Mónica Teresa Ortiz

Gina Villalobos

admin — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 08:00:00 +0000

The fourth studio album from indie folk rocker Gina Villalobos rolls off right away with “Take a Beating to You” and from then on out, Villalobos and her voice go on a journey both swift and slow. With honest and painful lyrics penned mostly by Villalobos herself, the record rises to the top of the alt country/rock genre and may be a breakout hit for this year. There will be comparisons to Lucinda Williams and even Sheryl Crow, but Villalobos deserves to stand on her own merit with this album. Since the debut of Rock 'n Roll Pony, Villalobos has consistently put out records that rock, that roll, and that blend country, rock, and folk into something likable and listenable.

The biography on her website describes her as: “the real thing, an artist, someone who can show you where you are.” It’s a perfectly worded way to describe listening to Days on Their Side. The album keeps up with Villalobos’ other records—with her scratchy voice, a distinct characteristic that slides over the music and unifies the previous albums—but the overall tone here of breakups and bust ups goes on an emotional, but never bitter voyage. Standout tracks include “Falling Away,” which has catchy hooks and is slightly more upbeat than the rest of the songs, as well as the title track “Days on Their Side.” Villalobos also varies the sound; on “Second Chance,” she uses a banjo to bring a different vibe and a different depth to the song.

The first track, “Take a Beating” sets the tone for the rest of the songs, with lyrics like “I wanna take a beating with you/Don’t wanna talk to somebody new.” A common enough emotion for anyone who has gone through heartbreak and is trying to recover, the album is the perfect complement to sitting around with a whiskey and reminiscing over lost love.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, October 29th 2009

Trio B.C.

admin — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 23:13:00 +0000

By Girl In A Coma

Blackheart Records

Four years ago, I stumbled onto Girl in a Coma—a strict accident, finding them in the first place—but after that discovery, keeping up with GIAC has become a habit, it has become compulsory, and a pleasure—as if their success has suddenly been tied to my own. Two years ago, after the release of Both Before I'm Gone, I caught up with them at the old Club 101 in El Paso, on one of their relentless tours. Nina Diaz was shy, barely uttering one word during the whole interview; Phanie D. and Jenn did most of the talking. But on stage, Nina flew into a rage, a presence so undeniable that the pathetic crowd of twenty scene kids in El Paso danced and moshed. I caught their show at Mohawk’s in Austin this past March, and this time, the huge bar was packed. Nina D. still goes wild on stage, but pulls back off it.

Phanie, Jenn, and Nina tour relentlessly, religiously—and they love their fans. They are the old school kind of homegrown band—tour, rock out, obtain fans through word of mouth. One person they impressed was rock legend Joan Jett, who signed them to her Blackheart Label, and now, this summer, out comes their second full length LP, Trio B.C., which is a reference to their grandfather’s Tejano band from the ‘50s.

Trio B.C. is a huge leap forward for the band, showing off polish, maturity, and measure. As their shows grow in crowd size, as Nina opens up, possessed on stage, as Jenn and Phanie blow out your ear drums, as their popularity swarms, Girl in a Coma is still the punk rock band from San Antonio that will break your face, while Nina D.’s voice will break your heart.

Su voz te captura, te enreda en su dedo y luego te lanza por la puerta. Loosely translated, Nina’s voice captures you, wraps you around her finger, and then shoves you out the door. Trio B.C. is an album that didn’t have seven years of preparation like their first one. Their sophomore effort is a studio album, a different product altogether, and benefits from the maturity of GIAC. And Nina...she makes you swoon. She makes me swoon anyway. Actually, any of the three make me swoon. But if Nina’s voice separates the sound of the band from all other female lead bands, Phanie’s drums and Jenn’s bass pull everything together. They stick together, fight for each other (depending on what you have read about their scrape in a Houston bar), and they rock juntos. Girl in a Coma is ready to blow up—in popularity that is.

“Joannie in the City” is the most likely to be a mainstream hit—complete with Joan Jett’s guitar and snarl on the track. They even cover “Ven Cerca,” a song originally performed by Los Spitfires—a first Spanish language song for the trio. But the rest of the LP is strong, benefiting from the girls’ individuality. Both LPs—Both Before I'm Gone and Trio B.C.—are two tattoos on your forearm—painful, pleasurable, and memorable. Trust me, the ink, the money, and the ticket for these three ladies, is definitely worth it.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, June 21st 2009

It’s Blitz!

admin — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 23:20:00 +0000

By Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Interscope

Karen O. is back, and she’s dancing—or so she makes us think. The original hipster band from New York released their third album and it’s a love letter—it’s my love letter and yours, read aloud under the scattered light of a disco ball. This album combines the sensibility of MGMT’s enthusiasm, along with Karen O.’s personal finesse and emotional depth and a spot of New Wave. She is this generation’s Hope Sandoval and Beth Gibbons combined, without affectation, without orchestra, and with a lot of attitude. Karen O.’s voice simultaneously kisses you, fucks you, and kicks you out on your ass. This album is ballsy, blessed, and painful.

Amazon has a fantastic description of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs: “At the turn of the twenty-first century, the New York City music scene floated in a surfaceless orbit of samplers, shoegazers, and delay pedals. The city's guitars lay choked by a digital fog, or else they lay dustily forgotten. Then, in 2002, an unbridled five-song EP by an unknown band brought noise, sex, passion, and mayhem back to the stage and to the stereo. The band's name evoked the kid who knows that whoever's in charge is full of shit—"yeah, yeah, yeah"—but it also rang with the affirmation of pure rock and roll: Fuck yeah! The Yeah Yeah Yeahs' first full-length album, Fever to Tell, was simultaneously filthy, infectious, sloppy, and brilliant. You could dance to it, and you could probably die to it. "Maps" was nominated for a Grammy, and the record went gold in the UK.

That isn’t too far off from their latest album. On the deluxe version (which is the one you should get) of It's Blitz!, the first track, “Zero” might convince you that the rest of the album will follow suite, with pounding lines like “Shake it like a ladder in the sun/Makes me feel like a madman on the run/Find me never never far gone/so get your leather, leather, leather on.” But it doesn’t.

The acoustic versions of “Little Shadow,” “Hysteric,” “Soft Shock,” and “Skeletons” torch emotion into you like an erupting volcano. “Hysteric” lights you up—but the acoustic version digs you down. With lyrics like “flow sweetly, hang heavy, you suddenly complete me, you suddenly complete me” show that the Yeah Yeah Yeahs haven’t forgotten to keep life simple.

This album became my personal anthem in April, the cruelest month. Eliot was a prophet. Karen O. and the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s are just musicians. But It's Blitz! does something T.S. could never do—and that’s make you dance and cry at the same time.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, June 15th 2009

Eve

admin — Sun, 31 May 2009 09:21:00 +0000

By The Alan Parsons Project

Arista

After the release of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon, Alan Parsons and Eric Woolfson put together the Alan Parsons Project, a British progressive rock group that put out several albums that could be considered “concept” albums—not too unlike what the Mars Volta does now.

1979 was the original release year for the album Eve and the concept for this album is the tale of a woman and how she affects men. Sort of an interesting take when you consider Jane Fonda’s Barbarella was released in 1968 and showcased her talents and affect on men. I doubt Eve was totally inspired by Jane Fonda, but you get the general idea. Fighting against the infusion of new wave British pop and punk rock, the Alan Parsons’ Project remastered edition of Eve comes out to a completely new musical landscape. However, the album is inconsistent and uneven, and fans of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon might find this particular album difficult to grab onto.

The opening track “Lucifer” opens with an instrumental, then starts strong with the following songs “You Lay Down with the Dogs” and “I’d Rather be a Man,” whose lyrics might be too strong for some: “Well I’d rather be a man than play my role like you do/ I’d rather be a man than sin my soul like you do/ I’d rather be a man than slave the way you do/ I’d rather be a man cause a man don’t crawl like you do.”

After that, the entire album falls flat and tapers off. I kept finding myself shuffling to the next song, hoping to find some magic in the music. The remastered edition doesn’t offer as much as other versions, and doesn’t sound any better than the original, which is somewhat surprising, as Parsons worked as an engineer on The Beatles’ Abbey Road and Let It Be, as well as Dark Side Of The Moon. But Eve doesn’t capture quite the same distinct feel for my pop loving ears. Perhaps I’ve got a grudge against art house rock. But in all honesty, Eve is definitely not art house rock and definitely not the album to check out if you want to listen to the Alan Parsons’ Project.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, May 31st 2009

Trailer Park (Legacy Edition)

admin — Fri, 22 May 2009 23:49:00 +0000

By Beth Orton

Sony Legacy

I was twenty and living in Austin when I first heard Beth Orton. She laid the soundtrack to my existential search for love and self and meaning. Trailer Park is the kind of record you listen to while laying on your bed, questioning your life, your love, or playing against the background in a movie scene where you walk along the railroad tracks, hands in your pocket during a particularly emotional moment. When I see photos of Kristin Stewart, for some reason, Beth Orton sings in my head.

Orton has the smooth soft voice of an old school siren, but there is so much depth to her quiet and gentle sound that it’s difficult to pinpoint whether it’s her voice or her emotions that pour into each song. In some ways, Orton has a Portishead aesthetic of mixing trip hop with a woman’s beautiful voice, but without the affectation of Beth Gibbons, Orton just sings with a vulnerability and softness that still manages to get your attention. One of the best songs on the album is a cover of the Ronette’s “I Never Saw the Sunshine,” a quiet memorable track that captures what is best about Trailer Park and Orton—not overdone, not showy, just simple and straightforward, but powerful. There are also two different versions of “Best Bit” that are both remarkable in their own way.

Part British folk, part interlude, Beth Orton’s /B001C5R2QW?ie=UTF8&tag=feminrevie-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B001C5R2QW) adds a second disc of thirteen extra tracks, including live versions of several noteworthy songs, such as “Galaxy of Emptiness.” Lyrics like “Won’t you please knock me off my feet for awhile? Could you please knock me off my feet for awhile?” express completely what is so good about Orton and this album.

The heir to Carole King and Joni Mitchell, the original album fell onto the rainy London streets in the mid-90s, and a little more than ten years later, the legacy addition can reach out to a new generation of fans.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, May 22nd 2009

Chicana Sexuality and Gender: Cultural Refiguring in Literature, Oral History, and Art

admin — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 18:04:00 +0000

By Debra J. Blake

Duke University Press

Debra J. Blake, a professor in the department of Chicano Studies at the University of Minnesota, revisits an old topic in her book Chicana Sexuality and Gender. Many Chicana feminists and writers have wondered, analyzed, and interpreted the roles of archetypal figures like La Virgen de Guadalupe, La Malinche, La Llorona, and the mother earth goddesses in their own ways—that is, to decipher the symbols of each iconic representation; however Blake has gone in another direction altogether by introducing the relationship between these important characters and those of regular working class and semi-professional Mexican American women. She uses oral histories and personal interviews to weave together the influence and existence of Mexican female iconography on the lives of these particular women.

Blake brings a new perspective to Chicana Studies through these oral histories and her own analysis of the meanings of these figures on the lives of these women. Through various cultural expressions, Blake's book reveals both Chicana feminist thought and the reflections of women who are not necessarily feminists. She balances both viewpoints and never tries to be forceful or overly aggressive with her own opinions. Instead, she relies heavily on anecdotal evidence from her different subjects, allowing them to tell their stories; Blake simply fills in the details and offers explanations and backstory to each figure. Chicana Sexuality and Gender is a much welcome addition to the canon of Chicana feminist theory.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, February 15th 2009

1932

admin — Fri, 27 Jul 2007 02:07:00 +0000

By Vertigo Butterfly

With Kandinsky on the cover and a name like Vertigo Butterfly, I desperately wanted to like 1932. But I couldn’t. Maybe the music is too moody. Maybe I had secretly hoped for some type of Jen Wood impersonation. Maybe I just couldn’t get past the operatic dramatic voice of Luray Hodder Kuca. Whatever it was, 1932 was a Black Tuesday for me – it just crashed.

The arrangements are good – fantastic even. John Kuca, Jr does an excellent job putting together the instrumentation and backing vocals. Classical guitar rocks, but mixed with Luray Hodder Kuca’s vocals, 1932 sounds too incarcerated by its own pretensions and frankly, is too avant garde for a steak and potatoes kind of girl like me. Listening to the album is like watching an Andy Warhol film, like Empire. You get the feeling it should be art, but you aren’t really sure why or how or what the devil is going on.

In a musical sense, Vertigo Butterfly wants to be Bjork. But without the craziness and that uniquely orgasmic voice that blasted Bjork out of the icy depths of Reykjavik, Vertigo Butterfly just makes Andy Warhol films.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, July 26th 2007

Welcome to My Bad Behavior

admin — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 18:03:00 +0000

By edibleRed

Select Records

Do you miss Dolores O’Riordan and the Cranberries? I do. While edibleRed’s Welcome to My Bad Behavior doesn’t make me forget that I’m still waiting for the Cranberries to reunite, their new CD is an adequate replacement.

Although not nearly as distinctive sounding as Dolores, edibleRed’s lead singer Collette McLafferty is a chameleon that can swing from classically trained vocalist to full-on rocker. The girl has an amazing range and injects psychedelic cool into all the tracks, especially “Welcome to My Bad Behavior” and a Radiohead-esque (and unrecognizable) cover of Andre Benjamin’s “Hey Ya.”

Add McLafferty’s strapping pipes to a quartet of talented musicians that includes cellist Dave Eggar, Grammy nominated drummer Tom Papadatos, bassist Marty Osterer and Sean McMechen on lead guitar, and you get a blend of indie pop that well… pops. Catchy and kitschy, edibleRed should soon acquire new fans, and at least one of their songs should make it onto indie music mainstream platform Grey’s Anatomy (“Sugar and Spring” was already featured on the L Word).

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, June 14th 2007

Both Before I’m Gone

admin — Sat, 09 Jun 2007 11:50:00 +0000

By Girl In A Coma

Blackheart Records

Nas says hip-hop is dead, but after checking out rock trio, Girl in a Coma’s debut CD, Both Before I’m Gone, rock fans can relax. After the dismantling of Sleater-Kinney and Le Tigre, devoted fans of female rockers have been waiting for an act that follows the legacy of these two pioneers, but doesn’t sound overproduced.

While other bands (who shall rename nameless) sell out by featuring their songs on over-hyped summer movies, there are still bands with a woman at the mike that scratch and claw and kick for their independence. One of these bands is San Antonio-based Girl in a Coma, named after the Smiths’ song. Original bad girl Joan Jett and veteran producer Kenny Laguna signed them to Jett’s own Blackheart label after hearing them in New York. It’s easy to spot what Jett saw in the band: Nina Diaz’s voice. Diaz’s been called the female version of Morrissey. No disrespect to the Moz, but Diaz reminds me more of a raw Chrissie Hynde.

The song that won me over was “Their Cell.” With lyrics like “tattooed lovers/they don’t like to reminisce,” this track is a throwback to both The Smiths and The Pretenders. Band members (sisters Nina Diaz and Phanie D, and childhood chum Jenn Alva) perform every song with a simple intimacy that announces rock and roll isn’t dead.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, June 9th 2007

Miles Away

admin — Wed, 28 Mar 2007 13:06:00 +0000

By Gina Villalobos

Face West Records

I come from the country – from the wide open farms and rolling feed yards of Texas anyway – and I ain’t never heard anything like Gina Villalobos. Released by Face West Records, Villalobos’ third album Miles Away scrawls its own existence into alt-country. Villalobos rough-hews away with a sweet intensity and her heart beats in her voice as she sings, “I got aces on my mind” from the track “Tied to My Side,” recalling country giants Willie Nelson, Patty Griffin and Neil Young. Although Villalobos’ songwriting is hardly elementary, there’s something simple and straightforward about her prose.

Most artists share (or try to share) pain in their lyrics and, instead, hang messy break ups and bad relationships and nights of long tears out like dirty laundry. Not Villalobos, a Los Angeles based singer song writer who goes beyond the tear in my beer angst and comes up with a new take on an old theme. She sings to somebody, not about. And if her lyrics resonate with candid anguish, her voice throbs with hope and nostalgia and compassion while she rolls thunder and strums her guitar from a deep dark hole – particularly on the last track, “Somebody Save Me.” Listening to Villalobos’ album is driving down the quiet stretch of highway between Lubbock and Amarillo in an old Mustang convertible, wind whipping my hair, no place to go and no intention of hurrying to get there, because my buddy Gina is fine company.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, March 28th 2007