REVIEW: Calexico, Hot Rail (Quarterstick/Touch&Go)
- Chris Hill
Calexico's third, their follow-up to '98's The Black Light, sets out again for the desert badlands with a passenger car full of disparate individuals. Mixed in among the laborers, gunfighters, and matadors are a varied musical troupe: jazz and Tex-Mex brass players, a violinist, mariachi & surf guitarists, and a sultry French torch singer. Joey Burns and John Convertino, conductors and fellow travelers on the train, carry an impressive amount of instrumental baggage on this journey that pauses in ghost towns and oases, as it follows the setting sun to the west.
The trip's five stations featuring Joey Burns' saguaro & lime vocals have eleven cinematic instrumental stops for contrast. The heavy maracas of "16 Track Scratch" make it my favorite destination, but each of the eleven has its particular charms. An accordion sadly wanders barren, wind-scoured streets on "Untitled III", then reappears in lush, hymn-like fashion on "Untitled II". Burns and Convertino shift the musical backbones around with grace, as you'd expect from multi-instrumentalists. "El Picador" marches the album in with trumpeting flair, "Ritual Road Map" sways with short, wind-chime notes, and "Muleta" intertwines a dancing, flamenco guitar, a rose-clutching, romantic violin, and several harmonizing trumpets: one of a trio of matador-themed songs.
Given the eclectic roster of talented folk that have crossed paths with Burns and Convertino outside of Giant Sand (and Howe Gelb) - Barbara Manning, Richard Buckner, Lisa Germano, to name a few - it's unsurprising that Hot Rail evades quick categorization. If a single word was necessary, then I'd choose "filmic". The first single, "Ballad of Cable Hogue", is a dose of western film noir. Pulling its title from a 1970 Sam Peckinpah movie, the song follows a man lured inevitably to his doom by a femme fatale. Held fast by her foreign allure (voiced in wonderfully sibilant French by Marianne Dissard), the hero meets his Butch Cassidy end with a grim fatalism: "She promised me that she would be there when I'd return/she didn't say she'd have an army there as well/She whispered 'je t'aime, baby'/as she fired that gun at me". Beautiful.
The film noir air continues on "Fade", guided by a smoking cornet and drums by Convertino that first shape the song's suppleness, then define its chaotic, pinwheeling conclusion. Lyrically, it's as cinematic as the music, with tangible details like "He starts the car and he's driving away/hearing her voice/ and tasting their last kiss" peppered throughout the track. For completists: if the 7:45 "Fade" appeals, track down the UK import Loose - New Sounds of the Old West Volume 2 for "Tripple T", a 9:47 travelling narrative with guest Paul Niehaus from Lambchop winding his pedal steel in the song like an approaching train heard through a darkened tunnel.
The train metaphor is spelled out on the final, title track. A staccato jackhammer introduces the cut, followed by a worker crying out "Hot Rail! Hot Rail!", a distant train whistle, and a lonesome, echoing guitar that serenely carries the song the rest of the way. Closing with such a contemplative track is inspired. The world ends with not with a whimper or a bang, but with peaceful reflection on a landscape met on its own terms, not wholly conquered, yet understood and open for co-existence. Joyfully, there's territory still to explore. But that will have to wait for Calexico's next album.
