It's impossible to experience any undue tension or stress while listening to Calexico. Despite time spent in Los Angeles, where they met, founders Joey Burns (vocals, guitar) and John Convertino (drums) produce sounds more reflective of their sun-blasted Tucson environs. Since spinning off Howe Gelb's indomitable Giant Sand and forming their own collective, their songs have always been too hushed, too much like lullabies not to soothe the most savage breast, and
Carried to Dust marks their most relaxed and confident effort to date. Burns and Convertino pursue such a mellow, yet expansive muse that they blur the lines between indie rock, imaginary soundtracks, and ethnographic explorations. As with the work of Douglas McCombs (Tortoise) and Sam Beam (Iron & Wine), who contribute to their sixth long-player, this isn't such a bad thing (the duo previously collaborated with Beam on 2005’s
In the Reins). What they lack in edge or, God forbid,
trendiness, the band makes up for in beauty and creativity. Note, for instance, the cascading keyboard figures of "Two Silver Trees" or the way toy piano and chimes entwine on lovely closer "Contention City." Calexico don't make music to get the party started, but to bring it to a warm and satisfying conclusion.
--Kathleen C. Fennessy It's probable that many still think of Tucson, Arizona's Calexico as an indie-rock band dabbling in the fields of country and mariachi music, but so skilfully played and richly textured is
Carried to Dust, the sixth album from Joey Burns and John Convertino's long-running collective, that it feels churlish to think of them as anything less than the real deal. Uniting players including Iron and Wine's Sam Beam, Tortoise's Doug McCombs, Spanish singer-guitarist Amparo Sanchez and Iowa songwriter Pieta Brown,
Carried to Dust forsakes the rockier, somewhat conventional tones of previous album
Garden Ruin, harking back instead to 2003's career high watermark
Feast of Wire. While diverse in genre, crucially it doesn't feel so, Calexico lassoing myriad styles and making them their own. So whether drifting the plains in true mariachi style (“Insparacion"), playing serene, lap-steel country (“Hole in Your Hand (Bend in the Road)"), or whipping up a political storm on “Victor Jara's Hand"--tribute to an activist unjustly killed by the Chilean state police in the '70s––
Carried to Dust feels both adventurous and comfortable on whatever turf it chooses to walk.
––Louis Pattison