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Tucson’s Calexico have always been the nearly men of the alt-country scene. While contemporaries like Wilco and Iron and Wine have lauded critical, and in many cases commercial success, Calexico have remained steadfastly a cult band, adored on the indie circuit, but generally ignored by the public. Wilfully obtuse, Calexico have made a career of confounding fans and critics alike by releasing records that experiment with jazz, dub and even mariachi trumpets. But, after slogging away for 4 albums, you’d have forgiven them if they’d withdrawn into themselves and started releasing introspective, downbeat records. Amazingly though, they’ve plugged in their guitars, turned them up to 11, grabbed a couple of choruses and released probably their most accessible and commercial album to date, ‘Garden Ruin’.
Live, their sound has also suddenly gained another dimension. Not content to sit behind acoustic guitars looking earnest, the band take to stage and launch straight into a ferocious, bouncy set that would have a traditionalist country redneck spitting out his tobacco in disgust. Lead singer and co-founder of the band Joey Burns is an exuberant frontman, with the look of a man who’s been released from a 5 year stretch, cracking jokes with the audience, and even tentatively engaging in banter with the audience about the night’s football (“What’s the…ah… Arsene-il score? Nil-Nil? No shit. Can’t be over then.”) For a band so enamoured with dusty, empty soundtracks, this new incarnation looks, well, pretty punk from where the audience is sitting.
And while it will probably annoy Calexico purists to say this, the group are at their best when cutting loose and just plain rocking out. Their newfound knack for creating barn-storming pop numbers (the superlative 'Lucky Dime' and new single 'Cruel') mean that if ever the band were to cross into the mainstream, this is their time, and their closing numbers, atmospheric, almost deafening reverb-heavy soundscapes drip with My Morning Jacket-esque longing.
Although it may have been an integral part of the band’s history, the mariachi numbers from 2000’s ‘Hot Rail’ album are the flabbiest parts of an otherwise tight set. As soon as touring trumpeter Jacob Valenzuela steps up to the microphone the concert loses focus, veering worryingly into self-indulgence (a couple of trumpet-led instrumental numbers could have been substituted for any of the superlative collaborations with Iron and Wine on the ‘In the Reins’ EP) But, as soon as he steps down, Burns is back, wearing a grin as luminous as his Day-Glo orange cowboy shirt to launch into another alt-country gem. They haven’t forgotten their past, but thrillingly they’re embracing their future in a way no-one in the audience could have expected. Drop the trumpets, and the world is theirs
