Thursday, Sept. 18, 2008 | midnight
Over the past decade, the music of Calexico has been funneled into a niche—sort of a Tex-Mex blend of spaghetti-Western soundtracks and dreamy, atmospheric balladry. Two years ago, in an attempt to break out of that mold, Calexico released Garden Ruin, with a poppier, more mainstream approach that was a stark contrast to their usual eclecticism.
With Carried to Dust, the band seems to have returned to the traditional trappings of their native Southwest, with mariachi horns, shuffling percussion and the occasional twang of a steel guitar signaling the shift back to their gauzier, haunting days on the dusty musical landscape.
Most of these songs find drummer John Convertino providing a laid-back foundation for Joey Burns’ shadowy vocals, though the duo spices up the tempo and creates a sense of urgency on the opening track, “Victor Jara’s Hands,” an ode to the Chilean poet and singer who was murdered for his political activism. And while Carried to Dust is not as overtly political as Garden Ruin, themes of poverty and social justice run through many of the lyrics.
But the album’s masterpiece is a simple love song, “Slowness,” in which Burns and Pieta Brown wrap their voices around a quiet night on a lonely road, the perfect setting for listening to Calexico’s tumbleweed indie rock.
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