Blue State Jukebox: Consuelo Luz’s Missing Water

Tony Peyser's "Blue State Jukebox"

November 17, 2005		ARCHIVES
Consuelo Luz’s Missing Water Tony Peyser's "Blue State Jukebox" Review -- November, 2005 Edition ---> GET YOUR COPY HERE <--- In my September column, I reviewed Eliza Gilkyson’s wonderful album, Paradise Hotel. In the middle of October, I got an e-mail from a singer friend of hers named Consuelo Luz. She said she was a fan of The Blue State Jukebox and suggested I might like a song posted on her web site. Luz did not ask me to listen to, let alone review, her latest album. On reflection, that struck me as deeply un-American --- and I mean that in the best possible way. Those of us born and bred in these United States are often a loud, pushy lot, prone to hawking our wares, goods and services in an in-your-face manner. And yet here was someone doing the exact opposite. I wrote Luz back and asked her to please send her most recent CD. While waiting for it to arrive, I checked Luz out on, as our fearless leader likes to say, the "internets." The album she was sending, Missing Water, was her third recording. She was raised in Greece, the Philippines, Spain, Italy and Peru by Chilean/Cuban parents. Luz lives in New Mexico but these international markers show how her talent has been fostered by global influences, which also include Spanish Basque, Sephardic and Mapuche Indian. When I later played Missing Water for the first time, it made an immediate impact in my house. First of all, my wife walked into the room and wanted to know who I was listening to. Kathy’s very particular about voices and announced this was one she really liked. Second of all, my son was also an instant Luz convert, too. Jeremy, you may have heard me mention, has autism. He loves music but it can be difficult to persuade him to listen to something new. I put this CD on and asked if he liked it. He said yes without any hesitation. If music can reach Jeremy that quickly, there’s definitely something to it. I accidentally started on the second track, “I Want To Love You,” where the opening line is, “There are flowers growing out of my body …” The song is about six minutes long and Luz takes her languid time to start the chorus that sings the title line. At that moment, I closed my eyes and wasn’t sure if I was listening to a Consuelo Luz song or a Frida Kahlo painting. (The Kahlo canvas that came to mind was “Roots” where the artist is seen reclining with leaves on branches sprouting from her chest.) I was struck by how Luz’s lovely lyrics come from a deep, artistic place of her own creation --- not some Tin Pan Alley where tunesmiths named Sid and Bernie are doing June-spoon variations. This is hallowed music that will linger deep into your soul. Most of Luz’s joyful songs last around five minutes or longer, which gives you a sense that she’s thinking big. But like the aforementioned Kahlo in her paintings, Luz always manages to have some auditory equivalent of white space. This gives the songs air to breathe and room to move. “Tearing Down” starts out like a cosmic cabaret song, thoughtful, wary and melancholy. But a minute into it, she ratchets up the pace and gives you a sense that there are hills and valleys to come. I love these lines: “When you find out what you want/Is exactly what you are/And if want what is not you/You won’t get very far.” (These insightful lines are universally applicable except here in Los Angeles, because everyone in show business wants exactly what they’re not. This is why therapists, personal growth movements and 12-step programs flourish in the City Of Angels like kudzu in the South and terrorists in Southern Iraq.) A minute later, Luz reprises the increased tempo but lets that ebb and flow, too. Another minute passes but this time, there’s no turning back. The Latin flavor comes front and center musically and vocally as she suddenly starts singing in Spanish. And then a lively electric guitar solo snakes in that would get a tip of the hat from Carlos Santana. I can’t listen to “Tearing Down” without winding up with my mouth involuntarily half-open in amazement at all the stops along the way that Luz somehow manages to make. If you’re wondering if this is going to be the first Blue State Jukebox column without a political song, stop wondering. There is one here that’s gotten airplay in the U.K. and it’s a doozey. “How Much Can Our Hearts Take” is an aching look at the atrocities that have so often wreaked havoc in our world. Luz sorrowfully wonders how the earth and those of us still on it literally have survived. While she lists these horrific events in an almost reportorial manner, she manages to push to the foreground the human details which statistics alone can’t reveal: “100,000 Kurds ... mothers’ cries/200,000 Bosnians ... children’s eyes/800,000 Rwandans ... even the angels hide.” About two minutes in, Luz shifts gears entirely and her son, Max Paz, strides in with cheeky attitude to spare and raps for a full minute about the importance of standing up and speaking out. After a brief interlude singing in Spanish, Luz tosses in that elusive commodity called Hope. She does this by reciting (to cheers, no less) a litany of positive developments showing up in or our world like advances in solar power and a Wisconsin school superintendent who cut his own job instead of a teacher’s. Luz feels the hurt of modern life and is proudly wearing her compassionate heart on her sizeable sleeve. A track like this could not exist if the 1960s hadn’t happened and proves that generations intersect in unexpected but ongoing ways. (The only song I ever heard that remotely reminded me of this was on Simon & Garfunkel’s 1966 album, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme. “7 O’Clock News/Silent Night,” had Paul and Art singing a cherished Christmas carol over an actual news broadcast which referenced sobering events like opposition to civil rights, student protest and an escalating foreign war. Gee, who can relate to that kinda stuff now?) Also check out “We Shall Embrace The Earth” where Luz shifts into a rollicking R&B mode. The horn section rings out like ones from classic Southern Soul tracks and yet there’s still a south of the border feel to the proceedings. Shall we call this Stax-Mex? Why the heck not? Consuelo Luz is a reminder that there’s a lot of great music out in the world which is just waiting be discovered. This CD is a warmhearted message in a bottle with 11 tracks in many colors. Luz treads a fine line by touching on World, New Age and folk protest genres. One wrong move and we’re into something precious, pretentious and unlistenable. But Luz walks this path very carefully, keeps her sure-footing throughout and makes it look easy. Missing Water is the kind of album that’s right for pretty much any month but especially this one. Thanksgiving is that time on the calendar where family and friends get together without the pressure of racing around for gifts. Wherever you happen to go for turkey this November, you might want to rethink bringing along the obligatory bottle of wine or bouquet of flowers. You can instead offer your host something just as intoxicating and beautiful but with a longer shelf life --- like the latest recording by Consuelo Luz. ---> GET YOUR COPY HERE <--- * * * Tony Peyser writes political poems every day for BuzzFlash and draws editorial cartoons twice weekly. His new music column, The Blue State Jukebox, is now a monthly feature for BuzzFlash. Mr. Peyser (who loves referring to himself in the third person) is shamelessly using BuzzFlash as a springboard to help him land his dream job: becoming the new Washington Bureau Chief for Talon News.