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Calexico

Carried to Dust

Quarterstick Records

MP3 Download

Formed by alums from seminal experimental bands Giant Sand and Friends of Dean Martinez, Calexico’s long been an exemplary purveyor of indie rock with a Southwestern twist. Their latest, Carried to Dust, ramps up the Tucson outfit’s connection to Tex-Mex music; but this move towards overt geographic sound-printing never devolves into a “genre” album.

Even “El Gatillo,” at first blush directly referential, isn’t an easy nut to crack. The song combines Italian Western soundtrack aesthetics with mariachi brass, overlaid with a soaring surf guitar solo, creating a hazy homage that simultaneously lampoons and transcends its sources. “Two Silver Trees” and “Winter’s Minor Holiday” present the band rocking in fine form. It’s hard to decide which mode is preferable: Calexico does both so well.

Condo

Best of Luck

Rockpark Records CD

Condo’s Best of Luck is a refreshing take on indie pop with a post-punk twist. Silent Alarm-era Bloc Party and Modest Mouse are clear touchstones for the band; the attitude and yawping vocals found on the title track, “Judge of That,” and “Pursuits” have Isaac Brock written all over them. Wisely, Condo adopts MM’s delicate negotiation of musical experiment and hook-heavy accessibility. Elsewhere, as on “Left at the Lights” and the Wire-esque “Instead of Lonely,” thunderous guitars wend through spacious solos atop catchy vocal choruses: a move toward art rock terrain. Best of Luck is a bracing shot of musical espresso.

I heard from Signal to Noise’s head honcho Pete Gershon yesterday. StN headquarters made it through Hurricane Ike, but like most of Houston, will be without power indefinitely. Still, trouper that he is, Pete’s planning to bring out the next issue on time. It’s one of the things I’ve admired about StN in the five or so years I’ve been on staff: unlike many other indie magazines, it has kept to its publication schedule irrespective of the vicissitudes of life and the embattled music industry.

I’m breathing a sigh of relief for the Gershons, but am concerned for the publication’s health. StN has soldiered on bravely despite myriad challenges: the economy, the aforementioned music biz woes, and the dangers facing print media in this era of the internet. Yet four times a year, Pete brings out a fine journal, chock full of interviews, articles, and reviews on every type of experimental music you can imagine; and several you’ve probably never heard of before.

A number of people call it “the American Wire,” an admirable compliment to be sure; but in some ways, I prefer the enthusiasm of StN to the sometimes biting tone writers enjoy adopting of late in The Wire.