Last Sunday evening, my girl and my best peep Denise and I, all journeyed down via car and train to NYC for a much too brief excursion.  The impetus: to see the Colombian band Aterciopelados at S.O.B.'s in Soho. 

Aterciopelados (loose English translation: "Velvety Ones") is essentially two people - Andrea Echeverri and Héctor Buitrago, both from Bogotá.  They have put out 7 CD's as a group over the past 13 years, and 2 solo CD's.   They are touring the US now to promote their latest new CD, "Oye".




I started listening to their music about four years ago, after giving V.'s CD "Gozo Poderoso" a listen, and seeing a few of their videos on MTV Español.  Four years later, I count them among my very favorite musicians ever, and cannot understand why they still seem to languish in relative obscurity in the U.S.  Beyond the obvious language barrier for English only speaking Americans, they are not nearly as popular among U.S. Latinos as I think they deserve to be.  All the same, in a recent interview they pointed out that they sell more CD's here in the U.S. than in any other country.  They have been nominated twice for Grammy awards and are internationally successful, and yet I've found very few people in this country who have heard of them.  Lest someone point out that I am not exactly living in a hotbed of Latino culture, I'll counter that the show at S.O.B's, which was the band's only stop in New York on this tour, was attended by only several hundred people, maybe 500 tops.  I don't believe the club was sold out, but I could be wrong.  It didn't feel uncomfortably crowded.

Those of us who did make the effort to turn out were well rewarded.  They were all I had expected them to be, and substandard sound quality notwithstanding (hello - isn't S.O.B.'s a music club???), the enthusiasm of the crowd was downright buoyant.  Most people there knew almost every word to every song, and there was much singing along con gusto.  The average age of attendees was generally a good ten years or so younger than us (OK - or more), but we saw at least a handful of  older folk as well. 

I would like to articulate fully why I so admire this group - but I'm a terribly inept music critic.  Describing music in words is just an effort doomed to failure, I think, though there are those with a talent for it.  Trying to say they fit a genre or two is equally wrong.  They are not like any traditional Latin group that the U.S. is used to hearing, at the very least.  Some call them progressive Latin rock, but that's not accurate either.  Their style is often more of the hook-laden rock or pop type variety , for sure.  But they mix and meld and borrow from so many Latin and non-Latin styles, using such a wide variety of interesting instruments, rhythms and sounds, that you can learn their entire catalog by heart and still not feel you have a good handle on them.  I just come away feeling that I love their music.  And you don't need to understand the lyrics to appreciate it either - though their lyrics are so clever and intelligent that it is well worth the time to translate them.  They are unabashedly political leftists and tackle numerous controversial topics with wit and depth.  The Boston Globe has done a nice piece on them here.

I don't understand why this band is not HUGE, but I suppose I am underestimating the language barrier.  It's a shame really, that people are so closed minded as to not even listen to music whose lyrics are not in their native language, when such a huge world of music exists in the world beyond that - and music transcends language so thoroughly that in my opinion it should never be constrained by it.  But, hey, does anyone give a hoot what I think?  Ha.  But really, please, listen to them.  You'll be glad you did.

After our very fun late night in NYC clubland,  with the only disappointment being that my beloved ACME apparently only serves brunch on the weekends and we didn't have time to go there to eat my favorite mashed potatoes with white gravy (*sob*), we whirlwinded right out of there again back to hickland without even time to grab a decent bagel.  But we vowed to come back soon, with more time on our hands.  It's really quite ridiculous that we live less than 3 hours from the City and yet visit so rarely.  So a belated New Year's resolution for us...

Three nights later, we found ourselves seated front and center at a small table in front of the stage at the famed Iron Horse Music Hall in Northampton (it's really not all that famed outside of New England folkie circles but there it is).  We had come to see our prodigal son play to a hometown crowd.  Our prodigal son is named Chris O'Brien, and OK so he's not really my kid, but I often say Chris is the first person I actually watched grow all the way up. 

I met him when he was 5, my best peep Denise was 17, and I was 19.  Denise had just started seeing Chris' Mom, who was in her early 20's.  They ended up being together for 8 years give or take, and Denise was more often than not the one home taking care of Chris during those years.  I spent countless days over at their house, watching football, smoking cigarettes, playing street hockey, devising ridiculous money making schemes (a favorite: combination day care and worm farm), and generally just being young, silly and stupid.  It was like kids raising a kid, really.  Chris was always along for the ride, or just there playing with toys, laughing at TV shows with us, playing catch in the yard, being hyper and getting into trouble.  We went to his hockey and little league games, made him macaroni and cheese, procured rescued kittens for him (a favorite: a tiny orange tabby that grew into a giant lovable lug, dubbed "Tex" by Chris), and did our best to figure out how to help parent a kid when we were barely adults ourselves. 

I remember sitting in the stands one time watching him pitch a little league game, and the coaches' wife circulated through the stands handing out flyers for some upcoming team barbeque.  When she got to us, four or five dykes lounging in the upper bleachers with tank tops and flip flops, she paused ever so briefly, and then flashed a sunny smile and said "Are you all Chris' Moms?", then she proceeded to give us each a flyer.  We took them, smiled and shrugged.  We sort of were all his Moms, in a way.

Chris was not always the easiest kid, and we were not always fabulous role models.  But we all did the best we could, and in the end when I look back, the most important piece was that we all loved each other and had fun, in between the angst and confusion of course.  Yes, little Chris was raised by lesbians, and so what else was there for him to do but become - a folk singer.

Chris first became interested in folk as a young teen.  His Mom's ex-gf (pre-Denise) is a music promoter, kind of a big fish in a small pond out here in Western Mass.  She often booked women's music shows and since Chris was weaned on a steady diet of so-called women's music and folk, when he got his first guitar, that's what he learned to play.  The ex-gf would bring him backstage and for awhile she was Dar Williams roommate before anyone knew who Dar Williams was.  Dar helped teach Chris to play, and Chris got to know others women folk greats like Shawn Colvin and the Indigo Girls (I remember a good story of him bringing his guitar backstage to their show and playing with Amy).  At the time we all thought it would be a fun hobby, but didn't think it would really turn into his life's work.

Chris is 26 years old now (pause for shake of head in disbelief).  He lives in Boston and is part of a thriving music and folk scene there.  He is a regular at Club Passim, one of the oldest and most renowned folk clubs in the country.  He recently came out with his first CD and swung out this way to promote it.  The Iron Horse was packed with enthusiastic family and friends, and boy, could you feel the love.  The room was full of that sort of impossibly proud energy that adults feel when kids grow up to do something great.  And it's not like he's famous or anything, it's just that he's a contender in a very competitive art form, and he's good.  He's really good.  And we all have this enormous, proud, fragile hope for him that was just palpable in that room.  The fact that Chris has matured into a good-hearted, warm and funny man only makes us all prouder.  All in all, it was a very emotional evening and the music was great.  There's something about sweet, sincere young men singing folk music that gives me hope for the world, really it does.



When I got home, I spent 10 minutes reading all the liner notes of his new CD "Lighthouse".  Near the end, I was immensely pleased to see him thank "Tex".

My musical experiences this past week remind me of a saying that was painted for many years in large script along the wall in the Iron Horse, among many old instruments hanging on the wall.  I'm sure someone will be able to tell me where it originated.

The quote said simply

Music Alone Shall Live