One of my first introductions to the city of Detroit was the 2012 film, “Searching for Sugarman,” a documentary about the fame of Sixto Rodriguez. Rodriguez is a Detroit-based musician who made a couple of little-known records in the 70s and works as a construction worker. Though he didn’t make it big in the States, unbeknownst to him, a bootleg copy of his albums made it big in South Africa. Really big. Like bigger than the Beatles did. The narrative in South Africa was that he was dead. The most persistent of rumors was that he had killed himself on stage after a bad show. Now, almost 40 years later, a documentarian found him in a tiny apartment in Woodbridge working construction. He brought him across the Atlantic where he played six back-to-back sold out stadium shows. When he returned to Detroit, he gave most of his money to friends and families and continues working construction to this day.

Recently, my friends Eli and Zoe visited me in Detroit for a couple of days on their way to Toronto. Eli is a big Rodriguez fan; so big that he sings for a Rodriguez cover band called Slaves to the Pavement. I asked him about this name and he says it’s about Rodriguez stomping the pavement and being at the mercy of the city streets. When I hear the name, I don’t think of him as being at the mercy of city streets, but rather as being a reflection of the streets. Rodriguez is an observer, a fly on the wall. And what is more Detroit than his story? Modesty. Hard work. Ambition. But above all, talent. Overlooked, underappreciated, beautiful talent.

Rodriguez is a son of Detroit. It is reflected in every lyric and every aspect of his persona. As he explains in his song Can’t Get Away, he was “Born in the troubled city/In rock and roll USA/In the shadow of the tallest building/I vowed I would break away.” Here is a tale of ambition, a longing to become something more than his depressed surroundings, than the struggling Detroit of the 1970s. Later in the song he sings about how everyone tells him that he “can’t get away from it,” a line he repeats four times.

When the South African documentarian tells him how big he is in South Africa, how in a sense he did get away from it, how he did achieve his goal of becoming a successful musician, Rodriguez has a non-reaction. In fact, the interviewer asks if that surprises him or makes him feel good, and Rodriguez responds by saying that he doesn’t understand the question. Rodriguez understands something that the interviewer doesn’t, even though it is laid out so clearly in his music: that he can’t get away from it. Rodriguez is who he is, and Detroit is what it is. His fame does not change anything about him, he never needed to get away. Rather, everyone else came around to him. The only thing that changed in the world was everyone else. Everyone who finally came around to his music, who appreciated the beauty he was putting out into the world; their lives changed. Rodriguez didn’t get away; everyone came to him.

Just as Rodriguez is a reflection of Detroit, Detroit is a reflection of Rodriguez. Detroit doesn’t have to get away from its past, it couldn’t even if it tried. Everyone who’s here knows about its history, its truth. It’s everyone else who needs to realize it. Just like Rodriguez, Detroit will be true to itself and one day everyone else will love it for that.