By Brendan
It was music producer Dan Goodman who envisioned gathering together a wide variety of musicians to cut an album that would show the wide influence and universal appeal of Mexican traditional music to a broader audience. Practically a Who’s Who of Mexican-American and American folk musicians, the resulting band, Los Super Seven, consisted of David Hidaldo and Cesar Rosas, two founding members of the legendary group Los Lobos; Joe Ely, a veteran Texan folk artist; Flaco Jimenez, the so-called “Patron Saint of Conjunto Music” (so-named for his phenomenal accordion work); Freddy Fender and Ruben Ramos, two members of the Latino/rock and roll group the Texas Tornadoes; and an up-and-comer in the country music world, Rick Trevino.
This supergroup indeed lives up to its name. And Goodman’s original intentions were brilliantly realized by this ensemble of musicians. Clearly a labor of love to everyone involved, this CD has the creative spark and spontaneous feel that comes with all well-played traditional musics as well as a keen appreciation of good songcraft.
The album begins with “El Canoero” (The Canoer), a compelling song about a rather hapless, if not doomed, man struggling against the river to get to his brunette lover. Featuring the vocals of Rosas and Ramos and the intoxicating accordion of Jiminez, it has the writhing, syncopated rhythm often associated with Latino music.
This followed by a traditional Mexican song “Piensa En Mi” (Think of Me) as arranged by Mexican singing and guitar-playing legend Lydia Mendoza. Plaintive guitar parts back up the mournful serenade of Freddy Fender’s vocals:
“Think of me when you’re kissing
Also when you cry, think of me
Whenever you want to take my life
I don’t want it
It’s worth nothing, nothing without you.”
Later, we encounter “La Sirena” (The Mermaid), a spooky traditional song featuring the vocals of David Hidalgo. The guitars strum in haunting unison, as Hildago sings first in the voice of a sailor enchanted by the mermaid and then — by some strange transformation — in the voice of the mermaid herself. She sings, “I am the enchanting mermaid/ because it is God’s will.” This haunting song ends with an abrupt halt:
“The verses of my songs never end
The verses of my songs
The verses of my songs
That I sing in my journeys”
The mermaid, it seems, is just as caught in forces she can not control as the poor sailor. And so we leave her in the sea, destined to sing forever.
We are returned to more down-to-earth problems as the Cuban troops are invading in “Un Lunes Por La Manana” (Early on a Monday Morning), and the narrator is called up for duty — or sent to prison, it’s unclear which. Amidst the bouncy, almost joyful rhythm of the traditional guitar-playing, we hear of dying friends and defiant prisoners. It’s hard not to be both transfixed by the violence of the song as well as amused at its decidedly cheeky verses.
An unexpected treat of this CD is “Plane Wreck of Los Gatos (Deportee),” a bitter protest song by Woody Guthrie about a plane crash over the Mexican border. Containing only Mexican deportees, the wreck gets nothing more than a shrug from the American side of the border:
“The sky plane caught fire over the Los Gatos border
A fireball of lightning, shook all the fields
Who are these friends all scattered like dry leaves
The radio said they’re just deportees.”
The rich, soulful voice of Tex-Mex singer-songwriter Joe Ely etches these ironic lyrics indelibly onto the heart of the listener.
The heart and soul of this CD is undeniably the David Hildago/Louis Perez waltz “Rio de Tenampa,” named after a bar in Mexico City. Written during a tour of Mexico accompanying Bob Dylan, this song is both a nostalgic remembrance of life in Mexico City and a laid-back meditation of song-writing and memory. As the narrator sits back and enjoys a whiskey, he pensively reminisces about the community that used to surround the bar.
“Tenampa was a place we’d go
To escape the heat of the day
To tell all the stories of good times and bad
And hear the violins play.”
These people are apparently gone now, but, as elements of this living song, they and their society continue to thrive.
The CD ends with a Flaco Jimenez accordion piece called “Las Norteñitas.” Fading in and out very quickly, this tune is done almost before it begins. It gives the listener the feeling of having ended a short, enjoyable vacation into another time, another culture.
In the final analysis, this remarkable CD is not only an undeniably accessible and entertaining record but also a loving testament to a wonderful style of music. With its regimen of Mexican songs, Los Super Seven evokes the respect and continuation of a certain musical tradition; with its inclusion of Anglo-Americans — both as musicians and as songwriters — it demonstrates a healthy fascination of artistic influence and cross-pollination.
Even more than this, this CD is about the appreciation of good song-writing and the thrill of music played well and with love. But mostly this CD is about the sheer joy of being alive. It is hard to listen to this disc and not appreciate the chance to have listened to it.
(RCA Nashville, 1998)
