Friends Of Dean Martinez - Biography
Friends of Dean Martinez are one of those bands that seem to have sprung directly from their physical environment. Currently based in Austin, Texas, the ensemble originally formed in Tucson, Arizona, and it is nigh on impossible to describe their sound without using the word “desert.” Guitarist Bill Elm is at the center of the project, and his emotive slide guitar is the voice that penetrates an instrumental collage of 60s surf, sultry lounge, Spanish/Latin jazz and Western, desert twang. Elm founded the project in 1994 with other musicians from the Tucson scene, like Joey Burns and John Convertino from Calexico (the latter also from Giant Sand) and Van Christian from Naked Prey. Originally called Friends of Dean Martin, the band had to change their name early on, because apparently Mr. Martin’s people caught wind of it and issued a cease and desist order. In a way, the current name suits them better, as it alludes to their south-of-the-border aesthetic.
The debut LP, The Shadow of Your Smile (1995 Sub Pop) evokes all manner of dusty landscapes, piano bars and remote, desert dives. The album kicks off with a delightful, twangy traditional, “All the Pretty Horses,” and a languorous, atmospheric version of “Misty” also makes an appearance. The follow-up, Retrograde (1997 Sub Pop) has still more slow surf, lounge and Southwestern vibe on offer, with Elm’s distorted guitar cutting through moody organ, silky vibraphones and languid, bossa nova beats. The next album takes more of an experimental turn with Atardecer (1999 Knitting Factory Works). Oscillating electronic swirls and spaced out drones compliment the Spaghetti Western reverb, and the guitar is more strident and distorted in places, creating an Ennio-Morricone-meets-Jimi-Hendrix effect.
A Place in the Sun (2000 Knitting Factory Works) is where FoDM really start to hit their stride. Sprawling and cinematic, this record is the most evocative to date. The title song, a luscious, lowly narrative, weaves through a background of Mexican standoff drums. “When You’re Gone” is a ballad of lovely, acoustic arpeggios with a background of rain and slow, aching slide guitar, and one of the highlights is a woozy, scorching version of “Summertime.”
An independent German label released two full-length LPs, Wichita Lineman (2001 Glitterhouse Records) and Under the Waves (2003 Glitterhouse Records). Selected tracks from former and from a live album, Live at Club 2 were compiled, along with new material, to comprise a two-disc set, On the Shore (2003 Narnack Records). This expansive release is entertaining as ever, with plenty of dusty atmospherics, and the interpretation of “Wichita Lineman” is soulful and truly stirring. With the following album, Random Harvest (2004 Narnack Records), FoDM take a heavier turn with more nods to 70s rock, and the combination of a harder edge with the signature Southwestern twang works to stunning effect in tracks like the dark, epic “Dusk.” There are softer moments, too, like the acoustic folkiness of “The Winter Palace,” and the melodic shuffle in “Nowhere to Go” — the closing track of a thoroughly engaging and well-rounded record.
In 2005, Aero Recordings released the first US version of Live at Club 2, which was a recording of a concert in Munich for Bavarian radio. Shortly afterward, the band released Lost Horizon (2005 Aero Recordings). With a slightly sunnier, dreamier disposition, these gorgeous, melancholic songs still evoke the desert, but in its most luxurious aspects — in long shadows, heat mirages and cool air on sunburned skin. The undulating dynamics of each song weave into the next in seamless transitions, as a chorus of washy reverb meets wailing slide guitar, ethereal chiming organ and fuzzy cowboy riffs. “Dusk” is a sublime moment with cricket noises and twilight drone, as is “Departure,” with its somber acoustic guitar lines over an exquisite, relaxed groove. For a band who have consistently proven that they can evolve and reach new heights within the confines of their chosen form, Lost Horizon may be the finest hour yet for Friends of Dean Martinez. By exploring the roots of where they come from as well as the influences they find intriguing, they have wound up expressing something new, and over a decade-plus career they have gone from faithful, (though ironically knowing) purveyors of authentic roots genres to artists inhabiting a unique niche in contemporary American music.
