Calexico by Fred Mills

Have we mentioned Calexico lately? Because we usually manage to slip in at least one namecheck per issue. (See issue #57’s Collectibles column for a writeup of the band’s fourth Internet/tour-only disc, the live Scraping; or issue #58’s review of the new Calexico studio album, Feast Of Wire.) And way back in issue #36, around the time of the band’s second LP, The Black Light, we chronicled Joey Burns and John Convertino’s history. They met in California around 1990, when Convertino was holding down the drum kit for Giant Sand. After Burns was subsequently drafted as the Sand bassist, a fruitful, creative partnership was born that has lasted through good and fractious times in Giant Sand, a stint in Friends Of Dean Martinez, numerous studio and/or touring liaisons with other artists (Victoria Williams, Barbara Manning, Richard Buckner, Vic Chesnutt, Bill Janovitz and, most recently, Neko Case) and, commencing in ‘96, four albums as Calexico—nine, if you count a soundtrack and the four tour releases. The recording sessions for the new Feast Of Wire (Quarterstick) lasted for more than a year, and with good reason. During the interim, Calexico toured frequently, sometimes as a five- or six-piece, sometimes with a full mariachi band, Tucson’s celebrated Mariachi Luz de Luna, in tow. Coming into the Feast sessions, the band was crucially aware of its strengths (a tight performing ensemble with a healthy appreciation of spontaneity and experimentation) and its weaknesses (an occasional tendency to fall back on “the Calexico sound,” the signature style that frequently prompted reviewers to rely on pat Southwestern imagery: “border pop,” “mariachi garage,” “desert noir,” etc.). For all its telltale Calexico touches—accordion, twangy guitar, windswept arrangements, mariachi flourishes—Feast Of Wire is a defiant challenge to those who may entertain preconceptions about the band. It opens with the accordion-and-twang “Sunken Waltz,” but then the gloves come off the instant “Quattro (World Drifts In)” cues up; despite the presence of pedal steel and horns, its metronomic percussion, hypnotic guitar figure and Burns’ shuddery, Emmylou Harris-like vocals mark a clear stylistic departure. Ditto the sweeping strings, moaning synth and baroque-gothic ambiance of “Black Heart”—a nod to labelmates the Black Heart Procession, with whom Calexico is planning a studio collaboration. The lilting, strummy pop of “Not Even Stevie Nicks” is a radio-friendly offering with ‘mersh potential well beyond typical indie-rock parameters. And late in the album, when the Gil Evans/Charles Mingus-styled “Crumble” arrives on a gust of blatting metro horns and un-twangy jazz guitar licks, the listener practically has to go check to make sure it’s still Calexico in the changer. MAGNET: Do you think the impact of hip hop on Hispanic culture and the Americanization, globally, of popular music, will render stuff like mariachi a dying artform one day? Burns: No, I don’t. I think it’ll mostly stay regional, though, because of the culture and where it is. It’s pretty unique, and that’s the beauty of it—it is regional. You see an instrument like one of the huge guitars and you automatically think of the Southwest or Mexico. Is the current tour for Feast Of Wire more along the lines of Calexico bearing down as a six-piece doing the new album material, as opposed to taking the more open-ended approach—surprise guests, etc.—that you have in the past? (In addition to Burns and Convertino, the lineup includes bassist Volker Zander, guitar/vibes/melodica player Martin Wenk, trumpeter Jacob Valenzuela and—on loan from Lambchop—pedal steel player Paul Niehaus. Everyone doubles—and triples—on additional instrumentation.) I think in some ways, no, because of the fact that this lineup has played together for so long and we've already toured these songs for the most part. I'm going to try to dig up some other songs that are more based on beats and just try to encourage everyone to experiment more and mix it up on top. As opposed to just doing "the songs." Try to mix it up more, like taking songs off Black Light—"Fake Fur," "Chach"—maybe fuse "Chach" with "Quattro" or something like that. And just experiment, because I have a bunch of new songs ready to go for this tour. Experimenting has always been an important factor in your music, going all the way back to Giant Sand. I interviewed Warren Haynes of Gov’t Mule not long ago, and he said that improvisation can be a mixed blessing, but when it works, it’s better than sex. Of course. It’s totally worth it. But do you ever look around onstage and realize you’ve forgotten where you are? You and John are responsible for steering the ship, and it’s a lot bigger now than it was when you guys just went out as a duo. Sure, and I think that’s why I like mixing it up and not getting too caught up in the deep end the whole time. Toward the end of the night everything kind of loosens up anyway, and we can throw a whole bunch of shit in there and take left turns all you want. But if you balance that by coming in first—it’s all placement, keeping the pace going is really crucial. If the breaks between songs happen for a long time you kind of lose momentum. So you pop a song on real quick. Especially on the bigger shows in Europe, the festivals, that can be pretty aggravating for the multi-instrumentalists because they’re running around trying to drop one instrument and pick up another, and they just want to be as prepared as possible. And you have to be more aware of reaching the guy who’s standing way in the back of a large place. I remember being at a festival in Germany one time, and Howe and I were checking out the band that was going on before Giant Sand. This big MTV-sponsored festival called Southside. We go to the back, and Howe just realized, “Oh yeah, you have to kind of exaggerate your movements so people in the back can understand what you’re doing and saying.” “HOW YA DOIN’, MUNICH!!!” [Laughing] So when he gets up onstage, he’s suddenly all over the place. Getting up in a chair and stuff ... it was so funny, his reaction to that. It’s harder for bands that are more subtle, like Giant Sand or Calexico. Where the rhythm section isn’t this big, powered, solid wall of sound. That makes it harder to translate to a large crowd. What’s the largest crowd you’ve played for? Maybe at one of the festivals, oh, 5,000. But we don’t go near the main stages. Side stages, or usually the tent next to the side stage. Last year we played this Belgian festival called Rock Werchter, and on the main stage you had Red Hot Chili Peppers, Queens Of The Stone Age, that German-Kraut-Nazi band Rammstein with cannons and pyro. So on the smaller stage—while Queens Of The Stone Age are blasting away, and they were loud—you had Lambchop, then Cornelius, Calexico ... Good exposure, and the coinage isn’t too shabby either, but do you ever scratch your head when it’s all over and go, “Uh ... ” Sometimes. But sometimes it feels good and a lot of fun. Especially when we brought the Mariachis in 2000. We were playing the same festival as Oasis, Foo Fighters, Cypress Hill, Limp Bizkit. So those Mariachi guys were getting their pictures taken with all the celebrities. Pretty hilarious. Next Page >> 1 2 3