By Jacob Katel
By Laurie Charles
By Nate "Igor" Smith
By Abel Folgar
By Kat Bein
By Jacob Katel
While the drummer and guitarist piled equipment in the parking lot on faith, singer Rowan Jimenez; Juan Manuel's brother, keyboardist Eddie "El Brujo" Caipo; and his cousin, bass player Mark Caipo, were up their own creek. The three were stranded at a nearby shopping center, cut off from both the showcase and the hotel by a wide stream. "We tried to walk to the hotel," says Eddie, "but we couldn't get across." Hitchhiking did not help. "Who's going to pick me up?" asks Eddie, opening his arms to display his imposing figure, then gesturing to the Crayola dye job on his head. "I've got red hair."
Eventually Juan Manuel convinced a Chicano truck driver "who was picking up his brother and his cuñada" to let him load the instruments onto his trailer. "We all crammed in the front seat," he laughs, "listening to banda music the whole way to our gig." Quips Paul: "It was like Spinal Tap." Juan Manuel corrects him: "Only it was Espinal Tap."
If the movie Spinal Tap plays rock and roll as an old joke, Orixa goes right to the punch line of the burgeoning Latin-alternative movement: It may be only rock and roll; but it's ours. "We want to have our own sound," says Juan Manuel, "like Led Zeppelin had their own sound." Embarrassed as soon as the comparison slips out, the drummer quickly refers me to Orixa's official phrase for what the band plays: "Latin ruckus."
Ruckus indeed. Take three kids from Peru, a Venezuelan folklore singer, and a guitarist from Chicago with Puerto Rican and Mexican parents; raise them on a diet of rock, salsa, hip-hop, jazz, and everything else under el quinto sol; and you get Orixa's very eclectic nine-track release 2012 e.d. From the opening heavy-metal version of a Brazilian soccer chant, "Umbabarauma," to the roots-reggae consciousness-raiser "Sacudete," to the emo-rocker "Adixion," to the safer-sex ska anthem "No Importa," Orixa packs a hemisphere's worth of influences on to an infectious slate of feel-good pop.
Orixa feels even better live. At SXSW, Jimenez could have charged the amplifiers on his own electricity, igniting the tough industry crowd at the ASCAP (American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers) showcase with maniac dancing and ad-libbing. "Don't come and talk to us after the show," he teases in the Latin twist on English that often surfaces in his lyrics. "We don't want to smooch with you." The rest of the band backed Jimenez's antics with the tight ensemble playing that comes from sticking together for nearly a decade.
A San Francisco staple since forming in 1992, Orixa has steadily expanded its base from Latin-only to mixed audiences, leading to recognition by the New Times-owned SF Weekly as "Best International Band" and a nomination by the California Music Awards for "Best Latin Album." If those categories seem woefully inadequate (in the first case Orixa was up against bossa nova rather than other rock acts; in the second its Latin competition ranged from Mexican regional music to jazz), that's just another sign that the music industry is still playing catch-up with the diversity of Latin styles. In the meantime Orixa e.d. is being pushed into stores by Miami-based DLN Distribution as far afield as Best Buy in Albany, New York, and the group's tour extends, for the first time, all the way from the West Coast to the East, with two shows right here in the Magic City.
The SXSW panel Latin Music's Building Momentum revealed that for the industry, Latin-music basics can be big news. Introducing the panel, Michael Greene, president and CEO of the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, said last year's Latin Grammys taught him that the event could not only bring Spanish- and Portuguese-language music to the mainstream U.S. masses but, "even more important," could make Spanish and Portuguese speakers around the world aware of each other's music. He confesses, "I guess I had always assumed that big brush called Latin music included everybody."
Greene learned Latin diversity the hard way. Last year Gilbert Moreno, the general manager of Mexican-owned record label Fonovisa, called for a boycott of the Latin Grammys, alleging that Mexican regional artists had been given the shaft by crossover-friendly tropical acts. The SXSW program guide listed Moreno among the participants, suggesting the panel might represent a reconciliation of sorts. But Moreno was a no-show. In his absence the panelists agreed Mexican regional is the engine powering the growth of Latin music. Just how much power the average Chicano consumer packs is hard to determine, however, as these hard workers tend to shop at mom-and-pop stores that do not register on SoundScan. In addition to these hard-to-track purchases, one panelist estimated that as much as 40 percent of the sales of banda, Tejano, grupera, and norteño music were lost outright to pirates.