La Mafia
Contigo
(Listen)
At its inception in the early eighties, the heart and soul of La Mafia, the most enduring group in tejano, was
los hermanos Gonzales: Oscar
y Leonard. The former was the singer, the latter the
guitarista. But by the time they hit their stride in the mid-nineties with "Un Million De Rosas," the Houston group was almost all Oscar, the vocalist taking on matinee-idol status. Two years ago Leonard quit and sued the group over use of the band name, a split that almost ended La Mafia. But now that the legal hassles have been settled out of court, Oscar De La Rosa, as he calls himself these days, has returned La Mafia to the Latin charts with
Contigo, picking up where the band left off in the quest for a larger international audience by rolling out the ballads and boleros that showcase his singing talents. The guy can flat-out croon. The opening notes of "Amor Secreto" and the title track suggest the potential to rise to the level of a Julio Iglesias or a Juan Gabriel. That comes at the expense of some of La Mafia's other obvious talents. The last track, "Morir Soñando," suggests that had the band pursued more of a rock
en español path, it might have become rockers on the level of Santana. As for the hardcore La Mafia audience that pines for the cumbias and the odd polka, look no further than
Siempre Cuenta Conmigo (Freddie), the debut of Leonard (now Leonardo) Gonzales y los Magnificos, which effectively recreates the classic La Mafia sound of ten years ago. In that respect, loyal fans and new listeners benefit from this sibling split, no matter which version of La Mafia rings your chimes. Take your pick.
The East Side Band
No Sleep
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You could drive by Austin's East Side Lounge a dozen times without noticing it's nondescript exterior, yet faithful hordes find their way to this tiny juke joint when the house band takes the stage. The East Side Band plays an all but forgotten style of rhythm and blues: sweet, soulful, and unhurried. Full of fat, at-home grooves and rooted in the horn-driven Malaco and Stax Memphis sound, the group exudes a timeless appeal. Saxophonist Larry D.C. Williams and guitarist Clarence Pierce trade leads over a hunkered-down rhythm section with remarkable dexterity. It's a tribute to their unsung talent that Martin Banks, a jazz star with a Dexter Gordon-Booker Ervin-Ray Charles résumé to prove it, often seems content to take a back seat. Rarely is a band so comfortable in its own skin. With little grandstanding, the no-frills music is dedicated to one cause: a good time. If the tempos or tunings occasionally wander, no one on the packed dance floor really gives a damn. Neither will you.
The Falcon Project
Lights Karma Action
idol
(Listen)
Buy it at Amazon.com
Lights Karma Action is the massive, rumbling, and beautiful second album from this Denton quartet, which is headed up by former Mazinga Phaser guitarist and Melodica Festival organizer Mwanza Dover. Given that pedigree, you could call the Falcon Project "space rock," but the emphasis is firmly on
rock—you feel this record more than you hear it. It's heavy but not metal, a highly textured post-punk fusion of dictatorial rhythms, hypnotic atmospherics, and acid-guitar freak-outs. This is a band that would sound equally good on a bill with desert-blooze bad boys Queens of the Stone Age or avant-instrumentalists Godspeed You Black Emperor! The ominous, unhinged "New Day on the Rise" could be Hawkwind or Amon Düül; "Meditations #3: The Secret Life of Plants" is more deliberate, a deftly constructed instrumental that goes from brooding to swirling to catchy to noisy in eleven transcendent minutes. The music earns the label "psychedelic" not because it wants to be the aural equivalent of a laser show, but because it might actually fry your brain. Turn it up.
The Cornell Hurd Band
A Stagecoach Named Desire
behemoth
(Listen)
Buy it at Amazon.com
Critics aren't supposed to review albums by their friends, but I can't help it: Let me tell you about my longtime lunch-mate from Dripping Springs, Cornell. His ten-piece honky-tonk swing band, which specializes in jump and shuffles, is as tight as the Bush family on Election Night while boasting brilliant soloists like Paul Skelton (whose Ginsu guitar chops and slices "Rawhide"). They're joined by quality guests like Howard Kalish (Don Walser's fiddler) and Johnny Bush, the king of the ballroom balladeers. Cornell writes or revives straight-ahead country songs like "157 Linmore Drive," which manage to fit with deadpan fare like "What Would Ernest Tubb Have Done?" and three tunes that pay tribute to Doug Sahm. And you'll probably never find another country set that closes with a double shot like the weeper "The Genitalia of a Fool" (okay, the boy's got a bit of a potty mouth) or the improvised, lyric surrealism like Blackie White's "People Are Asleep, Dreaming of Cheese." Trust me and try it.
Damon Bramblett
Damon Bramblett
texas music group/lone star
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It's the voice that strikes you first: deep, lugubrious, slightly warbly. Second it's the songs, the result of years of craning an ear toward the works of writers like Bob Dylan and Townes Van Zandt. Yet Damon Bramblett's music was first heard by most listeners when Kelly Willis covered "Heaven Bound" on 1999's
What I Deserve. Bramblett takes his turn here on that and other songs he penned after moving to Austin from Bangs in 1989. Produced by Lloyd Maines, who also plays pedal and lap steel, and backed by drummer Conrad Choucroun and bassist Kevin Smith, these eleven tunes veer from the rock-pop of "When I Was Blind" to the honky-tonk of "Today I Started Drinking Again." Bramblett carves out cinematic imagery on "Nobody Wants to Go to the Moon Anymore" and the desperate "Waiting for the Mail," with its hypnotic repeated lines and funereal accordion break. Bramblett writes about the small-town underbelly with a keen eye and his tongue in cheek, often as profound as he is clear, and creates a dignified and darkly humorous debut.
