Intersections

The captions will remain in present participle

He's looking at a sweater. He's looking at cotton. He's looking at rubber boots. He's looking at a door. This is what Tumblr is made for: Kim Jong-Il Looking at Things. I went through 14 pages and decided to stop (and resume later).

Above, he's looking at a soft drink. From the In Memoriam page, added since the unexpected death of the "Dear Leader":

at last the dear leader has quit this mortal coil. i have decided, nonetheless, to keep the blog running as long as my photo archive will last. i don’t how long that will be but i figure that if you’re reading this, you never minded the lack of good taste in this form of humor, which i’m very proud of, and the fact that he’s dead will make little difference.

i have also decided to make no change on the captions. they will remain in the present participle, as always. much like his father still is, and forever will be, the ‘eternal president’ of north korea, so will kim jong-il forever look at things on this site. well, not forever, it’s not like i have infinite photos of the guy, but you know what i mean…

you may tune-in as regularly as before, or if you prefer, join the myriad of successors that have appeared. or do both, if you don’t suffer from some form of attention deficit disorder, which i hope you don’t.

The author of the blog professes to be based in Lisbon. On Facebook, more than 43,000 people like it.

I know about the knock-off, Kim Jong-Il Dropping the Bass. It's amusing and all. But I must say, nothing can compare with the purity of Kim Jong-Il ... simply ... Looking at Things.

* Elsewhere, an amazing set of photos from inside North Korea, at The Atlantic.

Estrella Cercana: A newspaper's obituary, Part 4

** ... Continued from previous post [or start with Part 1, then 2, then 3].

And here is some of the cool shit we got around to publishing in six lil issues of 8-pages each!

This was the best part of the entire Estrella Cercana operation, I think. We turned into a platform for fresh and interesting work, intersecting on the printed page across text and image, and often in interaction with pieces in the "Distant Star" show at the gallery.

We had no editorial guidelines from our publisher, the Kuris. The sky was the limit.

And as things came in, we went with the most Newsy stuff possible. Inevitably, this led to some criticisms about whether there was too much death, exploitation, violence, abuse, loathing, shock-value, guns, fascism, skin, dirty sex, and politics in our pages.

Our response, inevitably, was, 'Duh.' This is a NEWSpaper. (But with pseudonyms at work, yes.) We published, and please stay with me, the following ...

Estrella Cercana: A newspaper's obituary, Part 2 *

** ... Continued from previous post.

And here's how the team came together.

Homero would be in charge of the production process -- lining up the budgets, locating and contracting the printer, developing an advertising plan, handling all the transactions with advertisers and payments with collaborators, and building a distribution map. It's a huge task over-all. See this recent piece Homer wrote for Tomo.

Alberto, designer behind the Soma site, among others, would be in charge of devising a design scheme and laying out each issue. We looked at Mexican tabloids and Cuban party newspapers he acquired on a visit there. We picked fonts. Alberto subcontracted an assistant design editor, Adiranne Montemayor, also an architect. Then we brought on Javier "Coco" Rivero, the brain behind Writers & Kitties, as copy editor. (It sounds way better as corrector de estilo.)

Coco's job was to review pitches as they came in to a general email address, recommend them to me to read and edit, line-edit stuff we'd want in the paper, and handle any big edits directly with the writers. A key point for me, after the traumas suffered freelancing through la crisis, was insisting early on that contributed pieces to the paper had to be paid, like in "real life." It's the principle. Kuri agreed.

Things started rolling. We bought the Web domains, opened a Twitter, found a printer (a testy old man in the Col. Guerrero, but that's another post), hired a web manager with Rodrigo Escandon, and hired Jeromino Jimenez (aka Ñaka Ñaka) to design a unique banner background for each issue's nameplate. Online, these would be .gifs. Yay.

The gallery gave us a budget for six issues at eight pages, with four pages in color. The core editorial team decided we would reserve the centerfold, known in the old-school as a double-truck, for a strong visual display, like a poster readers might want to keep. The back page would be called FUN FUN FUN, and would be jammed with random newspaper diversion bits, like horoscopes, gossip and such. The back-page would also include the print announcement for our carefully curated audio downloads. (More on that later.)

Then, we put out the call for pitches. Here's my Intersections post announcing the launch of the project. 

This was to become the hardest part while getting started, establishing and nurturing the paper's editorial voice and character -- fast. We wanted Estrella Cercana to operate as a refraction, an interpretation, or a decoding of a "traditional" newspaper. We wanted stories and works to have a degree of intimacy or relevancy, no matter the genre or format. News for you and me.

Thankfully, weeks before, the Monterrey journalist Diego Enrique Osorno had published on a Gatopardo blog a "manifesto for infrarrealist journalism." This piece, re-published with Osorno's permission in the first issue of Estrella Cercana, became our anchor text, our baseline.

One part says:

Hagamos un encuentro nacional de jóvenes escritores militarizados o de jóvenes escritores zetas. Si algún imbécil menciona
los treinta mil,
o cuarenta mil,
o cincuenta mil,
o sesenta mil,
o setenta mil,
o noventa mil,
o cien mil muertos,
entonces hagamos algo extra: escribamos una columna de opinión defendiendo a las instituciones o leamos un haikú de guerra en el Zócalo al final de la marcha; cantemos el himno nacional o un narcocorrido antes de que comience la próxima sesión de nuestro taller literario.

Next, it came time to make to the first issue and get it out there. This initial process, as satisfying as it was, came with some ... setbacks.

** ... Part 3, next.

(* Click on the image for a larger view of one of Carolyn Castaño's Narcovenus works. * Post slightly edited)

Estrella Cercana: A newspaper's obituary, Part 1

It's been nearly a month since the final edition of the "periódico con fin de vida," Estrella Cercana at kurimanzutto, and I've barely had time to regroup, review, and evaluate the project.

This week's series of posts is an attempt to do that.

So, from the beginning, Estrella Cercana emerged as a response to an invitation from Jose Kuri to propose some kind of intervention at the gallery. He had read "Down & Delirious in Mexico City" and liked it. The invitation was open and I tossed around ideas here and there with friends, but nothing concrete ever settled. Time passed.

One evening in early September after work, I met up with two architects for drinks at a cantina in San Miguel Chapultepec. I told them about Kuri's invite. Alberto Bustamante and Homero Fernandez and I came up with the idea for a "literary newspaper" that would accompany the gallery's show "Distant Star." The group show, co-produced with Regen Projects in Los Angeles, was titled after Roberto Bolaño's novella "Estrella Distante."

The name of the newspaper came almost instantly: Estrella Cercana. We thought the image of a nearing star was futuristic, apocalyptic, semi-cultish, and very "newsworthy"; or in other words, evoking cultural codes weighing heavily on the zeitgeist as we approach 2012.

Kuri immediately said Yes.

What did we get ourselves into, though? Activating a newspaper -- a newsroom, with different writers in different places, a design operation, an advertising operation, a publishing operation, a printer, a budget, a team -- was not going to be easy. And, crucially, we all had normal day jobs.

It also sounded like an opportunity not to be missed.

We settled on a weekly. We met with the gallery to discuss logistics and consider what ended up being a totally generous budget, a deep sign of trust, I'd say. Kuri wanted the intervention to be good. We were in agreement.

Why not?

Who isn't down to work with a new, fresh group of people on a wild creative project? Thus, the team started coming together.

** ... Part 2, next.

Temperature rising

What an amazing video for a Brenmar edit. Now this is Club. * More here.

Teen DJ from Ciudad Juarez, Mock the Zuma, reflects a 'bizarro' reality

** Originally published at World Now: 

Kevin Santana remembers with a blank disenchantment the night he threw a party in his hometown of Ciudad Juarez and soldiers came to break it up.

It was in 2009, the young music producer and DJ recalls, and he and his friends had set up a sound system at a raquetball court and invited other teens to come dance. "There was nothing else going on that night and people in Juarez like to party," he explained a few days ago.

"They put us with our hands against the wall, made us close our eyes, they said they were going to rape the girls. We thought, 'This is it, they are going to break us.' "

I paused and asked for an explanation. Quebrar -- to break -- is slang used to signify killing someone in Ciudad Juarez, one of the most violent cities in the world and a sad symbol for Mexico's brutal drug war.

In the end, the kids were let go and the party was over. Santana shrugged and added: "There have always been soldiers in Juarez."

Santana just turned 18 in August. Troops were first sent to Ciudad Juarez in early 2008. Put another way, Santana has lived in a city with armed federal forces on the streets for most of his teen years.

Known by his DJ name Mock The Zuma, Santana is part of a loose generation of electronic musicians and producers based predominantly in Mexico's northern region that are attracting attention among tastemakers in the capital and in Latino-heavy cities north of the border.

Their cutting-edge sounds draw on diverse Latin American rhythms -- such as cumbia and son -- filtered through easy-to-access editing software that allows the music-makers to mix, scratch, and cut it all up with spacey and aggressive electronic beats.

To call them very young is apt; most are still teenagers.

Dia de Muertos en Oaxaca *

* UPDATE: My report from San Agustin Etla, "A lively street party for the dead in Oaxaca, Mexico."

This is a Day of the Dead altar in a home in Oaxaca, Oaxaca, just now. All the elements were gathered on Sunday at the city's bustling Central de Abastos, at the special tianguis de muertos.

The pulque and tepache stand was closed. Momentary sad-face. 

Over here, we're looking at how they're passing noche de los difuntos in Ciudad Juarez; by beating up protesters and photographers outside a police station.

Honoring my dead and all of the dead of Mexico. Wherever you are, good evening.

* Previously, "In Mexico, more deaths than can we can image."

Noy voy a trabajar, Part 2

 

This is "Feriado Nacional" by the Mexico-Argentina favorites Kumbia Queers (who first popped up in here in mid-'07). It's another genre-bending track about the glories, or necessity, of not working.

True role models, as far as I'm concerned. I know that headache. Are we need of an a la chingada with it all, pan-Latino-style work revolt? Play it!

* Previously, "No voy a trabajar."

No voy a trabajar

By los Bermudas, veracruzanos, their international cumbia-ska-hiphop hit. Remember, in the end, it's all about the Dance. And not working. * Thanks, Pedrin.

Hipstertitlán ... o chakahipsters?

Here's part one the episode from June of the Canal 22 program Esquizofrenia on hipsters in Mexico City, with a exploration of the Condesa vortex then a graceful and smart detour to reggaetonero-land. I am interviewed as a periodista cultural along with a few other expert commentators.

Also appearing in part two and three. Fascinating, and great television!

I had no idea there was such a thing as "reggaetoneros fresas." For our part, we had started calling them chakahipsters. You know who I'm talking about. Have we really come full circle?

Crave the grave?

Satire at the heart of California glam goth? It's "Crav the Grav," by Celicaby, a collaboration that's aka Death Wears White Socks. (Don't you miss 1830?)

A beer to-go from Jenni Rivera

You know I'm down this girl, but this just takes it to another level.

During a recent concert in Puerto Vallarta, Jenni Rivera apparently had a beer thrown at her on stage. The rancherita asked that the girl who threw the beer brought up to confront her face-to-face. Next is a humiliation-fest that only a royal bad-ass like Jenni Rivera could come up with.

"Who do you think has more balls," the singer asks the girl standing meekly before her, "You or me?"

Jenni then dumps a beer on the girl's head, yanks at her hair, and dispatches the unfortunate fan off-stage and presumably to the curb. After asking for respect from the audience -- "I could be in the hotel, making a baby" -- Jenni gets in one last shot, shaking her fingers and going: "Ayy, I caught some lice!"

From her "Let's talk" interview on mun2: "I was taught to defend myself when girls messed with me. I was a straight A student and a great fighter when I had to defend myself."

Yeah, that's pretty clear by now, homegirl, thanks. * Via DListed. ** Thanks, Octavia!

Botas picudas

No exaggeration, a good 18 different people have personally sent me this link since it went live (though I saw right after it dropped, via Mudd Up!). So I'm just gonna post it already. Pointy Boots. Extremely pointy pointy boots. Botas picudas.

I'm as much at a loss about this 'craze' as you must be.

The video, part of an art package by Vice, is an introduction to a fashion phenomenon that is directly tied to the tribal guarachero boom that has taken hold in the north of Mexico and in some parts of the U.S, particularly in Texas. Filmmaker Bernardo Loyola and crew visit a town in San Luis Potosí named Matehuala (near the border with Nuevo Leon state), where local vatos claim the pointy boots were invented.

3BALL MTY mix-master Erick Rincon ("un dios para hacer el tribal") makes an appearance. He makes the connection between SLP and its migrant diaspora in the Dallas-Forth Worth metroplex. Watch and learn.

Let's just quickly hit the most obvious wonders. The pointy boots point to a fusion between a music movement and a regional tribalism in Mexico that appears to have nothing to do with any kind of illicit trade, neither as a belated reaction to a trend from north of the border. The boots, intervened, are the basis for a competitive dance-crew culture as well. Reminds me somewhat of the ass-bouncing cowboy crews in California.

For a window into the pointy boots' greater paisa-sphere, check in at Chuntaritos. And for pointy boots from Dallas that glow in the dark, see this video at mun2.

* Photo above via Vice. * Post edited. ** See Intersections category Tribes for more.

Down & Delirious in New York City *

Here are two fliers for dual events in New York this Thursday, April 14. Extra details at bottom. Hello, Nueba Yorr!

Piratéatelo!

Both citas promise to be bad-ass: First at the Columbia history department, with scholars I admire and respect, including Claudio Lomnitz; then at a new D.F.-style cantina in Williamsburg, with three great DJs: Jawnita of East Village Radio, Marcelo Cunning of Nacotheque, and Discoyoacan, aka Felipe Mendez, a partner at Cantina Royal and La Superior.

As always, in the spirit of the book, a pachanga and a space for collaboration. (With thanks to the Center for the Study of Ethnicity and Race at Columbia, the Latin American and Caribbean Studies Center at Stony Brook, and Mex-and-the-City.) Ponganse a bailar! Corre la voz con tus paisas, far and wide! Let's bring out that capirucha energy here in NYC. Would love to see you there. FB invite here.

MORE ...

Tonight, Monday, April 11, I will be in-studio with Jace Clayton aka DJ Rupture for his weekly program Mudd Up! on WFMU (90.1-FM in the New York area), at 7p. We'll be working through tracks, sounds, questions. Rupture's announcement.

Tomorrow, Tuesday, April 12, I present the book at SUNY Stony Brook, with responses from Froylan Enciso, Melixa Abad-Izquierdo, and a video piece by Pancho Westendarp. See flier here.

Here all week. What's good?

* Previously, "How the 'Down & Delirious' book cover came about." * Post edited.

Mexico City is Mordor *

This is what D.F. feels and looks like right now, "Mordor." The smog and altitude and dryness of the spring is the source of the Mexico City mutation.

Last night on a roof-top we couldn't decide what color the sky was: a red-purple-orange nighttime gray? I look across the way on a street and I can't see the tops of the mountains. It's just ... blank. An idea: think it's time local fashion designers maybe start considering making ready-to-wear street masks? A future-is-now kinda thing?

Diesel exhaust, construction dust, sewer fumes, hostile microbes. A handkerchief is a worthy investment. Come to think of it ... when deemed necessary ... see here and here.

But we still love living here, right? Without question. Addicted to the impossible city, infected by it. Oh yessss.

* Source uncertain for photo. Please alert me if it's yours.

Joy Haus *

It hit me standing front-and-center before a Joy Division/Bauhaus cover band at a tucked-away little "centro cultural" (read: bar) on Bolivar in Centro, with two friends, Susana and Andreina, and Andreina's tattoo artist homies from down on Regina: Really, I could die happy right now.

Above, Joy Haus, playing all the dark-core post-punk hits, late Saturday, March 5, 2011. They played so good -- "She's Lost Control," "Bela Lugosi is Dead," "Love Will Tear Us Apart," "The Sanity Assassin" -- I coulda been in Manchester, circa 1979. In Mexico City, kids know their rock covers.

I can't find much of an Internet presence for Joy Haus, and I was hesitant to hit them up right away after their set because the singer was so, um, intense while performing.  Called it a night. Felt so good the next day.

"Nos desquitamos de todos los pedos esa noche, pero cabron."

More photos and a short video clip after the jump.

Masumi, worldwide

Above, a shot of an American Apparel billboard at Sunset and Alvarado in Echo Park, Los Angeles, featuring Masumi Rioja, a native and resident of Mexico City.

Masumi has a strange effect on people. I know; I've seen it in action. Hang out a little and you'll wind up dazed, invigorated, shaken up. The nature of chemistry, I guess.

I have this suspicion that recent American Apparel window displays have also been inspired by Masumi. Mannequins I've seen in L.A. and D.F. have been fixed with long black locks and lips colored deep red. Precisely Masumi's everyday look.

Have you noticed? The self-proclaimed Xochimilca strikes.

* Previously, "Romina Aranzola in Playboy," "It's Tokyo."

Rihanna's corrido: 'Man Down'

I wanna see a hot video for this jam.

It's "Man Down" by Rihanna, with lyrics on screen above. The song is essentially a corrido telling the story of a woman confessing to just shooting a man to death and needing to escape. It's an homage to Bob Marley's "I Shot the Sheriff," and almost as good as a song, I think. "Man Down" is co-written by Rock City and Shontelle, songwriters who are also from the Caribe.

As a native of Barbados, Rihanna inhabits her vocal Caribbeanness in the song so well. When she inches up an octave in the verse, it displays the wonderful and sometimes under-appreciated range and quality of her voice. Leaves you wanting more of it.

The "Sak Pasé" at the beginning is a Haitian Creole "what's up" collolquialism, and one that gained emotional meaning after the January 2010 earthquake. "Man Down" is off Rihanna's November 2010 release "Loud."

Cowboy crews: This is what the kids are doing now

We don't know how or when it started, and wouldn't know what to properly call it. All we have to work off right now is this video recently commented by friend Anahi. Potentially, these are "cowboy crews" at Salinas High School on the Pacific slopes of California's San Joaquin Valley.

That's where generations of migrants from Mexico have traveled to pump out the crops that help make up the breadbasket of the United States. That's what my dad did. Migrants pick your fruit but also have kids. Kids go to high school. And make culture.

Here, they're taking banda music from Mexico and the Mexican diaspora in the U.S. and applying a dance style to it that involves the hopping and spinning of duranguense (previously explored in Intersections here) but with new acrobatic tricks. Mainly, flying into the air and to the ground and landing on your ass, then picking up the hopping right from there. The boys also do this break-dance-rooted diving move.

It looks competitive.

Oh not to worry. This kind of hyper-physicality is totally Mexi. Remember the "dos borrachos" dance clip that went viral a couple years ago? Realness.

But these cowboy crews? Are they big, big? Do they have them in L.A.? In other U.S. cities that are Mexicanizing? Atlanta? Salt Lake City? On Long Island? How are they socially organized? If you're reading this and in a cowboy crew, let us know what's up!

One of the best in blogs in L.A., Chimatli, caught duranguense early on. Here's the blog's dance category. Great stuff. Here, I've looked at tektonic arriving in Mexico City (but since kinda gone?), the cholo-cumbia-chuntaro current in the North, the mosh-pits of Ecatepec, and the (guarded) sonidero scene in and around Tepito.

¿Que te dieron los Reyes Magos?

I got nothing but a big-ass county fair in my hood, which is all I could ever really ask for from Melchor, Gaspar, and Baltazar -- the guy in black-face. The fair ended Thursday night. I miss it already. That's where I'd been eating, according to my calculations, about ten different kinds of mega-healthy fair snacks on each of the, oh, five or six nights I went.

Read my crónica on the Reyes Magos fair at the Alameda Central here. And check out a video I shot of the weird floating inflatable spheres and a little chunk of live audio.

The funnest -- most fun? -- Tilt-a-Whirl rides play that kind of Mexican tribal. The dudes who run them, Tepito-style to the core, stand on the track the whole way, hopping on your carrito to make it swing more furiously. They even, swear-to-god, grabbed the top of the car sometimes, in a flash, hurling themselves into the air so their legs hit the ceiling of the ride itself, then pressing back down, twirling you till it hurts.

(One of the dudes -- sensing something? -- lifted his shirt a little at our mixed crew while a-whirling and did a little gigolo gyrating move in between, with a smirk. Thanks a lot, guy.)

At the feria, I had tlacoyos, blueberries dipped in chocolate and chocolate sprinkles, esquites, freshly fried french fries, cotton candy, fresh-made hotcakes with cajeta, lechera and (more) sprinkles, and something called a jarrito loco. (No idea, but as long as it had ice, chile, lime, and salt in it, it was fine by me.)

I loved the excessive P.D.A., the little kids out all night with their faces painted like tigers or fairies, the liberating kitschiness and tackiness of it, the sense that this hood -- downtown -- belongs to the always-stylish and hyper-stimulated tepiteño kids who populate it and culturally "run" it. That's the way it is, pretty much today, tomorrow, and as long as Centro is Centro. The feria is our focal point.

We took a photo with the Reyes, yes. But didn't get on "The Inverter." Maybe next year?

Techgnosis? Occulture?

What lies at the intersections of popular culture and the occult? Mysticism and technology? Led Zeppelin? "Tron: Legacy"? La Santa Muerte? and I'm only beginning to find out. From a conversation with author Erik Davis, by Antonio Lopez, at Reality Sandwich:

I am not sure who exactly coined that term; there’s a British scholar who gets recognized for it but it was also online back in the day. It’s a good one. For me it means the place where popular culture meets the underground and very real currents of magic, mysticism, and the esoteric -- a stream that has always been with us, but which was rediscovered and reaffirmed, in not always healthy ways, in the 60s. “Occulture” is also a way to claim the occult or the religious fringe as a kind of cultural identity or playground, rather than an overly serious and hidden realm. I try to look at the mysteries from both ends -- I think its important to look at, say, the contemporary ayahausca scene as a scene, with dress codes and slang and rock stars, not as a sacred separate realm. (Even though sacred things can and do go down there.) At the same time I think it is important (or at least more rewarding) to look at our often junky world of late capitalist culture as a place where the seeds of insight and vision might be found, if only you look at the landscape in just the right way.

The whole thing is here. I've not read Erik Davis, but his titles are on the list for the next trip to the States, and RS is a new obsession. No better dosage of futurisms for the second decade of the "new" millenium ...

* Image via RS.

Calling it what it is: Mixtapes to remember from 2010 *

* Above, the kids of Salem, by the NYT.

In 2010 I began to appreciate the trip that a good electronic mixtape can be, in any genre. I had more interactions with more DJs/mixers/selecters and began to understand something about the mechanics and back-ending involved in mixing a good mixtape. In December, I collaborated on an experimental mixtape of my own.

Here are a few solid mixes I got wind of this year, might have blogged about here or there, and listened to over and over in different states.

THE YEAR OF SALEM:

Salem knocked me out this year. Actually, starting late last year, when their We Make it Good mix for The Fader in November immediately made an impact on my understanding of the limits of mashing. What is it? Witch house? Gothic hip-hop? Just ... fucked up?

Whatever you want to call it, Salem's sound draws from, among other things, drugs, Chicago, and DJ Screw. That there's been such extravagant strokes of blacklash in some sectors I think legitimizes their position on the avant garde. Salem allows music to feed on our collective dark side.

Then they got mentioned for the first time in an article in The New York Times, and I paused. How could this sound possibly be commercialized? From 2010, I got into Salem's I BURIED MY HEART INNA WOUNDED KNEE and Raver Stay Wif Me.

'I'm a cokehead and I won't deny it'

Here's how we know the drug war isn't going well for the U.S. and Mexico governments: the catchy narcocorrido about life as a fun-loving cokehead. It's "El Cocaino," by Los Buitres de Culiacán. They work among many popular narcocorrido bands whose genre always implies a dance with death.

"El Cocaino" tells about not sleeping, partying with "the plebians," dealing with coke-itch, drinking Buchanan's, and not owing anyone any money. The verses all end with the line: "Soy cocaino no se los niego," or "I'm a cokehead and I won't deny it."

I don't keep steady track on this scene but, to those who might a bit more, what are the other new and good -- as in, outrageous or scandalous -- narcocorridos that you are especially fond of? Besides the golden classics, of course?

Looks like Los Buitres have a busy touring schedule across Mexico, too, hitting this month and into next year Michoacan, Mexico City, Oaxaca, Tijuana on the border, and on Dec. 22, a "private event" in Sonora.

* MORE: My post at La Plaza today, "White House: Cocaine market in U.S. under 'stress'." A cokey heart attack trend in Sydney? Seriously?

White House: Cocaine market in U.S. under 'stress'

On the sound of Mexico City *

* Yeah, it's noisy. Above, Eje Central, by Daniel Perlin.

What does Mexico City sounds like, right now? Maybe, from at least two particular perspectives, a little like this. It's "The Sound of Mexico City," a mixtape I co-curated at the invitation of sound designer Daniel Perlin on the soundscape of D.F., for the Italian design and urbanism magazine Domus. Perlin led the project and mixed the mix.

Throughout, I read a portion of "Down & Delirious in Mexico City" in which I rhapsodize on the city's noise. (It's the first time I've read any section of the book for audio online publication, so I'm a little nervous right now. Will the listener/reader get this particular excerpt's sense of exaggeration, the overblown sound-pyschosis, the humor?)

In addition, there's a pretty haunting piece in there by sound artist Rogelio Sosa. It includes the infamous clip of former President Gustavo Diaz Ordaz saying he was "most proud" of his role in the crackdown on the 1968 student movement.

Perlin and I had to turn around the mix pretty quickly, but I think we managed to string together a decent sample of various musical genres that define the D.F. soundscape right now, cumbia, tribal guarachero, ska, rockabilly, hip-hop. Thank you to the artists whom I personally contacted and agreed to supply a track. They are ...

The Kumbia Queers, whose garage-y lo-fi sound captures a certain "right now" aesthetic that bridges cumbia, punk, and queerness -- particularly of the female sort. The Rebel Cats, the slick maestros of Mexican rockabilly; they play tight and sport a good look. MC Luka, one of many hiphoperos doing it big in the Gran Tenochtitlan; I particularly like Luka because he addresses transnational cholo/barrio culture -- and spits so good overall. Sonido Sonoramico, one of several cumbia bands who play somewhere in town just about every week of the year, easily in the elite of this street subculture. And finally Maldita Vecindad, true OGs of the old-school ska/fusion scene in Mexico City, which in my view operates as an umbrella for many subsequent genres and groups. They've been at it for two decades now and remain committed to a sociopolitical vision of music and its ability to liberate and build community. Respeto.

Perlin gathered the hot tracks by friends Toy Selectah, Afrodita, Sonidero Nacional, Erick Rincon & Alan Rosales, Sekreto feat. Morenito de Fuego, and Sonido Espectral.

In the near future, with more time than this project allowed, I'll be linking up more artists who I think define the sound of Mexico City as I've lived it these past three years. I'll also be posting, soon, on my "Top Ten Mixtapes of 2010."

Nos vemos en la calle, cabrones!

The hottest keyboard hook in ages, from the islands

A few months ago a friend studying medicine in Dominica came back to Mexico City and said that this is what everyone on the island was bumping in their rides. It's "Hold You" (or "Hold Yuh") by Gyption, a Jamacian reggae singer.

Just a few seconds in, and who isn't like, 'That's the best keyboard hook I've heard since like forever.' And then you get up and start dancing. At least that's how it went down over here.

Nicki Minaj, our Trinidadian dream via Queens, must've reacted the same way. Here's her remix. Los Rakas, too. The new Panamanian act out of Oakland did their twist on Gyption's original bounce, adding another nice layer.

All three: Yes, please.

Twin Shadow, the new wave of New Wave

Sometimes it sounds like The Cure, sometimes like Depeche Mode, sometimes like Duran Duran, even David Bowie, or The Smiths or Morrissey. Yet at nearly every moment in almost every track, the sound of Twin Shadow feels totally new.

Twin Shadow, reaching way back while at the same time sounding like something from way ahead, is the new wave of New Wave. It is a fully resolved sound, always the mark of excellence, and in my view the most promising and satisfying debut in a single act since TV on the Radio.

Above, the retro-ized video for "Castles in the Snow," one of the best tracks on Forget, the debut LP packed with good ones. (Looks like "Nadie es Inocente," doesn't it?)

The frontman, George Lewis Jr., was born in the Dominican Republic and raised in Florida, where he was sometimes "the only black kid."

Trippy light show on the Zocalo

One word on the "espectaculo de luces" happening every night on the Zocalo this past week: Wow. There is no other way to describe watching the Metropolitan Cathedral and the National Palace and the whole night sky above light up in the trippiest illuminations imaginable.

The "Yo Mexico" show is up on the plaza at 9 p.m. nightly until Nov. 23, in honor of the centennial of the Revolution. It's an off-the-charts huge production, with lights, audio, pyrotechnics, fireworks, and a whole chorus of live dancers. I'm wondering why more people haven't caught it.

Again, let me emphasize, it's trippy. And quite historically dubious in some parts. ... But that's a future post.

What was that thing?

Read more here.

Above Morelia *

This is the view above Morelia, spreading out there in the distance, from the off-the-charts Hotel Villa Montaña, in the leafy mountains to the south of the city. I'm not staying here, no way. I merely went up this morning to conduct interviews with some of the filmmakers behind "Revolucion."

I'm in Morelia for the film festival. My first time, my first time in Michoacan, too, and per my practice I am soaking up as much as possible. (I repeat.)

You can read my coverage this week at La Plaza. Always blogging, always grinding. * More later.

Listening to Bolivia, from anywhere

My job entails writing about places I have yet to visit. That's life in the news-blogging world, where we rely on the magical sci-fi portal that is the Internet to transmit us, you might say, to locations where interesting or urgent news is happening.

Searching, I found FM Bolivia. Call me seduced. The site streams a live radio feed of Bolivian cumbia and more, round-the-clock. It's an Andean aural paradise. I turn it on and don't flick it off for hours. There's also a news page.

* Previously, "Evo!"