When brilliant roots rock/Americana/Latin band Los Lobos joined forces with producer Mitchell Froom and engineer Tchad Blake for the 1992 album Kiko, their murky, quirky and layered production style added a new, experimental, facet to Los Lobos’ already diverse sound, and many believe it to be the band’s finest album. After Kiko, Los Lobos member David Hidalgo played some demos for Froom, who suggested that, instead of using them for a new Los Lobos album, they be used for a new side project. Enlisting fellow band member Louie Perez to form Latin Playboys, the quartet released a self-titled album in 1994 that took Los Lobos’ eclectic sound and pushed it to the limit, with all sorts of noises, distortion, and just plain strangeness. It was compelling and fascinating, even if I admittedly rarely listen to it from start to finish (but that’s pretty much true for me with most albums these days, I guess).
Los Lobos came together with Froom and Blake for Colossal Head in 1996 and This Time, in 1999, and Latin Playboys released a second album, Dose in 1999 which was also pretty experimental, but had more distinct songs than the debut.
One of those songs is “Paula Y Fred,” which The New York Times (yes, the Times actually gave a pretty long review to the Latin Playboys’ second album) described as “a cheerful son jarocho, sung in Spanglish, in which unrequited love leads to murder.” It is cheerful sounding, and my rudimentary Spanglish allows me to concur with their description of the plot, but I had to look up “son jarocho.” Wikipedia says that it is the “Veracruz Sound", “a regional folk musical style of Mexican Son from Veracruz, a Mexican state along the Gulf of Mexico.” You can read more about it at the Wikipedia link, or, I bet, at other sites that are more authoritative about Mexican musical styles. I listened to a few examples of traditional sones jarocho, and I think the Times is right. By the way, “La Bamba,” which Los Lobos famously covered, was originally a son jarocho too.
Dose was the last Latin Playboys album, and Los Lobos would move on from Froom and Blake, using a different producer for their next album—lots of critics began to write that the production seemed to be getting in the way of the music, although in my opinion, all of their collaborations contained gems. But Los Lobos' desire for mixing sonic experimentation with the basic rootsy sounds never really disappeared, and it has enriched their music. As regular readers of this blog know, I reallylike Los Lobos (although I’ve had some issues with some of their live shows over the years).
Look, I’m not sure what the point of this theme is, but it gave me the chance to revisit some interesting music that I hadn’t thought about in years, and I hope that this piece introduces you to Latin Playboys, or makes you go back and check them out again.
When I posted my first piece in this theme, about King Crimson, I posted it in a King Crimson fan group on Facebook, hoping to draw some readers to the blog (and it seemed to work! One point for Facebook, although with the news the last few weeks, I think that its score is below water). I was heartened to receive a number of positive comments and likes, but I was also not surprised to also get a different reaction—essentially that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is rubbish, just a tourist attraction, and really, who cares if Crimson isn’t in? It was a combination of disdain for an organization that while going out of its way to induct lesser known artists, many of color (particularly in the Early Influences and “Sidemen” categories), is also filled with commercially successful shlockmeisters, and a Groucho Marxist feeling of not wanting to be in a club that would admit them as a member.
I get it. Really—in fact, as an acknowledged Rock Snob, I mentioned in my original piece that I have trouble taking seriously an organization that inducted Bon Jovi, but not King Crimson, as a musical arbiter, and add to that, just as a few more examples, Def Leppard, Journey, and Depeche Mode, none of which would be in my HOF (much less in my collection). On the other hand, a pretty good case can be made for most of the inductees based on a combination of popularity and influence, even if I don’t particularly care for their music. The same way that when looking at the Baseball Hall of Fame, I can appreciate the talent of most of the players, even if some of them were Yankees, or Ty Cobb.
With all that extraneous background, as the theme heads towards its conclusion and we likely turn to something Halloween related, I wanted to briefly recognize two members of the Jordan Becker Rock Hall who have been unjustly snubbed by the bigger, more famous one in Cleveland, Richard Thompson and Los Lobos, a Brit best known for his folk based music, songwriting prowess and incredible guitar playing, and a band whose music has expertly spanned many genres, but is firmly rooted in their Mexican-American heritage. Showing the breadth of the “Americana” genre, both have won Americana Music Association Lifetime Achievement Awards (Thompson for Songwriting and for his entire career; Los Lobos for Performance), and they’ve even done a song together.
I’m going to try to keep this short. But you know how hard that is for me to do.
Thompson, whose first schoolboy band included his friend Hugh Cornwell, later of the Stranglers, first became known as one of the founders of Fairport Convention. He was all of 18, and already his guitar playing was remarkable enough to convince producer Joe Boyd to sign the band. Eventually, Fairport Convention became a major musical force in Britain, first covering mostly American folk artists such as Bob Dylan, but later focusing on originals, many written by Thompson, that had strong British folk music influences (as well as covers of traditional songs). Thompson left Fairport in 1971, and began releasing solo albums and work with his wife Linda Thompson, until their marriage collapsed publicly and spectacularly, but also led to Thompson writing some incredible songs.
Thompson has continued to release solo albums, participate in the occasionalcollaboration, including with his extended family, and tour regularly, as a solo artist and with bands of various sizes. He’s even covered 1000 years of popular music, and recorded sea chanteys.
Renowned as a guitarist and songwriter (particularly for dark-themed songs), he’s also become a more than capable singer. I’ve seen him a bunch of times, have never been disappointed, and have usually been blown away by his talent, his encyclopedic knowledge of music, and his humor. In addition to his AMA awards, he has won guitar playing awards, and often appears on lists of the greatest guitarists of all time. Considering all of this, and the number of years that he has been performing at an astoundingly high level, RT deserves to be in the R&RHOF.
Los Lobos grew out of the high school friendship of David Hidalgo and Louie Perez, who bonded over music, including Fairport Convention. They formed a band with some other friends, Los Lobos del Este de Los Angeles, releasing their self-titled first album, of mostly traditional Mexican songs, in 1973. Playing numerous live shows, including weddings and dances, they forged a sound that mixed American popular songs with Mexican music, and also began to incorporate influences from punk bands popular in Los Angeles in the late 1970s.
Throughout the 1980s, they released a string of well-regarded and increasingly commercially successful records that continued to add influences to their sound. Of course, their recording of “La Bamba,” (and other songs) for the soundtrack of the Ritchie Valens biopic, La Bamba, shot them to greater prominence. Rather than follow up a No. 1 single with more of the same, they released an album of Mexican music, for which they won a Grammy, if not more English language airplay. After that, they’ve continued to release excellent albums, including a few that were a little experimental, while touring regularly.
In addition to writing great songs and being pioneers of Latino rock music, they are one of the best cover bands, participating in various cover projects, including contributing a great version of “Bertha,” to Deadicated, and Disney covers. Not to mention a cover of “Down Where The Drunkards Roll,” on a Richard Thompson tribute album. In fact, their most recent album, created during the pandemic, is a cover album, focusing on California bands (with one original),
Back in 2014, I wrote about Los Lobos for Cover Me, describing them as having
demonstrated that not only can they play pretty much any style of music, they can play it very well. They have excelled with albums that have included blues, rock, R&B, experimental sounds, numerous styles of Mexican folk music, American folk music, Americana, and Tex-Mex, all performed and played brilliantly. They play acoustically and electrically. Their songs can be simple rockers, sinuous jams, complex sound collages, or heartbreaking stories of life on the margins.
I then said that it is “sinful” that they are not in the Rock Hall, and I still believe that (despite the one time I saw them live, and they were having a rare off night).
Mayday always seems to me the cipher for maritime disasters, despite it being anything but exclusive thereto. But it has therefore be to sea I stare for my first post under this theme. There are quite a few shipwreck songs, often in the broadsheets of trad. arr., but I bet there aren't many that arise from the mean streets of East Los Angeles.
Los Lobos have a rightly celebrated reputation across their tranche of multi-faceted modern american music, embracing many genres from rock (and roll) through to traditional mexican ballads, via country, blues and polka. I love 'em. This song comes from their 2004 release, The Ride. Part of the early vogue for the now commonplace vanity of cramming in as many guests as you can, this has a stellar cast across the areas they inhabit and invoke. So we get Mavis Staples, we get Elvis Costello, we get Rueben Blades, we get Tom blimmin' Waits and more. But, insofar as this song and piece is concerned, we get fellow (then) L.A. resident, Richard Thompson. It is his trademark guitar that creeps around that of Divid Hidalgo, and he gets to sing a verse or two.
Not an old folk song, it is nonetheless the oft told tale of the long distanced sweetheart, toiling far away, finally returning home for the anticipated reunion. But the ship, the Carlos Rey (King Charles) went down. Was there such a ship? If so, I can't find reference to one online, although there was a galleon that plied the seas of the Gulf of Mexico of that name. However, the lyrics suggest this a far smaller vessel, with fifteen migrant workers going down as they left their Californian work camps for their bodegas back home.
But how/why Richard Thompson? (And, yes, of course the earlier linked song, in the opening paragraph, is no accidental coincidence.) The casual listener might see little connection between the anglo-scots ex-Fairport "folkie" and the Angeleno conjunto and tex-mex fusions. Probably the same listeners with no ear to the 40 plus years post Fairport career this unassuming guitar maverick has had. His blistering lead guitar segues seamlessly alongside that of Hidalgo. Plus, the band have made no secret of their admiration for Thompson, with and without his old bandmates. They appeared on his 1995 tribute, Beat the Retreat with plaintive Down Where the Drunkards Roll.
Down Where the Drunkards Roll
For something a tad livelier (aka louder), on the EP that later followed The Ride, Ride This, here's another Lobos do Thompson. Sadly, I can find no evidence of the compliment returned, but I wouldn't put it past him. Maybe someone should submit a request to his fabled all request shows?
Shoot Out the Lights
Finally, by way of a palate cleanser, and returning to the Carlos Rey and its watery demise, here's a bluegrass cover from the hallowed Pickin' On stable....
All the same thing, aren't they? All have hooves and tails, and the why-the-long-faces, so, yes, they must be. OK, I know, they aren't, but can you all recall the differences? I will assume that you know horses, the odd-toed ungulate mammal, whether cart, race or just a plain old Dobbin, so, moving swiftly on......
Jenny's Got a Pony/Los Lobos
I haven't a clue what this song, by the always excellent Los Lobos, could possibly be about. Is there much of a pony population in East L.A.? Anyhow, this riveting ride, SWIDT, comes from their 1990 opus, 'The Neighbourhood', showing off their best, a fusion of latino, tex-mex and plain good old rock'n'roll. Ponies are horses, in fact, the delineation tending to relate to smaller sizes of beast. Whilst clearly there are tiny ones, whether your steed is a horse or a pony is often as much in the eye of the beholder. In slang a pony might be a small amount of liquor. Is that what Jenny got? Alternatively, in my country a pony is £25, increasingly equal to $25.
Donkey Town/Mark Knopfler & Emmylou Harris
Donkeys are not horses, but are very close. I think they look cuter but traditionally have tended more to be more beasts of burden than for racing. And to be the butt of many an insult, the derogatory opinion being that donkeys are for peasants, horses being only fit for the higher echelons. Hence, I guess, this song, from the, at the time, critically underacclaimed album of duets, Knopfler imagining himself, yeah, right, as a loser in a one horse, sorry, donkey town. If Emmylou were there, chum, I'd stay.
Muleskinner Blues/The Cramps
This is where it all gets a bit surreal, as I explain a muleskinner is ahead of a mule. And, until today, I had the notion that the pelt of a mule might be a useful commodity. Good leather or something like that. Wrongity-wrong, it is the human handler of a mule or a set of mules. So called as you had to be quick witted to outsmart them, or "outskin" them, me, neither, given their stubbornness. No wonder they got the blues, the song originally a hit for Jimmie Rodgers in the 30s, before the Cramps gave it a reverential kick up the, um, ass. We don't feature the late lamented Cramps here enough, I feel.
A mule is the sterile progeny of when a horse, or pony, mates with a donkey, the genetics close enough to procreate but not close enough to prolong the line further. It seems a bit of a long way to go for a somewhat short end to me. But, mule lovers, worry not, they can now be cloned. Mule is also slang for the middle man in a drugs heist, responsible for transporting the illicit material across county lines and continents, often, literally, in their "middles". Why the name? Presumably as such individuals are seen as slow witted carriers of little importance beyond the carriage of the goods. Confusingly, what they carry may often go by the slang of horse. Or, perhaps in a sly dig at its retrieval, shit.
Jack Ass/Beck
Here's where I could get myself into trouble, as in get my ass kicked, mixing and muddling my homonyms. But, I will resist that temptation and stick to the literal, wherein Beck Hansen compares his situation to that of a Jack, or male, Ass, or donkey, the two terms being near equivalent. (See horse/pony). So it is really back to Mark Knopfler and his donkey town, self-esteem apparently quite a rare premium for worldwide superstars. But, in recompense for reading this far, I can't but leave you without just a little horseplay...... (Spoiler: twerk free; have you ever typed ass into youtube?)
Last week, I stretched our Hard theme as a way to discuss the founding of a new jazz club in my hometown. Today, I’m going to stretch it again to write about what I did last weekend—listening to great music outdoors at Clearwater’s Great Hudson Revival, or, as I think most people call it, the Clearwater Festival. Because not only is it hard to put on a two day, multi-stage outdoor music, environmental and progressive festival, it is actually pretty hard to attend—but well worth the effort.
I’ve written about Clearwaterexperiencesbefore, but I’ve never really focused on the whole experience. The event started in the mid-sixties, as Pete Seeger held fundraising concerts to raise money to build a boat, to highlight the need to clean up the Hudson River. The sloop Clearwater was launched in 1969, and began its educational mission, as part of a larger charitable organization.
In 1978, the first large-scale event was held at Croton Point Park, right on the river, and the “Great Hudson River Revival” name was coined.
Unfortunately, ten years later, pollution from the park’s landfill forced a move to a nearby, inland college campus. My wife and I went to the festival one year during this period, with our young children, and my two strongest memories are that the one musical act we wanted to see was Dar Williams, and that while we were at a playground with the kids, Pete Seeger appeared with his banjo and just started playing.
The festival returned to Croton Point in 1998, but soccer obligations and the fact that the festival is usually on Father’s Day, kept us from returning. In 2010 Steve Lurie began booking the festival, and started to bring in bigger names to perform. When the 2011 lineup was announced, including many favorites including the Drive-By Truckers, Martin Sexton, Indigo Girls, Josh Ritter, Suzanne Vega, Jorma Kaukonen, Billy Bragg, and Dar Williams, among many other great acts, we got the courage to tell my mother that we were not coming for the traditional Father’s Day family event, and instead went to the festival. We’ve gone every year since, except for last year, when they cancelled it to focus the organization's efforts on rebuilding the sloop.
I can only imagine how hard it is to get this event off the ground. Acts need to be booked to fill as many as eight stages, in genres ranging from the traditional folk that is at the root of the festival, to rock, dance and folk music from cultures around the world, story tellers, and other performers. There are lots of jugglers. The site needs to be set up, vendors engaged, employees and volunteers trained, and the various activist booths and environmental education booths that are a hallmark of the festival have to be set up and staffed. The organizers need to make sure that the attendees can get to and from the site, there’s a campsite that has to be organized, the performers need to be taken care of, and the sound systems have to deal with the vagaries of outside shows, including heat, rain and dust. There’s a huge group of “access” volunteers to make sure that people with mobility issues are able to enjoy the weekend, and, I think, an even larger group of “Peacekeepers” to make sure that the thousands of people all get along. Then, there is breakdown and clean up. And I’m sure I’m leaving something important out.
But, as I noted, it is also sort of hard to attend this, or I suspect, any outdoor festival (my experience in the torrential rain at the Newport Folk Festival is discussed here). First, you have to get there. Our first year, we drove the 10 miles from our house to the site, only to sit in horrible traffic. We started taking the train after that. You need to bring in chairs, a cooler with food and beer, blankets and other items. Then you have to load all of this onto a school bus not designed for large adults, unload it at the end, then schlep everything to the stages.
As I mentioned above, the festival now has eight stages, but we usually spend most of our time at two-the largest Rainbow Stage, and the second largest, Hudson Stage, which literally abuts the river. The Sloop Stage also often has good music. I’ve rarely, if ever, ventured to the Dance Stage, Story Grove or Family Stage, and skipped the new Workshop Stage this year (despite the fact that there was some good stuff there). Last year, I visited the Circle of Song to support my wife’s decision to join in the singing, but not this year. So, you are often forced to make hard choices as to which of the many simultaneously performing acts you will see. Sometimes we run between the stages catching partial sets.
Then, there is the weather. Usually, it is hot, and there isn’t much shade at the Rainbow Stage. That’s what we got on Sunday. Often it rains, sometimes torrentially, like two years ago, or steadily, like this year’s Saturday in the early afternoon. By Sunday evening, I’m usually beat, and my wife sometimes leaves earlier than me.
But it was well worth it. Here’s what I saw this year: On Saturday, we arrived early, got ourselves a nice spot at the Hudson Stage, then wandered around checking out the activist and vendor booths. At 11, we were back in our seats for a tribute to Pete and Toshi Seeger by mostly older folk and blues musicians, including David Amram, Tom Chapin, Guy Davis, Holly Near and Tom Paxton.
The great Nick Lowe was next, in the rain. (Note—all videos were taken from YouTube, and not by me)
Next up on the Hudson Stage was Joan Osborne, performing Bob Dylan songs, in advance of her soon to be released album of Dylan covers. During her version of “Tangled Up In Blue,” when she sang the line “Some are mathematician,” someone up the hill to my left, presumably a mathematician, gleefully cheered. No carpenter’s wives did the same.
After Osborne was done, we walked over to the Sloop Stage to catch a little of Guy Davis’s excellent folk/blues set.
But then it was time to see Toshi Reagon and Big Lovely, one of the true highlights of the weekend. Reagon, who is Seeger’s goddaughter, and named after Toshi Seeger, has performed at most, maybe all, of the festivals. She is the daughter of civil rights activists and former Freedom Singers Bernice Johnson Reagon (also a founder of Sweet Honey in the Rock) and Cordell Hull Reagon, and comes by her musical chops and political activism naturally. I can’t find a video of her from this year, but here’s one from 2012, also on the Hudson Stage, that gives an idea of how powerful a performer she is.
I got a nice picture of Joan Osborne watching the performance from backstage
Then came Los Lobos, who I have seen great, and I have seen not so great, and when they took the stage without singer/guitarist Cesar Rosas, I was worried. But they did a fun, rocking set.
The cool night ended with the hot sounds of Lake Street Dive, who are just an incredibly talented band. Great songwriting, strong musicianship and powerful, charismatic singing. It was an exhilarating way to end the long, wet day.
Then, back on the school bus, to the train, to Tarrytown and a well-deserved hot shower.
We were up again early on Sunday, packed our cooler, and decided to drive up, hoping that we wouldn’t get caught in traffic on the way up. We didn’t, and again schlepped our stuff onto the school bus which took us to the site. It looked to be a nice, hot day, but the forecast was calling for a chance of thunderstorms in the afternoon. We set up at the Rainbow Stage, walked around some more, until the music started at 11. Although I enjoy going to Clearwater to see musicians that I am familiar with, some of the fun is discovering someone new. Sunday, we started at the Hudson Stage to hear Jerrod “Blind Boy” Paxton, who is part African American, part Native American, of Cajun descent, and who is a practicing Jew (he has one Jewish grandmother, who he discussed during his set). Performing on piano, fiddle, banjo, guitar and harmonica (and the spoons), Paxton focuses on blues and jazz from the 1920s and 30s. I don’t have a video from his set, but here’s a video of part of a Black Banjo Music workshop he gave later in the day.
I stuck around for a 50th Anniversary tribute performance of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by Brother Joscephus and The Love Revolution, a New Orleans style band. It was great fun, all the songs were well-played, but they didn’t try to sound like The Beatles. My wife ran over to the Circle of Song to sing a little, but came back to see most of the set.
By this time, it was very hot, and the occasional clouds only briefly gave some respite, so we killed time in the shade until it was time for Tommy Emmanuel, who I only knew was supposed to be a great guitarist. Wow! His fingerpicking was unbelievably fast and it often sounded like two or three guitarists were playing. Here he is doing “Classical Gas:”
Then it was back to the Hudson Stage for one of my favorites, Alejandro Escovedo, who started out rocking hard, before doing a bunch of acoustic numbers, including “Five Hearts Breaking,” his tribute to late Austin musician Billy Smith:
As he was trying to decide what to end with, someone in the audience yelled out “Castanets,” which he decided to play, and then joked that they were becoming a request band, “and you can catch us at the Holiday Inn.” During his set, the crew began to cover the speakers and other equipment, as the skies darkened. But, mercifully, it didn’t rain.
We moved back to the Rainbow Stage, for the end of Valerie June’s performance—she was wearing a skin-tight gold dress that must have been very uncomfortable. It was time to get out of the sun for a bit, so I got a banana-strawberry ice pop to cool down, and sat in the shade watching little kids play on the swings. But then it was time to go back and see another favorite, Richard Thompson, who, as always, was amazing:
We beat a retreat to the shade to listen to a few minutes of The Kennedys at the intimate Sloop Stage—They are so good, and I would have liked to see their set at the Hudson Stage on Saturday, but they were up against Los Lobos. Here’s something from that performance:
Finally, we returned to the Hudson Stage for the much-anticipated reunion of Cry, Cry, Cry, the trio of Dar Williams, Lucy Kaplansky and Richard Shindell, who had not performed together in 18 years. Which kind of blew me away—it didn’t seem like that long ago. They were clearly having fun on stage together, and while they definitely could have used a bit more rehearsal, and they weren’t in the best voice, it was special:
They’ve announced a mini-tour (and I have tickets for the Tarrytown Music Hall show in October!), and indicated that there might be a new album in the offing. During the show, the clouds rolled in and it looked like we were going to get, as Dar Williams noted, “the apocalypse.” But, again, we dodged the bullet.
After the long weekend, and knowing that Monday was a work day, we reluctantly skipped out on Arlo Guthrie’s closing set (as well as Brother Joscephus’ performance at the Dance Stage) to load back on the bus, to our car. About halfway home, we noticed that the road was soaking wet, so it looks like the apocalypse passed just south of Clearwater.
So, was it hard? It was. Was it worth it? Undoubtedly. Do I expect to be there next year? Yup.
For the next two weeks, our theme is Blood, vaguely derived from the classic heart symbolism for Valentine’s Day which falls during this period, but also because we thought it was a good idea.
Sometimes, when a theme is announced, I need to search my iTunes library for a song, and other times something just jumps into my head. And for some reason, that is what happened here, despite the fact that there are many more obvious choices.
The amount of music out there is staggering. I’m sure that there are many people whose musical taste and collection (tangible or virtual) has basically stagnated. But for me, and other music fanatics, it is impossible to keep up. I have a pretty significant collection of music, and a pretty broad range of musical likes, but I simply can’t know everything, or keep up with all of the new good things. I hear all of the time about music I should like or should check out, and often when I do, I realize, yeah, that’s pretty good. And maybe I’ll download a few songs and check them out more.
Which is a long way of getting to my point—there are people making great music out there—music you might really like, if you heard it, but you just haven’t had the chance. Eliza Gilkyson is one of those musicians who has had a long career in the industry, great reviews, but not a huge amount of name recognition outside of the Austin area. Although, to be fair, she has been pretty popular in these pages, having been tagged in 6 prior pieces, more than Aimee Mann, Alejandro Escovedo, Pete Townshend and Harry Chapin, to randomly choose a few people with bigger profiles.
Gilkyson comes from a musical family. Her father Terry was a folksinger in the 50s and 60s, and then became a songwriter for Disney movies—his songs include “The Bare Necessities” from The Jungle Book. Her brother Tony was the guitarist in Lone Justice, and for a period, X, and also produces. Her sister Nancy is a singer and an executive at Warner Bros. Records. Eliza began her career singing on her father’s demos and soundtracks, including a couple of Disney TV shows. She moved from Hollywood to Santa Fe, New Mexico in her late teens, started a family and began releasing records. Her musical and personal journey took her to Austin, then back to Los Angeles, then to Taos and to Europe, before returning to Austin. Her son Ryder has produced some of her albums, and her daughter Delia has sung on some of them. Her songs have been covered by Joan Baez, Lucy Kaplansky, Bob Geldof, Roseanne Cash and others. She even has a couple of Grammy nominations, and was inducted into the Austin Music Hall of Fame.
Our featured song, “Beauty Way,” from Gilkyson’s 2000 release, Hard Times In Babylon, is a semi-autobiographical tale about the hard life of a musician who comes close to, but just misses, hitting it big. What always struck me about the songs were her lyrics, which make it almost seem like her desire to play music was irresistible, and that she simply had to keep going, no matter what the result:
I worked the clubs along the Sangre de Cristos Polished the diamond in the rough By the time I hit L.A. I was hotter than a pistol But you're never hot enough little darling You never really hot enough
I felt the lights on the big, big stages The fire burning in my soul I've had those nights when my guitar rages But it's not something you control little darling It's not something you control
And there’s the blood reference—the Sangre de Cristo mountains, which run from Colorado to just north of Santa Fe. But I also think of the metaphorical blood that Gilkyson spent trying to make it in the music business.
A little side note--back in the days before iPods and CD burning, I was one of those people who made mixtapes, which I listened to on a tape player or in the car. In 2001, I included a version of “Beauty Way” on a tape, followed by a Los Lobos song, “Down on the Riverbed.” At some point, I was listening to the tape, and realized that the two songs mentioned red-tailed hawks, making it a great subconscious segue. Which is something that only ex-college radio DJs think about.
I love a squeezebox, me, and have for as long as I recall, and certainly as long as I have been addicted to music. I don't care whether a concertina, a melodeon, an accordion, piano- or otherwise, a bandoneon or whatever, and it can be from within folk, tex-mex/conjunto, zydeco/cajun, country or even just slipped into good old rock and roll. But I fear I may be an odd boy in this perversion, the majority of my chums placing these pre-cursors to the synthesiser* low in their pecking orders, arguably down near the bagpipe and the banjo, both of which I also adore. So where do I begin?
Lets's set the scene: I think my favourite ever use of these delightful instruments is within this stonking cajun version of Chuck Berry's 'Promised Land':
This belter of a song rattles along quite tidily under its conventional rockabilly steam until lifted twice, a middle eight and at the end, by the glorious surge of louisiana provided by Belton Richard, a lesser known name than that of Johnny Allan, the singer, but a man who has put out a fair bit of swamp-pop in his own name, before and subsequently.(In fact, so good a solo is it that it reappears, note for note, in this, by Los Lobos, their David Hidalgo being no slouch on the instrument either.)
But what was that I said about *pre-cursors to the synthesiser? What tosh, you say, how can you compare primitive bellows with the majesty of, um, say, Gary Numan's chosen? Let me explain, with reference to economies of scale and a journey into the mysteries of the Morris dance. These folk dances of old england were traditionally led by pipe and tabor, the simultaneous one hand on a whistle, another on a drum, with fiddle later being employed as well or instead. The melodeon, a button accordion, could provide a much greater swell of noise and range, thus being able to replace a larger team of musicians on lesser instrumentation. Maybe mellotron is a better example than synth, but it's my theory, and I'm sticking to it.
I could and I won't pontificate for hours as to the joy of squeeze, but that may not bring any converts, so how about a few more practitioners of merit wider than their genre might suggest.
Gotan Project are a Paris based collective of French and South American musicians dedicated to, largely, the tango. By imaginative use of electronic breaks and beats they endeavour to bring this dance and it's attendant culture into a 21st century setting. I think it works.
Still in France, there is of course a longstanding Parisian cafe culture built around cheesy chansons. This guy, Yann Tiersen, somehow explodes that. Oft dismissed as a mere soundtrack auteur, his repertoire is much wider. Accomplished on many instruments, I hope you will agree he gives the bellows a hell of a kicking in this burst above.
If they are still going, the Felice Brothers offer a delightfully ragged take on a ramshackle Americana that smacks of the subway busking sessions they began by playing. Based originally around the 3 Felices, now but 2 are still playing together, including James, who plays the accordion on this track, to brother Ian's singing.
As a final thought, I scribble recreationally on message board, the Afterword, a lifeboat for the aficionados of late lost music mag, (the) 'Word', and I am pleased there are other odd boys there; even the occasional odd woman. Here was a string about accordions you may enjoy.
I’m old enough to remember seeing The Lawrence Welk Show on TV, featuring polka music which, of course, highlighted the accordion. Not that I ever watched it—but in those days, to change the channel, you had to turn a dial and pass through each channel, so sometimes I would see a snippet of the show which looked like it was from another time. It just seemed so incongruous that during the rock era, there was a show featuring polka music, on television, and that there were people who actually watched it. The concept just was, to my mind, farcical.
So, when Eugene Levy and John Candy at SCTV created the Shmenge Brothers, a pair of “Leutonian” musicians, one of whom (Stan) played the accordion, I got the joke.
I’m also old enough to remember when Saturday Night Live was a subversive, counterculture program that quickly became mainstream entertainment. And then discovering the lower budget, more anarchic SCTV, although it never seemed to be on at any regular time. I think that, at least initially, the fact that SCTV flew under the radar allowed it the freedom to display a more subtle and weird comedic sensibility than SNL. The premise of the show—that it all related to a fictional TV station/network, also gave the show a narrow focus, yet allowed it the freedom to do wide ranging parodies. And it is hard to argue that the SCTV cast members haven’t had incredible influence on comedy—we’re talking John Candy, Rick Moranis, Eugene Levy, Catherine O’Hara, Andrea Martin, Harold Ramis, Dave Thomas, Robin Duke, Joe Flaherty, and, of course, Martin Short, among others.
The Shmenge Brothers were just one of these parodies, and like so many of their skits, the humor was subtle and character based. Candy apparently based the characters on Gaby Haas, a Czechoslovakian native who had a polka-based show based in Edmonton—meaning that there was actually more than one polka-based TV show on the air. The brothers appeared on a few episodes of SCTV, starting in 1982 and ending in 1983, with an ill-fated attempt to cash in on the “New Wave” and music videos. Their retirement was chronicled in an hour-long mockumentary called The Last Polka, based, of course, on The Last Waltz. The clip above, of the Shmenges and the Happy Wanderers playing their “classic” “Cabbage Rolls And Coffee,” comes from the film. They also performed this song on Late Night With David Letterman and at Comic Relief.
Part of the humor of the sketch is the fact that polka music, and the accordion, was at that time considered a joke in itself. Of course, the accordion, and its related instruments, has a respected place in the music of many countries and cultures. And as the roots music movement spread, more and more musicians proudly feature a squeezebox, so that when, say, David Hidalgo of Los Lobos, picks up his accordion, no one laughs.
One last admission—for a brief time in my childhood, I tried to learn to play the accordion. It didn’t take.
Los Lobos deserve to be considered as one of the greatest American rock bands of all time. They deserve to be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (and that’s not onlymyopinion). They deserve to be remembered for a remarkably diverse body of work, and not just for covering “La Bamba.” My wife and I saw them last night at the Tarrytown Music Hall on their 40th!! Anniversary Tour, and they blew us away. (And opener Amy Helm and her band were also incredible).
In 2011, we got tickets to see Los Lobos at the Music Hall, and we were very excited. We had seen them back in 1987, not too long after we started dating, at The Pier in New York. For those who don't remember The Pier, it was an outdoor venue on the Hudson River in Manhattan, near where the Intrepid is now. Every summer, they would set up a stage, a bunch of uncomfortable metal chairs and a few food vendors, and for very little money, there would be great music. I saw so many great shows there, ranging from The Clash and U2 to Miles Davis, King Crimson and Jean-Luc Ponty. I saw Elvis Costello and Pat Metheny. Not to mention Stanley Jordan. At the time, Los Lobos were hot, fresh off the success of “La Bamba,” but my wife and I appreciated their other work. Even better, the opening act was The Smithereens, another great band (but not my daughter’s future a capella group).
The show was great. Both bands rocked, and we had fun. Over the next few years, we really enjoyed what Los Lobos were doing. In addition to exposing us to various forms of Mexican folk music, they also demonstrated their abilities to play rock, blues, jazz, folk and even odd experimental music. And yet, despite the consistently high quality of their music, their popularity decreased from the probably artificial high of the “La Bamba” years.
For whatever reason, it wasn’t until 2011 that we decided to go see Los Lobos again, at the Music Hall, and I know that we were excited. The opening act was blues legend Taj Mahal, and he rocked the place. Then, Los Lobos came out. And they were awful. They were missing their usual drummer. David Hidalgo, their great vocalist/guitarist/accordion player seemed off his game and the band was lethargic. Maybe it was because it was the opening night of the tour, or because of the personnel issues, but they chose to play a set that was heavy on Spanish language songs and light on their more recognizable numbers (to an Anglo audience, at least). Which is not to say that there weren’t some good moments, but overall, we left disappointed.
Last year, the band returned to the Music Hall to perform one of their best albums, Kiko, in its entirety. We chose not to attend, and, as it turned out, Cesar Rosas, the band’s other main singer and guitarist, was out sick.
But, for some reason, when the Music Hall announced another show, with Amy Helm as the opener, we decided to give them another chance. And they really delivered. Playing a good mix of songs from their entire career, as befits an Anniversary Tour, they seemed to be in sync and having fun. Everyone was there—including their remarkable newish tour drummer, Bugs Gonzalez, who appeared to be having a blast. They ended the first set with an incredible medley—starting with “Dream in Blue” then segueing into a cover of Traffic’s “40,000 Headmen,” complete with flute, which turned into “Maricela,” before morphing into a raucous Spanglish “Más y Más.” For the final encore, they brought out Amy Helm’s band (without Amy, who had joined them earlier in the set for two songs) to replace Gonzalez on drums and Conrad Lozano on bass, and added Helm's incredible guitarist Dan Littleton to the mix for a raucous cover of The Sir Douglas Quintet’s “She’s About a Mover.” Everyone was having fun, and about halfway through the song, Hidalgo put down his guitar and switched into the drum seat.
To me, though, the high point of the night was their version of “One Time, One Night,” which is not only one of my favorite Los Lobos songs, but is one of my favorite songs, period. The wrenchingly sad story of how life doesn’t always work out, even “in the home of the brave [and] this land here of the free,” always affects me. It made me think and actually brought me close to tears.
And in the end, isn’t that what a good story is supposed to do?
Time flies. Los Lobos -- "The Wolves" -- formed in 1976. For a band that's been together for more than 35 years, Los Lobos has aged incredibly well: Los Lobos' founding members (David Hilgado, Conrad Lozano, Louie Perez, and Cesar Rosas) remain, and the new kid (Steve Berlin, who joined in 1983) is still there too. Members even work together on side projects (For example, Hildago and Perez collaborated on the Latin Playboys, as well a wonderful duet album quietly released in 2010). Not only do the band members seem to genuinely like each other, they are also committed to their craft. The breadth of material Los Lobos has recorded is impressive, and each of their 16 full-length albums has something to recommend.
Among mainstream listeners Los Lobos may be best known for two cover songs -- "La Bamba," which appeared in the film of the same name; and a rollicking cover of "I Wanna to Be Like You (The Monkey Song)" from the movie The Jungle Book. Their signature song really is "Will the Wolf Survive?," which echoes both the name of their first full-length English-language album (How Will the Wolf Survive?) and the translation of the band's name. Recorded in 1984, the song seems to sense the challenges the band would face during its long career. Looking back at over three decades as one of America's premiere roots rock bands, the answer to the question "Will the Wolf Survive?" is a resounding "Yes."
Bonus Track: Since it fits in with our animal kingdom theme, here's Los Lobos's fun cover of "I Wanna Be Like You (The Monkey Song)" from the Disney soundtrack tribute album, Stay Awake.
Ah, Los Lobos. Nothing lonesome here - this is all high-octane tejano-influenced roots rock, with just a touch of country and blues under the rail. The song comes on like a steady train, accelerating into the curve and then stretching out between stations before roaring into the chorus with a screech and wail like an East LA subway car.
One of only two songs not written by guitarist, accordionist, vocalist and lead songwriter David Hidalgo on 1992 release Kiko, That Train takes the perfect fourth spot on what is generally accepted to be their most experimental album. The set runs highly diverse, but it's still the one I pull out when the party really starts to rock, and it always results in someone asking to borrow it.
When I was growing up, we would, of course, have turkey for Thanksgiving. In the week that followed, much of the meat that remained on the bird would be stripped off and made into something else, usually in some kind of creamy sauce, and usually served over rice. The carcass, with a fair amount of meat still on it, would be frozen for later use. At about this point in the week following Thanksgiving, we would get the turkey carcass out of the freezer, and I would have one of my favorite tasks of the year: making turkey soup. So, in our house, even the leftovers from the feast had leftovers, and the soup making was a true labor of love. It is in that spirit that I present this post.
Half way through Clothes week, we lost our internet service for what turned out to be two and a half weeks. I had two posts planned for the remainder of the week, which never saw the light of day until now.
I wanted to do a two-song post of Richard Shindell songs. The first song was “Che Guevara Tee Shirt”, which wound up be handled quite well by Boyhowdy, (thanks again). The second song was “A Summer Wind, A Cotton Dress”. This song comes from earlier in Shindell’s career, and is not as lyrical complex as “Che...”. But here, Shindell captures perfectly the curiosity we all sometimes feel: what would have happened if that one relationship so long ago had worked out?
I mentioned that there were two posts I planned for Clothes week; this was going to be the other one.
Meryn Caddell is a musician and performance artist based in Canada. Here, she captures perfectly, (so I’m told by my consultant on matters feminine), the “drama” of high school girls and dating. With a considerable wink.
The Music Biz: The Under Assistant West Coast Promo Man
During our internet outage, I completely missed the week devoted to The Music Biz. Once I found out about it, I looked through the posts to see if anyone thought of this one. Most of the essentials got covered, but this was nowhere to be seen.
The Rolling Stones had for their original inspiration the blues music of the American South. When they used this musical of the downtrodden to tell the tale of a low level music industry worker who seeks to advance his career by exploiting the musical talent of others, I’m sure the Stones were well aware of the irony.
Finally, I was around for our week of songs inspired by The Moon. This was just one more time when I had more material than time. That said, I can’t remember how I decided to leave out my favorite Los Lobos song.
Considering how unusual the name is (before the very recent spike in popularity, at least), there are a surprising number of songs about Evangeline.
My favorite of the Evangeline tunes is this peppy little number from Los Lobos' debut LP, How Will The Wolf Survive? (which in my humble opinion is a killer record--and a whole lot of fun too).
I tried to find a random Evangeline on Google, but all I got was this celebrity person (shown above). She probably explains the recent popularity of the name. Los Lobos' song in 1984 didn't even make a dent in the name popularity chart.
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