El Chupacabra

Today's musical tangent is into the world of a Mexican fabeled goat killing machine, El Chupacabra. How did I jump from a legendary goat slaughterer to border music? Well, I'll tell you.

It has always been the case that writers write what they know and singers sing what they feel. Culture is a large portion of what we know, think, and feel because it effects every action and perspective of a person in a particular cohort. So, it stands to reason that an integral part of a musician's culture would undoubtedly end up in a song or two, just as an important portion of a writer's life would lead to a vignette.

El Chupacabra is a long told fable that has stretched across continents to haunt children's dreams worldwide. It is the legend of a creature that has been reported to live in the jungles and forests of either Mexico, Nicaragua, Puerto Rico, Chile, or oddly enough...Miami. Though the reported environments are drastically different, the story is always the same: the carcasses of goats are found strewn about, seemingly sucked dry with strange, inexplicable bite marks on their necks.

Whether or not you believe in El Chupacabra, it joins the ranks of other animals in the cryptozoology category such as Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster. The basis of their infamy relies heavily on folklore and circumstantial evidence from those who identify themselves as "true believers."

There you have it: a deeply ingrained portion of border culture. So, in my infinite wisdom (or stupidity - the jury's still out on that one) I put in a search for songs involving El Chupacabra. What happened next would be anyone's guess.

A woman from Long Island, New York, Imani Coppola turned up. Undoubtedly top of the list because of her recent contribution to the hot new show Grey's Anatomy, Coppola had released an album called "Chupacabra."

Confused and almost annoyed that my brilliant plan had failed me, I clicked on the next link. This time the band's name was Chupacabra. They were from Colordado, but this HAD to be it. They were even cited in The Onion. I read on.

"[Chupacabra has] such a unique sound, rooted in the music of Brazil, Cuba, Jamaica, Mexico, West Africa, Europe and the U.S.A."

YEESSSSSSS. It worked! What a fascinating blend. I needed to hear it...but sadly all the links attached were dead ends.

No worries...it worked once, it can work again, I thought. But the next link wasn't as promising. To my utter disappointement I found the following video with the tag "Hungarian Ska" at the bottom.



Colorado. New York. Hungary. What did they all have in common? What was the fabled Mexican goat sucker so fashionable? Then it hit me. As people begin to interact with one another throughout the world using Myspace, Facebook, AIM, etc. they become part of a larger culture. Slowly but surely, assimilating fables like El Chupacabra will become almost second nature until the Internet isn't the only place full of crossing cultures. Maybe, just maybe, the unique hybrid of dueling cultures we have here in Tucson will start to become a cross-pollination technique that musicians all over the world will model. Who knows.

Desert Soul

The Sewer Rats were a group of high school misfits who drove every weekend to the same spot in the quiet, dead of night to a meeting place in the desert. Sitting around a make-shift bonfire (using only the pieces of debris available in the cooling sand), they passed the time taking hardy swigs of cheap beer, long drags on cigarettes and occasionally strumming a song. Kyle DeBruhl, the self-proclaimed ring leader, would talk of these nights during the slow, painful newspaper hour just before fifth period lunch like they were sacred ceremonies of brotherhood. Me, being a stubborn native New Yorker, missed the point entirely.

There's nothing great about the desert. It's hot. It's sweaty. It's boring, I thought. What I didn't realize is I was thinking only of the daylight hours. I had no idea what a late night rendezvous in the cool desert night was like...until now.

Flash forward five years. I was scouring Myspace on a tip from an editor at the Tucson Citizen, Polly Higgins. The band she recommended was Greyhound Soul. The assignment: define the difference between Desert Rock and Border Rock. A much more challenging task than I imagined. I decided to start with the basics. What does it mean to be in the desert? What are the fundamental characteristics of being a border town smack dab in the middle of the desert with no where to go but Mexico.



I found my answer in Joe Pena's voice. "Midnight Radio," the track that happened to be cued on Greyhound Soul's site, embodied everything those stories DeBruhl used to tell me. His throaty vocals are the sand that sticks to the roof of your mouth and the back of your throat when taking a deep breath of hot, desert air. The smooth slide guitar is the sound of sun-soaked delerium that can only be quenched with a cold, wet beer freshly plucked from the cooler on the porch.

So does the music make the place or does the place make the music? Was this truly Desert Rock like the critics say or was it Border Rock? All I know is, that song IS Tucson. That black spot in a sea of rust, brown dirt on the tattered map in the glove compartment of my boiling car finally found its true sound.

If you don't believe Greyhound Soul is the sound of a border town, take the song, pop it into your CD player in the dead of night and just drive. Crack the window and let the cool, gritty air pour in. You'll know what I mean if you drive long enough. That's what it means to live in Tucson, on the border.

Like a Kid in a Candy Store

It recently occurred to me that my senior year is steadily drawing to a close. A bittersweet thought that certainly didn't leave nearly as fast as it surfaced. I found myself sifting through old letters and scanning old AIM contacts that had grown stale in the years of studying, moving dorms and finding new friends. In a moment I can only think to refer to as my quarter-life crisis, I pulled up a contact I hadn't spoken to in nearly a year. Kevin Durand.

A former senior himself, Durand seemed to understand the premature panic I was experiencing and prescribed the only legal high he could think of: Pandora.

"Like the greek myth?" I typed, confused and intrigued.

"No," I could almost hear him laughing as he typed the response. "Pandora, the Music Genome Project."

I clicked the link. "What the Hell is a music genome," I thought, "and why do I not know about this?!?!"

A milky white page with calming blue accents slid into view with a caption: "We have a single mission: To play music you'll love - and nothing else."

"Bold statement," I thought.

A small text field in the center of the screen prompted me to type in the name of a song or artist I wanted to hear.

"All right," I thought unimpressed. "I'll play your little game, but I'm going to pick something obscure. Something you probably won't be able to locate...just to prove a point."

I carefully typed the words "Imogen Heap" into the field, being sure not to spell it incorrectly and gain an unfair advantage over the haughty Web site. I wanted a clean victory.

To my surprise, one of my favorite songs "Hide and Seek" by the artist I had just barely finished typing poured out of my speakers and danced through my ears.

"Lucky guess," I thought, still unconvinced. As my song came to an end, the Web site keyed up an artist I had never heard of before. Interestingly enough...it was good. It was really good. It was time to do some homework on this genome thing.

In the year 2000 a group of musicians and music lovers banded together to create a Web site for the masses of the musically addicted. Noting each song they come across, the ambitious group analyzes each composition using up to 400 musical attributes designated by a trained musical analyst. These attributes are the key to unlocking the musical identity of a song as well as determining the listener's unique taste. With the proper attributes noted, the Web site can locate other songs with similar "musical genetics" and predict the listener's preferences.

I said it before and I'll say it again. Music may be the only legal high left, but it's a damn good one. But could this site supply my need for border rock?

I typed in "Mana" and anxiously awaited the response. After a brief pause that felt like an eternity, the sweet sounds of La Ley wrapped around me like a warm blanket. "El Duelo," is a beautiful duet featuring a soothing array of acoustic guitars, powerful vocals, violins, bongo drums, and oddly enough, some tasteful whistling.



Next up on the Pandora musical adventure: Shakira. Now don't judge just yet. This is not the Shakira the U.S. knows. This is authentic, simply unfooled around with, Shakira. The track is called "Si Te Vas." With an attitude that reminded me of early Alanis Morisette, the song had all the necessary elements to get me out of my chair and dancing.



The playlist went on for hours, a relentless stream of music I could barely understand but enjoyed just the same. Rocking out is a universal language like math and love. There's no one way to go about it, just do what makes sense to you. The Web site is most definitely a MUST SEE. If you're curious about another culture, musical style, or just music in general, this place is heaven.

The trouble with English

Though the weekend of Oct. 20 and 21 may not seem to be of any importance to the average Tucsonan, most University of Arizona students have it highlighted, circled and sharpy markered for extra emphasis. It's family weekend. That's right. It's a time for restocking the fridge with Mom and Dad's donations, eating out for dinner instead of scavangening at the Student Union and allowing sibling rivalries to rekindle for a bief, two-day period.

My parents and little brother made the trek once more to join me in seeing Avenue Q at the Tucson Convention Center on Saturday afternoon. It was to be my third time witnessing what I lovingly refer to as the politically incorrect, rated-R version of Sesame Street. The lights dimmed and all the songs and loveable characters I looked forward to seeing all month were finally before my very eyes. My expectations were high. I had already seen the play in Manhattan and Las Vegas, two cities that made for a hard act for Tucson to follow.

After about 3o minutes of singing and dancing, it was time for one of my favorite songs: "Everyone's A Little Bit Racist." The song always brought a smile to my face with its blatant satirical rendition of the sad, simple truth that society is never truly color blind. As I wiped the tears of laughter off my cheek, one of the lines from the song sank into my skin like a jagged splinter: "Why can't the Mexican bus boy learn some G-d damn english." It was a line I had never picked up on before that day. Somehow it held more meaning to me now than it had in years past.

"Everyone's A Little Bit Racist" from the Broadway play Avenue Q.


Virtually every Tucson resident is familiar with the frustrations language barriers can bring. How difficult must it be for Spanish speakers to learn English? I thought back to a few weeks prior when I first learned of code-switching. Maybe that's why bilingual musicians switch from language to language...because English poses so many obstacles for non-native speakers. Maybe they just use whatever word first pops into their minds, regardless of what language, just to get the message across without suffering further frustration in trying to decode all the grammatical rules. But what could be so hard about English?

As native speakers we often forget just how many exceptions there are to the English language. Here are some examples I found on a linguistic Web site called the Educational CyberPlayground:

1. The bandage was wound around the wound.
2. The farm was used to produce produce.
3. The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
4. We must polish the Polish furniture.
5. He could lead if he would get the lead out.
6. The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.
7. Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the
present.
8. A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.
9. When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
10. I did not object to the object.
11. The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
12. There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
13. They were too close to the door to close it.
14. The buck does funny things when the does are present.
15. A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.
16. To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
17. The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
18. After a number of injections my jaw got number.
19. Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.
20. I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
21. How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

Interesting how native speakers tend to overlook these tricky grammatical and phonetic exceptions.

So the next time you find yourself frustrated with a bus boy who's English is a little on the sketchy side or a Spanglish song on the radio, keep in mind: the rules for the English language aren't as finite as you once thought. It actually is quite challenging to demonstrate full proficiency.

Avenue Q. Just another example that music and border culture follow you more closely than you imagine.

Delinquent Habits

Sometimes border culture is closer than it seems.
Sometimes it's even in your own living room.

In the true spirit of journalism, I was killing time in my dorm room avoiding homework by numbing my brain with a few pointless hours of television. It was my junior year, so frequent burn outs such as these were pretty standard. Sadly, my solution to motivating myself to finish out the work week was watching TV and making note of the movie trailers. I found that if I told myself "3 more hours of work and you can go to the movies," I was more likely to finish quickly. Sad thought. I know, but we're not here to judge me.

As I aimlessly flicked through the channels, my eyes locked onto a picture of Christian Bale and froze my fingers from clicking further. This should be good, I thought. It was an ad for "Harsh Times," a 2006 release about two friends in South Central Los Angeles who are torn apart by a series of unfortunate and violent events.

(Movie Trailer for "Harsh Times" featuring Delinquent Habits "The Return of Tres" in the background)


Interestingly enough, the thing that brought me to watch the trailer was not what held my attention to the end. Bale might be a pretty sight, but the music playing in the background had my foot tapping and my head swaying to the beat. Once a radio DJ always a DJ I suppose. Music gets my goosebumps going more than a pretty face. I had to know who sang that song.

Where would the world be without Google? I punched in what few lines I could remember from the song into the search engine and Delinquent Habits instantly became a new staple of my musical vocabulary.

(Delinquent Habits music video of "The Return of Tres.")


The song I heard was "The Return of Tres," an intoxicating blend of mariachi horns, hip-hop rhythm, and rap stylings in both Spanish and English. It was raw and yet refined with the smooth sound of classic Mexican horns contrasting the hard spit rhymes of the streets. It was different. It was innovative. I liked it.

I never did end up seeing that movie, but that song on repeat got me through a five page essay and some flash cards. To date, Delinquent Habits musical stylings have been featured in movie releases like "The Rundown" with The Rock, "Blue Crush," "Double Take," and many more. Ok. So their choice in movies isn't as great as their sound, but the Web site is still worth a gander.

Remember: always judge a band by sound and not their ability to make a sound choices.

Code Switching with The Rock Sauce

It was another late night in the KAMP Student Radio broadcasting booth, more commonly known by KAMP sound engineers as the "hot-box." The air conditioning unfortunately turns itself off after the stroke of 5:00pm to save the electricity bill which left me, Matt Brailey (a former KAMP engineering director) and local talents The Rock Sauce sweating amidst the towering amps and medusa-like XLR-cables protruding from the mixing board. Our only distraction from the boiling heat was the band's entertainment and thank G-d they were good!

After a good 30 minutes of high-voltage tracks and hilarious conversation, the guys decided to slow down the mood a bit with a song called "Ale Alo." In a heat exhausted daze, I swayed back and forth checking the levels on the board and monitoring the computer read-outs. I pressed my left ear against the headphones resting on my left shoulder to check the vocal levels and noticed the words seemed jumbled in some way. I couldn't place what the disturbance was at first. Was it the microphones? No. The volume was just fine. Was it the computer mangling things up? No. The read-outs were fine. Finally it hit me: they had switched to Spanish! In one fluid motion the lyrics shifted from English to Spanish with barely enough time for me to recognize the switch.

Pictures of The Rock Sauce performing at KAMP Student Radio
(Taken by Stefanie Weiser)


I remembered just a few days earlier a friend of mine at work, who was bilingual in Spanish and English, also caught me off guard with a Spanglish conversation. I started to wonder whether there was a pattern to this. Do all bilingual speakers subconsciously bounce from language to language? Furthermore do other bilingual speakers understand the jumbled hybrid-language?

After a bit of research I found the answer was astoundingly yes! According to a Texas A&M International University Web site, "speakers of more than one language (e.g. bilinguals) are known for their ability to code-switch or mix their languages during communication." Originally researchers believed the reason for switching between languages in mid thought was because the individual was not entirely proficient in either language and therefore substituted words from both "mental dictionaries" to complete his or her thought, according to the Web site. However, recent studies in psycholinguistics indicate that code-switching is more of a byproduct of the individual's consistent interaction with both languages. In other words, a bilingual individual's mental word banks are not separate entities after all. In fact, they blend together in everyday use, thought, and apparently, music!

Ozomatli

"Add to Amigos." That was the first button on Ozomatli's Myspace page that caught my eye. I didn't even hesitate to translate, "Add to Friends." Strange how the union of two completely separate languages in one sentence barely made me look twice for clarification.

For those readers who have not yet buckled under peer pressure to join one of the fastest growing social networks the Internet has ever seen, the "Add to Friends" button allows users to broaden their contact list within the network.

I guess the tip I got from the KAMP student radio marketing director Yael Farah was indeed a promising one for Border Rock, I thought as I skimmed the page.

"You should check out Ozomatli," said Farah, throwing her small voice over the usual KAMP studio noise. "I went to The Jazz Bowl in Hollywood five years ago and they performed there."

Worth a shot...and so there I was, poring over a sunburst orange Myspace page with buttons like "Add to Amigos." As my eyes scanned the site, "City of Angeles" poured out into the chaotic studio, vying for attention over the 1:00pm Monday show. The west coast, L.A. rockers are an intoxicating fusion of "cumbia, dub, and Middle Eastern funk," according to their Myspace description. A bold statement, I thought to myself. That's an extremely varied and seemingly contradictory influence base. I haven't seen salsa and hip hop mesh well since Daddy Yankee's "Gasolina." I listened on.

"They had a ton of energy they played their instruments walking throughout the crowd. It was good entertainment and at the same time really good quality music."


Ozomatli at Indie 103.1FM performing "City of Angels"



Alright, I thought. I'll keep trying to focus. Suddenly, it hit me...this was kinda catchy. Oddly enough, the rap-infused ska riff reminded me of early Jay-Z crashing into a Broadway musical. The back-up vocal chorus sounded like something ripped right out of "Rent," except there was no mention of AIDS. Sounds like an odd pairing I'm sure. I thought I was crazy when the description first tap danced off my keyboard and into this blog.

Frustrated and slightly confused, I asked Farah one last thing: "How the heck would you categorize these guys?"

"There's not one category that they can go into," she said as she turned back to her computer and finished out an email.

And that was that. I sorely wish I could describe this band to you. As cheesy as it sounds and as much as I hate saying it, you have to check it out yourself. The lyrics to the song I first heard when tuning in to this unconventional sound are listed below to allow your creative musical minds the opportunity to tell me what you think. Send me an email at PinkBulletsButterfly@cox.net with your comments.

"City of Angels" - Ozomotli.

What you know about my city that's tic tac?
Hustle to get stacks
Fail get laughed at
Even from here I hear the chit chat
Grew up Miracle Mile
Fairfax to tar traps, Hamilton High alumni
What you know Ham and cheese supreme
JB to Carthay cat LA it be the base and the catalyst
Walk Crescent Heights worldwide back to strangle us
Land of the saint and the land of the wicked
Hollywood to Bell
The manichean kick it
What a duality, arid reality
Devon Brown Shot
Minor technicality
Brad Pits cheatin' front page reality
Stanley Miller Beatin'
DA don't want to touch it
But I love my city
Soft yet rugged
Rep LA I know the Angels will love it

City of angels!

I let the beat talk
Then I just fill in the words
Its Jabulani that you're dealing with
My hood is tough like its clubber lang
So in the bucket I bump behind mac in the gutter lane
I write raps when I feel the pain or even sorrow
But you heard it before the sun will come out tomorrow,or so they say
But see we're living in L.A. and what you thought was the sun, was just a flash from the k
You stashing your weed in the passenger seat of the regal with the gold feet
Watch your back, lil' homie got a loaded mac on Figueroa
Just got a new girl
His rep he's finna show her
But slow down baby gangsta, you aint prepared for the truth
You got him and its gonna happen to you, aint gotta live how your homie do
Just work the angles
The city I'm from is Los Angels
Come on!


Also, check out the official site for photos, videos, and concert dates.