[UPDATED: 2007/10/23]
10月25日（木）23：30~のNHKスペイン語会話で アニマテに出演するメキシコのロックバンド“カフェ・タクーバ”が 特集されます！
本放送：10月25日（木）午後11:30～11:55
再放送：10月30日（火）午前6:00～6:25 ） お見逃しなく!
■ NHK外国語講座HP
バンド自らのデザイン。日本語表記がちょっと違うのは、ご愛嬌ってことで。。。
Latest Exploration Takes Cafe Tacuba to an Old School The
New York Times
“I was like, ‘Are you sure you want me to do this?,’” said Victor Indrizzo, an alumnus of Beck’s band and the guest drummer responsible for the arena rock flashback, which he played on a kit rigged with 16 toms. “And they said that it was all about capturing what it feels like to be 16 when you don’t think about it too much, all that young, nad’ve energy.” The album’s old-school rock embrace doesn’t stop there. There’s at least one “Baba O’Riley” wink, as well as hints of Yes and Emerson, Lake and Palmer. And the band’s mercurial lead singer, Ruben Albarran, who has always come close to doing full-blown Johnny Rotten impersonations, actually does full-blown Johnny Rotten impersonations. The sound helped fuel a lyrical turn toward collective self-analysis: a band taking stock of a nearly 20-year career. “If I made a list, I would see all my errors, from the smallest to the worst,” Mr. Albarran sings on the nearly eight-minute-long single, “Volver a Comenzar.” “It would expose all of the wounds, the failures, lost loves and lies.” “All of those influences from when we were teenagers just suddenly flowered,” said Mr. Albarran, who has periodically changed his name since the band’s self-titled debut album for WEA Latina in 1992. (He was Pinche Juan then; for the moment he is calling himself Ixxi Xoo, a name he borrowed from an Aztec god of death.) “You have no idea how much fun we had. We were like, ‘Wow, that sounds like the Who!’ And then we’d laugh and keep playing.” Cafe Tacuba has earned its reputation as Mexico’s most visionary rock band precisely because there has never been much that’s traditionally rock about it. Its previous homages have skewed less toward the Who and more toward the Mexican ranchera legend Chavela Vargas and the Dominican merengue-pop star Juan Luis Guerra. For the past two decades it has treated rock as a genre worth sustaining only if it could be exploded, repeatedly. “Cafe Tacuba are the most important touchstone for young bands looking to make original contributions to Latin rock,” said Nic Harcourt, musical director at the Los Angeles radio station KCRW, who has regularly featured the band on the station’s influential playlists. “They constantly challenge themselves and constantly challenge their fan base. Not unlike Radiohead, they just keep evolving in unpredictable ways.” Which is why the more recognizable gestures “Sino” (Universal Music Latino) wears on its sleeve ? thumping 4/4 rhythms, flamboyant Townsend-style guitar windmills, even a Supremes bass line ? can at first seem surprising. But for a band long dedicated to cultural mash-ups, it doesn’t just make sense, it ends up sparking what could be Tacuba’s oddest album yet: years of patented eclecticism channeled into a shimmering valentine to the pleasures of rock as a language, a feeling. “Classic rock is by far the biggest influence on the new songs,” said Joselo Rangel, the lead guitarist. “Yet we know that by running it through the filter of four Mexicans who are all around 40 years old and who’ve spent 18 years playing everything from sones huastecos to technopunk, the result would be something pretty original.” For the past 18 years Cafe Tacuba has distinguished itself as a band of ceaseless and unpredictable reinvention. After flipping among scrappy punk, perky ska and Mexican folkloric styles on its debut album, Tacuba went panoramic, arty and political on 1994’s “Re,” which defied just about every genre rule of the Mexican music industry and became a Latin American rock classic (eliciting White Album comparisons). The band balanced industrial metal, romantic boleros, cheeky disco and bouncing norte?o with stunning narrative-driven songs like “Tropico de Cancer,” which told the story of an indigenous Mexican named Salvador, a disgruntled oil plant worker who gets tired of being “the bridge between savagery and modernism.” In 1999, the year Ricky Martin’s “Livin’ la Vida Loca” put Latin crossover on the lips of industry executives in the United States, Tacuba’s record label, Universal, positioned the band’s next album, “Reves/Yosoy,” for an American marketing blitz. Yet in typical Tacuba style, the band insisted on releasing it as a double album, with an entire disc dedicated to spacey, abstract instrumentals that had numbers for titles. It won a Latin Grammy and got Tacuba compared (for the first time) to Radiohead, but it left record buyers scratching their heads. “We have never let anyone really manipulate us as a band,” said the group’s keyboardist, Emmanuel del Real, whose sweet, sad-boy vocals are a nice counterpoint to Mr. Albarran’s growls, hiccups and croons. “At many points people have asked us to do things to make us bigger or to sell more records, but we know that once you accept that, your image changes. We do things how we like to do them, and taking that position has given us the strength to maintain our ideology as a band.” Holding fast to that position has been the very thing that has kept the band in business as a top-selling alternative act in Mexico. In a market that typically rewards rock formula and north-of-the-border imitation, Tacuba has created its own niche as Mexico’s most reliable aesthetic dissenter. “The business people always ask us: ‘What do you prefer? Creative liberty or money?’” said Mr. Rangel, the guitarist. “And we always say, ‘Creative liberty.’” Among the fruits of that liberty have been a series of whimsical solo projects. Mr. Rangel has released two solo albums of sparse indie rock. Mr. del Real has produced a number of young Mexico City alternative acts (Natalia Lafourcade, Bengala, Austin TV). The bassist, Quique Rangel, Joselo’s brother, moonlights with the Mexico City band Los Odio. And this year Mr. Albarran released an electronica album under the alias Sizu Yantra. The members’ growing individuality has left its mark on “Sino”; for the first time, all four trade off on lead vocals. They grew up in Satelite, a middle-class suburb outside Mexico City, and were teenagers in the 1980s. They met as students at the local university, bonding over their affinity not only for classic American and British rock but also for Mexican alterna-rock innovators like Ritmo Peligroso, Botellita de Jerez and Axis, a prog-rock unit from Tacuba’s neighborhood that dabbled in Rush and Yes covers. After dropping its original band name, Alicia Ya No Vive Aqui (Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, the title of the 1974 Martin Scorsese film), Tacuba was discovered in the late 1980s, during a gig at a local book fair, by the ex-hippie and up-and-coming producer Gustavo Santaolalla, an Argentine now best known as an Oscar-winning film composer. Mr. Santaolalla helped the band get signed on the cusp of the rock en espa?ol boom of the 1990s, then went on work on all of the band’s studio projects. “The mark of a truly great band is reinventing yourself with each album yet also staying the same,” said Mr. Santaolalla, a co-producer on “Sino.” “That’s what Cafe Tacuba do. They bring something completely new each time and yet maintain their identity as a band.” Tacuba’s commitment to creative freedom has not only cemented the band’s status as a rock innovator throughout Latin America, but it has also been vital to its recognition within the world of alt-rock in the United States. In 2000 Beck invited the band to open his Midnite Vultures tour, and it is the only Latin American group to play both the Lollapalooza and Coachella festivals twice. “What they were doing sounded amazing to me,” said Mr. Indrizzo, who first met the band members on the Beck tour and then, as he recalls it, begged them to let him record with them. “They were taking risks that Anglo bands were not taking and going farther out on a limb than anyone. Because Tacuba draws not just from rock and new wave, but from Mexico and Latin America, they have a wider palette than any band I can think of.” During Mexican rock’s formative years in the 1950s and ’60s, bands were often criticized for not taking advantage of that palette, for being more imitators than inventors. Tacuba was intent on doing the opposite: using imported international sounds to create a rock language that was simultaneously local and global. “To me rock is not Anglo or English or North American,” Mr. Albarran said. “Rock is the music of this time, of our time. It is the speed, it is the energy of the moment.” While in the ’90s that philosophy gave Tacuba license to make specifically Mexican interventions into rock’s evolution ? mixing son huasteco with electric guitars, for example ? national identity has always been both foundation and trampoline for the band. In this regard Mr. Santaolalla calls Tacuba a pioneer of an approach to identity that is now widespread within cutting-edge Latin American art, whether it be the music of the contemporary Argentine composer Osvaldo Golijov or the films of the Mexican director Alejandro Gonzalez I?arritu. “What we now see with this new wave of Latin artists is that they are making art not exclusively for the Latin world,” he said. “They’re bringing their identity to play in a more global game.” At a concert at the Hollywood Bowl in July, Mr. Albarran ? dressed in a tight-fitting mod suit, his braids dangling below a bowler hat pulled so low over his eyes that holes had been cut into it so he could see ? asked audience members to identify themselves by nationality: Mexicans, Peruvians, Salvadorans, Bolivians. Then, over the waves of partisan cheers, he announced that countries don’t really exist; they are just illusions. “When we started as a band, we talked about a need to find a national identity,” he said. “Now I think that’s stupid, that it doesn’t exist. We are trapped by those categories. It’s like soccer fans who say, ‘I’m for Galaxy’ or ‘I’m for Chivas.’ That’s how the illusion begins. You start to think you are different from an Egyptian or a Romanian when really there’s no need for separation. There’s beauty everywhere.”
Dioses aztecas en el barrio de Núñez LANACION·COM Días atrás, cuando anunciaba a sus lectores acerca de la salida de un nuevo disco de Café Tacuba, el periódico norteamericano The New York Times sostenía que los mexicanos son considerados, por estos días, la mejor banda de rock de América latina "e incluso para algunos oídos, posiblemente, la mejor del mundo". A la altura de tamaño elogio, el cuarteto conformado por Rubén Albarrán (ahora debajo de la máscara de un nuevo personaje: Ixxi Xoo, nombre de una de las representaciones del dios jaguar azteca Tezcatlipoca), los hermanos Quique y Joselo Rangel y Emmanuel del Real, volvió al país para presentarse en el acto central de la segunda jornada del festival Pepsi Music. En el año en el que el fenómeno de los regresos puso el foco sobre agrupaciones disueltas hace más de una década, Café Tacuba demostró la vigencia de su propuesta artística, apoyado esta vez en el rock de guitarras (en este sentido, su nuevo álbum, Sino , funciona como una evolución y una profundización del anterior, Cuatro caminos ), la psicodelia de sonido envolvente, el existencialismo lírico y cierta intención coral que hizo de los Beatles un suceso sin precedentes, y que hace de Café Tacuba un grupo sin igual en la escena latinoamericana, muy a pesar de los prejuicios rockeros que rigen desde hace un tiempo en torno a los coros y al cuidado de las voces. Atentos al concepto "festivalero" del primer concierto de esta nueva visita a la Argentina (que además contará con dos shows íntimos, esta noche y mañana, en La Trastienda), la "chica banda" ofreció anteanoche un set compuesto mayoritariamente por canciones de Cuatro caminos (2003) -hasta aquí su última placa, la más difundida y vendida en el país-, un puñado de hits bailables a prueba de tiempo y espacio ("Ingrata", "Chilanga banda", "Déjate caer" o "Cómo te extraño", entre otros) y el estreno de dos temas de Sino : "Volver a comenzar" y "Estemos de acuerdo". "Si hiciera una lista de mis errores, ver los menores hasta los peores", canta este pequeño poeta fértil, de humildad singular y búsqueda permanente, en el primer verso del tema que ganó la pulseada por convertirse en corte de difusión de Sino . Dos minutos de baile, otros dos de introspección y vuelo sonoro para luego regresar al espíritu "pistero" en los últimos tres minutos de un tema que funciona como fiel reflejo de la actualidad de esta banda que, tras casi veinte anos de carrera, se mantiene bien lejos de los clichés del universo rock. Ahora bien, ¿pueden los Café Tacuba ser considerados "la mejor banda de rock del mundo"? Si fueran argentinos, aqui nadie dudaría de ello, en una demostración más de chovinismo al palo. ¿Y si los adoptamos y ya?
New York Times The greatest rock band in Mexico and to some ears possibly even
the world returns with “Sino,” its first studio record
in four years. Produced by Gustavo Santaolalla, it tends further
away from the traditional Mexican music the band used to flirt with
and more toward Rock as We Know It. Oct. 9. Universal. (B. R.)
CHICAGO TRIBUNE - August
4, 2007 Drums form foundation of band's altered
sound The last time Cafe Tacuba came through Chicago, the band set aside its lyricism, much of its fusion and experimentation with traditional Mexican music, and instead proceeded to cook up thick, beefy rock with a pounding beat right at its core. "Well, for us, sounding like mainstream rock was the experiment," says Joselo Rangel, guitarist for the group, which is playing at two Chicago venues over the weekend. Ever since Buddy Holly, the drum-guitar-bass triumvirate has been rock's template. But Tacuba managed to get through its early years of wildly creative existence without once nearing a stick during its live shows and rarely in the studio. Now, just two months from release of the group's first studio album in six years -- the avidly anticipated "Sino" -- drums are upfront in all 15 songs. "It totally renovated our sound," says Rangel. "It also helped us add more vocals, more guitars. We've been looking for this side, for this rock thing, and now we have it. Part of the idea from the very beginning with us was not to deny our Latin roots; we wanted to exist separate from rock. We didn't want to be rock. "But what we discovered was that, instead of giving us freedom, it kind of locked us in; it didn't allow us to be really free. Then we decided we didn't want to deny our rock roots, either." But more than mainstreaming Tacuba, "Sino" is a continuation of what began with 2003's "Cuatro Caminos," in which all four band members brought elements of their individual interests and projects into the group format. "It's how we've always worked, really, but that album just brought it to the fore," Rangel says. "We've always worked with other groups, other artists, other forms." That has meant experimenting in electronica, pop, even classical music (including a collaboration with Chicago Symphony Orchestra composer-in-residence Osvaldo Golijov). It's one of the reasons Tacuba has become among the most influential groups in the history of Latin music. "They've managed to evolve and remain original over time," says Ramon Nova of Pacha Massive, which co-headlined with Tacuba at Central Park's SummerStage in New York City last month. "They've been an inspiration to many artists, including us." Still, becoming rockers after 18 years together as something of an art band is, well, a little odd. "Yeah, we thought you had to be young -- that 'hope I die before I get old' thing," Rangel says. "But in Latin America, the old guy is the wise guy, the one who is passing on his knowledge. There are huge figures in each of our countries, all old. We hoped to be the old guys playing. It was a joke then, but it was there. "Of course, you can dream it, even plan, but it doesn't necessarily come true. But we still feel like that band that played dances on weekends. It's still incredible to us."
Time Out Chicago / Issue 127 : August 2, 2007 - August 8, 2007
Few are following Cafe Tacuba's lead
LA Times By Agustin Gurza, Times Staff Writer This is a whirlwind weekend for Cafe Tacuba, the cutting-edge band from Mexico City that spearheaded the rock en espanol revolution of the 1990s. The acclaimed quartet plays Central Park's SummerStage in Manhattan today as part of this year's Latin Alternative Music Conference, then jets cross-country to appear Sunday at the Hollywood Bowl for KCRW's World Festival hosted by Nic Harcourt. Phew! A little hectic for a group of Mexican rockers on the cusp of middle age. It makes you feel old just to think that some of today's teenagers may not have been born when Cafe Tacuba was formed in 1989 by two suburban college friends, a brother and a neighbor, a group that is still intact. Some of those hip teens will no doubt come out to see the band considered the Beatles of Latin alternative music, the only Latino act to headline the Bowl this summer. Such exclusive billing is a testament to the continued creativity and international appeal of Los Tacubos, as the band is affectionately nicknamed. But it raises the question: Where is the new generation of Mexican rockers? The very fact that this 18-year-old group remains the marquee name in Spanish-language rock speaks volumes about the state of the genre. Their wave of roqueros (rockers) whose vitality and vision promised to transform Latin music has receded since the turn of the millennium. Nobody has come along to seriously challenge the stature and influence of Cafe Tacuba. Not that there are no new groups in Mexico. The capital has a busy indie rock scene that is finding outlets on the Internet, partly through Mexico's new MySpace site, mx.myspace.com. But the new generation has abandoned the fundamental principles that gave rock en espanol its power and broad appeal. Today's Mexican bands reject the concept of fusing rock with native forms of Latin American folk music, a concept articulated in the early '70s by pioneering producer Gustavo Santaolalla, who has worked with Cafe Tacuba and other major groups in the field. The upstarts don't care to incorporate Mexican music or reflect Mexican reality in their songs, as bands such as Cafe Tacuba and Maldita Vecindad did in their very names. Nowadays, Mexican bands often pick names that disguise their identity and country of origin. They call themselves Allison, Los Dynamite, hummersqueal and Motel. In fact, some don't even care to sing in Spanish anymore. "I feel kind of bummed about that because it's what I've been fighting against all my life," Santaolalla told me this week. "I think it's an example of cultural dependency and many sad aspects of globalization." I caught the famed producer by cellphone Wednesday as he ferried from Naples to the Italian island of Ischia, site of a film festival where he was to be honored for his work, including Oscar-winning scores to "Brokeback Mountain" and "Babel." He had just performed the night before in Copenhagen with Bajofondo Tango Club, his innovative fusion band that blends tango, milonga and other South American styles with electronica and rock. The band is based on the same vision that has guided the guitarist since he was 16 ? to make music with an identity that shows "who we are and where we come from." The formula is still working for him, as evidenced by the packed houses Bajofondo has been playing on its current European tour. Santaolalla's slogan: "Pinta tu aldea y pintaras el mundo." ("Paint your own village and you'll paint the world.") It's a good lesson for young rockers still stuck in their MySpace pages, because the world isn't waiting for a Mexican version of My Chemical Romance or Nirvana. Imitation is just a form of flattery, not creativity. These groups could also take a cue from the U.S. and British bands they emulate. Original rockers don't look to other countries to see what they can copy. They believe in themselves and their culture. Some have hailed the arrival of the latest wave of Anglocentric indie bands in Mexico City, citing forces from globalization, NAFTA and the Internet. The fact is, the trend is as old as colonialism itself. When I was a student in Mexico City in the late '60s, my classmates at the preparatoria in Coyoacan played guitar and sang songs by the Lovin' Spoonful, mouthing mangled lyrics they probably didn't comprehend. The Internet didn't exist, but they were keenly attuned to the latest in English-language rock and pop. The desire to be something other than Mexican has long been the cultural curse of the Mexican middle and upper classes, whose kids are called fresas, or strawberries. Many slavishly follow American and European fashion, hairdos and dances, while looking down on their own culture. But self-hatred makes for lousy music. Cafe Tacuba's guitarist Jose Alfredo "Joselo" Rangel is not so judgmental. He's trying to give the new generation a fair hearing and points to bands that have impressed him, such as Bengala from Mexico City and Porter from Guadalajara. It's all a cycle, he says. When the Tacubos were starting out, it was revolutionary to incorporate Mexican music into rock and they were criticized for that. Now, it's old hat, and the kids push the pendulum the other way. "I don't get the need to sing in English, but I'm not going to demonize a trend just because I don't understand it," Rangel said from the Mexico City studio where the band is working on a new album, due in the fall. "Because if I did, it would feel like people treated me when I was young, just because I was doing something different." Cafe Tacuba performs with Groove Armada as part of KCRW's World Festival, 7 p.m. Sunday, Hollywood Bowl, 2301 N. Highland Avenue, Hollywood. Tickets $7-$95. For information call (323) 850-2000.
|
The
last song on “Sino,” the new album from Mexico’s premier rock band,
Cafe Tacuba, begins as a sarcastic slice of Latin American protest
folk, complete with earnest acoustic guitars and lyrics that feign
gratitude for liberty and democracy. Then, without warning or good
reason, the music is interrupted by a lengthy macho drum solo. It’s
the kind you might expect to find on a Rush LP from the late 1970s,
not on an album by a band known for using drum machines and traditional
Mexican jarana guitars; a band known for inciting daunting mosh
pits with swirling hyper-speed polkas and acoustic fiddle solos.
