The Cavern
Rock & Words
NADA DEL HOMBRE ME ES AJENO (La Revo, 1972)
Artist: La Revolución De Emiliano Zapata (C)
Recording Dates: 1971-72
Release Date: 1972, MEX
Record Label: Polydor
Producer: La Revo
Rating: 7.5
Era: 70's Hispanoamerican Rock
Subgenre: 70's Hispanoamerican Rock
Best Song: In the Middle of the Rain o Petra
Tracklist: 1) In the Middle of the Rain (Enmedio de la Lluvia); 2) Now Listen This Song (Ahora Escucha Esta Canción); 3) Petra y sus Camaradas; 4) Again (Otra Vez); 5) Preludio a la Felicidad; 6) Fatman (El Kuino); 7) So Long Ago (Hace Mucho Tiempo); 8) I Dig It.
From the album's pretentious title, something starts to feel off. La Revo's second album isn't a disaster, but a shift away from the hard, direct rock that was enough for their debut to make them one of the most influential and representative bands of early Mexican rock is already noticeable. What happened to La Revo?
The album, besides being titled "Nothing of Man Is Alien to Me," had the subtitle "Magdalena's True Vocation." It turns out this is the soundtrack to the film of the same name, "Magdalena's True Vocation," directed by Jaime Humberto Hermosillo and starring Angélica María, then considered "Mexico's Sweetheart," and Carmen Montejo. Magdalena is played by Angélica María, a young and beautiful secretary who represents the puritanical side of Mexican society at the time. She goes to a party and meets a rocker named Emeterio, or "Eme" to his friends. This character is played by… Yes, you guessed it, Javi Martín del Campo, the guitarist from La Revo! The film might seem predictable with the typical entanglements of the innocent girl who falls for the rock star jerk, but suddenly there are some interesting and improbable twists, including the montage of the Avándaro Festival, where the protagonist's band is supposedly playing, and in which the rest of La Revo appear, their members having minor roles. In the end, the seemingly pure and innocent Magdalena discovers her dark side and becomes a wild musical and sexual diva, thus finding her new calling. In short, it's a typical Mexican 70s flick, but with this backdrop, some aspects of the album, which is a kind of soundtrack for the film, become clear.
Why am I dwelling on this? Because the film itself would end up having a huge impact on the band's fate. Without fear of being wrong, I can say that in 1971, with their debut album, La Revo became the biggest band in Mexico. Not by luck, but by merit. Their self-titled album is so good that it won awards and gold records in the USA and Europe. They say (though I can't confirm this) that if you still ask older people in Germany about La Revo, they smile and start humming "Nasty Sex."
Unfortunately, becoming such a rapid phenomenon backfired. They gained too much attention, so much so that they were approached to be part of this film and contribute to the soundtrack. I suppose it was too tempting at the time. And in a way, it was the modus operandi of pop bands in the '60s, not only in Mexico, but all over the world. Even the Beatles did it, right? But Revo wasn't a pop band, they were a rock band!
The first striking thing is the evident musical softening on the album, and I suppose that, despite the transgressive nature of the film's plot, it was a request from the producers: tone it down a bit and make a somewhat more "accessible" album. There are still rock tracks, which are the highlights, but there are too many ballads—very generic, cloying, repetitive, forgettable, and full of clichés. There are flutes that, rather than recalling Jethro Tull, sound like birds chirping merrily at dawn; too many female backing vocals by the gorgeous Paty Ayala and Marilú Mairfufa, which at times make the band sound like a bad combination of Jefferson Airplane and Big Brother & The Holdin’ Co.
The second issue is that the film and the album overloaded La Revo's schedule. They had a ton of performances, but they were forced to set a deadline for finishing the album, which obviously also affected the quality of the songs. But the most important thing is that, being the most important band in Mexico, they couldn't play at the Avándaro Rock and Wheels Festival, held on September 11, 1971. That festival would become the Mexican Woodstock. Perhaps that's why the film was edited, using real scenes from the festival and the audience that went to see Dug Dug's, Fachada de Piedra, El Ritual, La División del Norte, Peace & Love, Three Souls in my Mind, and other key bands of the time, and they "stitched" in La Revo's hypothetical performance.
And third, once they tasted the sweetness of the "mainstream" and softer sounds, the band would end up taking a much more commercial turn with their third album in 1975, and would go down a path of saccharine pop ballads in the 80s, which is why it's considered the first betrayal of Mexican Rock.
The album is much more produced, but the fact that there was more money than on the debut isn't necessarily a good thing. It loses that garage, raw sound that highlighted the Hard Rock of the debut, and the rockier tracks seem closer to the acid sounds of Jefferson Airplane with long jams than to their previous album. It has its moments, and Javi Martín del Campo still has flashes of brilliance, but there's nothing that even remotely resembles "Nasty Sex," and apart from the first track, it seems they're not even trying.
The album kicks off with "In the Middle of the Rain", an epic, nearly eight-minute track with hints of acid rock and complex vocal harmonies between Carlos and the backing vocalists. The song is excellent, perhaps the best on the album. It begins with an almost Gregorian chant, solemn intro. Then come Javi's guitar riffs, very Townshend-esque, which form the main riff that will be repeated. The song picks up speed with Paco Martínez Ornelas's rapid and precise bass playing, which sweeps across his entire arm like a machine gun and delivers a truly outstanding performance. Antonio Cruz's drumming is also phenomenal, somewhat chaotic, but it keeps the tempo and the ebb and flow of intensity perfectly in tune. Rojas's vocal melody is catchy and elaborate, creating small climaxes. Even his English pronunciation has improved considerably, although the lyrics remain simple. At 2:20, we have a fiery guitar solo from Javi, launching high notes with his signature style and showcasing impressive speed. The song lengthens, and suddenly the guitar interplay, that carefree style, and the female backing vocals create a Jeffersonian, epic, and majestic feel. Towards the end comes another frenetic guitar solo, more technical than the first, closing with a vocal harmonies similar to the intro. The album opens on a high note, and at first glance, it seems like we're dealing with an album of the same caliber as the self-titled one.
The illusion vanishes immediately. "Now Listen to this Song" is like being in heaven and suddenly crashing to earth. It strongly reminds me of Minnie Riperton's "Lovin' You," that insufferable 1975 track with "Lalalalalás" and birdsong in the background, which could very well be not only the cheesiest song in history, but the worst song in the universe. The comparison, as you can imagine, isn't favorable. The song is slow, with lazy acoustic guitar riffs, a cloying flute fluttering through the track, and Carlos Valle singing (the second guitarist; I suppose Rojas refused to sing "this") in a tearful, almost reciting manner at times. In the choruses, a female voice adds a saccharine high note (AAAAND I close my eyes…). If I weren't sure this album was from '72, I'd say they plagiarized Riperton. It could have been the other way around. The worst part is that it drags on for six minutes. No, actually, the worst part is that this isn't La Revo's worst song; other, more unlistenable atrocities would appear on later albums, but back then they still considered themselves a rock band and weren't trying to sound like OTI ballad singers, so they have no excuse.
Next up is “Petra y Sus Camaradas”, a furious rocker with a massive, guitar-driven intro that reminds me of “A Little Less Conversation,” with the difference that Elvis's original 1968 version lacks the prominent guitars of the 2002 remix. Javi Martín del Campo not only shines on guitar, but he also seems to be the one singing, with tremendous attitude and a more raw, shouted delivery. At 1:20, we get a tremendous two-guitar solo, where they initially respond to each other, then Martín del Campo takes the lead for a while, and they return to that exquisite dialogue where the two guitars shout at one another. The song has a great, festive mood, with a psychedelic bassline, Latin rock percussion (without sounding like Santana) that even includes a conga solo, and Hendrixian psychedelic undertones. If you don't intend to buy the album, I recommend at least looking up this song on YouTube, so you can understand why this band is still so highly regarded in Mexico, even despite their later betrayal of rock.
Next comes "Again (Otra Vez)", a ballad with a piano arpeggio and, once again, the flute taking the melodic lead for long stretches. It's not as saccharine as "Now Listen This Song," or at least you don't risk a diabetic coma with this one, but it's a kind of copy of any of the pastoral themes from King Crimson's first two albums, repeating the dramatic figures over and over, stretching for four minutes, without direction and lacking the climactic moments of Fripp's band. In the movie, it's sung by Angélica María.
Next, we have "Preludio a la Felicidad", surprisingly sung in Spanish. Later, La Revo would record their albums entirely in Spanish, but this first, more rock-oriented phase marks their first time doing so. It's a generic ballad that they attempt to dress up in a complex way with arpeggios, a cello that takes on the mournful role of the flute in previous tracks, and three-part vocal harmonies. The melody is very bland, catchy no doubt, but commercial, pop, and bland. And the lyrics are a kind of anthem to self-improvement, which I so detest, filled with clichés that at least in English are disguised. At one point, they're rhyming verses with verbs in the infinitive (to distance oneself, to fly) and are full of cheap tricks. Perhaps the highlight is the complex vocal harmony of at least three voices that blend very well without the girls needing any help. But more than a "Prelude to Happiness," it's a Prelude to the Mediocrity into which they would later fall.
We're back with the La Revo we love, with "Fatman (El Kuino)". It's essentially a rock & roll version of the 60s Batman theme, but the attitude it brings is tremendous. Paco Martínez lays down a great bass riff that carries the whole song, spanning the length and breadth of his bass. The female backing vocals in the choruses sound good this time, complementing the music rather than stealing the show, except at 3:15 where one of the girls goes wild and channels her inner Janis Joplin during her solo. We get a great, bluesy harmonica solo with long passages reminiscent of the Stones in their early days, followed by a bass solo with a crunchy effect, and the drums bring a killer rhythm. The guitars create arrangements with fast chords as a backdrop, but without taking center stage, and there's only one guitar solo until 5:20, which then continues until the end. It seems like Javi decided to give everyone else a chance to shine on this track. It's a very upbeat track, spreading good humor with its blend of blues and rock and roll.
"So Long Ago" is the best of the hippie-folk songs. Although, of course, it would have been better six years earlier. This time, the flute crackles with a bit more finesse, the vocal melody is more pleasing, with beautiful swaying rhythms and blending well with the female vocals. Martín del Campo adds beautiful slide guitar arrangements that lend a psychedelic and majestic, somewhat Harrison-esque feel. There are tambourines and a beautiful violin arrangement in the final section that highlight that Summer of Love atmosphere. It's a kind of combination of Jefferson Airplane and the Velvet Underground that's quite enjoyable. The violin adds a touch of country flair.
The album closes with "I Dig It", in which they return to the festive, Latin style of "Fatman," but it feels somewhat more generic, like a rework of the same song, and the backing vocals are rather annoying. They remind me somewhat of Big Brother & The Holdin’ Company on their first album, when Sam Andrew was the lead vocalist and Janis seemed determined to steal the spotlight. There's no balance. The instrumental sections are more of a jam than a solo, though they're not bad. Javi plays a decent guitar solo, although it feels a bit too improvised and directionless for my taste. The band stretches on for 10 minutes in this psychedelic, Latin fusion, sounding more like Santana than Big Brother in the non-vocal parts. Anyway, 10 minutes is too long if it doesn't have the spark of "Nasty Sex." And no, it doesn't come close. Still, I wish they had continued in this vein.
Anyway. The album isn't bad; when they really put their all into it, they truly shine. Unfortunately, this is only in two tracks and a few flashes in others. It's not a bad effort in itself, especially considering the multitude of circumstances that affected them. On the other hand, they should have limited the girls' participation much more. Not all the songs benefit from Paty and Marilú's backing vocals, although they don't have bad voices, and they're definitely not ugly! Even so, while they show glimpses of their true potential, they also foreshadow the lamentable level they would reach a few years later. Two tracks are truly awful, so much so that one could have inspired the worst song in the universe... no offense to Minnie Riperton. The album that truly cemented La Revo's legendary status was their self-titled debut. This one is only worthwhile if you're a die-hard fan and want to follow the evolution of their sound, although it does contain two very good tracks that deserve at least one listen. I will continue to wonder: What would have become of Revo if they hadn't participated in the film?
By Corvan
Sep/26/2013
