Subversive Dirtwire relishes sonic diversity

2As political statements go, Dirtwire’s newly

released Showdown is as sneakily subversive as it is powerful, starting with the album’s title.

“It’s us trying to take some action,” says the San Francisco electro collective’s cofounder David Satori, on the line from nearby Oakland. “This is a time in history where everything is a showdown thanks to different political views. Our overarching message is that we’re for an all-inclusive global culture— one where we are able to celebrate each other’s beauty.”

Fittingly, then, Showdown is a record that’s all about building bridges. Dirtwire—which includes Satori’s fellow multi-instrumentalists Evan Fraser and Mark Reveley—bills itself as a band that “sits on the front porch of Americana’s future”. And to truly understand the sentiment behind that, start with Showdown’s radical reimagining of “Lost Highway”, which was made famous in 1951 by pioneering country legend Hank Williams.

Starting out with one dusty boot in Krautrock Berlin and the other in Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar, Dirtwire’s take on the classic is about a million miles removed from the world of Gilfillan tube radios and 78rpm records. But not satisfied with pushing Americana forward there, the trio pull a radical U-turn halfway through the proceedings, riding exotic and haunting Middle Eastern strings across the finish line.

“In that song we’re actually singing in an East African melodic scale with ‘Now you’re rolling down the losssst highwayyyyy.’ And that’s not how Hank Williams would have done it,” Satori says with a laugh.

And, whether the members of Dirtwire are embracing their inner beatmakers or breaking out world-music instruments like the mbira, cümbüş, or kalimba, the mixing of different worlds doesn’t stop there. Showdown starts out in territory that will be familiar to most Americana fans, with the guitars in the bigbeat blues explosion “Struttin’ ” authentic enough for Black Betty and the harmonicahonking “Shishkabob” coming on like Wolfman Jack doing trailer-park funk.

But halfway through the record there’s a shift, with “Mueve Mueve” built around tribal vocals that sound straight outta Africa, and the sung-in- Spanish “Viento” lighting out for the sun-parched Mexican border.

The sonic exploring is rooted in Dirtwire’s belief that—sorry, Donald Trump—it’s multiculturalism that has really made America great.

“I’m from Vermont, but I always had an affinity for Berkeley and the Bay Area because of the San Francisco music scene from the ’60s and ’70s,” Satori says. “I was a big fan of that music growing up, and still am. When I first came here I really loved the diversity—it’s one of the most diverse places in the whole country with all kinds of different ethnicities and cultures mixed together, especially in the East Bay, where we live. I’m a big fan of musics from around the world, so being able to go see gamelan music and then West African music, and then amazing Indian music and then Middle Eastern music—all within a couple of blocks—is really special.”

Once upon a time, the United States was the kind of place that welcomed immigrants, with other cultures changing not just the country’s social fabric, but also its artistic landscape. Dirtwire is determined to bring back that embracing of others, and not just in the studio. Consider the band’s favoured stage attire, which, quite intentionally, makes a brilliantly subversive statement.

“Any time you celebrate a culture that’s being ostracized, especially right now in America, that’s a good thing,” Satori says. “We wear mariachi pants on-stage as part of our look because we’re celebrating the music. We feel like we come from Mexicali—we’re in a place that’s just as much Mexico as it is California. So when we play, we dedicate songs to our brothers and sisters south of the border. We’re so not for the wall that we’re even talking about trying to do an antiwall show in Tijuana. So, yeah, a lot of what we do is a lot of political statement, but not where we’re being super-direct.”

> MIKE USINGER

Dirtwire plays the Rickshaw next Wednesday (March 15). 2Generally, one thinks of jazz musicians as

writing riffs or tunes or, if we want to get all vernacular, heads. But, talking to bassist and bandleader Ben Allison, I find myself asking a question about his songs—and it turns out to be an inspired mistake.

“It’s funny you should say songs,” the New York City–based musician replies, by phone from a tour stop in Fort Bragg, California. “I have, for almost my entire professional career, written almost exclusively instrumental music. But, you know, in the last 10 years or so, I’ve been increasingly thinking about the tunes almost as if they were songs, only without lyrics—and sometimes I actually write lyrics that I don’t perform. The idea of writing music that you could sing, in a way, forces you into a certain kind of lyricism, with melodies that have a certain character.

“Actually, I had an interesting conversation with Paul Simon about that recently,” Allison continues. “We were talking about songwriting and song phrasing. You know, we were comparing our two approaches, him obviously being a songwriter. And he’s like, ‘The lyrics are the first thing I work on, and then I can put a melody to that.’ And I’m the other way around; I think of melodies and maybe see if I can find some lyrics. But now I’m starting to approach it more along the lines of what he does: thinking about actual words first, and then seeing what notes might go along with them.”

Wait a minute: Paul Simon? Now there’s a New York story.

“I was walking down the street with my bass, and he called me from the other side of the street,” Allison says. “Like, ‘Hey, bass player!’ Sometimes that happens and you’re just like, ‘Yeah, whatever, dude…’ But this time I looked over and went, ‘Wow, that looks like Paul Simon,’ so I walked over and said, ‘Hey, man, what’s going on?’

“He said, ‘You know, my dad was a bass player.’ And then 45 minutes later we’re still hanging out on the corner, talking about music. But New York is like that. If you live in New York long enough, you just kind of get used to it.”

Despite Simon’s input, Allison isn’t about to start singing on-stage. “I would never inflict that on anyone,” he says, laughing. “I don’t see that happening.” But even those who prefer their songs to be sung would do well to check his music out. For one thing, his touring band has two sublimely melodic soloists in the form of guitarist Steve Cardenas, Allison’s bandmate for more than a decade, and trumpet player Kirk Knuffke, a relatively new addition who can pivot from sweet tunefulness to abstract sound with impressive ease. (Versatile drummer Allan Mednard rounds out the quartet.)

Making things even more rock- and popfriendly is that on this tour Allison and band will be concentrating on new material, much of which finds the leader on electric bass for the first time since he was in high school. There’s a story behind that, too.

“For the last few years, Steve Cardenas and I have been going to the Philippines every year to play,” Allison explains. “And in the Philippines, it’s like 95 degrees and super humid: not conducive to acoustic basses, which are held together with hide glue. There was no way I was going to subject my bass to that, so I thought, ‘Well, why don’t I pull my electric out of the closet?’

“I started to really dig into it, so on this tour I’ve been playing quite a bit of electric—and it’s been so much fun! It’s a very different instrument, but it has its own set of possibilities.”

> ALEXANDER VARTY

Ben Allison plays the Western Front on Friday (March 10)