The Pirate Review - Ana Jose Nacho

If you're tired of Top 40 and want something different, you can't do much better than Mecano.

My honey spent some time in Mexico and, while there, developed a taste for Latin pop. Most of his favorite artists—Marisela, Pandora, Yuri, etc.—don't do anything for me. Although I speak a little (ok, a VERY little) Spanish and can usually follow the gist of the lyrics, I've found that trite love songs are just as common in Spanish-speaking countries as they are here. For the most part, then, I tuned out his "Spanish tapes" as an uninteresting but tolerable curiosity.

Then one day he played something different. It started with a quiet piano and maracas, in quick waltz time, and rolled into a deceptive little ballad about a gypsy woman who makes a deal with the moon, promising her firstborn child in order to capture the man she loves. The singer had a high, wispy, almost waifish voice that developed into something far more passionate in the middle of the song, where the woman gives birth to an albino moon-child and her jealous lover, believing she has betrayed him for another man, stabs her to death. He had my full attention.

"What is this?" I asked.

"This" was Hijo de la Luna, performed by Mecano—Ana Torroja, José and Nacho Cano—a pop trio from Spain. Intensely popular for some twenty years in romance-language Europe and Mexico, the group broke up in the '90s with only one foray into the English-speaking market. It's our loss. With intelligent, unusual lyrics by the Cano brothers and unique vocals by Torroja, Mecano isn't like anything else out there, either in the English-speaking or Spanish-speaking world.

This particular double-CD set, Ana Jose Nacho, is an excellent place to start with Mecano. It's a sort of greatest-hits pack spanning the course of their career, with seven new songs produced especially for the album. There are too many excellent songs to list each one individually; here are my favorites:

Aire - This version of the song was recorded live in concert. It's a peculiar ballad about a woman who, as she lies in bed beside her lover, begins to slowly deflate and transform into air.

No Es Serio Este Cementerio - Begins as a tongue-in-cheek ghost story, developing into a lush chorus about how the dead people here have a great old time and go out walking on Sundays.

Hermano Sol, Hermana Luna - In this atmospheric piece (no pun intended), Torroja sings of "brother sun" and "sister moon" and their respective duties and qualities in the heavens. The accompaniment is brightly beautiful, changing to the disturbing wail of sirens near the end.

Ay, Que Pesado - The poppiest—and lyrically least daring—of their hits, this '80s-era tune encourages the listener to get over his or her lost love and get on with life. (I can't listen to it now without automatically substituting "ay, que pescado"—oh, what a dead fish.)

Hawaii-Bombay - The background music, an interesting combination of Subcontinent South Seas sounds, creates a fantastic foundation for Torroja's sighing vocals asking when she'll be able to go to one or the other paradise.

The only complaint I have about Mecano—and it seems to me a small one—is that they only released one song in English. However, if you have even a cursory knowledge of Spanish, you should be able to follow the songs using the enclosed lyric sheet. If you don't... well, that's why we have AltaVista's Babelfish.

These days, when big music labels seem intent on cranking out boy-band after boy-band and everyone sounds alike, it's rare to come across artists from any country with a sound both accessible and unique. Mecano is truly original. If you have any interest at all in Spanish-language pop, or you think you might, give them a listen.

[Thanks to reader XSI for writing to point out that Mecano did produce one English-language song, "The Uninvited Guest," in the 1980s.]

Ana Jose Nacho - Mecano