Humo del Cairo, Vol. II: In the Land of the Kings
Posted in Reviews on December 28th, 2011 by H.P. Taskmaster
While it rested its strength in laid back desert atmospherics, the 2010 self-titled debut album from Buenos Aires rockers Humo del Cairo (review here) was more a show of potential than a distinguishing statement. It made the trio a band to watch. The quick-arriving follow-up, Vol. II (Estamos Felices), validates that anticipation. Humo del Cairo – guitarist/vocalist Juan Manuel Diaz, bassist Gustavo Bianchi and new drummer Federico Castrogiovanni – have stripped down their approach to the most necessary parts and presented a well-structured collection of songs that work as well individually as they do grouped together. It’s a rare balance, but Vol. II hits it, and where the self-titled had material that (purposefully) meandered into heavy jamming like the 11-minute “A Tiempo,” the longest song on Vol. II doesn’t quite hit seven minutes and is among the more direct and explicitly memorable riffs on the record. That the trio should be able to so quickly shift their approach between releases may or may not be a surprise – one never knows how long it’s been since the songs for the first record were written unless one asks, and I haven’t (yet) – but the confidence Humo del Cairo bring to their performance here and the sonic breadth they manage to cover while still maintaining relatively straightforward verse/chorus structures speaks to a distinct progression that’s admirable no matter the time span it happened over. Some bands don’t grow this much over the course of three albums, let alone one.
They operate in a variety of moods and still have wind up inevitably comparable to hometown stalwarts Los Natas at times, but by and large, Humo del Cairo’s riffing has gotten thicker and tighter. Diaz and Bianchi’s tones are rich on opening duo “Fe” and “Los Ojos,” and even later on the instrumental layering interlude “Monte,” they seem to retain a character of increasing individuality. If every album has a narrative to it – and most do – then that of Vol. II is one of Humo del Cairo beginning to come into their own stylistically. Heavy rock is at the core of every move they make, and they weave in and out of stonerly atmospheres, but Vol. II is striking in terms of the variety of mood it presents and how well the songs work together. There are 11 tracks, and each justifies its inclusion by standing out in one way or another, be it a particularly engaging riff, a memorable vocal melody (all the lyrics are in Spanish), or in the case of “Fe,” an overall largess of tone that sets the course for the album as a whole. Castrogiovanni distinguishes himself right away with a heavy thud amidst the formidable rumble of Bianchi’s bass, and Diaz places an echoing vocal far back in the mix initially, bringing it up toward the end as a setup for the more straight-ahead drive of “Los Ojos.” He’s almost certainly double-tracked his singing, but neither the vocals nor the music surrounding are lacking for a natural feel; the fuzz Humo del Cairo emit is as organic as one could possibly ask without sacrificing clarity.
As catchy and uptempo as “Los Ojos” is, with Castrogiovanni setting a “follow the bouncing ball” snare beat and sticking by it, it’s “Tierra del Rey” that serves as the first real highlight of Vol. II, and really, it’s all about the riff. Immediate stoner nod meets with rawer vocals and massive groove – a classic formula given new life by the fervency with which it’s executed. Diaz takes a guitar solo following the second verse, and that leads to a kind of mini-jam for the next minute-plus, but the main riff takes hold again and opens into as classic a part as there is within the genre of stoner rock. Subtle lead notes pepper an encompassing riff and Diaz meters his vocals to match the rhythm as Bianchi and Castrogiovanni lock down the march under the ensuing guitar solo. There are several genuine triumphs on Vol. II – among them the more ambient shift that “El Alba (parte A)” and “El Alba (parte B)” bring about immediately afterward – but “Tierra Del Rey” might be the most potent of them. The comedown that follows feels entirely earned, and the less distorted, higher-register notes of “El Alba (parte A)” both allow time to process “Tierra del Rey” and shift the focus to more atmospheric songwriting. The song picks up, riff-wise, and leads directly into “El Alba (parte B)” as the titles would suggest, but it seems reasonable that Humo del Cairo would split the whole into two component tracks, given how well the second of them stands up as a single, particularly in terms of its chorus. It’s more than a minute before Diaz comes in on vocals, but when he does, he brings appropriate gravity and layers of backups only further the character of the song, which is perhaps the most directly comparable to Los Natas’ melodic methodology as Vol. II gets until the heaviness is cut short and an acoustic guitar concludes the last minute and a half.




er Gustavo Rowek and bassist Billy Anderson (yes, that Billy Anderson) showed the same three songs on the last, vinyl-only split, so it’s basically a chance for anyone who didn’t hear them then to do so now. They’re heavier than Los Natas in the traditional metal crash and bash sort of way, more High on Fire than desert rock, but even the unhinged feel of “The Battle of Mocha Poo” meshes well with the surrounding material.
The only drawback to the covers is that it isn’t Chotsourian singing. He still plays guitar, and he, bassist Gonzalo Villagra and drummer Walter Broide are as tight as ever instrumentally, but a host of vocalists are brought in to cover duty. El Topo was already mentioned, and he does well on the Kyuss songs and “I Don’t Mind the Pain” — which might be my pick of the bunch, depending on my mood — while Argentinian singer Boom Boom Kid makes the T.S.O.L. song work surprisingly well and Ricardo Iorio (V8) manhandles “El Ass de Espadas.” It’s pretty clear Los Natas chose friends and people they wanted to work with, and it’s hard to fault them that.
To be perfectly honest, I’ve been putting off reviewing the self-titled MeteorCity debut from Buenos Aires desert-style rockers Humo del Cairo for about a week now because I’ve wanted to try and glean some better sense of the album’s structure, form and methodology. I don’t know if I got all that for having taken the extra time, but with a record like this, which alternates between longer and shorter cuts and puts to use a ranging sonic approach, repeat listens can’t hurt.
Whether the music is your thing or not, what you have to admit about Disparen! (Aquatalan), the second album from Argentina?s El Festival de los Viajes is that it?s accurately titled. Disparate, unique: they simply don?t fit, and that?s clearly on purpose. Disparen! boasts a sound taking cues from the psychedelic spaghetti west and somehow transposing them over rock structures. Can meets Ennio Morricone? Maybe. If they?re anything, they?re hard to pin down.
Stepping outside his identity as one third of Argentine free riffers Los Natas, guitarist/vocalist Sergio Chotsourian formed the solo outing Ararat as a means for expressing experimental tendencies that did not otherwise fit into his main outfit. Ararat‘s debut, Musica de la Resistencia, crosses cultures and sonic norms en route to bleeding ambience and sometimes dark psychedelia. Based as much around acoustic guitar as noisescaping, the outing defies expectation in almost every way and produces an unsettling, challenging atmosphere.
Even looking at the two titles with which he?s chosen to represent his first solo outing apart from Los Natas, it?s plain to see Sergio Chotsourian is working to reconcile two sides of himself. For a band moniker, he?s chosen Ararat, the highest mountain in and national symbol of his ancestral Armenia (actually it?s located in Turkey now, but everyone pretty much considers it Armenian anyway), and for an album title, Musica de la Resistencia, which is inextricably linked to the Latin American revolutionary ideal. The Argentine guitarist/vocalist lets loose this cross-cultural interplay across seven mostly experimental tracks on Ararat?s MeteorCity debut, making a marked sonic departure from his main outfit — at least mostly.
Yeah, this was fairly obvious after 


