In 1969 Sixto Rodriguez, a Detroit-born Mexican, cut an album at the city’s legendary Terra Shirma studio under the auspices of Motown session ace Dennis Coffey for his new, super-cool Sussex label. The result was an engaging, mildly psychedelic “protest” masterpiece, akin to the work of Arthur Lee/Love. The planets were aligned and the release should have blasted the singer-songwriter to fame. The album bombed, however, helped somewhat by Rodriguez’ insistence on only plying his trade in the lowest, dirtiest of dives. A follow-up LP in 1972 vanished without a whisper; Sixto packed up his guitar and disappeared.
Remarkably, Cold Fact endured and its reputation grew overseas without him in the ensuing years. It enjoyed huge success in Australia, while in South Africa the album went multi-platinum, revered there as a kind of emancipatory musical lifeline. Wild rumours about the maker’s death had already become folk myth, but in 1996 he was found alive and well, amazed at his cult status. Revel in a brilliant classic that never was, particularly the evergreen, druggy opener Sugar Man.
