I Love You from the Bottom of My Pencil Case
On a spring morning or was it afternoon, I bounded down the stairs to my mailbox. I peeked in the cavernous metal hole. I felt lucky. There it sat like a baby on a nunnery doorstep–Los Femurs Modern Mexico. When I shot Rob Femur a myspace message asking for a copy of the new Femursí CD, I intended to write a quick review and shop it around to various music publications. But after hearing their new power-pop tracks, I knew Usounds was the only home for my yet-unwritten review.
What once was a one-name band, Femurs, had mysteriously gained the masculine, Spanish article ďLos.Ē Curious. Youíd think band mates Rob and Colin ran away to Mexico and were adopted by a mariachi band. Since working in a kitchen with two brothers from Mexico, I had gained an interest in Mexican culture. Maybe itís Mexicoís influence on The West Coast, but nevertheless, Iím digging it. Everyone is doing it. I mean take for example Black Lips live album Los Valientes del Mundo Nuevo. These guys traveled from Atlanta to Tijuana to play a show and pay tribute to Latino/Mexi-punk roots. Mexico is rad. Itís punk rock!
The tracks on this promo copy center around relationships, both plutonic and sexual. Songs written about girls. Mind you, songs about girls carry universal appeal. If it werenít for girls, then we male artists (and lesbian artists) wouldnít have problems to write about. What is it that girls (or senoritas) do to torture the mind of an artist? Do they lead us into an alcohol-riddled abyss from which we claw ourselves out of by writing words and making music? Remember that time your girlfriend threw a frozen burrito at you, you ducked, and the burrito smashed your favorite LP? Rob and Colin Femur have written songs that you can relate to. Oh, no! How did this review become so deep–even too deep? I should wrap it up here.
And now, buy the new Los Femurs CD. All proceeds go towards fixing their van that broke down somewhere south of Mexico City. I mean the scenery there is breathtaking; Iíve seen the postcards. But they have hella homesickness and crave clam chowder.