separated in life, the two lovers were finally together in death.
The gods saw this incredible bond and righteous sacrifice and decided to honor the young couple. The table and the two bodies were turned into enormous volcanoes. The larger one is known today as Popocatepetl, which means ‘smoking mountain’ in Nahuatl. He keeps vigilance over his love to this day, sometimes throwing out smoke as a sign of his continued loyalty. Iztaccihuatl, the white lady, sleeps beside him, a snow-capped volcano that looks like a sleeping woman.
All of the versions of this story end the same way, though the specifics can be different. In one version, the trickster warriors are actually jealous of Popoca, seeking to win Izta’s hand for themselves (and the throne along with it). Things went more or less the same, with Popoca taking his beloved’s body to the mountains. This time, he carries a smoking torch to keep his vigil. Over years and years of unrelenting dedication, dirt, snow, and rocks covered the two of them. Popoca never moved, becoming a volcano, his torch still smoking eternally.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth, on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod, and on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’re heading to ancient Judea to try our hands at the ancient art of dream interpretation. Eat your penis out, Sigmund Freud. I mean heart. Shit, what did I say? You’ll see that human skulls might have candy in them, that kings can be real dicks about interior decorating, and that viziers are always evil. Then, in Gods and Monsters, a bride is going to have trouble keeping her husbands alive past the wedding night. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.