Latin Rock: Los Super Seven's Heard It On the X

On the 1971 live version of “Nobody’s Business But My Own” found on In Progress & In Motion 1965-1998, Taj Mahal breaks into a little jive that ends with him saying, “And a big stereo listening to Wolfman Jack say, ‘Ain’t this XERB, baby.’” It’s a great impression, capturing the emotion, excitement, and thrill of listening to one of the X superstations.

With call letters all beginning with X—the designated first letter for Mexico broadcasters, these pirate superstations went beyond U.S. borders in order to exceed wattage restrictions. Today there are a limited number of 50,000 watt, clear channel AM stations that are able to cover multiple regions of the United States at night with their signal. Certain broadcasters wanted to reach more territory than the 50,000 watt limit allowed, so they went south to Mexico where there weren’t the same restrictions. 500,000 to 1 million watts pumped out from the X stations, and so did the adventurous, dangerous, rebellious, wide-ranging music, DJ personalities, and hucksters.

Los Super Seven’s Heard It On the X tunes in the ghosts of those south-of-the-border radio stations. It’s an album that pulls together border sounds, Mexican sounds, rockabilly, soul, swing, and country. Los Super Seven is a Tex-Mex collaborative, releasing this their third album. The visionary producer Dan Goodman brings together Los Super Seven veterans Joe Ely, Freddy Fender, Flaco Jimenez, Raul Malo, Ruben Ramos, and Rick Trevino to once again be the most accomplished roadhouse band. As guests come and go, Los Super Seven shape, shift, and free the rhythms to let the guest or lead race across the airwaves with something truly potent.

Goodman’s vision is further developed by production help from Rick Clark (producer of the eclectic Oxford American magazine music CD series) and Charlie Sexton (no stranger to roadhouse guitars and praise on this site). Aside from production duties, Sexton adds plenty of punch with his instrumental offerings.

Like Santana, the spirit of the album is collaboration. John Hiatt steps up, calls out for Doug Sahm’s “I’m Not That Kat (Anymore).” The supergroup responds with rockin’ bop to back Hiatt’s throaty vocal (not too far removed from Wolfman Jack). Lyle Lovett sends the group on a Texas swing for “My Window Faces the South,” made famous by Bob Willis. As Lovett does in his own songs, he’s often talking how he is drawn back south, back home. It seems here that the song also is saying “my radio faces the south,” how X radio drew listeners south.

While this is like a house band project, allowing guests to shine, Los Super Seven members themselves step forward to be featured on some of the strongest cuts here. Amid the mariachi horns and guitars, the lead vocals of Raul Malo marinade “The El Burro Song” with full irony on lines like “My love has fallen and can’t get up,” and “a heart like a radio, the sound turned down.” Ruben Ramos takes the lead vocal for ZZ Top’s “Heard It On the X,” a tune dedicated to X radio which goes through a much more ground level Mex mix here, unleashing the full power of the mysterious superstation transmissions.

The horns steal the show on the neo-swing of “The Song of Everything,” another Sahm tune. Malo’s vocal is deep and smoky, but the horns punch this tune, bouncing it against the stratosphere.

Joe Ely leads the way on Bobby Fuller’s “Let Her Dance.” A pop single revisited, it’s from the sock hop era of innocence and sexual tension found in dancing. At least, I hope that’s what this song was about, because as the speaker talks about getting to dance with her after she was just dancing with another guy the night before. . .well, it’d be kind of strange if dancing was euphemism. Joe Ely and the boys certainly let the song swing, the toms filling the high school gymnasium as if all of the drama was simply made for the dance floor and perhaps a front porch kiss.

Joe Ely is celebrated in Patricia Vonne’s song, “Joe’s Gone Riding” (see Vonne review). Patricia Vonne’s album is soaked with mariachi, and drawing from that same tradition, Los Super Seven’s rendition of “Cupido” spins for a cobblestone Mexican dance. Should Robert Rodriguez be planning another mariachi film, the on-screen band should be a Vonne-fronted Los Super Seven.

In the 80’s, Wall of Voodoo sang “I bought a Mexican radio,” which quirkily dealt with the mystery of tuning in sounds from beyond the border. However, that song (and regularly played video on MTV) cannot compare to Los Super Seven’s Heard It On the X. The album is like a historical document, like something to be played on an old time radio show. It was released in March 2005, but you almost feel as if you should be dusting it off, feel the warmth of the transistor, and hear the crackle of distant lightning in the static pop.

Thanks to Los Super Seven and Telarc for the review copy.