Black Print & other: August 2008

WANTED: Restless thirtysomething L.A. indie cradle seeks likewise situated working musicians for experimental new band with time-sensitive mission. Start now, write 10 to 16 songs flying, record album, make tV and perform first show in less than 60 days. Make big opening splash. Then, break up and go separate ways.

That's the gist of an ad placed on Craigslist July 29 by Giovanny Blanco, former VJ, struggling singer-songwriter, father of two. The concept of a stria with a predetermined life span arose from a documentary he is doing on ageing musicians and what makes them keep on truckin' in this digital age, when any wannabe with a computing device can make music and be heard. For a veteran like Blanco, the project simon Marks a midlife crisis in musician long time, which is like domestic dog years because musicians catch there preferably than everybody else.

This time, Blanco started backward, booking a club date before he had a band, or songs or even a single fan. Whoever joins him testament play Sept. 27 at Club Good Hurt in West L.A. in a show existence billed as the inaugural/farewell concert (debut y despedida) by the band-to-be, named appropriately El Quickie.

The project (or stunt?) comes at a time when the promise of Latin alternative music has faded and the once bustling local aspect has deflated. There ar plenty of talented bands still boot around L.A. but with shrinking expectations. Major labels have long stopped sign language rock en espa�ol bands as they did in the '90s, and only a handful at the top stick around as in use as, say, Mexico's Caf� Tacuba (which was scheduled to play the Greek on Friday).

Paradoxically, though, the demise of the mainstream music industry is the author of the musician's quandary. Today, a band stool stay alive without a label, a manager or even wireless exposure. All it of necessity is a computer and a MySpace page.

"Now 35 is the new 25, and in the industry everything is layer so you can be your own boss," said Blanco, 37. "It's a different landscape and the reality is, yes, we can live doing this, but it becomes more of a struggle."

As ane of the original music hosts on LATV, the independent station aimed at young Latinos, Blanco is among the most placeable faces in L.A.'s Latin alternative fit. And he's one of the most creative as part of the funk fusion span formerly known as Spigga, now Shu-Sho, whose multicultural members are scattered about the nation.

He's been working as a professional musician for more than half his life, starting at 14 as a member of a Menudo-style boy isthmus from his native Dominican Republic called Mermelada.

It's work, especially for bandleaders who handle all the business, be it reservation dates or deciding on album covers. That's wherefore Blanco may as well have added a demand to his ad: Whiners need non apply. First to go were musicians who called and asked how much he was going to pay. They didn't acquire it.

On board so far are guitarist Jose Morales, 32, (No Way Jose) and bassist Mois�s Baqueiro, 38, best known as "Vira Lata" of Los Abandoned, L.A.'s premier Latin alternative band that suddenly disbanded last year. As of Thursday, the Quickies had two finished demos, iV written songs and nine more ideas. They still need a keyboardist, some singers and, especially, a drummer.

"This weekend took a turn for the worst and now I'm a snatch down," Blanco blogged Sunday. "The drummer situation just imploded. We're back to square matchless. . . . WE WILL BE LOOKING FOR DRUMMERS ALL WEEK LONG. We are here, where ar you?"

To understand how Blanco got himself in this reality-show fix, we mustiness backtrack a year.

Just before his 36th birthday, Blanco hit the road with Spigga, touring cross-country in a used Dodge van called the Green Machine. When it was over, he couldn't have back in sync with the normal demands of daily life, like determination a daylight job and raising his daughter Matilda, who was about to turn 1.

Blanco started intuitive feeling slightly downcast, like he couldn't routine anymore. "That's when I started mentation, 'Here I am in my 30s. I've had my contribution of successes, but I'm not Ricky Martin, or whatever,' " recalled Blanco, who would soon foreswear LATV. "What's next?"

To determine the answer, he turned to his second making love, making films, and embarked on the documentary, with plans to plum the motives of other musicians. It would be great if he could follow a band for a couple of years, he thought, merely his budget wouldn't permit it. So was crosshatched El Quickie.

You can watch the project develop on Blanco�s video blogs. That's his girl in the first one and only, grabbing the mike and repeating piano "rock 'n' roll."

It was filmed in his converted garage in the mid-Wilshire country, packed with recording equipment, videos, vinyl radical, movie posters and more than memorabilia of Hall & Oates than seems salubrious for unrivaled collector. The kitschy look of El Quickie, spoofing loungey Latino stereotypes, borrows the buddy-buddy mustache of the much bare-chested John Oates.

The deuce-ace amigos gathered this week at the home Blanco shares with his substantial other, film writer ("Twisted," "See Jane Run") and their growing crime syndicate, now including 5-week-old Franklin. Baqueiro arrived with trey bass guitars, one borrowed from Wil-Dog of Ozomatli. The blab inevitably off to what it substance to make it.

"It's like society dictates, by age 35 you take to accept your have home and your fellowship," said Baqueiro, who's matrimonial with a 9-year-old girl. "If you don't, you're a failure. It's a stigma."

It's not just club. It's category pressures overly. Blanco says some of his relatives don't infer why he doesn't redact together a little merengue band, if he's genuinely serious close to making it. Pop music is so youth-oriented that some members of Los Abandoned lied about their ages, he admits.

Now he's well-chosen he was part of a breakthrough band that got piles of critical praise and a spot on "Late Night With Conan O'Brien." That success allows him now to make a living (nigh) from medicine, every musician's dream.

With the stream lineup and potential, El Quickie could turn out to be special. Still, the guys promise to break up even if they turn out to be an instant smash. They're a little long in the tooth to fall for that.

"We'd be big for a week and they wouldn't miss us after the first show," said Blanco, with no hint of sarcasm. "L.A. is genial of like that."

agustin.gurza

El Quickie's show is Sept. 27 at Club Good Hurt, 12249 Venice Blvd, West Los Angeles.

For information, go to www.myspace.com/elquickie.

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