AJ Dávila - Terror/Amor

Terror Amor, AJ Dávila
Nacional Records, Puerto Rico
Rating: 86
by Carlos Reyes

Being a band that had been featured across the cream-of-the-crop of music publications, I always approached Dávila 666 with some distance. When I needed a permission to feature one of their tracks on a compilation, I would ask their label. And when they toured through Arizona promoting Tan Bajo, I just couldn’t bring myself to introduce Club Fonograma to them. It seems they had been following all along. At least AJ Dávila did. Diverging from Dávila 666, the Puerto Rican maverick has stormed the blogosphere with an album that feels anything but distant to the common labor of the contemporary independent musician throughout Iberoamerica. Terror/Amor is a collaborative, important record that not only lives up to the hype, but also matches its ambitions.

Subscribing to an integrationist ideal, AJ Dávila recruited an impressive line of collaborators that take part of the Terror/Amor discourse. They didn’t come together to make a statement. Their presence is born out of true mutual admiration. Having people like Alex Anwandter, Juan Cirerol, and Black Lips’ Cole Alexander is still attractive as hell. Add Sergio Rotman from Los Fabulosos Cadillacs and we can talk about a generational reconciliation that's alluring and romantic. So much in fact that we witness Nacional Records (still the most consolidated label around) endorsing its commercial light from the get-go (as opposed to other terrific indie releases like that of Astro and Rebeldes, which have been late-blooming acquisitions by the label). It’s inevitable not to think of Terror/Amor as eventful. But when the novelty of the collaborations wears off, we find a truly bold and round record that’s more compassionate and tender than the blood-spatter in the album cover is capable of outlining.

Invariably and narratively romantic, AJ Dávila is outspoken about Hip Hop influencing his composition more than rock & roll ever did. Such a claim is easy to sustain when album opener “Animal” bursts into the soundscape with an unsentimental assaultiveness hard to be justified by rock and roll or pop structures. It’s with this wide scope of cultural awareness and affection that AJ confronts improbable canvases. Because really, did anyone really anticipated the unlikely collaboration with Anwandter to sound so amorous and anthemic? We certainly didn’t. The fluidness of the collaborations is accomplished not only because every guest adheres to his or her assignment, but also because AJ understands that without acknowledging idiosyncratic, things could’ve appeared disaffected and disconnected. Not to say harmony was ever goal, but it's delicious to see vocal hooks, themes, and frenzied agency unfold with this amount of sensibility before our eyes.

In all of its many guises, Terror/Amor serves more than a cultural, collective purpose. The artistic choices made here have been designed by a mastermind, executing each idea with vigor and sharpness. Powerpop numbers “Dura Como Piedra” (feat. Selma Oxor) and “2333” (feat. Mercedes Oller of Las Robertas) show little concern for packaging boy-meets-girl vignettes, instead, favoring naked forms of tempo shifting and free-falling grace. Unbelievably catchy tracks like “Es Verano Ya” and “Ya Se” play off as emotional-pulling cards that in some way or another validate AJ Dávila as a pop music songwriter. There’s far more love than terror in Terror/Amor. The warmth of its construction pays off in a big way as we witness what could’ve been a sidekick/novelty record turn into an essential record to understanding the new wave of Iberoamerican rockers. Furthermore, it’s an album filled with catchy gems that embraces its terrorized visceral beauty and never rolls back into silence.

Juan Cirerol - Cachanilla y Flor de Azar

Cachanilla y Flor de Azar, Juan Cirerol
Independiente, Mexico
Rating: 76
by Carlos Reyes

Cachanilla y Flor de Azar will always be remembered as the album whose high demand brought down Juan Cirerol’s website. Within half an hour of it becoming public (offered as a free download), the server was no longer capable of providing its services. Fans (our staff included) turned to social networks looking for those lucky people who got the chance to download it. The widespread interest and artist-advocated sharing of this material validated Cirerol’s profile as both new cult icon and active populist. The burgeoning popularity of Cirerol (often called Johnny Cachanilla) brought disproportion to the artist’s means of distribution, which is why we are to understand his recent inclusion to Universal Music as something inevitable.

We’re unaware of the timing between this release and his induction to the transnational label, but it wouldn’t be surprising to find a correlation between the two. Cachanilla y Flor de Azar feels like it was put together as one last offering of informality. It’s hardly an album; it’s actually a mixtape of sorts. The 14-track package is disorienting to say the least (a possible outcome of not having Vale Vergas’ Txema Novelo overlooking the details this time around). The album is impulsive (abrupt sequencing), disorganized (muddled iTunes tags), and aesthetically indifferent. But beyond its manufacturing flaws, this is also Cirerol’s most punk moment yet, something of great regard in his young yet prolific career. “Soy un junkie cualquiera,” he confesses after rowdily wounding the soundscape with his harmonica. His grasp of the vernacular had rarely been this frank and uncouth.

Even when flirting with the sweeter side of imagery (like in album standout “Cerca del Mar”), Cirerol still opts to sound more blood-rushed than reflective to the medium. The most memorable moments arrive with tracks like “En donde esta el corazón” and “El Carril #3,” which witness the troubadour reacting to melody through Mexico’s most pedestrian and popular genres (rancheras and corridos). Hits like Café Tacvba’s “La Ingrata” and Jessy Bulbo’s “La Cruda Moral” have reconciled rock and roll with Mexico’s regional/folk sounds, but unlike those acts, Cirerol’s accomplishment works for authenticity rather than comedic hubris. We’re sure Cirerol will overcome any future label confinements he might stumble upon. Cachanilla y Flor de Azar’s production is a great departure from the glossiness acquired in Haciendo Leña and is a comeback to the DIY assembly of Ofrenda al Mictlan. It’s Cirerol’s most wild and busiest collection yet, and that’s enough for it to transcend beyond a novelty release.

♫♫♫ "Cerca del Mar"

Fonocast #13: Cheers!

Fonocast #13: Cheers!

by Blanca Méndez and Souad Martin-Saoudi

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Download Fonocast #13

• Pernett - "Esta Noche"
• Jr. Ranks ft. Mach & Daddy - "Agua y Guaro"
• Kid Sister ft. Nina Sky - "Look Out Weekend"
• 3Ball MTY - "Tipsy"
• Las Kellies - "Scotch Whiskey"
• Selma Oxor - "Jungle Juice"
• Las Ardillas - "Cancion de Luz"
• Juan Cirerol - "Se Vale Soñar"
• Wendy Sulca - "Cerveza Cerveza"
• Los Tigres del Norte - "La Mesa del Rincón"
• Carla Morrison - "Tragos Amargos"
• Gloria Trevi - "Fue ese tequila"
• Jessy Bulbo - "La Cruda Moral"

Vive Latino 2012: Day Two

by Claire Frisbie

Saturday was the day to attend Vive Latino 2012—some of the most buzzed about acts of the past year were performing, Café Tacvba was headlining, tickets were sold out, and the sun was shining. We had our day mapped out to the minute.

Columpio Asesino were already on the main stage, and I regret to report they were a bit underwhelming, but to no fault of their own, really. Their set was solid, but their music is too dark for blinding sunlight, methinks. The rather lethargic crowd did rise to the occasion, however, when they played “Toro,” cheering raucously when guitarist Cristina shouted—riffing on the song’s lyrics—, “Para que ir a Berlin si podemos estar aqui con ustedes en el Vive Latino?” (“Why go to Berlin if we can be here with you at Vive Latino?”). Seriously.

Next we dashed over to the Carpa Intolerante for Perrosky, who were the revelation of the day for me. It’s incredible the layers of garage rock, blues, and rockabilly the brothers Gomez are able to generate between just the two (2!) of them—it was as if Elvis had been somehow reincarnated in these two skinny Chilean dudes. Raw and refreshingly devoid of synthesizers and other gadgets, Perrosky rocked my world with a drum set, guitar, harmonica, and maraca.

Keeping things retro, we returned to Escenario Indio Verde for Vive veterans and música surf faves Lost Acapulco. The crowd had at least doubled if not tripled in size, and everyone was bopping, moshing, and doing the twist to hits like “Olvidemos El Romance” and “Frenesick.” I genuinely appreciate their whole shtick: the luchador masks, vintage visuals of shimmying vedettes, and misogynistic-but-we’ll-let-it-slide-this-time rapport between songs, but it kind of got redundant. We were just about ready to move on when the band started in on a cover of Los Saicos’ “Demolición,” which was easily the highlight of their set for me, even if no one else seemed to know the song.

Photo by Marlon Bishop

Then it was Astro time. We power walked over to the palm tree-flanked Carpa DanUp aka la Carpa del Yogurt aka la Carpa Tropical. I couldn’t have imagined a better setting to see Astro for the first time. The four guys burst onto the stage making monkey noises and launched into “Mono Tropical,” looking like hipster Trader Joe’s employees/Miami Vice extras in loud patterned shirts, skinny jeans, and sunglasses. There were some sound issues, but their energy was totally infectious, and man, what a show! Singer Andrés’s voice is absolutely incredible (and really is that high!), and keyboard player Nicolás had the lanky dude hip shake down. To the delight of the audience, they proclaimed DF their favorite place to play, and added, “En Chile nos quieren, pero acá mucho más!” (“In Chile they love us, but here [they love us] much more!”) And how. Astro was one of the bands I was most pumped to see at Vive, but part of me had been worried that their music might not translate to the outdoor stage. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Can someone please book a Panda Bear/Tanlines/Astro U.S. tour ASAP? Thanks.

Next up was one of my main motivations for coming to Vive this year: Juan Cirerol. Chicali’s bad boy troubadour has me completely enthralled, but I can conclude with absolute objectivity that he kicked some serious ass. I mean, he was trending on Twitter during the show and, if that doesn’t justify one’s badassness, I don’t know what does. Cirerol is a beast on the guitar, his singing style is so raw and earnest. He powered through “El Perro” and “La Banqueta,” and it was hard to believe that all this ruckus was coming from just one man. His stage presence is phenomenal, doused with booze and burps, his signature scrunched brow, the occasional air-split (that would be a jump and attempted split in the air—yep, he did that!), and norteño swagger for days. The overflowing Carpa Intolerante yelped and sang along with genuine fervor and joined in for a massive sing-along to “Se Vale Soñar” (extra cheers when he wailed “todos borrachos y locos”) and “La Chola,” which closed out his set. Todo más que fine, Juanito.

Cirerol’s set left me craving a stiff drink, so we breezed past the main stage (Camilo Lara aka Instituto Mexicano del Sonido in a kilt and colorful man-tights mashing up “Alocatel” and “Hey Mickey” with the guys from Calexico as his backup band), to re-fuel with sandwiches and dranks. Then it was back to the yogurt tent.

Carla Morrison. Oh my GAWD, Carla Morrison. It was truly an impressive thing to see the thousands and thousands of fans who came to see her at Vive: teenage girls with tears streaming down their faces, families with young children, embracing couples. By the time she cooed “tu me enchinas la piel” my entire body had been covered in goosebumps for, like, ever. It was refreshing to see her with a full band—her usually sparse accompaniment translates beautifully to more complex instrumentation. In the days leading up to Vive, she’d reached out to fans via social media to bring handkerchiefs to her show, and perhaps the most powerful moment of her set came when everyone waved them in the air and danced along to her latest single, “Hasta La Piel.” Next year, to the main stage!

Then there was an audience switch-up: out with the angsty teenagers, in with the fashiony hipsters. The screen to the right of the stage glowed “MENA” and chants of “Javiera, Javiera” began. I wasn’t sure what to expect given the conflicting Festival Nrmal and SXSW reviews on this blog, but I must say I was pleasantly surprised. I should also let it be known that I am not a diehard Javiera Mena fan (gasp!), and while I thought she sounded better than on her albums, my friends actually thought otherwise. Javiera: so polarizing! As in the case of Carla, the support of a full band (Jose and Rai from Dapuntobeat, plus a female keytarist/backup singer) worked to her benefit. Real drums added a lot to tracks like “Primera Estrella” and “Hasta La Verdad,” and the keytarist helped pick up some slack on Javiera’s sometimes weak vocals. What do you think?:

Meanwhile, la Carpa Intolerante was channeling Colombia as Monareta powered an electro-cumbia dance party. I’d like to point out that there was a dude on stage who played the cowbell with sincere concentration for the duration of their set. I can respect that. We joined the dancers and cheered in agreement as frontman Andrés shouted “Que viva la Carpa Intolerante!” Amen!

Then it was Tacvba time. I think the official headcount for Saturday was 70,000, and pretty much everyone who wasn’t moshing to Hocico over at Indio Blanco was figuring out the best spot to see Mexico’s most important band from. As we all waited for them to come on stage, anticipation growing, spotlights shot straight up from the center of the stadium, and out came a stage from behind the soundboard, Tacvbos on top.

Photo by Natalie Espinosa

As Ruben, Meme, Quique, and Joselo rose from the crowds, chants of “papa-ra-papa eo eo,” queued them up for their first song. They'd been on hiatus for the past few years, and they really brought out all the hits at this show. There was no waiting around through mediocre Sino tracks for your favorites tonight. After “El Baile y el Salón” came “Eres,” followed by a reggae/dub version of “Como te extraño.” The sound was horrible, but we didn’t care! Then came one of the coolest moments of the night. Instead of singing hits by Maldita Vecindad, Aterciopelados, and Caifanes in their standard “Popurock” medley, Café Tacvba proceeded to cover Nortec Collective, Hello Seahorse!, IMS, Porter, Carla Morrison, Quiero Club, Plastilina Mosh, Kinky, Dapuntobeat, Enjambre, and Zoé. I don’t know what was more moving: the fact that these giants of Mexican music were paying tribute to the next generation that they helped establish, or the fact that everyone in the audience seemed to know the words to the songs by these comparably smaller artists.

Post-popurock, the band ran (and Rubén, still on his cane, hobbled) through the audience to the stage. Unfortunately I can’t really tell you how the rest of their performance was because, with almost 70K people singing along at the top of their lungs, I could barely hear a thing actually coming from the stage, and honestly I didn’t mind. My inner repressed sociologist couldn’t help but stop and think how bizarre and cultish this all was, and wonder why we found it so enjoyable. But I quickly snapped out of it and joined all my new friends in screaming the lyrics to “Las Flores.” Better than therapy, I’m telling you!

Photo by Natalie Espinosa

Photo by Natalie Espinosa

You can peep the full setlist here, but it is worth noting that despite his injury, Rubén pulled through and joined the rest of the guys in the “Dejate Caer” dance (easily one of their best songs live). Oh, and they did perform one new song, “Charro Negro,” which honestly sounded pretty dull to me.

After wishing us, our parents, our uncles, grandparents, friends, etc. peace and water (seriously!), Café Tacvba bid us adieu with “El Puñal y el Corazón.” “Ya no puedo más…..” Oh what a day!

MP3: Juan Cirerol - "Sentimental" (Joan Sebastian Cover)

Going through our writers’ individual best of 2011 lists, I see that Juan Cirerol’s Ofrenda al Mictlan did particularly well with the non-Texan, non-Mexican portion of our staff (Montreal’s Souad Martin-Saoudi, Buenos Aires’ Jean-Stephane Beriot, and San Jose’s Pierre Lestruhaut). Which comes to show how accurate Jean-Stephane was when writing that the expansion of Mexican folklore to “the cool kids of the world” was no longer exclusive to Café Tacvba. Well, hopefully this remarkable version of “Sentimental” (which is flickering poetry for the senses) makes some estranged hipsters fall in love with Joan Sebastian. "Hoy no hubo sol por eso es que estoy así... el cielo gris siempre me pone el corazón sentimental," — they don't call him "El Poeta del Pueblo" for nothing. Cirerol’s heart is in solidarity with the fathers of Mexican music and, although mildly to the naked eye, he’s making his own firm trail. Juan Cirerol has a heavy schedule ahead of him performing at Vive Latino, SXSW, and Festival Nrmal.

♫♫♫ "Sentimental" (Joan Sebastian Cover)

Juan Cirerol - Haciendo Leña

Haciendo Leña, Juan Cirerol
Intolerancia / Vale Vergas Discos, Mexico
Rating: 78
by Jean-Stephane Beriot

“A storyteller, a romantic, and a stylist of the popular song,” wrote Carlos Reyes about Juan Cirerol when introducing that masterpiece-by-a-débutant named Ofrenda al Mictlan. As dramatic and divisive as the music of Cirerol is, I think we all can agree he’s the definition of an endearing success story – one in which you can’t help but to be emotionally invested. In little over a year, the Mexicali hero went from a roaring tiny venue performer to becoming one of this year’s biggest attractions at Vive Latino.

Dynamic vocals, mad guitar skills, and a cordial understanding of the vernacular don’t even start to describe the artistry of Cirerol, whose folk faculty and generation timing constitute for a career that is as much about philosophy as it is about pop culture. If his debut was a set of one-man symphonized offerings to Mictlan (the underworld of Aztec mythology), Haciendo Leña is the subsequent campfire that summons a man’s carnal disposition with his surrounding chaos. The music of Juan Cirerol has surpassed all notions of novelty and vanity, but that doesn’t mean he has stopped appraising methods for artistic arrival. Most decisions made on the album work, while a few sit in grey areas between auteur modesty and melodic banality. In the album’s opener “Hey Soledad,” we find Cirerol giving a name and physicality to an emptiness in the heart. Soledad refers to that loneliness that accompanies, in this case, the lingering feeling that has followed a border musician into his new residential metropolis (Mexico City).

Another huge peak is "Se Vale Soñar," (reminiscent of Juan Luis Guerra's "Ojala Que Llueva Café") which paints a criminal landscape where Cirerol prays for a rain of perico (cocaine) and for rivers of cerveza. Where the singer falls a bit short to envelop is in the lighter, heart-on-his-sleeve moments (“Mi Corazon Lloró” and “Mi Amor Acabará” in particular), where the chords and lyrics lose their incisive histrionics and are substituted by a widespread of the broken heart. As far as composition goes, Haciendo Leña displays fondness to certain genre niches not easily spotted on Cirerol’s debut. Highlight tracks, like the narcotic “Corrido de Roberto” and the whimsical-arriving-at-bluegrass “Canción al Ocio,” unpeel a punk essence in an artist that once recorded drums for Monterrey’s dismantled punk cult band, Mama Burger (Nene Records).

Despite the punk resurgence, Haciendo Leña is a record that was (perhaps mistakenly) preoccupied with a glossy production (the same way The Tallest Man On Earth only reaches the outstanding with low-key demos and live performance). The transition from a resourceful DIY session into a proper recording drowned some of the effervescence and charm (yes, I miss the guitar’s quasi wall of sound, the accidental drunken burping, and the unprompted howling). Still, Cirerol’s contribution to music this year is remarkable. Somehow, it seems that the expansion of Mexican folklore to the cool kids of the world is no longer exclusive to Café Tacvba, but has found a new blessed emissary (with an increasing cult following), that as title of the album claims, is kicking ass.

Video: Juan Cirerol y Martin del Prado - "Corrido Chicalor"

Juan Cirerol, Mexicali’s most celebrated breakthrough since the Maniqui Lazer days, is having a phenomenal year after his debut album Ofrenda al Mictlan went from a well-kept secret in the Vale Vergas catalog to a distinguished cult album. Mexico’s popular music needed a troubadour with this much swag, and the people are responding phenomenally well. Almost every attendee to this year’s Festival NRMAL referred to Cirerol’s 30-minute set as "historic." This clever cantautor is structuring his next album and, judging from a few pieces we’ve heard, it will be rawer and more chaotic than his debut. There’s not a Mexican city I visit more than Mexicali and, although I haven’t had the privilege to witness a Cirerol gig, I’ve suffered the city’s dreadfully humid high temperatures. With the help from his omnipresent companion Martin del Prado, he's unveiled a short but entertaining video for “Chicalor," a song about abandonment, self-inquisition, and getting wasted.

Video: Juan Cirerol - "Toque y Rol"

Juan Cirerol's video for "Toque y Rol" has been out for almost a year now (way before the album), but considering we can't seem to stop listening to his debut Ofrenda a Mictlan, and that this song wraps up our latest compilation Juventud Bruta, it seems like a good spot to finally embed it into our blog. It's only two minutes long, but has to be one of the most charismatic, most revealing, and overall complete tracks we've heard in recent memory. Cirerol's wordplay between rock&roll and 'rolling' smokes set the conditions for a song in-action; here is a multi-dimensional song that literally rolls by itself. The clip directed by 'Txema Novelo' glimpses into the lives of two lovers from the province taking on the monster of Mexico City. Taking a break for a smoke has never been as beautiful.

Juan Cirerol - Ofrenda al Mictlan

Ofrenda a Mictlan, Juan Cirerol
Vale Vergas Discos, Mexico
Rating: 84
by Carlos Reyes

Think of Mexicali, then think of Nashville. Think of Michael Salgado, then think of The Tallest Man on Earth. You might feel like I’m adjusting your ink cartridges but I’m just setting the tone for this one (cheesy enough?). You could consider this as an exercise for the extension of the mind (and the music horizon), but that would be somewhat offensive, instead, think of it as a warm-up for one of the warmest, most heart-felt albums we’ve received in a while. But we can’t go on into a rave review without making a confession; it’s distressing to know just how much we like this, it’s quite disturbing actually. Mexicali’s Juan Cirerol could be classified as a Norteño folk troubadour, a storyteller, a romantic, a stylist of the popular song.

Ofrenda al Mictlan is an emotional album that reconciles Mexico’s popular music with country blues. The tactics are questionable, barely authentic, but show brilliance through every decision Cirerol and his spirited guitar take. He is not the first one to aspire to make a folk-norteño record (please don't think Nortec), but he might be the first one in our generation to triumph (at least on a personal level). Mexican icons Rockdrigo Gonzalez and Rigo Tovar did something similar at their prime, but this is much more substantial as the target audience is the young mp3 consumer, the indie kid who probably feels uncomfortable around his parents records. It might not be the mind-changing album that would make a kid say, “this is cool”, but it’s a progression towards that. Of course, this is just one of the many uses and readings of the album. As clearly expressed in "Como La Ves Carnal", clearly Juan Cirerol is less concerned with its intellectual use. Nice idea to release it on a label named Vale Verga Discos.

Club Fonograma’s staff is mainly of Mexican decent, so it’s easier to spot the qualities that make Ofrenda al Mictlan so transcendental. Since the first track (“La Banqueta”), the Mexican-nes is noticeable and quite generous. Quickly, you’ll recognize references (or at least remember) hardcore Mexican bands such as Los Alegres de la Sierra, Los Originales de San Juan, Los Inquietos del Norte, the humor of Piporro or El Tri, and from time to time, the subtleness of Joan Sebastian. “Crema Dulce” and “Hace Mucho Calor” have enough country in them to be featured on CMT and enough indie-flair for Pitchfork. But no matter how consciously pop this album might be, it’s hard not to classify it as a great rock record. Cirerol’s expressionist practices allow him to blur the lines of genres, and it’s almost intimidating how comfortable he seems to be in the middle of that entire idiosyncrasy.

There’s room for improvement on the aesthetics department, but that’s probably one of the factors that keep Juan Cirerol’s music from becoming too cartoonish. Some would argue he’s embracing stereotypes, but this is sincere folk music we’re dealing with. Among the most sympathetic pieces are two originals by Los Pikadientes de Caborca (remember “Cumbia Sobre El Rio”?). The album’s most friendly and charming song “Toque y Rol” is the heart of the album, it tells the story 'as it is', stripped down to a raspy profound voice and affectionate strings, towards the end of the song he starts to mumble, drugs do that. Is this the ultimate definition of rock&roll? Probably not, but in a contextual culture where thing are hard to hold on to, Cirerol’s bared talents translate as hugs, the emotional range and powerful songwriting are the backbone of a one-man’s poetry that’s in itself, a nation’s legacy.

♫♫♫ "La Chola"

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