Born Again Floozies Will Tap And Blast Their Way Into Your Ears

How can anyone go wrong with a name like that? Every once in a while those "free" CDs that come in music magazines contain a genuine gem. Ever since I found Old Crow Medicine Show's "Wagon Wheel," which is actually a song built around an unfinished and unreleased chorus that Bob Dylan penned for the film, "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid," I frantically dig through all those freebie CDs looking for something similar. Finally... I found another gem: Born Again Floozies' "7 Deadly Sinners." It was in a recent Paste Magazine accompanying CD. The Floozies craft beautiful music that skips around from country to rockabilly to blues, but with two magical ingredients: a pounding, blasting tuba and the clickity-clack of tap dancing. Though no other song compares to "7 Deadly Sinners" within the album of the same name, there are a few other noteworthy tracks if you just can't get enough tuba or tap dancing:"Floozies Repent" and "Miranda Rights."

Devendra Banhart

Freak folk, freak folk, freak folk... Please, let it be the last time either of those two words are used as short cuts to define or contain a magnificently complicated and almost uncategorizable talent like Devendra Banhart. The only thing to say about his new album "Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Mountain" is that it's a challenging affair that cavorts from samba to salsa to art rock to Andean rock, all the while stitched together by some vintage 60s thread. Although he lived in Venezuela for some years and he often sings in Spanish, he's never been considered part of the Latin alternative movement. It seems it's time to reconsider. Banhart's new effort may very well rank among the best Latin alternative albums of the year based simply on four tracks: "Cristobal", "Samba Vexillographica", "Rosa" and "Carmensita." And considering that this year, pioneers and genre monoliths like Manu Chao and Café Tacvba both released outstanding albums, Señor Banhart is good company.


Of course, if the Brazilian and Latin American-influenced stuff doesn't grab you, the album's gem, the harder-hitting, Morrison-esque "Tonada Yanomaminista," should be in contention for one of the best singles of the year--definitely THE best single that you will never learn how to pronounce.

Read A.D. Amarosi's excellent cover story on Banhart here.

The kids are alright!

Tiny Masters of Today are proof positive you're never too young to start rocking out or to tell "Bushy" what you think of him. Ivan and little sister Ada, who were born two years AFTER the first Bush left office and four years before the second Bush came on, respectively, delivered one of the most punk albums of the year. Once you get over their pint-sized frames and the fact that--yes--Ivan just hit his teens, you realize that their garage punk sound, screeching vocals and unforced lyrics that sadly seem too angry for kids their age (until you look into the world we're leaving them) far outburn the "novelty band" label. In a nanny-nanny boo-boo kinda way, they gut punch the president with such delicious intensity that they've probably caused many, many struggling bands to just hang it up and ponder, "If these little kids can come up with this, what chance do we have?" In "Bushy" clocking in just over a minute, they simply sing: "All my friends agree with me/ You're the worst president... Bushy/ I talked to the government and they agree/ You're the worst president... Bushy." To add insult to injury, some Web sites report that Ada came up with the lyrics when she was eight!

The albums is filled with other gritty gems like "Hey, Mr. DJ", "Hologram World (featuring 2/3 of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Karen O and Nick Zinner)" and "Stickin' It to the Man," which David Bowie had this to say about it:
"This 2:43 minute slice of detached cool comes across like Suicide crashing a Shaggs rehearsal. How can you resist? 'You say yes, I say no. You say stop, I say go. You say up, I say down. You say smile, I say frown. Stickin' it to The Man, stickin' it cos I can, stickin it to The Man, every day.' Genius."

Café Tacvba new album "Sino"

There isn't a more Mexican band, nor one more entrenched in Anglo music than Café Tacvba (they grew up listening to the Clash, the Cure and the Smiths--among others). And there sure as hell ain't a band that can splice the sounds from both sides of the border more creatively or more effortlessly. While they've flirted with just about every Mexican folkloric genre and given their punk, rockabilly or electronica treatment to anything they could muster musically, the first single "Volver a Comenzar" off their new album "Sino" stands out because of its lyrical introspection and daring length at 7:44. It starts out as a bouncy, disco-punk number with a swirling sugarsweet synth hook. About halfway through, the tempo slows down to dreamy lullaby speed that has Brian Wilson-Pet Sounds written all over it--down to the swirving choral vintage Beach Boys ooh-ahhhs. It then progressively returns to the starting danceable beat ("Volver a Comenzar" means "starting over"). Interestingly enough, when I interviewed bassist Quique Rangel at the Latin Alternative Music Conference this past summer, he shared with me that the first album he plans to upload into his new iPod (after his old iPod and iTunes crashed) was "Pet Sounds." Thematically and lyrically, this epic single doesn't fall too far from its Wilson tree: its gushy, heart-on-the-sleeve lyrics of lament and "not having enough time to repair" all that's broken over soothing, almost meditative music is classic Wilson.

But there's more to "Sino." For the Tacvbos, it is an exercise in masterfully albeit metaphorically giving a peck on the cheek to some of the music that made them what they are. They walk a fine line between honoring their heroes and straight-up mugging them. By inserting musical or vocal nuances that are unmistakenly someone else's, as when lead singer Rubén Albarrán's decadent whiny Spanish vocals on "Cierto O Falso" slightly reek of Johnny Rotten, they avoid committing the cardinal sin of simply ripping off the Sex Pistols or becoming the Sex Pistols en Español, for instance.

Throughout the album you get a whiff of scents ranging from '66 ethereal surf pop to '77 British punk, but you're never clubbed over the head with it. But perhaps most importantly, the album is unequivocally a Café Tacvba album from start to finish.

Covering the Latin Alternative Music Conference

Hello. Been a long time. Must. Update. Blog. Very. Soon. For now, please visit www.harpmagazine.com (front page, left hand side or click on the links here on your right) and check out my four-part series on the Latin Alternative Music Conference. If you scroll down you can also see a few photos I took with my little Kodak snapshot camera--pardon the crudeness. I've also added a few names and links to bands/aritst I highly recommend.

Tio Ivan News Footage

TV stations pay tribute to my late Tio Iván

Varias estaciones de television hablan sobre el fallecimiento del Tio Iván

Iván Oña R.I.H.

I'm pretty sure my uncle and namesake, Iván Oña, just got to heaven and is quickly looking for his old man--my grandpa, Guillermo or Abuelito Lempis, as we used to call him. After Tio Iván finds him, they will probably catch up over a few "jabas de Pilsener" (cases of Ecuadorian beer). If there's a soccer game on, all the better.

It would probably behoove Tio Iván to keep it low key that since Lempis's passing in '81, Ivan became a die hard fan of the Ecuadorian soccer team, Barcelona. Lempis, being a Liguista (fan of Liga Deportiva Universitaria) and consequently a hater of all things Barcelona, would probably disown him AGAIN (we'll get to that later). After drinking, smoking and shooting the shit, they will probably go chasing angel skirts.

After that, he would probably look up John Lennon. I'm sure that in Tio's extremely poor, but hilarious English he would find ways to tell Lennon how much his music, particularly "Imagine," meant to him. Tio Iván was definitely a "dreamer." He even spray-painted a Lennon quote on a wall right outside of his home.

Tio Iván was no saint. Not even close. He was a foul-mouthed, hot-tempered hippy and womanizer. But if there's a heaven or "above us only sky"--as the song goes--the man secured his place a long time ago through his transparency and monolithic integrity. His honesty in a country devastated by corruption and greed is one for the history books. As an esteemed journalist and consequently Ecuador press representative in Cuba, advisor to a vice president and then press secretary for another president, the opportunities to sell out and escape monetary despair were ripe. All he needed to do was pick one. He never did. Even friends and colleagues who visited him at his home in Los Molinos del Viento (The Windmills) in el Valle de los Chillos (Valley of Screams) in the outskirts of Quito, where Tio Iván chose to live out his last days, marveled at what could have been: "Iván could have been a millionaire many times over, if he wanted to." But it wasn't in the cards for him. Instead, he remained an honest man who chose to die under a roof that leaked right onto his death bed in the modest house where he made a home with his wife, Miriam and their kids Tammy, Miriam Julem, Marisol and "Comandante."

Ironically, he died of complications from cancer of the larynx. For over 30 years, it was his voice that gave him his livelihood as a broadcast journalist and in the end it was his cancer-stricken voice that took away his life.

People come and go and that's a sad part of life. But few will leave behind such a marvelous and enduring legacy. As my dad said, "My younger brother Iván was special since he was a little boy." This is one of my favorite Tio Iván stories that is sad, funny and tugs at your heart, but is also a glimpse at how special he was from so early on.

For Catholics, your first communion is an absolutely mandatory ritual--no ifs, ands or buts. So the story goes that sometime before my uncle was supposed to do his first communion, Abuelito Lempis nabbed him pocketing his lunch money. Grandpa, who was a strict disciplinarian, authoritarian, judge and juror sentenced Tio Iván to a magnificent ass-whoopin.' No questions were asked when it came to dishonesty or theft. Murder would have been received with a little less hostility by my grandparents. So after essentially disowning him and a several belt lashes that undoubtedly left a few marks, the truth surfaced. The paternal instinct to visualize Tio Iván's lunch money on smut magazines , junk food and general childhood foolishness was way off the mark. You could imagine the crash of conscience that strangled Abuelito Lempis, when he found out that Tio Iván had used the money to buy a candle for his first communion. As it turned out, Tio Iván had felt bad about asking my grandparents for money since they were essentially in the poorhouse. Instead, he didn't eat his lunch for a few weeks to buy the candle. All he really wanted to do is fit in. He didn't want to be the poor kid without the candle.

But my uncle never did fit in. To fit in would imply someone who gets by and lives in relative anonymity--someone who doesn't stick out. Tio stuck out like a sore middle finger. He was far too extraordinary--his life, his wisdom, his actions. He was bigger than he, himself, could comprehend. Though he will be missed far more than words could ever convey, he leaves behind enough anecdotes to keep the family smiling and remembering for a long, long time.

He is survived by his mother and my grandmother, Abuelita Blanquita; his wife and soulmate, Tia Miriam; their kids and my cousins: Tammy, Miriam Julem, Marisol and "Comandante;" his older brother and my father, Mario, and our family; older sister Tia Lali and all her family; and his younger siblings: Tia Jenny, Tia Ligia, Tio Patricio, Tia Vero and all of their respective families.

Tio Iván: Rest in Hippydom (1950 - 2007).


EN ESPAÑOL:
Estoy casi seguro que mi Tio Iván, por quien me llamo Mario Iván,
acaba de llegar al cielo y esta buscando desesperadamente a su
Viejo--mi abuelo Guillermo o como le deciamos, Abuelito Lempis. Al
encontrarse los dos, estoy mas que seguro que se pegaran sus jabas de
Pilsener y si hay un partido de fútbol, mejor todavia!

Creo que seria prudente que mi Tio Iván ni mencione que despues de la muerte del Abuelito Lempis, se volvio hincha del Barcelona. Siendo Liguista hasta no se donde, capaz quel Abuelito lo mata.
Despues del chupe y de ponerse al dia, estoy seguro que ira en
busca de “guambras angelicales.”

Despues de eso, me imagino que buscara a John Lennon. Aunque estoy convencido de que no hay persona que hable el ingles peor que mi tio, el encontrara la forma de dejarle saber a Lennon cuanto significo su musica en la vida del tio, particularmente la canción "Imagine." Tio Iván siempre fue un soñador ("dreamer") como dice la cancion, inclusive hizo un “graffiti”con un dicho de Lennon en la pared afuerita de su casa.

Mi tio no fue ningun santo. Se le hiban malas palabras,
tenia un temperamento fuerte, era hippy y mujeriego. Pero si existe
el cielo como lo cantaba Lennon en la misma cancion, mi tio aseguro su puesto hace muchos años con su transparencia e integridad monolítica. Su honestidad en su Ecuador podrido con corrupción y
avaricia es casi historica. Como un periodista admirado y
consequentemente diplomatico Ecuatoriano de prensa en Cuba, asesor de la ex-Vice Presidenta Rosalia Arteaga y ex-secretario de comunicación bajo Lucio Gutierrez, las oportunidades para salir de una situacion financieramente dificil se le ofrecieron muchas veces. Pero el jamas lo hizo. Inclusive sus amigos y colegas que le visitaban en su casa en el vecindario de los Molinos del Viento en el Valle de los Chillos, se asombraban y comentaban: "Iván, facilmente, pudo ser millonario." Pero para mi tio no habia suficiente plata para que el comprometa sus principios y entregue su lealtad.

En lugar, el se mantuvo un hombre honesto que escojio morir bajo un
techo con goteras donde las gotas le caian en la misma cama que murio. El escogio morir en su casita con su mujer, Miriam y sus hijos, Tammy, Miriam Julem, Marisol e Iván Guillermo (Comandante).

Ironicamente, murio de complicaciones de cancer a la laringe. Despues de casi 30 años de hacer subsistencia con su voz en la radio y la television, en el final fue su misma voz que le quito la vida.

Gente viene y va y esa es la triste realidad de la vida. Pero pocos
dejan un legado tan maravilloso y permanente. Como mi viejo decia,
"My hermano Iván fue super especial desde niño." Aqui va una de las
anecdotas mas chistosas y a la misma vez mas tristes de mi tio que
demuestra lo especial que fue desde guaguito:

Para los catolicos, la primera comunión es completamente mandatoria y da acuerdo al cuento, mi tio estaba en edad de hacer su primera comunion. Cuando mi Abuelito Lempis le agarro guardandose la plata que le daban para su almuerzo en las escuela. Mi abuelito que era estricto y disciplinario, sirvio de juez y jurado y lo sentencio a una tremenda paliza. Ninguna averiguacion se hacia cuando se trataba de robar o ser deshonesto. Homicidio hubiera sido un crimen menos grave para mis abuelos. Despues de algunos correazos que seguramente dejaron su marca permanente, la verdad se dio. El instincto paternal de visualizar la plata para el almuerzo convertido en caramelos, revistas sucias o tipicos gastos tontos de los jovenes estaba super equivocado. Ya se pueden imaginar el cargo de conciencia cuando mi abuelito se dio cuenta que mi tio habia usado la plata para comprar una vela para su primera comunion. Lo que paso es que mi tio se sentia mal en pedir plata a mis abuelitos en medio de su crisis economica. Por lo cual, el tio escogio no comer su almuerzo por un par de semanas para comprar la vela. Al final, lo unico que queria era ser un chico comun, no queria ser el chico pobre que no tenia ni para una triste vela.

Pero mi tio nunca fue comun. Ser "comun," hubiera implicado alguien que vivia su vida casi anonimamente--alguien que no relucia. Mi tio relucio como el dedo del medio dando el pajarito. El fue
demasiadamente extraordinario--su vida, su sabiduria y sus acciones.
El fue mucho mas grande de lo que el mismo se imaginaba. Aunque sera extrañado sin limite, el deja suficientes anecdotas para dejar a su familia sonriendo por muchos, muchos años.

Le sobreviven su mama y mi abuela, Abuelita Blanquita; su esposa y
media naranja, Tia Miriam; sus hijos y mis primos: Tammy, Miriam
Julem, Marisol e Iván Guillermo (Comandante); y por fin su hermano mayor y mi papa, Mario, con nuestra familia, su hermana, mi Tia Lali, con su familia y sus hermanos menores: Tia Jenny, Tia Ligia, Tio Patricio, Tia Vero y sus familias correspondientes.

Descansa en paz Tio Ivan, quel cielo este lleno de guitarras, musica de los Beatles y amor. Te recordaremos y viviras en nuestros corazones por siempre!