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For all its roughneck reputation as a backwards cultural wasteland with a taste of the wild West, Tijuana does have its saving graces. The phenomenon of the four-man Nortec Collective has certainly shined a light on Mexico’s northernmost metropolis, helping to recast the city as a cutting-edge hub that’s abuzz with sonic innovation and creativity. DJs Ramón Amezcua and Pepe Mogt—known together as Bostich+Fussible—are two of the group’s more prolific firebrands, and their debut as a duo, Tijuana Sound Machine
(Nacional), is a border-crossing retro-futurist mix of Latin and Anglo styles that epitomizes their home turf.
“Tijuana was a border town without a real identity,” Amezcua explains. “In all of the Republic, Tijuana was like an island. We were an isolated city.”
As the first in a series of new Nortec-related full-lengths slated for release this year, Tijuana Sound Machine continues to build on the electro-norteño outfit’s border aesthetic and multi-tiered approach to making and marketing music. Even the disc’s cover art—a vintage cruisemobile stripped down to the rust-colored primer—provides a visual link to the duo’s live performances, where the road trip theme is transmitted via large-screen projections. And when it comes to Tijuana, things aren’t always what they seem.
“It’s a conceptual trip conjugated by the images of places that have influenced us in some way,” says Mogt, a chemical engineer who once worked on face-cream formulas for a living. He refers to Bostich+Fussible’s live sets as an interactive experience. “When you go to the concert, the car that you see on the CD cover is the same one you will see at the show, and that car is going to be moving along in that world full of objects and landscapes that we see.” Then the voyage goes from being symbolic—with visuals of scenery and landmarks in Baja California—to outright cinematic. “Suddenly you see a yellow submarine, but it’s from Tijuana, of course. You will see characters that are very emblematic of the city. And we will continue to move from one place to another in
conjunction with the songs that we’ll be playing until the car stops and the show is over.”
Amezcua and Mogt have veered slightly off track from the course set by Nortec’s two previous albums. Both Tijuana Sessions Vol. 1 and Vol. 3 (the second volume never quite materialized) sampled instruments traditionally used in the norteño and banda
sinaloense genres, and cross-bred them with electronic beats. Vol. 1, the collective’s 2001 debut, was a loopy, diced-up compilation that went virtually unnoticed on a global scale, selling only 40,000 copies. But 2005’s follow-up Vol. 3 netted two Latin Grammy nominations, and edged out big-name acts like Enrique Iglesias and Shakira for the top spot on the iTunes Latin Albums chart, despite its heavier doses of live acoustic instrumentation.
With Tijuana Sound Machine, Bostich+Fussible stretch beyond technoteño by adding alt-rock, electro-pop, and experimental music to the mix. It’s the seamless symbiosis they’ve been striving for all along, and it has allowed them to venture off in new directions— even toward what Mogt describes as psychedelic norteño rock, as heard on “Brown Bike” (sung by Bryce Kushnier of the band Vitamins For You) and “Wanted” (with Argenis Brito on vocals). Both songs rely on the 12-string bajosexto, which is traditionally used in norteño bands but also fits naturally into an atmosphere that leans toward indie rock shoegazing. By contrast, “Ciruela Eléctrica” and “Retén” are crunching, mechanistic experimental jaunts that display Krautrock tendencies and the minimalism of post-rock bands like Tortoise.
Nortec’s last world tour allowed Bostich+Fussible to interact with other musicians abroad and to follow their own electronic inclinations— all key factors in the album’s overall sound. “We missed all the machines [on tour],” Mogt asserts, adding that the duo’s almost exclusively electronic side projects nurtured their collaboration on Tijuana Sound Machine. “We wanted to give the norteño sound another electronic injection. With Nortec, Ramón and I are the ones who are more focused on using [electronic] resources like vocoders and rhythm boxes, and that’s how we decided to pursue a concept that, more than anything, has to do with ’80s retro combined with the norteño sound.”
Originally a septet, Nortec Collective was formed in 1999 by likeminded DJs and producers who came of age in the ’80s. Naturally, they rejected their parent’s regional music in favor of what was playing on San Diego radio stations—particularly 91X-FM. “In the ’80s, their programming was mostly European,” Amezcua says, warming to the subject. “All of that became an influence on an entire generation in Tijuana that was into another kind of musical current. This was the kind of music you could hear in Tijuana—
whatever was going on in England, almost pure techno-pop and alternative music. It wasn’t American music.”
The late-night broadcasts also transmitted the sounds of electronic music pioneers from the German Krautrock scene (Tangerine Dream and Klaus Schulze) and French synth-pop innovator Jean Michel Jarre. Experimental composers like Italy’s Luciano Berio and Poland’s Krzystof Penderecki, and bands like Kraftwerk, The Clash, Human League and Yello (whose fast-paced song “Bostich” provided Amezcua with his nom de guerre) were also influential. “To me, it all sounded like music from outer space,” Mogt adds. “It’s what the future sounded like.”
The unlikely marriage between regional Mexican music and electronica took shape in 1999 while Mogt was attending, ironically enough, a wedding reception. Zoning out on the rollicking snares being played by the band, the idea hit him. “It was like ‘Boom!’” he
says of the epiphany. He got a friend who produced norteño bands at a local studio to hook him up with some samples—a digital motherlode of snare drum hits and authentically Mexican sounds (bajosexto, accordions, tubas, and congas) that flavored the electronic stew of Nortec Collective’s first music sampler. One track from the group’s original batch of songs, Amezcua’s “Polaris,” was already wildly popular by the time Island Records and Palm Pictures founder Chris Blackwell stumbled across Nortec’s homemade CD at a party. He signed Nortec to a short-lived distribution deal, but the die had been cast: the Latin alternative Nacional label soon swooped in with a more lasting proposition.
Nortec Collective remains inextricably connected to Tijuana, with all of its contradictions and kitschy indulgences. Without denying any of this, Amezcua and Mogt have managed to make a transcendental album that has the potential to go worldwide. “It’s curious,” Amezcua reflects, after noting that part of their motivation comes from rescuing the “grotesque” and making it aesthetically pleasing. “We Tijuana natives are always somehow reaffirming our Mexican identity. Perhaps it has something to do with being on the periphery.”
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