Paul LaRoche grew up as part of a white middle-class family in the small farming community of Worthington, Minn.
While he knew he was adopted at birth, it wasn’t until after the death of his adoptive parents that he discovered the truth about his heritage – that he was actually a member of the Lakota tribe of American Indians, and that members of his biological family still lived on the Lower Brule Sioux Reservation in South Dakota.
Armed with that knowledge, and a penchant for music from an early age, LaRoche set out on a cultural and personal journey that culminated in the contemporary Native American band, Brulé. The instrumental group, which is now celebrating its 20th year, blends the traditional sounds of Native America with the classic rock music of the 1960s that LaRoche grew up with. Since releasing We the People in 1996, Brulé has recorded 17 albums, including Tribal Rhythm 2 released early this year. The band, which also includes LaRoche’s daughter Nicole (classical flute) and son Shane (lead guitar), is currently touring its annual Christmas show, blending familiar holiday melodies with the rich heritage of American Indian rhythms, sounds and dance.
Jeremy D. Bonfiglio: For those who might not be familiar with your music, particularly for this holiday show, can you describe how you combine two very distinct musical traditions into something both recognizable and cohesive?
Paul LaRoche: There’s some obvious parts to it. We do work with some recognizable holiday melodies and then combine that with some Native American rhythms. The not-so-obvious part of it is that it can be a delicate process. We didn’t feel like we could just mix and match like a lot of performers might do. If you’re going to do this correctly you have to apply quite a bit of respect. We have some ceremonial things that we use on our stage, such as real eagle feathers and we use those kind of carefully. … We’ve got a song we call “Silent Star Night,” which is a version of “Silent Night” with a native twist to it. There’s a song called “The Drum,” which is our version of “Little Drummer Boy.” … Some songs work and some songs don’t. We’re probably one of the few groups who can’t take a song like “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer” and make it sound good.
The music is obviously informed by your own personal story. You grew up not knowing about your American Indian heritage, is that right?
Yes, I was one of the Native American kids who was adopted at birth and removed from the reservation system. Back in the 1930s, ’40s and ’50s it was very common for Native American children to be adopted out in mass numbers. I was part of that, but I was never told of my heritage as a kid. My parents told me I was French Canadian instead of American Indian because it was a little too taboo back in those days. I never had any questions about it, and have the best of memories growing up in a small Midwestern farming community. I think now, had I known I was American Indian, I would have realized that I was alone in a small town. I think my parents tried to protect me from that.
How did you discover that you were actually a member of the Lakota tribe and that you still had family — a brother, sister, aunts, uncles — living on the Lower Brule Sioux Reservation in South Dakota?
I lost both of my parents in the same year in 1987. As we were going through their belongings, my wife Kathy discovered some information about my adoption and began a search. She was able to find my biological family and set up a phone conversation. When I first spoke with my brother, we didn’t know each other had existed all those years. In the course of one hour all this information came out, and when that happens it’s a transformative event. … I grew up in a small, white, middle-class farming community and went to Catholic school. All of a sudden you realize you are a Lakoka. In an instant you become a product of two cultures who were at odds with each other. You have to reevaluate a lot of what you were taught as a kid. It’s a process. It’s a process that requires healing and forgiveness. … But I felt like I had this opportunity to be an example of that healing process our culture needs. It gave me a solid mission. I call it reverse assimilation. We’ve done everything we can to learn about the culture that was removed. We’ve lived on the reservation now for seven years, and the story has been as important as the music. And of course the music has been a direct result of going back into the American Indian culture and exploring that culture musically.
You grew up playing music, so how did music help you bridge the gap of those two worlds?
I was a product of the ’60s. My parents allowed me to pursue my love of music. I was a young rock ‘n’ roller in and out of a lot of bands. The summer after our homecoming, I attended my first pow wow on our reservation in South Dakota. The pow wow is very traditional, out in the open overlooking the Missouri River. I’m watching and listening to the sounds for the first time. It has a distinct character and a rhythm to it. As I was listening, in my head, I’m still hearing the rock anthems I grew up with. Somehow I just heard the two sounds come together. If it’s working in my head, I thought, then maybe I could reproduce this sound. That’s really how the music of Brulé got it’s birth. I’ve had the luxury of experimenting with it now for 20 years and it’s been a blast. You get to work with sounds, and instruments and stories, and all these things that become fascinating in terms of music and theater. I refer to it affectionately as pioneering one of the last musical frontiers.
Your kids, both your son and daughter, are part of the band as well. So tell me: What does it mean for you having your own children finding their identities culturally through this music?
I think I’m one of the luckiest people in the world, actually. I’ve been given a wonderful story and life’s journey, and I get to do it with my family. When we went through this homecoming, my kids were old enough to comprehend what was happening. When we drove onto the reservation for the first time, we did it as a family. We all went through this life-changing event together. That was the common ground we all felt. The kids pull from that emotion and spiritual journey as well, and that’s what’s really been the glue that’s allowed us to keep performing as a family music group now for 20 years. We’ve been very blessed that way.
