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By Michael Henningsen
Alibi Value Scale Formula:
JULY 28, 1997: Let me put it this way, Vallejo sold 5,000 copies of their independently released debut about as quickly as the records hit the shelves. It was the buzz created by their debut indie single, Just Another Day, that resulted in such feverish demand for a full-length by this Austin-based powerhouse. After said LP sold out, TVT Records swept in and signed the band immediately, catapulting them from local favorites to nationally recognized artists. Their story begins a decade ago when three brothers--twins A.J. on vocals and guitar, Alejandro on drums and younger brother Omar on bass--formed a band in Birming- ham, Ala., where their family had moved from the brothers' birthplace of Wharton, Texas. Their childhoods included the rich Latin culture of their Guatemalan mother and Mexican-American father, as well as the music of many diverse artists including Santana and the Tijuana Brass. Known early on as the Vallejo Brothers, they dropped the suffix when friend and guitarist Bruce Castleberry joined the group.
These guys are young, hungry and capable of setting the room on fire. Their debut is well worth your while and may be just the thing your stereo has been lacking.
The press blurb on the inside of this record (penned by High Society Senior Editor J.R. Taylor) made Smart Brown Handbag sound interesting enough--something akin to the perfect soundtrack to a David Lynch-inspired "roamantic" en-counter. I can see that, I guess, but I'm confused by the sheer diversity and number of images this record inspires in my mind and the fact that few of them have to do with the aforementioned weirdo or romance. Visions of Steely Dan are dancing through my head, for instance, but not because Smart Brown Handbag sound anything like them. There's definitely some '80s "ballad wave" at work here--heavy chorus on the guitars, thick British-sounding baritones intermingled with each other and with vocals of the female persuasion. Whatever else is going on here, and there's plenty (including the best guitar solo I've heard since 1993 on "I Forgot To Call") is beyond cohesive description, which would explain why all of the press that came with the records sounds like excerpts from someone's dream diary. What I'm getting at here is that I came this close (imagine my fat index finger barely a centimeter from my fat thumb) to hating this record. Usually, when I hear cello in tandem with highly effected guitars I think to myself, "Please, God ... not Cutting Crew!" But Lullabies for Infidels grew on me quite quickly. And although I'm still not sure how to accurately describe it, let's just say that all those John Hughes films in the '80s and countless remixes of "I'll Stop the World" helped paint a distorted picture of the genre Smart Brown Handbag mines on this record. And out of the ore, they manage to smelt much preciousness. At first glance, even a diamond can look like glass. Think about it. |
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