I can't say this enough...good music is out there - you just have to be open and it will find you...

Last night - walking home after work and an errand (around 8 p.m.), make the light, cross the corner and that's where I hear it - cumbia. Growing up in Texas, my first memory of music from my father was Bob Wills and Freddy Fender. On hunting trips in South Texas, the only radio you could receive deep in brush county were the cross border stations throwing 100,000 watts of tejano, conjunto and mariachi music into the small transistor GE radio sitting on top of the stove. After a few trips, we would purposely tune in Piedras Negras or Nuevo Loredo - singing, with no comprehension of the words. I remember how excited he was with the beginning of the Texas Tornados...we even saw Johnny Rodriguez together last year. I'm providing you this background so you can understand how important Latin music is to me.

So, what stopped me at the corner last night was hearing cumbia music coming from the Zoo Bar. Of any type of music in existence, cumbia is the last type I would expect to hear being played in Lincoln, Nebraska - Taco Bell is the closest these people get to Latin anything.

The players were a group from San Diego called Agua Dulce. Now...some people claimed after 2001 that Latin music had its rise and fall and now exists in it's own, small musical neighborhood. Bullshit. Latin music is everywhere and has finally eclipsed the curiosity lended to it from mainstream "white" America. That said...the group who needs to be movin' YOUR neighborhood is Agua Dulce. These cats blend cumbia, conjunto, salsa, regge, soul and funk, Brazilian percussion into a fiery mix that can burn all night...and judging by the title of their first record, "Searching for Juana"...they probably do long after the stage is cleared. The excitement for Agua Dulce is not only about the style of music and the reaction of the crowd, but how talented they are as musicians. They routinely trade positions and instruments on stage...mid-song...and continue the ritual. Many of the patrons who wonder in are led from doorway...to bar...to dance floor and never leave. It all ends in a percussion jam...close your eyes and you're in the streets of Sao Paulo during the highlight of Carnival. By this point, everyone is on their feet...regulars who live on that barstool are up and clapping along to the rhythm. Regretfully, it all ends...but with smiles and sweat all around, you know you weren't alone. The guys come off the stage, sell out of their records and are looking for the next scene.

We all venture over to Duffy's who is hosting the Legendary Stardust Cowboy. He's credited as being one of Bowie's idols...Ziggy "borrowed" his namesake. To his credit, he moves better than any social security recipient I've ever seen - not in California. But musically - you would have to call it "performance country."

"Cow punk" was a term used to describe fringe country artists in Nashville in the late 80's and early 90's - Foster and Lloyd, Rodney Crowell, etc. After seeing this performance last night...the term was used to soon. Some of the Cowboy's lyrics include: "I went looking for Saddam Hussein and I found you" and "I brush my teeth with the flower bed." And I can't forget the random injection of "who hoos," the chastising of the bad with "When I say cut it off, I mean cut it off!!!" and fits over who stole his water. After a start and stop 40 minute set, he was off the stage in a flash...not caring who he nicked with his spurs. I think the overall reaction from the crowd - including myself - was laughter. It was just damn funny...