THE SEARCH FOR WORLD, MUSIC, TRANSCENDANCE; ANDY PALACIO TRIBUTE THIS WEEK

It’s the curse of the world traveler and world music aficionado- while other normal people are off doing other normal things, we’re out searching for that elusive ‘other’, at one and the same time exotic and novel and accessible, a dimension hidden in plain sight, degrees of separation defined only by the mutations of time, language, and circumstance. So while others are off at Sunset Junction groping and grappling with the latest ‘indie’ fave raves, I’m searching the Metro web-site, trying to get to the African Marketplace at Rancho Cienega and the Guatemalan ‘Fiesta Chapina’ out at Hollywood Park all in one single day’s outing, and still end up in Thai Town in time to meet my wife after work. Hey, Thai Town’s not too far from Sunset Junction, maybe I could do a quadruple flip off the Hollywood springboard and win gold at the LA Metro Olympics. Such are the daydreams of the world traveler reduced to arm chair gymnastics and the search for new dimensions in inner space. Does anyone still remember that there was an active public search for a fourth dimension little more than a century ago, such was the need for such? Time heals all.

Okay so the African Marketplace probably ain’t so exotic really, variations on typical SoCal street fare, booths and entertainment, etc., good clean fun, well advertised and open to all who want to get irie with the Homies out on their own turf. But the Feria Chapina? You gotta’ be a dedicated Gringo/Farang/Gaijin looking to ‘out’ himself to end up there on a Sunday afternoon. You’ve got to read HOY. The Gringo ‘zines are out of the loop on this. It should be an adventure and a sort of homecoming too, shouldn’t it? After all Guatemala was my first point of ex-patriation way back in the old post-hip days when Europeans still slept on the beaches of Lago Atitlan and tried to decide where they’d make their next ‘scene’ when they tired of that one. We Americans were trying to figure out how to make a buck on it. Many of them are still there, though I got tired of it a few years later when they found a dead body in the ravine by our house and the Guatemalan civil war was on. I still traveled in and out for many years doing business, but the bloom was off the rose.

I went back last year for the first time in twelve years, and it really hadn’t changed that much since the last time, though quite a bit from the first time. In other words, most of the changes happened on my watch, in effect caused by me and ‘my kind’. It’s always been like this, the search for something else, not necessarily better but ‘other’, on both the micro and macro scale. When the sun starts arcing low in the sky, I start making plans to go south for the winter. The same thing happens a little bit every day, circadian rhythms not so much different from ‘circanian’ ones. I made that word up. There’s a constant process of extending oneself outward, come what may.

In other words, the ‘Feria Chapina’ sucked… big time. Notwithstanding my sentimental attachment to Guatemala, I figured that since the Central American fair by MacArthur a couple months ago at no charge was half-way decent, then this one at Hollywood Park for a five-spot should be pretty good. It wasn’t. After running a zig-zag maze of vendors, designed for their optimum exposure, certainly not fire safety, you finally arrive at… nothing. The music was lousy, the lines were long, the costs were steep… and the crowds were thick. Ironic, isn’t it, that America’s ethnic minorities are happy to pay a premium to call something their own, while across town they could get something in the same genre but world-class, all for free? I wish I’d gone to the African Marketplace instead, but I’ll be damned if I’ll be disappointed twice in one day.

Fortunately I caught the NEA Folk Arts Heritage Award Winners downtown at Cal Plaza first. That was eminently worthwhile. This is the highest honor that can be bestowed on an artist in the folk and traditional arts. The program started with Richard Hagopian on the Armenian oud, accompanied by dumbeg and kanoun. Born in the Armenian stronghold of Fowler near Fresno, Hagopian has studied music and the oud since an early age and received its highest honor, the title of ‘oudi’ in 1969. His music is available from Smithsonian Folkways Recordings and any of their outlets. The next NEA recipient on the bill was Zakir Hussain, the Indian tabla master probably best known by most people for his work with Mickey Hart on the earlier Grammy-winning Planet Drum album and the current Global Drum Project. In fact he is a fixture of Indian classical music and has a PhD in musicology in addition to having collaborated with many Westerners in his long and storied career, from the Beatles to John McLaughlin. Sunday was unusual in that he was playing alone unaccompanied, admitting “I have no idea what I’m going to do.” Apparently he figured something out, teaching us all along the way, thumping poly-rhythms while simultaneously picking bass lines and weaving melodies in and out. The man is a master.

That was the highlight but the week had other bright spots, also. Saturday evening at LACMA featured Scott Martin Latin Soul Band, playing a lively set of standards. Ex-Poncho Sanchez, saxophonist Martin has played all over and recorded with many greats. Saturday evening they must have been hungry, because the titles seemed to contain a large number of references to food, particularly “Fried Neck Bones and an Order of Fries.” Sounds good to me. Later that evening Dona Oxford played some rockin’ soul and blues over at MacArthur Park. Too bad nobody was listening. They were all over at Grand Performances’ Cal Plaza presentation of the DaKAH Hip Hop Orchestra, conducted by Geoff Gallegos. It was interesting and the music itself was great, but the hip-hop aspect itself was a bit disappointing, as usual. As always the attitude outweighs both the music and the message, leaving me all revved up and no car to drive. I persevere in my quest to get into hip-hop. The concept of ‘talking blues’ helps, but I don’t remember it being quite so… so… so full of itself.

This week the hot ticket is the Andy Palacio tribute by his band The Garifuna Collective, joined by Umalali. For those who don’t already know, the Garifuna are runaway slaves from the Caribbean who mixed with the local Arawak Indians and founded their own civilization and culture. Finally they landed on the shores of Central America where Belize, Guatemala, and Honduras all meet. There they remain today, speaking their own Arawakan-based language in addition to either English or Spanish or both. Andy Palacio was their pride and joy, prominent in the world music community until struck by a heart attack a short six months ago. It should be a good and heart-felt performance. Besides that, there are Sammy Figueroa, TAIKOPROJECT, and Mili Mili at MacArthur Park and Kobo Town at Levitt Pavilion in Pasadena. Angel Lebron is at LACMA Saturday and Charangoa is at the Farmers’ Market Friday evening. Jose Rizo’s Jazz on the Latin Side All Stars are at Hollywood & Highland tonight Tuesday. See you there.

COMO AGUA PARA NESCAFE… VANILLI… CHOCOLATE!

Okay, so it’s not exactly the good, the bad, and the ugly, but it is three very different branches of musica Latina. The Brooklyn group Pistolera started off the festivities on Wednesday at MacArthur Park here in LA. They’re great, rockin’ and boppin’ with some constantly upbeat Tex-Mex ranchera music. They’re a mixed bag, three females and one male, two Mexicanas and two Gringos, two lead instruments and two rhythm. These gals rock. What Mexican music is doing up in Brooklyn in the first place is anybody’s guess, but somebody’s done their homework. Fortunately I’m not a big stickler on authenticity as long as the music’s good. They seem to be ‘breaking out’ so something must be going right for them. Still I wonder if they’ve got their marketing plan right. They could run into some image problems along the way or limit their acceptance to the ‘ethnic-music-as-kitsch’ niche. They don’t have a Hollywood-tested centerpiece like Lila Downs, so that’s not an option, and wearing Mexican/cowboy wear would be phony given their city backgrounds. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend ethnique chic with Guatemalan huipiles and such, but if the only option is matronly retro wear and high heels, then maybe (my ex- is going to kill me)…

Chana is something totally different. Now if there’s anything more suspicious to me than models-as-singers, it’s music coming off a stage from instruments that don’t exist except in some studio somewhere hopefully no farther away than Echo Park. So Chana came with two strikes against her for me. Of course, if the girl can sing, you can’t begrudge her her fetchingness, and if the band members are all holding instruments and playing them, then what’s wrong with a few supplemental tracks? Still, it stretches the definition of ‘live’ and again raises those artificial reality scenarios and conspiracy theories that I fear more than the conspiracies themselves. Just gimme the truth. I’m a big fan of multi-media, mind you; I just like to know what’s what. Still it’s a sign of the times and if you start rejecting dub tracks you may just be relegating yourself to the sidelines. Should I go ahead with that prototype for a guitar-shaped laptop?

The audience is always right after all, but you might want to make a distinction between what’s appropriate for a disco and what’s appropriate for an outdoor stage. I remember lone drummers playing along to DJ tracks way back in the Stone Age for extra oomph in the butt-twitchability department, but I don’t think I’ll pack a picnic and take my kids to see that, if I had kids, and if I liked cold fried chicken and potato salad, that is. What’s that? Wine and cheese? Really? That’s legal? Playing self-described ‘trop-electro-hip-pop’ Chana is headed up by Rosanna Tavares (NuYoMinican) and Martin Chan (Chinese-Peruvian). They each have multiple talents and I’d be interested in seeing them in a club along with ‘multimedia stuff’, as long as Martin winds up back in front of his instrument by the time the song is over. Some of their abrupt endings after extended texturing are like sex without the climax. They played a short set also, if that helps the metaphor…

“Chuchito” Valdez needs no second-guessing from dilettante mother-bloggers like myself. He’s a wonder, laying down notes in inspired sonic washes up to the point of drowning in them, only to come up for air just in the nick of time to walk on the water again. To call him a master of understatement would be an understatement. The salsa dancers’ loss is the listener’s gain. I’ve mentioned frequently the mix and mash of Latin jazz and salsa available here in LA and how tough it is for a band to distinguish itself, but that’s no problem here. “Chuchito” Valdes is beyond the category of mere ‘musician’. The man is an artist, tickling our sensibilities along with his precious ivories, which seem to serve more as an extension of his nervous system than a mere instrument to be abused by 10-year-olds the world over doing their mothers’ bidding and compensating for their own missed opportunities. I only regret that I missed him last week with the Mladi’ Chamber Orchestra, but that was because I ran into Big Sam’s Funky Nation along the way, so all’s well that ends well, right? Still, though, “Chuchito” with a chamber orchestra…

I stopped in to see Fishtank Ensemble at Cal Plaza Saturday night almost as an afterthought, so that was a pleasant surprise. They were opening for the movie Gypsy Caravan, so their own brand of mostly East European Gypsy music was great. They even played a Flamenco song or two to satisfy that branch of the musical DNA, but it certainly wasn’t a Flamenco band. This was Slavic drinking music and Romanian rants, filtered through the translocations of time and space. With strong backing from bass, guitar, and violin, front-woman Ursula Knudson was free to explore other terrains with more exotic instruments, such as a theremin-like musical saw, and especially, her voice. She hit notes that are best appreciated by dogs, and did things with it that might best be described as ethereal scat. I’d like to see a longer set, with alcohol…

This week is a mixed bag for world music in LA. If you’ve got time, gas, and fifteen bucks, Manu Chao is down at the bullring-on-the-beach in TJ on Sunday after his gig in SF Outside Lands on Friday. I think they backed off on that new passport requirement. You definitely won’t need it this Wednesday at the Knitting Factory on Hollywood for ‘Verano Alternativo’ with alterno-Latinos Quetzal, the Salvador Santana Band, Chicago’s Alla’, and ZocaloZue. For us cheapies ZocaloZue will be at the Japanese American National Museum on Thursday for free along with La Santa Cecilia and Cheap Landscape, the band not the city. The Indo-Germanic group Ahimsa will be at Skirball Cultural Center also on Thursday. Then there are my usual haunts. First there’s Mariachi Reyna, ‘America’s First Female Mariachi Ensemble’, then SambaDa at MacArthur Park on Wednesday and Thursday respectively. Then there are Xavier Quijas Yxayotl and America Indigena on Friday with Mayan and Aztecan music and dance, then Kevin ‘Bujo’ Jones with Afro-Cuban jazz on Saturday, both at Levitt Pavilion in Pasadena. Cal Plaza Grand Performances has Very Be Careful with Money Mark Friday night and daKAH Hip-Hop Orchestra on Saturday. LACMA has the Scott Martin Latin Soul Band earlier Friday evening. See you there.

KATIA MORAES CHARMS, BUT BIG SAM STEALS THE SHOW; TUAREGS TIDAWT THIS FRIDAY IN PASADENA

Like I said before, if you’re a true music aficionado, whether musician, promoter, critic, or mere fanatic, the pay-off is that moment when music just knocks you on your ass. You went in expecting nothing, got blown away, and then left with a wet spot in your mind where something hard and unyielding used to be. That’s just what happened Saturday night at MacArthur Park courtesy of Big Sam’s Funky Nation. I didn’t think it could happen two weeks in a row, after Del Castillo reminded me of why I used to love hanging in Austin. Now Big Sam comes along and makes me want to go back to N’Awlins. I’ve never been such a huge fan of New Orleans music really, Cajun and Zydeco sure, but that ain’t the Big Easy. I’ve been to Mardi Gras, Jazz & Heritage fests, Bourbon Street late-night staggers, and private Meters parties in Manhattan, but I’ve never been more than politely appreciative and thankful, never moved. Saturday night I mean I was literally MOVED, like up out of my seat. I had no choice. If I’d known Big Sam used to be the Dirty Dozen trombonist, that might explain it, but I didn’t know that. Now that I know he usually has a full horn section with him, I want the full Monty, or the full Sam that is, and he’s a big guy. His band are grade-A jazz musicians laying down pure funk, featuring Adam Matazar on organ and Casey Robinson on lead guitar. They’ll be at the Continental Club in south Austin on the 23^rd this month. Don’t miss it. Hey, wait a minute… where am I? What year is this? What identity problem?

The LACMA non-stage was perfect for Katia Moraes of Pure Samba earlier Saturday evening, enabling her to walk right out into the crowd in her frequent exhortations to dance and to love. Her charm is infectious; few would dare refuse. That’s what’s I like about speakers of Romance languages- they’re so romantic. If Dennis Hopper epitomized the northern barbarian outlook in the movie Water World with his line, “Don’t just stand there- kill something!” Ms. Moraes one-ups him with the Romantic counterpart, “Don’t just stand there- kiss something!” Katia Moraes’ is samba almost to the point of bossa nova, sleek and sexy but most of all sensual, fingers interlocking fingers, hands holding hands with Nature and everything else surrounding, including him or her, lost in the moment. And this is a down-to-earth moment, too, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and just one of the guys. But don’t be fooled by her tom-boy casualness. She really is a good looker, and a good singer too. I don’t know how her other band Sambaguru differs from Pure Samba, but I plan to find out. I’ve been to Brazil looking for music like this and only found second-rate rock, passable folk, and novelty acts in a festival presided over by Gilberto Gil. What does that say? It wasn’t Rio…

Friday was also a good day for music. I managed to catch a bit of Chekere’ at MacArthur and also some of Jaipur Kawa at Cal Plaza. Chekere’ is a pretty darn good Latin jazz band featuring Yvette Summers on percussion and vocals and Eric Luis Gonzalez on trumpet. Yvette is quite charismatic and full of thoughts and ideas, something of a self-styled African wonder woman, and insists on talking even though she’s been warned to ‘shut up and play,’ but she was actually spot-on with her comments on African culture, sometimes to my surprise. Gonzalez can certainly wail on the t-horn and the whole band is quite good. Any place besides LA that would be more than enough. Jaipur Kawa is another story. If the mere spectacle of an Indian brass band isn’t enough for you, then the guy balancing a bowling ball off his nose certainly is. I’m only exaggerating a little bit, but the point is that the spectacle overrides the music. The only problem is that it’s really not enough of a spectacle to be a real spectacle. There’s a reason circuses have three rings, and even small ones have lots of people with lots of things going on. Any less than that and I’m thinking ‘tourist schtick.’ I expected the guy to charm a snake out of his pants at any moment. Still these guys are fun if only ‘India lite.’ It’s cheaper than a flight to Delhi.

I’ve never been a huge fan of Irish music either, though always respectful mind you, and definitely a bit skeptical about so-called ‘Celtic’ music, soaring and wailing, mystical and magical, with overtones of Lindisfarne and undercurrents of little people. But you can’t beat traditional Irish music for drinking in a pub and getting happy with your friends. Okay, so MacArthur Park is not exactly Kilkenny, but you can still have fun with it. That’s the kind of music Ken O’Malley and his Twilight Lords played Thursday, along with some other folksy songs by fellow sympathizers such as Van Morrison and Townes Van Zandt. Sounds good to me.

Irish music and culture have affinities with the Mexican, however bizarre that may seem at first glance. They both come by circuitous routes before meeting in Catholic churches and a sentimental attachment to homeland. Ireland is the last stand of Gaelic- i.e. Gallic, Galatian- culture after a centuries-long migration from that uncertain Indo-European heartland through Central Europe, France, and England. One strand even got lost in Anatolia, which is only known because it’s Biblical. Mexican culture of course begins from that uncertain Asian heartland (possibly the same as the Indo-European) and winds its way through the Americas before finding itself ‘down there,’ then mixing it up with European Spaniards coming the other way. One strand even found itself in Texas where it mixed culturally with not-so-long-ago German immigrants who taught them the polka and gave them the accordion. Thus a new genre of ‘Mexican’ music was born in exile. That’s the music Juan Manuel Barco’s Tejano conjunto played Wednesday night, complete with narrative and history. These guys may not have full professional chops and stage presence yet, but they’ve got lots of heart. There’s plenty of time for the other. They’re only in their sixties. Dreams die hard.

It’s another good week for world music coming up. First there’s Pistolera at the Mac on Wednesday playing their own unique brand of Mexican ‘alt-folklorico’ the way women would do it if they could. They can. I saw these ladies at Webster Hall NY earlier this year amidst the cluster-funk of GlobalFest, and they rock out. Rangoli will follow them with Indian dance on Thursday and then CHANA with electronic musica Latina on Friday. Then there’s Tuareg bluesmen Tidawt out at Levitt in Pasadena on Friday, playing the kind of music that Tinariwen brought to the forefront last year. Argentinians Los Pinguos follow them on Saturday. Luis Conte Cuba is at H&H tonight Tuesday and Chuchito Valdes is at LACMA on Saturday. Lal Meri does East Indian trip-hop at Cal Plaza at noon Friday. How can you get to six or eight shows in only four days? Practice.

ONCE UPON A TIME IN MacARTHUR PARK

They say flamenco bands are a dime a dozen in Spain (actually they don’t say that; I say that), so why do they all sound the same- two Spanish guitarists and three people clapping and clogging to the rhythm, with assorted throw-away vocals? Well, this is good interesting stuff to be sure, but can’t somebody do something new and original with it? Enter the Gypsy Kings, basically doing a double-or-nothing, twice the guitars and twice the vocals and bam! They’ve got hits and top billing and a high-five artists’ fee while the rest wallow in anonymity. But still, can’t somebody take flamenco and do something really original? They can; and have. You’ve even heard them, but you probably didn’t notice. They’re Del Castillo and they were the nuts and bolts of Robert Rodriguez’ ‘own rock band’ Chingon (I won’t translate) in the third installment of the ‘Mariachi’ trilogy. The sound they create is so memorable and classic that you assume it’s always been around. Maybe it has, but only in small snatches. Imagine a combination of Spanish guitar, Flamenco flavor, Santana stylings, and Mana’ pop hooks, and you’re getting the pic.

These guys have really got something, and any notion that Rodriguez himself might deserve the credit is undermined by the fact that these guys predated Erase Una Vez en Mexico. If it were the ‘Rodriguez sound’, then you would’ve heard it on previous ‘Mariachi’ installments. You didn’t; you heard Los Lobos. The band is anchored by suave Spanish speed guitarists Mark and Rick Del Castillo and fronted vocally by Mexican bad-ass Alex Ruiz, a brilliant convergence of the different Spanish and Mexican personalities. This is Tex-Mex music at its best. This is why you go to Austin. These guys come out of the same milieu that has spawned such innovators as Anglos Doug Sahm and Stevie Ray Vaughan, Espanoles Charanga Cakewalk and Maneja Beto, and hybrids Alejandro Escovedo, Los Lonely Boys and Flaco Jimenez. It’s fitting they showed up at McArthur Park in the Central American barrio only days before Salvadoran independence day. It’s a shame few people showed up. It’s not cutesy cumbia after all, and it’s really not designed for dancing, though I guess you could. It’s for listening and letting your mind wander over high plains and fields of saguaro, sensitivities heightened and mentally alert. If there’s any vicarious thrill to being a music promoter/aficionado, it’s discovering something new and different, maybe right before your eyes but invisible until you took the time to notice. Del Castillo could be the next Los Lobos. Have I said enough good things yet?

Latino music took a totally different turn with Quetzal Guerrero as part of the Fresh Roots Jazz Festival at Cal Plaza’s Grand Performances Friday night. This is smooth violin-laced jazz with a Brazilian feel, sung in Portuguese, English, and Spanish. I was pleasantly surprised. This is music for caressing your lover, getting out of your rut and sliding into a groove. I’ll expect more from Quetzal G with or without his eponymous warriors. There’s always room for a good jazz violinist. Latino music took a more familiar path with Bobby Matos’ (Afro) Latin Jazz Ensemble at LACMA on Saturday. There’s a lot of salsa and Latin jazz in this town. You gotta’ be tight. The confusing profusion of band names under which Mr. Matos plays may reflect some confusion in the delivery of such. I’d give him big credit for adding violin and flute to diversify the sound, but they might need to double up on the practice sessions. There were a few calls from the line of scrimmage and some dropped leads, and that hurts. The dancers probably won’t notice of course, but listeners do. Like I say I don’t always know where Latin jazz becomes salsa becomes cumbia becomes ‘rock en Espanol’ becomes ‘indie en Espanol’ on a scale of tightness to looseness, perhaps in inverse proportion of spontaneity to formality, but if you call yourself ‘jazz’ then you better be tight and you better wail on the leads. Perhaps there’s some confusion with half the band from LA and half from NY. Bobby’s got a long distinguished career. Cut him some slack.

Last but not least, and not even last chronologically, Thursday night was reggae night at McArthur Park with Elan, who has made a name for himself, and still does sometimes, by assuming Bob Marley’s vocal roles with Bob’s old band The Wailers. His voice does sound uncannily like that of Uncle Bob’s. Big deal; I know a guy in Chiang Mai who’s made a career out of being the Thai John Lennon. Do we love Bob Marley because of his singing voice? No, we love him because he articulated something that needed to be articulated and gave musical voice to African/American identity in the lean years between soul and rap. His current MySpace numbers verify the timelessness of his message. Fortunately Elan has got some good hooks in his own right, and his music is unmistakably reggae, both technically and spiritually, among the best of what that genre has to offer in this age of lifeless re-hash. It’s eminently listenable.

There was a lot more world music this past week that I couldn’t make, like Dengue Fever at El Rey and Nomo at Amoeba, but that’s the breaks. I’ve seen them both and DF is one of my all-time faves, but you live for the thrill of discovery. This week gives some much-needed African music into the mix with Oliver Mtukudzi and Rocky Dawuni at Santa Monica Pier and Daby Toure’ at Skirball Cultural Center. Unfortunately they’re at the same time, so you can’t see both. There should be some sort of way to avoid this. Besides that there will be plenty of other choices, including Juan Manuel Barco’s Tejano conjunto, the Dublin 4, and Chekere Latin Jazz at MacArthur Park on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday respectively. Then there’s zydeco with Lisa Haley on Thursday, Smadar Levi’s Semitic tunes on Friday, and Nocy’s guitar wizardy on Saturday night, all at the Levitt sister Pavilion in Pasadena. Cal Plaza water court downtown has Jaipur Kawa Brass Band Friday at noon and 8pm, and LACMA has got Pure Samba with Katia Moraes on Saturday evening. I love this job. When do I get paid?

MUSIC'S WORLDLY CHARMS- RUPA ROCKS, DENGUE FEVER SATURDAY AT EL REY

The ‘world’ genre of music can turn up some real gems sometimes, and that’s what we world music aficionados live for, those acts that define and refine the musical, cultural, and linguistic quirks that we love and live for. Dengue Fever, everybody’s favorite Cambodian band (bassist Senon is not really Cambodian, but don’t tell anyone), is certainly one of the best examples of this. Formed and founded by brothers Ethan and Zac Holtzman from LA and fronted by Ch’hom Nimol, the sweetheart songstress of Khmer Karaoke from Battambang, these guys rock and roll in Khmer and English like no other, with quirks and hooks and feeling to boot. This is modern indie rock inspired by 60’s killer Cambodian pop, tweaked to their own subtle frequencies and timing, and performed with… okay, a fever, yeah, that’s right. They’ll be at El Rey this Saturday, not to be missed.

Rupa and the April fishes is another example of the quirkiness that we love in world music (I’ll just say WoMu for short, OK? We do offer CD’s). They showed up for a noontime Grand Performance gig at Cal Plaza on Friday in some significant summertime LA heat, no problem for an Angeleno but maybe problematic for a fog-bound Franciscan. If so, it didn’t show; they were great. Look out, Manu Chao. You may have some female competition. Of Indian descent, San Fran birth, and world-wide travel and residence, Rupa sings mostly in French, with some Spanish and English, and rumors of Hindi and Roma. Nevertheless, regardless of the language, the musical idiom is French, complete with abrupt tempo changes and extended leads by accordion and cello. As Manu Chao himself proved long ago there’s healthy demand for someone who can tame that farcical romantic but sometimes overwrought French ballad genre and channel it into some healthy digestible pop and roll. Rupa succeeds. I only hope she doesn’t jeopardize it by casting herself too strongly as a reborn ‘hippie chick’ singer, performing barefoot, looking for berries to pick, and hanging with repatriated mojados in TJ. All that’s fine and good, of course, but once typecast, it can be hard to change.

This past week may have been a little less exciting than some previous ones for me, but that’s partly because I’d already seen some of the acts, such as Baka Beyond at Skirball and Quetzal at Levitt Pavilion in McArthur Park. Then there’s the Greek Theatre, where I heard Los Lobos with Los Lonely Boys was good, but I didn’t get there. Promoters note: I do accept free tickets. I assume they worked out who was headliner. But as always, at least in the summer, there’s no shortage of good world music to go around. This week there was even some dance to add to the mix, something I don’t usually go out of my way for, so it’s nice to have it come to me. First there were Sounds of Korea doing traditional songs and dances, very staged and elaborate, relatively speaking, similar to the traditional Chinese operas I’ve seen frequently in Thailand, though more serious and less burlesque (i.e. no behind-the-screen percussion laugh track). Seeing a rack of drums lined up across the stage, I hoped to see some serious acrobatic percussion, such as I’d seen in Thailand in Chinese festivals. I know some wood carvers in Hanoi that carve huge drums which they export everywhere, so am very curious about this universal aspect of Asian culture. Unfortunately they didn’t get this far. Still this was a charming cultural display and it was good to see some of the sizeable Korean community come out in support. Let me know when there’s a concert of Korean roots music; I’ll be there. Then there was the Delfos Danza Contemporanea from Mazatlan, Mexico at Cal Plaza Friday and Saturday nights. This was anything but regional or ethnic; this is contemporary dance of the highest order I’d say. I’m no aficionado, much less an expert or critic, not yet anyway, but the effect was striking. I’m hungry for more.

But this is a music blog, not a dance blog, so that’s what I’ll talk about. As always there’s so much good salsa here that you start looking for added flavor. Chipotle? Cilantro? Corn and beans? This week I went and heard Pete Escovedo at Hollywood and Highland for their Tuesday night ‘rum and humble’ jazz series. I don’t always know where salsa stops and Latin jazz begins, but I don’t worry about it much. Escovedo was great, and the crowd was appreciative. He was in town for the LA Jazz and Music Festival as part of the ‘Escovedo Family.’ For anyone who doesn’t know, that’s a distinguished family indeed, prominent in San Francisco music circles for years, both rock and Latin Jazz. His late brother Coke and Pete himself were long associated with Carlos Santana before joining more mainstream jazz circles. I’m not sure which ‘E family’ members were with him at the Festival, but I imagine daughter Sheila E. was, at least. Little brother Alejandro’s playing at the Troubador this week. If he showed up at Pete’s gig I don’t want to know, or I might die kicking myself. Pete’s over seventy now; catch him soon if you haven’t already. He still kicks ass, in all three of his bands.

Last but not least I managed to catch part of the Rogelio Mitchell show at LACMA Saturday. Since I wasn’t familiar with him, so didn’t expect much, I was pleasantly surprised. I even made some smart-ass remark about never having heard of reggae en Espanol, so now I have not only heard of it, I’ve heard it. Still most of his songs are in English, though there was a notable Hispanic contingent in the audience in addition to the Rastafarios and Homies. Sparsely backed by a minimal rhythm section and occasional violin, Rogelio mostly evoked Richie Havens and Bob Marley in his songs of love and peace and forgiveness. He even had an itinerant rapper for creative effect. I even like rap better now since I heard it referred to as ‘talking blues.’ Maybe there’s hope for me yet in the world of hip-hop.

This week, in addition to Dengue Fever at El Rey on Saturday, there’s Del Castillo, ELAN, and Sambaguru at Levitt Pasadena and Celtic Spring and Rolando Morales at Levitt McArthur. The there’s Otmaro Ruiz and Bobby Matos at LACMA. The only problem with world music in LA in the summer is making decisions.

QUALITY RADIO DOESN’T HAVE TO GET SO SIRIUS

I just heard this morning that XM and Sirius are merging. I have no opinion on the subject. Yeah, right, as if there were any subject I don’t have an opinion on. But anyway, I suppose it didn’t live up to all the hype. If it did, they wouldn’t be merging; there would be more emerging. Who wants to listen to canned radio anyway? Good radio is LIVE, even though I don’t particularly care to listen to some failed-actor egomaniac blessed or cursed with the ‘gift’ of gab. I just want some spontaneity. Though most stations have some sort of play list, there’s always at least some flexibility in the frequency or pattern of rotation. The only advantage I could see in satellite radio is the consistency to be had in long-distance driving. If you find something you like you can follow it from all the way down I-10, from Santa Monica to Savannah. Is there any coincidence in the timing of this current consolidation with the rise of gas prices? Accordingly the only time I’ve availed myself of satellite radio is while driving rental cars. Apparently it’s becoming standard. Unfortunately I had Sirius, and could find no decent world music. XM has world music, though I haven’t heard it yet. The term ‘world music’ can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people. Still, it’s canned. If you listen long enough, it’ll repeat. That ain’t radio. That’s a tape loop.

Los Angelenos have got it nice, lots of good radio stations. Residents of any big city or college town have it similar, music geared to eclectic tastes. There’s nothing wrong with mainstream country or rap, hip-hop or pop. It’s just a matter of proportion, that and some true diversity. Public radio helped a lot, starting way back in the 70’s and spreading quickly wherever anyone had long hair and liked good music. Some of the best music I ever heard was driving through the outback of Colorado while gazing upon glaciers. But big cities generally have the best offerings. In LA of course there’s the public KCRW, which prides itself on its ‘eclecticism’, has the standard PR in-depth news coverage, even promotes shows with the type of ‘indie’-style music that it features, and has some world music second to none, though not every day. Just as good almost is Indie 103.1, which has a bit punkier rockier feel to it generally, though with the great Americana-genre ‘Watusi Rodeo’ on Sunday mornings and an international rock selection on Saturday morning, not to be confused with ‘world music.’ They even have ex-Sex Pistol Steve ‘Jonesy’ Jones syndicated live from London every day and a show they variously refer to as ‘deep alternative,’ ‘shoe-gaze,’ etc. that I’ve been meaning to check out, but it comes on late, not too late, but the same time as Seinfeld re-runs. That’s sacred time. Don’t interfere. There might be one I haven’t seen.

Growing up in a big city or progressive college town, you get spoiled. You could almost forget that the vast majority of the country’s outback is aware of the same trends, but just has a hard time accessing it. But access it they do, and always have done. As a thirteen-year-old in Mississippi in 1967 I curled up with my little transistor radio after going to bed at night, because that’s when they’d play the good shit, like ‘Day in the Life.’ I knew it was important. No one had to explain that to me. As things picked up steam in the late sixties, there was a late-night border blaster operating out of Little Rock that we listened to. Everybody knew about it, something like ‘Bleeker Street,’ though I may be confusing it with the famous street and cinema in New York. It was the same deal ten years later if you wanted to listen to New Wave and Punk, though by then cassettes were replacing eight-tracks and ‘turning friends on’ to things took on new meaning. As late as the Nineties you could’ve died waiting for Grunge to come to Flagstaff, AZ. Now it’s easier. When you hear about something interesting, you go check out their MySpace site and have a listen. Any act that’s not there probably doesn’t count for much anyway. Listening was always free, as it should be. You pay to possess. Musicians used to pay to play. Everything’s different now.

Let’s change the subject. How old is pop music- by broad definition- anyway? Arguably the recording industry started at the turn of last century, though it suffered later with the birth of radio before somebody thought about combining the two. Anyway things picked up steam after WWII with the birth of 33rpm LP’s (sp. elepe’) and 45 rpm flip-side singles. More importantly for our purposes, 1946 is the year when Billboard started keeping records, of singles at first, then albums a decade later. Guess who topped the Top 100 in 1946? Well, there was Bob Wills atop the country charts with ‘New Spanish Two-Step (and also #4 with ‘Roly-Poly’), Lionel Hampton atop R&B with ‘Hey-ba-ba-re-bop’, and Perry Como #1 in the Top 100 itself (general overall category), the Ink Spots being in the Top 5 in both of the last two. When albums were first tracked in 1956 Harry Belafonte was #1 overall, with Elvis Presley #5, and the soundtracks to My Fair Lady, The King and I, and The Eddie Durchin Story (who?) were number’s 2, 3, and 4. We’ve come a long way since then, past the rock ‘n roll invasion, folk music, the British invasion, soul, psychedelia, blues rock, country rock, disco, metal, grunge, into the modern era of hip-hop and techno, with assorted mainstream pop and rock and assorted teen idols interspersed along the way. But those are the evolutions of genre and style, faces and places. The medium was always the same- radio singles and record albums- until now. Enter iPods and podcasts, YouTube and MySpace. Everything’s different now.

Myspace is more than a social network, which I care little about myself, not being a teenager anymore. It is simply the single largest central database of music that anyone is likely to ever have access to and growing every day. I’m listening to Blind Lemon Jefferson now for the first time. Sure I could’ve hung out on Farish Street back home as a teen and maybe found something, or maybe hung out at Arhoolie later, but that’s easier said than done. I’m sitting on my bed in my underwear right now. They won’t let you do that at Arhoolie. I know; I’ve asked. Thus it plays the same role as the Internet as a whole plays, one single massive database. This is a revelation and a revolution. The record companies are the first to go, hopefully down-sized into usefulness. Publishing is next. Newspapers are being decimated and the book publishers won’t be far behind. It’s already happening, with novels and short stories and poetry being blogged and flogged increasingly each day. Will it ever reach the film industry? TV of course is hardly any different from You Tube already, dumbing itself down with heavy doses of reality, but action movies take a lot of money to make. I bet more than a few members of SAG and AFTRA have stopped worrying about a piece of ‘new media’ action and started wondering whether there will even be anything to have a piece of. The ‘star system’ has collapsed before. Everything’s different now.

AFRO-PORTUGUESE VIBES SERENADE CAL PLAZA; BAKA BEYOND THIS WEEK AT SKIRBALL

It’s been another good week for world music in LA this past week. I started off Wednesday with Son de Madera at Levitt Pavilion in McArthur Park. They are a traditional son Jarocho group from Xalapa, Veracruz, Mexico, currently on tour of the western US. After playing Cal Plaza downtown they played gigs in Santa Fe, NM, and Yoshi’s in Oakland before returning to LA last Wednesday. The style is simple, as you would expect from an extremely rural style of music, but the effect is rich. Two musicians playing assorted guitar/mandolin-like instruments and one bassist comprise the band, occasionally accompanied visually by Rubi’ del Carmen Oseguera dancing zapateado. They sing of life, love, and… politics in southern Mexico. Though they sing a rural style, these are no country bumpkins, and list among their influences Susana Baca, Hendrix (?), and Bob Dilan (sic), in addition to a slew of their compatriots. They were also joined occasionally by members of the local sometimes-son band Quetzal. Good stuff.

Grand Performances at Cal Plaza downtown was the hot ticket last weekend. In addition to the frequent evening performances, Cape Verdean troubadour Tcheka showed up midday Friday for a show on the way to Grass Valley for the California World Music Festival. Born Manuel Lopes Andrade on the island of Santiago, Tcheka grew up playing the local hybrid batuque music in the local hybrid environment. Though called the most ‘African’ of the Cape Verdean islands, there is in fact no evidence of African habitation prior to the Portuguese arrival. Thus the music reflects a mix of the different African groups brought over as slaves and the Latin influence of the Portuguese and later Brazilians. If this makes the music and culture less African, then that’s both blessing and curse. At 60 years, Cape Verde has by far the highest life expectancy of West Africa. Tcheka has succeeded in adapting the local music to modern times and tastes, especially the guitar, making an aboriginal drum-based style of music more melodic and suitable for ballads and story-telling. It has great affinity with some Brazilian music, i.e. the best Brazilian music. Give it a listen if you like that style of silky-smooth sometimes-sexy musica soave.

If all Afro-Portuguese music is a hybrid, then Waldemar Bastos mixes it up with an even heavier dose of the Latin, thus more romantic, component. On some songs you could close your eyes and imagine that you’re not in the jungle, not in a mud-walled village, not on some driftwood-strewn beach, but instead maybe at a fado fest at the market in old-town Lisboa on a Sunday afternoon still train-lagged from the long ride from Madrid the night before, waiting for the crowd to show up, trying to remember the differences between the Brazilian and Portuguese languages, trying to wake up, spilling hot espresso all over your notebook and pretending it doesn’t matter. This life is your fantasy after all. Bastos has seen much of the world, leaving his native Angola at an early age to never return, spending much time in Europe and the Americas, particularly Brazil. There he mingled with the cream of the musical crop and absorbed much of their influence. Recently sponsored in the US by David Byrne and his label Luaka Bop, Bastos has even taken to recording and singing some songs in English, though with mixed results. Recording in English is always a risky proposition for a foreign act. He shared the show at Cal Plaza last Saturday with Ricardo Lemvo and Makina Loca, whom I unfortunately had to forego. I’ve listened to their music, though, and he completes the circle to straight-ahead salsa. This brings up the old chicken-and-egg conundrum of existence: with Afro-Cuban music, which came first, Africa or Cuba? They’ll be at Levitt Pasadena again this Saturday. I’ll see you there.

This week looks like another good one for world music elsewhere in LA also. In addition to Ricardo Lemvo, Levitt Pavilion will host folk music of Eastern Europe with Harmonia on Friday. Levitt Pavilion at McArthur Park opens this week with local fusion-soneros Quetzal on Wednesday then continues with Korean court music on Thursday. Rogelio Mitchell will be at LACMA on Saturday evening from 5-7pm with music every bit as hybrid as his name- a ‘unique blend of reggae, soca, and jazz.’ But the hot ticket I’d say is Baka Beyond at Skirball Cultural Center, carrying the concept of ‘fusion’ to new heights, somehow not just mashing together, but actually combining African and Celtic music. The strange thing is, it actually works! I saw these guys last year at Edmonton Folk Festival and they don’t disappoint. That’s at 8pm and it’s free, parking only $5 if you carpool, $10 otherwise.

First things first though. Tonight Tuesday Pete Escovedo is playing in the courtyard up at Hollywood and Highland. That sounds good to me.

THE MYSPACE COUNTDOWN CONTINUES (PART 2)

For those of you just tuning in, I’m counting MySpace plays to judge musical popularity as of July 2008, this being an era when the traditional record industry is in a shambles and Internet is ascendant. So far I’ve counted down past the top 50 with some gross omissions as I promised. By a strict count the grossest omission would be number one, Panic at the Disco, with some two hundred million plays, highest I've ever seen, and some forty million views. That’s a problem, though, because plays never run five times the number of views, so I don’t believe it. I suspect that it’s being manipulated just by the fact that somebody like me might be ranking them. I can believe the forty million views, so that’s where I’d rank them, though plays could very well be sixty million or so. That would place them right with their label-mates Fall Out Boy, who I also omitted. Then there’s their bass player's stable-mate Ashlee Simpson at 20 million, who I also omitted, along with Carrie Underwood at some 40 mil, coincidentally with one of the lamer My Space sites I’ve seen, especially since it’s ‘managed’ by Arista Nashville. Isn’t that what we’re trying to avoid here? Enter You Tube, exit Nashville.

So do you give up yet on who’s the number 3 t-shirt idol in the third world after Che Guevara and Bob Marley? It’s Kurt Cobain. Third-world cognoscenti cry out not just for revolution or minority equality, but out of sheer anguish at the very fact of their being. They ‘get it’ whether a record executive ever will or not. Nirvana has also received over 15 million MySpace plays, despite the fact that they only released three albums of new material and their leader self-destructed at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, apparently the prime age for self-destruction, the Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, and James Dean of his era. Also at around or over fifteen million plays are rockers Oasis and Kid Rock, and guess which classic-era act? Beatles maybe? Stones? How about Journey, the Santana spin-off (they’ve fared much better than Santana himself)? Then there’s country star Faith Hill, Jason Mraz, rappers ‘The Dream’ and DJ Khaled, the perennial Madonna, this year’s model Leona Lewis and (pull up a drink) Paris Hilton, forever proving the old adage, “sex sells.” As I reiterate, this is a snapshot in time. It has no metaphysical meaning.

We’ve seen 90’s rock; we’ve seen 70’s; now where’s the 80’s? At around 10 million hits there are U2 and Green Day for the US and UK, along with the ex-King, now dethroned, Michael Jackson himself. Sister Janet’s right there also. Forget Van Halen; you gotta’ stay in shape. For Spanish speakers there are Enrique Iglesias and Jennifer Lopez, and for country lovers there are the good-looking Toby Keith, Dierks Bentley, Jessica Simpson, Shania Twain, and cow-couple Sugarland. Then there’s teen pop star Jesse McCartney, Shinedown and American Idol Jordin Sparks, rockers Limp Bizkit, rappers Three6Mafia and the still revered Tupac Shakur, decisively beating his old rival Notorious B.I.G., who pulls only around 100,000 posthumous MySpace hits. Then at the same 10 million level there are rising emo stars Metro Station, Wyclef Jean, last week’s Top 100 #1 Katy Perry and Gwen Stefani. Considering Gwen’s old band No Doubt itself still pulls 5 million hits with no maintenance or even any songs, a solo career may or may not have been a good career move for the ‘no-holla-back’ girl. Witness hubbie Gavin Rossdale’s re-energized career also.

Switching genres was DEFINITELY a good move for Jewel, who can’t rap worth a shit, but finds herself a rising star in country music with over five million MySpace plays, along with fellow country-folk Hank Williams, Jr. and Alan Jackson. There are also 90’s rockers Beck, Pearl Jam, and Radiohead around that level. Jazz gets their first entry on Hardie K’s list here with the bubbly Michael Buble’, as does sometimes alt-country rocker Ryan Adams. Where’s the 60’s music? Guess who tops the list? Meet Mr. Robert Zimmerman, aka Bob Dylan who Allen Ginsberg, no slouch himself, once referred to as “the greatest poet of our age” or something like that. Want some more poetic justice? The Mexican group Mana’ are right there with five million hits, Mana’ a group that’s never sung a word in English, did Led Zep’s ‘Fool in the Rain’ in Spanish’, and has never even bothered to establish an ‘official’ MySpace site. They cracked the Billboard Top 5 in 2006, though the average Anglo-American has never heard of them, with their CD ‘Amor es Combatir’ (‘Love is Warfare’). They’re one of my favorites. The Colombian hip-shaker Shakira, up-and-coming rapper David Banner, old-time-white-boy rappers Beastie Boys, country rising star Blake Shelton and Scandinavian inspirations-for-Cold Play Sigur Ros round out the five million category, along with Flobots, 80’s party animals Motley Crue and southern rockers Alkaline Trio. Guess what 60’s icons come next? The Who, followed by Jimi Hendrix.

Many more sixties and seventies favorites, all still active, show up at the 2-3 million hit level, including Willie Nelson, Neil Young, Elton John, David Bowie, Eric Clapton, the Eagles, James Taylor, and Jefferson Airplane (their Starship spin-off didn’t do as well). Tambien los Hispanicos demuestran su fortitud a este nivel con la apariencia de Juanes, Manu Chao, y Julieta Venegas. Then there are the Marley brothers Ziggy and Stephen following in daddy’s footsteps and playing his songs, America’s best 80’s band R.E.M., up-and-comer Duffy and freak-folkie Devendra Banhart. Ready for a 50’s rocker? Guess who? That’s right, Elvis the Pelvis, still getting a few million listens thirty years after his death and at least forty-five after his heyday. What about kiddie groups? Hanson’s here, along with the newly-active New Kids on the Block, featuring ‘the other Wahlberg.’ Then there’s ex-Take That star Robbie Williams. Wha ‘tsat? Never heard of them? They’re from the island, mate. They’ve got a million hits on their own, too. Don’t forget late Tex-Mex star Selena at 2-3 million. The ‘new’ Selena, or is it the ‘Mexican Miley’, Selena Gomez only gets 2-300,000, but give her some time, and maybe a Spanish dictionary, and maybe a few more years on the Disney Channel.

Obviously at this level we’ve got stars on their way down as well as their way up, such as Sam Sparro with his red-hot take on events at the Garden of Eden with ‘Black and Gold’ or Mexican Techno-Rancheros (my term, not theirs) Kinky. Scads of classic-rock biggies are at this million-hit level, including the Grateful Dead, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and Lou Reed from the 60’s, but no CSN or Santana. There are Elvis Costello, Bruce Springsteen, John Denver, Peter Frampton, and the BeeGees from the 70’s, but no Allman Brothers or Joni Mitchell. From the 80’s are Crowded House and Bauhaus, but no Tears for Fears. Not really classic but sounding a lot like it are Indigo Girls and the jammers Widespread Panic and Phish. Old-timers but not really rockers Sergio Mendes and George ‘Possum’ Jones are there at a million, as well as almost-world-music groups Ozomatli and Michael Franti’s Spearhead. Jazz’s Norah Jones is there with John Mayer and so is hip-hop’s P. Diddy/Puff Daddy/Sean Combs, or whatever he’s calling himself these days, ironically the richest rapper from other investments and involvements. We’re just counting popularity here, remember, not money.

Mainstream world music gets a lot more entries around the half-million level. There’s Lila Downs, TJ’s Nortec Collective, and everybody’s favorite Cambodian band Dengue Fever. Then there are country faves Lucinda Williams on the way up and Randy Travis on the way down and Dwight Yoakam holding his ground between acting gigs. 90’s Alanis Morrissette is there along with 70’s Genesis and their antidote, the Sex Pistols, along with 50’s rockers Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. Ready for some 40’s music? How about ol’ blue eyes, Frank Sinatra x 2, Sr. and Jr. both. I bet they’ve got a lot of the same fans. Guess who else? Yep, ol’ boots-made-for-walking Nancy is still pleasing fans. I walk by her mural every day at Hollywood and Highland. Then there’s my heroine Patti Smith and my hero Townes Van Zandt, the original Cowboy Junkie, proving that death CAN be a good career move, considering he never got more than thirty minutes of radio play in his life. There is poetic justice in the world. It wasn’t quite as good for Gram Parsons at half that nor fellow cowboy junkie Steve Earle.

The farther down you go, the thicker the field gets of course, and at a few hundred thousand hits there are many great artists rising from their graves in a universe now contracting, for instance: jazz greats John Coltrane and Charlie Parker, blues great Howlin’ Wolf, and their upbeat contemporary Doris Day. There’s world-music star Angelique Kidjo, Lyle Lovett, Carole King, and Thai chart-toppers Silly Fools. Bluegrass finally gets their vote in here with Allison Krauss and Union Station, though Jerry Douglass gets 100K on his own also, where the field starts to get really thick. There you find world-music greats Orchestra Baobab, Ali Farka Toure,’ Fela Kuti & Femi Kuti, Café Tacuba, Tinariwen, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Andy Palacio, bluegrass greats Ralph Stanley and Doc Watson, and old timers Os Mutantes, Joni Mitchell, the Allman Brothers, grateful splinter acts Ratdog, Phil Lesh, and Mickey Hart, and a surprisingly weak Carlos Santana, my vote for greatest disappointment. He really is not as well known among Hispanics as you might think. When he toured the US with Mana’ I suppose he was the secondary act. B.B. King is down there, too.

Are you ready for somebody from the 30’s? How about Leadbelly at a cool 50K, or maybe Blind Lemon Jefferson? 20’s? How about Al Jolson with the same? Rudy Vallee is down there somewhere. Any further listing would be a bit ridiculous. The main point is the comparative popularity among genres from a 2008 perspective. The other point is that with social networking, Internet and computers are now for everybody and record companies play only a secondary role. You Tube can even help a band where MySpace can’t. Many Thai bands from outback Isan who haven’t given a thought to MySpace have videos on You Tube. Figures like these of course are only good right here and right now. If they became a goal in themselves, then they could be manipulated like back-link farming and page ranking within the blogosphere, and thereafter meaningless as a true gauge of popularity.

So who are the big winners and the big losers in the MySpace music era? Aside from the youth for whom such is a way of life, big winners are the regional music centers in general. Big losers are the musicians manufactured by Hollywood, pablum for Saturday morning consumption. For example Austin old-timers Townes Van Zandt, Ray Wylie Hubbard, and the 13^th Floor Elevators each get more hits, 3-400,000 EACH, than some of their best-known 70’s contemporaries, while most boy bands get little or nothing at all. Elmore James has twice as many hits as the Monkees. How’s that for poetic justice?