Birds – Chico Chica’s Third Album

Birds is Chico Chica’s third album and we have to say, we are inordinately proud of it.

Here is a sample:

 

You can buy downloads here: https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/chicochica5 and CDs here or else purchase a copy at one of our upcoming shows:

 

22nd-27th May 2017:  Brasserie Zedel, Sherwood Street, London W1
1st June 2017: Bull’s Head, Barnes.

 

You should be able to listen on Spotify as well. And while you’re listening you may like to read these album notes:

 

Since the band’s inception in 2010, Barbara Snow and Tom Hannah have been diligently combining original song and spoken word with textures, sounds and rhythms from around the Western Hemisphere. Snow has a very direct approach to her composition, eschewing obscurity and aiming to please the public while maintaining a high degree of artistic integrity.

 

For this album, Chico Chica enlisted the help of an all-Brazilian rhythm section to help bring about a truly exceptional work. It marks a growing maturity in this song-writing partnership. Tom Hannah’s perceptive and well-crafted lyrics are the perfect companion to Barbara Snow’s beguiling melodies and arrangements.

 

Falling, Falling is a lament for the demise of what was once a soaring love affair. The creamy vocalising here is reminiscent of Sergio Mendes.

 

The idea for title song Birds came about after Barbara Snow had a period of convalescence. She was lying on a bed next to a garden window. It was May and she listened to birdsong all day. The song is about what birds already know and that is, the limitation of words. The song culminates in a ‘la la’ section alternating with instrumental solos including one on marimba by Rob Millett.

 

Ever Since You Found Me starts with bold percussive brushstrokes and leads on to catchy instrumental sections and a spirited flute solo from Hiilary Cameron. She and Barbara Snow share the lead vocal and this gives the song a soulful emphasis. The song is an expression of  anticipation and desire.

 

The Happy Pain of Love is a tightly arranged pop song is an expression of new love from the viewpoint of a world-weary realist. Barbara Snow sings the lead and plays a flugelhorn solo which is a model of pace, poise and energy.

 

Flauta Charona is a rare Chico Chica instrumental. The interplay between Carlos Straatman’s bass guitar and Hilary Cameron’s flute is the essence of this jaunty melody which sounds as if it could be a theme tune for a light-hearted children’s cartoon.

 

Words and music by Chico Chica

 

Chico Chica are:

 

Hilary Cameron – voice, piano, keyboard, flute
Tom Hannah – voice cavaquinho
Barbara Snow – voice, flugelhorn

 

Additional musicians:

 

Carlos Straatman – electric bass
Jansen Santana – percussion
Xande -Oliveira – drums
Rob Millett – marimba

 

Recorded at Porcupine Studios, London
Engineered, mixed and mastered by Nick Taylor with the help of Barbara Snow and Carlos Straatman.

 

Picture by Phil Bartle


Continue reading “Birds – Chico Chica’s Third Album”

Transformers

For last week’s Chico Chica gig at the Long Room Bar and Mitre Hotel, Tooting,  I arrived early and ordered the Cumberland sausages. The plate arrived and I was delighted to see how the three of them were arranged in a Mercedes Benz logo pattern. The sculptural qualities alone would make the dish worthy of the Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square. Instead they had to sate my more immediate appetite. Butchers in Cumbria are applying to have their bangers given Protected Geographical Status as is afforded to Champagne and Camembert, and I wholeheartedly support this. I’m not so keen on Richmond sausages and I am unaware of any pending PGS application from west London butchers. For drinks I decided to go for something locally sourced so chose the Wimbledon Lager, also very good.
I was giving my dinner more than usual attention in order to stop myself being distracted by the possibility of something going wrong. The little black box needed to power Hilary’s electric piano was missing so a replacement needed buying. Urgently.
Now this may sound conceited, but I do try to live the life of the artist which some people call ‘being lazy’. I am a long-term devotee to beditation which is basically having a lie-in without feeling guilty. This surfeit of free time means I get called on in emergencies. So I was despatched to Maplins to buy something which I wasn’t even sure what to call. Is it a power supply, an adaptor or a transformer? Hilary texted the specifications but, like a lot of artists who affect a lack of interest in the prosaic wiring behind a star-bursting performance, she and I were confused about the difference between an amp, a volt and a watt.  I chose something with multiple settings and sockets but left the shop wondering whether it would work.
Hilary is a Very Busy Woman which means she is sometimes late. This adds drama and tension to life as well as to her performances and I greatly appreciate that. But contractual obligations need to be honoured so we started the show while she was still trying to get her keyboard working.  I opened the singing with The Perfect Moment. This is a guitar-driven, slightly rocky arrangement so the piano wasn’t essential.
 The song starts with a metaphysical mood where the tense is ambiguous:.
‘The future and the past won’t exist’
I looked to Hilary to my left and her face was a picture of despairing concern mixed in with a hint of concerning despair.
‘Not if this moment we kissed’.
The negativity in the two opening lines was reflected in Hilary’s demeanour. In the final chorus I decided to channel my anxiety by making it more rousing than usual.  With an emotional quivering in my voice I sang:
‘The perfect moment is now’
I looked again and a magical, radiant, red light shone forth from the Technics SX-P30, evincing a properly functioning AC DC current, an input of  100-200VAC 50-60Hz
and the transformative power of transformers.

Gig On The Coast

Last summer, Chico Chica played a function gig in Folkestone, Kent. Barbara and I, as we walked along the Sandgate Esplanade to where her car was parked, noticed that the Sandgate Hotel hosted live music on Sundays. So we popped in and left a card. The result of that small action was a gig yesterday.

It was Remembrance Sunday and Barbara had a Last Post to play in the morning. Walking to Shepherd’s Bush station with my guitar and cavaquinho, I stopped to watch the remembrance parade. There was a brass band to my right and a bagpiper to my left and I wished one of them would stop. To avoid offence I won’t say which one.

 

The Sandgate overlooks the English Channel. When we arrived, the westering sun was to our right and we looked out at the sea. That’s what people do when they travel to the coast. For some reason I thought of the Russian aircraft carrier which had passed a couple of weeks ago on its way to Syria and wondered if the great plume of black smoke emitting from its funnel  had been visible form Sandgate. Probably not.

 

But we were pushed for time so quickly set the PA up, ordered two glasses of water (one still, one fizzy) and, after ensuring all the cables were in the right sockets and the knobs at the right levels, started playing. The room overlooked the channel and we had our backs to France. There was a log fire and a warm appreciative audience. As the evening progressed the drinkers became drunker and louder and one man wanted to play Barbara’s bongo drums. We ploughed on through the Chico Chica set because that’s what we do. The journeyman musician is often tempted to change according to the room and in the past I would have done this. But Chico Chica is different – we do what we do and that’s it.

 

The show finished at 6pm by which time I was hungry and began to think about what I’d eaten that day – one bowl of porridge and a service station tuna sandwich plus coffees but they don’t count.  There was no rider at the gig so we went in search of fish and chips which I only ever eat when I’m at the seaside. We drove slowly and found a shop. We ordered a portion. Barbara had the fish and I had the chips which reminded me of Mr and Mrs Spratt. We ate in the car and it was a most satisfying repast.

 

Driving back to London after distant gigs gives us an excellent chance to talk and reflect. We chat about our families and then move on to Chico Chica – how to improve the performance, the best way to deal with drunks who want to play the bongos, business matters and the overall artistic direction. On this occasion we decided that getting signed to a record label is our highest priority and we resolved to approach certain individuals over this.

 

But the journey was long and at around the Maidstone turn-off, the conversation lulled. On these occasions I talk about the book I’m reading which happens to be The Story of O by Pauline Reage. I bought a copy the previous day. It was in the Romance section at Foyles, a shelf which I usually ignore.  The story is indeed about love , at least it is so far – I have read ninety pages.  I started describing the story and quickly realised it could prove embarrassing and awkward. It’s not the kind of book to bring up in conversation and I was thankful the M25 junction came into view and we had to concentrate on reading road signs instead. We fell silent again and I reflected on The Story of O and how suffering can be an expression of love and how Christianity and indeed Western civilisation are based on that very idea. And then we discussed next week’s mixing session at Porcupine Studio.

 

Chico Chica’s next show is at Bull’s Head, Barnes, 8.30pm, Thursday 17th November 2016.

Nice Guy With an Edge

There’s something compelling about an article consisting of ‘do’s and don’ts’. A couple of years ago, I saw one about online dating and being a complete sucker with too much time on his hands, I clicked it. The reader was told not to describe himself as a ‘nice guy with an edge’, presumably because the phrase was too common and it’s important to stand out. The phrase gave me the idea of a setting a fictionalised online dating profile to music. The result is Nice Guy With an Edge, track three of Chico Chica’s album The Glow of Havana released earlier in the year.

 

 

I has absolutely no hand in the either writing or performing the music. Barbara Snow was the composer and she even translated my choruses into Spanish, albeit with the help of bass player Andres Lafone. When performing the song I put the guitar down – I feel I can get a closer connection with the audience when I’m not hiding behind my instrument. 

 

 
The Glow of Havana is an unusual fusion of spoken word with an English sensibility and salsa, complete with percussion, horns and Spanish coros. The album was recorded at Cowshed Studio, London by Joe Leech. Joe has since moved to Western Australia with his family so it is likely to be the last of that happy and fruitful relationship. It can be purchased here

 

Chico Chica will be appearing as a trio at Sicily Restaurant, 2a Elizabeth St, London SW1W 9RB 8pm, Friday 11th November. Roberto, the owner, is really committed to live music and Sicily has now become a key component in the London jazz scene.

 

 I personally will be back at the Nova Restaurant, Chiswick High Rd 1pm tomorrow Sunday 30th October. 

Marimba

Marimbist Rob Millett has just delivered his tracks for the new Chico Chica album. Rob plays tuned percussion and recorded the marimba for the song Birds. The marimba (a wooden xylophone of African origin) is no longer the obscure instrument it once was. In fact we hear it several times a day in the default ringtone for the iPhone . I fell in love with the sound of the  marimba on Donald Fagan’s The Goodbye Look  When I made up the demo for Birds, I, for no obvious reason,  put a steel drum sound on the keyboard. Barbara liked it but we didn’t know any steel drummers so we decided to go for marimba instead. Hilary recommended Rob Millett. She works with Rob in Big Band Metheney. Marimbas are large and unwieldy so Rob recorded at home. We loved what he did and look forward to working with it at the second and final mixing day this Friday 21st October at Porcupine Studio.
Last Wednesday I saw Luna Cohen at the 606 Club, Chelsea. Chico Chica’s percussionist Jansen Santana plays with her so it was interesting for me to hear him play in another band. Luna has a warm expressive voice and presented us with a selection of original songs, some from her album November Sky as well as a few she hadn’t written and which I didn’t recognise. The guitarist was Robert Loft whom I hadn’t heard before but made a good impression on the audience – his style involves repeated parking of his plectrum in his lips even for the shortest of phrases.   Christian Brewer played some alto saxophone and I had a brief chat with Christian. We tried, unsuccessfully, to pinpoint the year we last worked together. I have tremendous respect for Christian – an absolute jazz pro – never sacrificing his principles and always playing with honesty and integrity.
It’s also good to seek inspiration from outside one’s genre. So the following night I went to see The Kaiserchiefs at Kingston Hippodrome. Friends had a spare ticket and I thought what the hell, why not. I didn’t know the music because I never listen to indy rock. And I’d never heard of the Kingston Hippodrome. Before the show, security men were working their way down the queue asking for names and ID.  Only under 25s carry ID so we couldn’t provide any. Then they asked to photograph our bank cards. Naturally we refused – but still got in to see the show. It was good fun. If I started a Kaiserchiefs tribute band, and please don’t leave any snotty comments about this,  I’d call it The Handkerchiefs.

Mixing

People constituting an organisation are apt to give themselves pompous titles. Well a band is an organisation so there’s no reason we can’t join in the fun.

My role in Chico Chica is a combination of Project Manager or Artistic Director and the other band members are happy to indulge my deluded vanity. It’s generally down to me to push the band forward – booking recording and live dates. But I also do fun stuff like choosing the setlist and this, crucially,  defines the band’s character and direction. And there’s the small matter of writing words so in publicity blurb  I’m usually referred to as the lyricist.

 By contrast, my colleague Barbara Snow looks after the actual music – composing the songs, choosing instrumentation, personnel and studio and overseeing sessions. So she’s what is what you could call the Musical Director.
Last Friday we were in the studio for the first day of mixing our latest batch of songs. We have been recording at Porcupine Studios, Mottingham, London SE9 with engineer Nick Taylor and we returned there to prepare the music for release. Barbara’s keen ears, which picked up all the errors in time and pitch during the recording, were now needed to help Nick blend the sounds to form a coherent whole. Particular attention was paid to the voices and lines where the flugelhorn and flute were playing together. Such is the mysterious art of mixing.
  It was interesting to listen back. We recorded last June which now seems ages ago. The material is heavily samba-influenced. We had a Brazilian rhythm section in for the day: Carlos Straatman, Jansen Santana and Xande Oliveira. Instead of the usual guitar,  I played cavaquinho throughout. Of the five tracks, four were songs and one an instrumental. The songs are tightly arranged and unlike our last album, there is no spoken word. There’s some excellent playing and I’m looking forward to hearing how the overall sound will be wrought. It’s going to be a huge contrast to The Glow of Havana.
  I arrived for the session early to make sure everything was okay, and drank an excellent coffee which Nick made from his cappuccino machine, but left soon after because there really wasn’t anything for me to do. You could say mixing is not part of my job description.

Marseille

I have just come back from a five week adventure in Marseille. It was a combination of a business trip, a holiday, a writing retreat, working (a few solo concerts) and meeting friends I haven’t seen for years. So I call it an adventure.

Why Marseille? I find it hard to justify five weeks lazing about. I have to have a ‘project’ otherwise I feel guilty. And as I’m sure you can guess, it’s about Chico Chica. In my head I drew this complicated Venn diagram.  French people, I discovered, are unfamiliar with Venn diagrams. I tried to explain with a napkin and biro but, judging from the look on their faces, I don’t think I did a good job.

Though the band have toured around the UK, we have decided that it is easier and more lucrative to focus on London and the South East. But we wanted to expand our horizons especially for August when so much of our fanbase goes on holiday. I wanted a place where:

1) they speak the languages we sing in: English, Spanish, Arabic (one song: Majda Al Han) and French.

2) they speak a language where I can at least order a coffee. That leaves France and England.

3) I wanted somewhere warm. Sorry England.

4) I wanted a mode of transport which doesn’t force me to put my instrument in the hold and turn up three hours before departure so I have to stare at billboards while drinking over-priced coffee.

So when I saw  a bus drive past with an advert saying Marseille non-stop Eurostar for £80, my mind was made up. I also happen to know a Marseillaise who used to live in London years ago.

Chico Chica have been writing and performing songs in French:

C’est Ta Chanson,

Pense à Moi

and Mon Oiseau S’est Enfui. So the idea emerged of recording a French mini-album in France.

Marseille is a marvel. New arrivals to a city tend to look up to take in the architecture and vistas. It’s a hilly city with the church of Notre Dame occupying the top slot the same way the Cristo Redentor does in Rio. Walking through the street I come across vistas I never imagined: the iron bridge over Rue D’Aubagne has a curvaceous elegance unlike those found in England. L’Hotel de Ville. L’Opera and the Bourse are exceptional buildings that rival anything else Europe. If the  monument at Longchamp has a London equivalent it would be the Albert Memorial. But Longchamp has more. It is a rococo expression of La Gloire that only the French can do.

But the eye starts to take in the tall houses. They are primarily Napoleon III 1860s. These were built on a grand Haussman scale – bourgeois with wooden shutters, wrought iron balustrades and countless statues of Madonnas on corner alcoves. The evident decay is charming, and in many other cities these areas would be ripe for gentrification.

Lowering the eye further still and we realise why Marseille is so exceptional. The first thing we notice is it’s covered in graffiti. But the graffitti blends into the local artwork. Many businesses paint murals so it’s hard to know where one stops and the other starts. There are things we see which exist in London but with the help of strict laws and generous welfare, we keep hidden: prostitution, rats, migrant families rummaging in bins, homeless men bedding down on the city’s ornate bandstands, countless beggars, hawkers and street musicians. The less talented the musicians the more aggressive they tend to be. There were some great buskers in the tourist area of the Vieux Port. The music venues tend to close for the holiday season because everyone likes to eat outside. This makes it difficult to promote concerts. I did a few gigs using the ‘chapeau’ means of payment. I am not used to this way of working but, with the help of my friends Celia and Amar, it worked really well.

And yet. There is something which I really loved. The people are warm, open and it’s easy to make friends. Tourists are rare compared to Nice and Provence in fact I only met one English person in my whole visit (yes you Emily). My AirBnB flat was near Cours Julien. This is the true Marseille, away from the yachts and over-priced food of the Vieux Port. Cours Julien is, among other things, home to a community of homeless Africans. I noticed a different attitude to low life. In England, there is a separation from normality. We pass them by privately cursing the state for failing to keep misfortune out of sight and out of mind. Marseille is different. For example, the prostitutes, as they sit in their doorways, are greeted by passers-by and pleasantries are exchanged. One character who was obviously severely mentally deranged, was allowed to sit with the locals at coffee tables, not joining in the conversation but somehow feeling part of communal life.

The Marseillaises love pizza and for good reason – it’s better that ours. There pizza tends to be rectangular rather than circular, I don’t know why that should make a difference but it does. For a change I would go to Cours Jus, run by two Nathalies, one, ‘le patron’, is tall and serious the other is the big hearted chef helped by the silent, ever-smiling Senegalese Baba. The Nathalies prevented my stay becoming too cheesy. And then, at Cafe St Julien there’s the lovely Leila. She has invited me to play Facebook Soda Crush which obviously means she fancies me.

What I admired more than anything is the free spirit of Marseille. They do really naughty stuff like smoke indoors. I saw twelve year olds riding motor cycles on pavement without helmets (naturellement) and many of the motor cyclists make their way around the town using the rear wheel only. I think it’s a courting ritual.

I made trips to Nice, Cannes, Nîmes, Frejus and Aix and have made some enough contacts to put in place a Chico Chica tour culminating in a studio date with Henry Frampton at his studio in Provence.