Music News

Guitarist Jimmy LaValle would rather talk about art, TV shows, movies—even video games—than music. But since his band, Tristeza, happens to be playing Minneapolis soon and to inform you about their show, I convinced him to discuss it with me.
LaValle and bandmates Luis Hermosillo (bass), Jimmy Lehner (drums), Christopher Sprague (guitar) and Stephen Swesey (keyboards) hail from San Diego, and their indie lineage is rich and diverse; early efforts in The Locust, Crimson Curse, Swing Kids and Gogogo Airheart have earned Tristeza a devoted following.

But when Tristeza came to fruition three years ago, the music they started making was very unlike their other bands. The most obvious contrast is the fact that they’re an instrumental band. Despite their hard-edged roots, Tristeza began creating songs driven by beautiful otherwordly melodies.
tristeza.gif (56528 bytes)

“Well, nothing inspired us to be instrumental, it kind of just happened,” says LaValle. “We started out playing a few shows as an instrumental band, and remained that way. Now however, [playing instrumental] seems to have more meaning to us. Songs are interpreted however the listener wants, and all songs have our own meanings individually in the band.”

Not long after, 7-inch record format singles began to surface (only to quickly sell out and claim out-of-print-and-valuable status), and their first full-length, Spine and Sensory, came swiftly on their heels. Those 7-inches were Bottlenekk Distribution’s top selling releases in 1998 and ’99. To an outsider’s eye, Tristeza’s luck just snowballed, but in reality it was their radical tour schedule that put them on the map.

The band have literally been around the world, hitting up places not just all over North America, but Europe and Japan as well.
“Touring to a certain level has to be done,” says LaValle. “It has to be done, to get your name out, to get a fanbase. I guess those are the things you gain from touring, as well as a lot of personal growth and understanding with others in the group.

“If you want to play sold-out arenas, then you’d better start an already-been-done, generic rock band.”
—Jimmy LaValle

    “It’s not always fun and games,” he continues. “It is hard work. It is a low paying job. An indie label is not going to pay your rent, or put you on a salary, or even give you tour support. You are on your own on the road, making your own money and paying your own bills. Making the long drives, driving overnight when you’re tired from playing a show the same night, sleeping on hard wood floors or couches, eating shit fast food at truck stops ... I guess that really all pertains to touring, but that is a big part of being a band!”

    LaValle understands that not everyone can appreciate the finer points of touring and trying to live off the meager financial rewards it brings.

    “A kid in New York said the only thing we cared about was money,” he remembers. “That is a big insult—we don’t live off the band. We don’t make a ton of cash, and we all work shit jobs at home or don’t work at all because we are touring too much to have a job and sell most of our possessions just to get by.”

    But even if fabulous riches don’t come to the band, they do have the satisfaction of knowing they’re appreciated by a lot of people. Last September, Tristeza wowed the crowds on their tour with their sophmore album, Dream Signals in Full Circles, released by Tiger Style Records and recorded by Dave Trumfio at Kingsize Studios in Chicago. The contents of the album held nothing more than swirls of unruffled beats, surrealistic guitars, perfectly placed keyboards and jazz-inspired melodies.

    “I would say the keyboards most complete the sound,” says LaValle. “The guitars start it, the drums and bass add the fillings, and the keyboards complete it like icing on the cake.”

Most fans seem appreciative of Tristeza’s unconventional choices. This month, Tristeza released Mixed Signals (a remix CD of Dream Signals in Full Circles). LaValle describes it simply as another artists’ interpretation of their music.
    “It seems there are so many different things that can be done to music, creatively,” he muses. “Rocket Racer hit us up with the idea—he had talked to many of the remixers involved prior to and asked us about it.”

    After meticulously weeding through the remixes that many artists turned in to the band, Tristeza found themselves with 11 tracks from the likes of Simon Raymonde (Cocteau Twins), Windy & Carl, Yellow6, Marumari and others. The tracks dive into a plain of electronic elan, a place Tristeza hasn’t explored as a band.

So, does being in an arty, instrumental band hinder the potential selling power of a band?

    “It does depend on how you look at it,” says LaValle. “As far as what you want to do with music for yourself. If you want to play sold out arenas, then you better start a generic, already-been-done rock band. I’m not even against that. But I—at this point in my musical career—do not want to play anything that is generic or has no meaning to me.”

Tristeza plays Mon. Feb. 18, at the 7th Street Entry. 8 p.m. $6. 21+. Victoria and Nymoor open. 701 1st Ave. N., Mpls. 612-338-8388.

Stranger than jazz . . .

... Better than fiction: Ourmine pioneer a new breed of music

by Marcie Hill

These days, the American idea of popular music looks like a step back into the conformist ’50s (y’know, girl groups who don’t play instruments, boy groups who don’t play instruments, formula-stuck rockheads who all sound the bloody same, and confoundingly overconsumed teen idols who are little more than high-profile soda salesmen), but happily, we Twin Citians can remove ourselves from this millennial monotony and look to our local scene for musical innovation. One audible sign of homegrown intelligence is Ourmine, an ambient dub/artcore jazz group made up of four of the most gifted musicians you and I have the privilege of feeling smug about.

    “It’s a small but very concentrated little pool of talent,” Ourmine’s Tim Glenn says of the local scene, pausing over dinner at the Khyber Pass Cafe in St. Paul. Glenn is calm and reserved, and his hands mostly stay tucked in the pockets of a worn-in navy sweatshirt.

    The 24-year-old percussion athlete doesn’t talk about show attendance and filling big venues, but rather his experiences with other players in the family made up of Ourmine, T and Poor Line Condition, as well as the extensive continuum of new Dinkytowner acts. He speaks little while the others talk, but nods at the other half of Ourmine’s smoldering rhythm section, 26-year-old wonder drummer JT Bates. “It’s always a pleasure playing with JT,” he says.

    At first meeting, drummer Bates looks every bit the part. Sitting in the restaurant, he’s nearly always in motion, smoothing his hands over his shaved head, or gesturing emphatically while he talks—he even seems to be in motion when sitting completely still.

    Though their demeanor offstage differs greatly, the two musicians’ onstage intensity is surprisingly a perfect match. Unlike Glenn, who joined the Ourmine lineup last fall, JT has been around since the band’s birth in ’99, and he keeps his hands in other projects like Fat Kid Wednesdays, Regional Jazz Trio, Poor Line Condition, and the Motion Poets of yore. But his musical multitasking only adds to Ourmine’s similarly eclectic sonic tapestry.

    Ourmine’s version of musical literacy is as much an understanding of established ways of playing as it is the incorporation of diverse sounds. That they are familiar with the conventions of musicianship is evident in each player’s resume, but they also work with newfangled sample sounds, an element that gives the songs a post-modern feel without the trendiness.

    “It’s jazz, I guess,” shrugs understated 30-year-old guitar whiz Jeremy Ylvisaker, who played bass guitar with Barb Cohen and Little Lizard until their split, keyboards with Detroit, and guitar nowadays with Fog and the Melismatics. His versatility has made him as much a seasoned player as an experimenter. But Ylvisaker hesitates to label Ourmine’s sound as “experimental.”

    “[‘Experimental’] sounds like it’s not an idea ready to present. But we’re pretty sure of what we’re doing. A lot of it has some corners that are grayer—softer—intentionally, and [we’re] trying to make something new. If that’s an experiment ... ” he trails off, stretching his lanky frame in his chair.

    Each of Ourmine’s songs, in fact, is an experiment unto itself, and everyone in the band seems most comfortable this way. If they couldn’t operate within an improvisation-friendly framework, JT explains, “It wouldn’t be this beautiful spot for us to go to.”

    That “beautiful spot” comes on like a mood at first listen, sometimes purposefully chaotic and rugged, sometimes harnessed and sophisticated, sometimes dreamy sweet and downright pretty. The tempos are usually easygoing, giving the music serenity, but only to a point, at which a bracing guitar solo or a detonation of drums will reach out of the soundscape to shake the listener. The rest of the time, however, no one’s going to try to tell you how to feel.

    “A lot of listeners get slammed by music,” bassist Jim Anton says. Ourmine’s borderlessness is central to their purpose, but Anton is cautious about being perceived as too “out there.”

    “[We] don’t want to come off as arty-pretentious, kind of pointing people in a direction and saying, ‘we’re heavy,’” he says. “I get turned off by music like that.”

    Anton, award-winning local bass hero and veteran of Greazy Meal and Eight Head, and sometime collaborator with the likes of Paul Metsa and Steve Tibbets, is the group’s eldest member at 36. His bass is Ourmine’s melodic and rhythmic nervous center, bringing form and sometimes restraint to the improvisation around it. He fuses unexpected elements like kalimba and shades of Afro-Cuban with slide bass, while staying conceptually close to his idea of essential jazz. And it all ... works.

     “[Playing jazz] allows you to have your own identity,” he explains with his steady gaze. “It’s almost like you’ve whittled away everything to the core of what your element is. And there’s really nothing left to hide behind.” pulse

Ourmine play Sat., Feb. 16, at the Weisman Museum for “Remembering Jerry Rudquist,” a film, music and slide show commemorating the late artist’s life and work. 8 p.m. $8, $6 students/seniors. 333 E. River Rd., Mpls. 612-625-9494. Look for the new Ourmine CD, out mid-March.

Love of the game	by Celeste Tabora
Tristeza aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty