A year ago, a friend said that maybe I should go out with Calexico since I had liked Friends of Dean Martinez's Shadow of Your Smile stage so much. Lately, Friends of Dean Martinez had become distant and contemplative... she hadn't been her upbeat self. I was getting tired of having to listen to her somber dronings (especially having known her before she "changed"). So my friend sent Calexico over. Boy, was she ugly! Look at that cover!
But on my friend's recommendation, I decided to give it a go. We went out for coffee. The conversation was good. She had a southwestern accent and a beautiful voice. I gradually found myself enthralled by the music that came out of her mouth. It was fun. Surprisingly, I seemed to be attracted to Calexico based purely on her personality! While it hurt my eyes to look at her, I found that if I closed them and listened I was in love! It all seemed like some sort of fable where true love overcame all boundaries-- except that every time I opened my eyes I was repulsed by her ugliness!
After our coffee, I didn't call her again. I felt kind of bad... but things had gotten busy at work and I eventually forgot about her. Time passed. In a time of desperation I tried to rekindle the old feelings for Friends of Dean Martinez and our Shadow of Your Smile days together, but it was no good. The more I remembered our past the more I couldn't take her now. And that Calexico. Calexico! I suddenly pined for her! What could have happened to change Friends of Dean Martinez so much? Maybe it was because she stopped hanging out with Joey Burns and John Convertino. They were around all the time back when I first knew her. Then, suddenly, they stopped hanging around and spent most of their time with Calexico! Friends of Dean Martinez was pretty... but I needed to have those good feelings we had shared in the past again. What ever had happened to Calexico?
No sooner did I just say that than she bumped into me on the sidewalk. Man, she was still so ugly! But the sound of her saying my name brought me memories of a desert I'd never visited and cool nights over warm sand. This time I listened intently. She sounded better than ever. She talked much more now than in the past. She seemed upbeat! I clung to every word and story-- from the traditional border instrumental balladry of "El Picador" and "Tres Avisos" to the syncopated waltz "Sonic Wind" which swept me off my feet from verse to chorus. She was not as swept up in the lounge or experimental ambient scenes as Friends of Dean Martinez had ever been. Every interlude came with a purpose. She punctuated her speech with pauses (all necessary) of both slight reflection and deliberate energy.
In the end, Calexico ended up moving to Oregon. Perhaps this was for the best. We stay in touch, calling one or the other every week or so. I still love to hear her voice... her mellow gracefulness. Once in a while, she even pulls out the pedal steel for me like she had with "Service and Repair." Sometimes when I can't fall asleep, her face pops into my mind and I wonder what really matters in love. Can one love blindly? Are looks that important? Can a beautiful soul transform a grotesque face simply by association? Then I take a leak and call Calexico on the phone, happy in the knowledge that I can listen to her without ever having to see her ugly mug again.
