“I insisted that we make a collaborative album and he always said no”
Collaborating not only allows artists to relax, but also grows the bonds of friendship between musicians. In this case, even between countries. The result is “Tovar Noise” (Ansonia Records, 26), collaboration between Camilo Lara (Mexican Institute of Sound) and Eblis Álvarez (Meridian Brothers).
“I insisted that we make a collaborative album and he always told me no. So, I stopped insisting.” Camilo Lara says the phrase with the half smile of someone who knows that the best things happen when you stop forcing destiny. Laughing, the leader of the Mexican Institute of Sound summarizes a relationship that had been moving for years between admiration and closeness with Eblis Álvarez, the brain behind Meridian Brothers. It was an affinity translated into friendship and long conversations that, due to a kind of inertia, had never crystallized into a joint project. “I knew Eblis’s music and his creative circle. I was very interested in everything that was happening in Colombia, its cultural movements, both modern and ancient,” Camilo explains about that initial magnetism. But music has its own laws of gravity and the encounter did not occur due to pressure, but rather displacement: Eblis began to spend more time in Mexico, soaking up its tropical tradition. “That’s when he invited me to do something together. I immediately said yes.”
The wall of Eblis’s sound laboratory had finally given way. “Let’s say that I’m not very given to doing these collaborations, beyond remixes,” He also acknowledges with a laugh, confirming the nature of a solitary creator who prefers total control of his machines. “It has always cost me a lot of work. This collaboration is the result of a friendship. Whenever I went to Mexico I met with Camilo, but to drink mezcals, beers and talk about music and life all the time”. It was in that relaxed space where the idea of “Tovar Noise” It began to take a shape that was as diffuse as it was attractive. The starting point was clear, although the result ended up deviating towards other directions. “It started with the idea of that moment of transition in tropical music, when it stops being orchestras and begins to use synthesizers, organs and guitars with effects, especially with figures like Rigo Tovar,” Camilo details. “When we met, that was our mold, then in practice it ended up becoming something else, which is very nice,” Eblis agrees.
“There are styles that have many rules, and using those rules to make another game is very fun”
This deviation is clearly perceived in cuts like “Danzón 8bits”, in which tradition is reconfigured from a retrofuturistic approach. “Danzón is a very particular type of rhythm,” Camilo details. “It is danced in a very punctual way. There are styles that have many rules, and using those rules to make another game is very fun. It’s like the Noma culinary thing: let’s make a deconstructed lobster.”
This logic is repeated throughout the album: taking a danzón, a cha-chachá or a bolero to twist them and take them to a blurred geography. “The cumbia that Eblis is used to is not the same as what I am used to.” From there arises a mixture that has more to do with the search than with the reconstruction. “The interesting thing was finding our own voice in other rhythms. We made a playlist, we imagined what the music was like at that time and we wanted to make an album that was that starting point, something I don’t know if futuristic, but that had our DNA”. In “IRA (IA)”, this game of mirrors becomes especially evident. “It has the structure of the bolero,” explains Eblis about the technical architecture of the topic. “We took a drum machine again, we programmed it so that it sounded like a kind of bolero, and the harmonic progression is just like a bolero, but with distortions in the intervals.”
The balance between the two was a constant. “Yes, of course, we combined fifty-fifty, each one with his own vision. The first time I got a sound like that of cumbia was through the interaction with Camilo, because of his influence, definitely,” Eblis admits regarding the song “Cumbia fantasy.” For Camilo, what was relevant was the learning process itself. “It was exciting to see Eblis reflected in many things and see myself in others, and suddenly understand that you can do something with someone else. I make a lot of music alone, and Eblis probably does too, so achieving something that has dialogue was important.”
If the album is a fascinating anomaly, Beck’s appearance was the icing on the cake; a carom of crossed admirations. “Beck is a big Meridian Brothers fan.”Camilo confesses proudly. The connection arose organically, far from the offices. “We coincided working on some of his songs, which at some point will see the light of day, and we always listened to Eblis. One day I proposed that we get together and he accepted immediately.” The trip to the Californian’s creative bunker was the finishing touch that the work needed, even though the visit forced the album to be delayed. In the piece “Cumbia Beckniana”, the American’s guitar enters like a rusty blade, with that rough and ungainly tone that refers directly to the aesthetics of “Loser”, and then connects with the cadence of cumbia. “Eblis asked him to play just that type of guitar to find that DNA that we both really like,” explains Camilo. “It really was an improvisation and with a lot of audacity”Eblis endorses. “Ritmo Babilonia” was also born from that meeting: “a song we had already worked on. It was very exciting to be with him.”
“Tovar Noise” It is the result of this collision of talents, a sound map that blurs borders to create its own ecosystem. In an industry of prefabricated collaborations at a cache pace, this meeting stands out for its honesty. It’s that fascinating anomaly that we mentioned at the beginning: the reminder that the avant-garde of tropical music is still drinking mezcals and talking about life, not in an office.
