Okay, don't laugh. I just finished David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest, a brilliant thousand-page tome of postmodern, apocalyptic indulgence that, to over-simplify, requires almost as much pretense to read as it might have taken to write. The book, published in 1996, foresaw the rise in Bush-era thick-headedness and ubiquitous on-demand entertainment, all set in a unified North America. Thing is, most of the action takes place between Americans and a conflicted Canada (get this: Québécois terrorists seek to distribute an American film so entertaining, it will literally kill you), while Mexico dutifully bows to the American President's whim. Just about the most vibrant picture of Mexico is the ironically re-imagined presidential seal where the eagle wears a sombrero.
Point is, America often views (some might say "stereotypes") Mexico through the filter of its rich tradition rather than its current culture. However, globalization having done its thing, the new generation of young Mexicans is making art with increasingly international roots, including indie rock. While Canada has already gotten its share of attention (cf. Jest's killer entertainment; in real life, they've got Arcade Fire), Mexican exports like Juan Son, Seamus, and Hello Seahorse! (whose new record, Bestia, is out now)-- who weave their Anglo-Continental influences into sublimated Latin textures-- still await American adoption. In fact, Hello Seahorse!'s best known song could just as easily have come out of Montreal or Stockholm as la Ciudad de México. "Won't Say Anything", sung in English, affects the anthemic twee of Los Campesinos! or (at their best) I'm From Barcelona, repeating the eponymous refrain into the ether on the group's last record Hoy a las Ocho.
Bestia contains no English language singing, and also nothing quite on the level of "Won't Say Anything", but it's a drastically darker and more complex effort. Opener "Bestia" crescendos into an explosion of overdriven drums and synthesizer lines before hitting Lo Blondo's icily recorded vocals. Blondo told webzine "Al Borde" the band desired to create a record that communicated their emotions, and it doesn't take a degree in Spanish to get the conflict in those feelings. Even seemingly upbeat cuts like "Criminal" are pregnant with the seeds of minor-key melancholy underneath their peppy Casio lines. The urge to get something, anything off their chest is so palpable, it can undercut the elegant melodies the band honed on Hoy A Las Ocho. The near-classic moments here, "Bestia" and "Oso Polar", combine melodic complexity with the relative simplicity of rapid-fire verse-chorus-verse interplay and the reliable signifiers of simple wonky synthesizers. The band's fussiest cuts, on the other hand, sound like the same brilliant lines sung in agonizing slow motion.
Of course, I risk judging a record whose language I barely understand too rigorously by the standards of twee and indie, sounds largely formed by British art-school kids. Likewise, there's a potential danger that the appearance of these young Mexican groups signals cultural co-optation, kind of like a musical analogue to the ubiquity of McDonalds in foreign countries. But wherever Hello Seahorse! planted their musical roots, their heartfelt take on the (assumedly) complicated emotions that accompany melodic elegance places them amongst the continent's most exciting current young groups. The band seems inexorably tied with the fortunes of a youth culture radiating out of Mexico City that seeks an additive effect on their nation's musical identity. And hey, Bestia may not be lethally entertaining, but it'll sure kill a lot of stereotypes.
