INTERVIEW

LYRICS

Tell a friend about Huevos Rancheros!

David McLary and Huevos Rancheros

This is a truly unique band. The music is exceptionally written, but the instrumentation is far from traditional. Check out dear Dear Diary for funk violins! The band consists of David McLary-guitar and vocals, Dan Martin-bass, Diane Stockwell-violin, Kristina Kanders-percussion, Peter Lewis-percussion, Greg Rogers-percussion, Amir Aziv-percussion, Jon Feinberg-Percussion, Jenny Williams-violin, Dan Freidling-violin, Adam Hyman-viola, Christian Frederickson-viola and special guest Lisa Loeb.

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Interview


"What I really wanted to play was the cello, but it was too big for me to carry because it was bigger than me. I used to get really frustrated so I switched to viola because it was smaller," says David McLary on the begining of his music career. When listening to Huevos Rancheros, it's clear that McLary has an enormous number of influences and a great depth of musical experience. Currently he is a guitar player and vocalist, but he's had lessons on the piano, flute, recorder, viola, and the giant-for-a-third-grader-cello. He has played classical piano, organ in a ska band and guitar in a power rock trio. McLary describes what this has developed in to as, "A pop band. I tell people it's kind of country kind of salsa." Anyone who has heard Huevos live knows that's a mild description of one of the hardest grooving bands in New York City. Dear Diary is a great pop tune with it's roots in funk except for two things; there's no drummer and the funk is provided by violins. "It's not easy finding a violin player who swings," says McLary.

While David had formal training from and early age, continuing throughout High School, most of his defining musical development took place while at Brown University. "One advantage to being a music student at a non music school is that there aren't that many people who were serious about it as I was. There were a lot of people that did it. There were a lot of people who worked hard at it, but there were not a lot of people who were really insane about it. At any hour of the day, just about, I could go into the studio and fart around. We had 24 hour access to the school's studio, so I'd spend my nights figuring out how to use everything. When I did my first record, it was kind of a compilation of the things I'd done for the last year and a half I was there."

David also spent time playing live. "I made the record with a band called Pop Wagner. We only played one show, but it was a great show. It was a huge band with a string section, two drummers, 5 or 6 horn players a couple of bass players, cause we had a stand up and a regular bass a couple guitars a couple background singers and a sampler was in there somewhere. We basically tried to play what was on the record, which was almost impossible, but it was fun!"

McLary is not one for the standard approach to putting a band together. He took approach even with smaller acoustic shows. "The thing I was doing consistently was playing acoustically and kind of busting out shows. There was a regular Tuesday night coffee shop gig. It started out as a really annoying Joni Mitchell type of evening full of all these sensitivos. Then 5 or 6 of us descended on it and started doing all kinds of weird stuff, like three people who'd all play drums at the same time. One of the regular things I did was with a saxophone quartet. I continued doing all kinds of little experimental bands for the rest of the time I was at Brown."

When did Huevos form and how did you end up with such unique instrumentation?
After I moved to NYC, I was getting bored of pop music. I was getting bored of the idea of someone who is a pretty good songwriter, but just doesn't do anything innovative. Sometimes you hear a songwriter who is really good and you get the point, but they're not doing anything else. I decided to write a lot of songs where you didn't get the point, that were really obscure, and try to do something totally new. I guess I was really annoyed with drums and the standard back beat.

So you were starting clean by ripping out the root of everything.
I've always written from the rhythm up. The words are usually the last thing that I end up writing. I would get idea from the drummer and filter it back. I would spend as much time writing the drum parts with the drummer as I would giving parts to the guitar player. So it was natural for me to focus on that as the thing to take out.

Do you write with the band, or bring finished parts to rehearsal?
(laughs) I'm a total dictator. I set up rehearsal, bring songs and try to make them do it. But usually what happens is several ideas and by the time people have played them 3 or 4 times they've changed them completely. When I hear those ideas back I give them back some changes.

So you arrive with a set of chord changes and lyrics? Usually I have chord changes and charts for all the strings and the bass player and a vague idea of what I want to happen with the percussion and a song structure. Then I will work in lyrics later. I really lean on the percussionists a lot to translate my rough sketches into good ideas.

How do you approach song structure?
I try to be conscious of what I'm repeating. When there's a repeat of a section, I will make at least something different. Sometimes I repeat half of it again. Sometimes I'll change the order of parts.

I also like to have really long bridges. If I have a 16 bar verse, I'll end up with a 40 bar bridge.

Are the lyrics autobiographical?
The idea behind Dear Diary came from seeing a movie of the week where someone was constantly writing love poems in their diary. Right after that I had a big fight with my girlfriend and I realized that the idea of going back to a diary and reading it is just so silly, because it's always the same thing over and over again. You never learn. You just keep doing the same stupid things over and over again. So nothing really happens. Lyrically it just marks time. That's part of the reason why it's a choppy, rhythmic, kind of rap like song. That's the idea behind the line Starting at point blank again, starting at square one again."

The other element is playing against the confessional folk song theme. Sometimes when you listen to a James Taylor song it sound like he's ripping a page out of his diary and playing a beautiful song about their life. None of the things I write in my diary a beautiful things about my life (laughs).

What about Look Ma? "From the day his mother birthed him, he was between some woman's legs", is an opening line that demands attention.
I had read a million Graham Greene books back to back and wanted to tell a Graham Greene like story. He's very Catholic, so there's always lots of religious overtones. He was also a total ladies man so there's lots of sexual overtones as well; everyone's damned and everyone wants to have sex all the time. It's funny the way that they totally intermingle with each other. The story is about a guy who travels around, who doesn't really do much and is always running away from responsibility. He's always dogged by religion and sex.

Who were some of your musical influences?
I listened to the first Specials album a lot. Del Amitri's first album too. Obviously I've listened to a lot of Elvis Costello.

Your voice sounds a lot like his, is that intentional?
No. In fact I have been trying to sing less like him, though I do rip off some of his melodic twists from time to time.

I like a lot of pop music. I liked Game Theory a lot when they were around. I listened to them a lot for their unusual melodic ideas. They were really good at making melodies twist in ridiculous ways and end up somewhere that you wouldn't expect them to

What are some of the musical phases you've gone through?
I did the ska thing for a while. I did the power rock thing, I tried to be Rush for a while. I had a Brazilian phase but now I'm starting to move towards a Cuban style. It's kind of my Mambo phase. I'm listening to a lot of Perez Prado.

How do you describe Huevos Rancheros?
I think of it as a pop band. I'll tell people it's kind of country and kind of salsa.

How do you explain the unique instrumentation?
I usually don't! (laughs) I tell them that it has strings in it and has a percussion section.

And no drummer?
I usually don't mention that. I probably should, shouldn't I?

How did you come up with the name Huevos Rancheros?
I like eggs a lot. I was dating someone and I had told her about cowboy toast. to make cowboy toast, you take a piece of bread, cut a hole out of the middle, and out an egg in the middle. You fry it on both sides and you end up with a piece of toast with fried egg in the middle. When I told her about this she said, 'Oh it's just like huevos rancheros," which it's not, but when I found out about huevos rancheros I was very excited.

We've started going by the name Huevos, because we found out there's another band with the same name. I also like it because it's Spanish slang for "balls."



McLary has a lot in store for Huevos. He has about a half a dozen new songs ready to record. He is planing on doing an album of 70's cop show themes. McLary has recently begun doing film scores using the Huevos band. Check in periodically for updates and new releases.


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Lyrics

 

DEAR DIARY

March 14: Does it really mean the end of a dream? It seems like a green
room scheme. Dear diary, it's mean (but clean) to ween on the teen scene,
teeming with the sheen of A Love Serene.

Dear diary,
The last time I opened you up
I was the wagging tail on a little lost pup
Now I'm a mad dog, scratching and snarling my way whole hog,
Gulping down the eggnog
Putting a little mustard on the custard that they fed me
When they led me here like Custer,
Seeing if I can muster up the strength for a last stand
Licking down the barrel of the gun in her hand.

Staring at point blank again
Starting at square one again...

March 24: It gets to be a bore when you're sore from the scratch and the
flesh that you meshed on the screen door. Dear diary, I would go to war if
I could find a whore, believe in folklore, settle for more, or at least
have something to come home for.

Dear diary,
The last time I opened you up
I used a golden chalice for a thinking cup
Now I'm full with the bull that I learned on the street.
I want meat! Give me something I can really eat.
Not chewing the fat, this-n-that chit chat, that-n-this piss job.
Sweetie's gonna sob over Jack Sprat,
Reeling with the feeling I gave and robbed.
Whad'ya know? All I needed was a blow job.

And all my friends say
That I don't love you for what you are:
That's for dreams and fantasies.
And even my shrink says
That I don't love you for what you are:
It's more of what you mean to me.
Right now you mean nothing but misery, Diary.

It seems that the last time I opened you up
My pockets were empty and my hopes corrupted
By a sweet little reet petite that went tweet
In the nighttime, neatly counting on the next line she fed me
To have led me into bed
And to have nailed herself into my head
While I'm spread on the bread like the mustard on the custard
That she fed me when she led me here like Custer at point blank.



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TURN HER AROUND

Everyone around here loves a story
She's the star of my Sunday matinee
But I don't watch the movies that I know I should
Where Robin Hood gets the Maid.
Before the curtan falls, the whistle always calls,
And I don't have the heart to turn her around.

Every time we sleep she turns away from me
She comes and goes like a reoccurring dream
But dreams don't keep you wide awake and there I lie
Her hair in my eye, while she seems
So peacefully reposed as her eyes are softly closed
That I don't have the heart to turn her around.

I don't have the heart to turn her around
The sound of gears ground down.
I guess I'm just a sucker for strapless backs and necks.
And sirens that float right past the wrecks.
A drip-dry bottle: a bee-line for the door.
She moves slowly: she can't stand anymore.
My words are waltzes unable to implore
Her to forget; when she hears a minuet
She goes spinning in circles across the dance floor.

Everywhere we go her eyes are fixed on the haze above the sun,
Only risking wishing for the night.
But promise as I may, I cannot make the day recede on cue.
And you would have it said my heart is dead if I refuse to fight.
When she says goodbye, she says there are tears down in her eye.
But I don't have the heart to turn her around.


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LOOK MA

From the day his mother birthed him,
He was between some woman's legs.
Now he begs to talk with pins and needles
And walks on broken eggs.
From the dregs of his rebellion
Came a Hellion for romance,
Til he stalls the calls with verbal pratfalls
And builds his walls with looks askance.

He went out to play some Keno
And he came home with a wife.
Now the knife that buttered both sides
Has him running for his life.
What a strife to be a father:
It'd bother what he wants.
He's a man who won his wedding band
Playing pickup hands of three-card monte.

"Look Ma,
There no rabbit in the hat."
Then he spat, took 3 steps forward, and sat.
And he pulled out a cat.
Would you look at that?
The black magic of absolution...
Look Ma! There's no rabbit in the hat.

He used to play in Reno
So he went there overnight.
But the flight's not always swift.
He said, "The thrifty travel light."
So his sights were set on Vegas,
where he doubled as a priest.
He could pick a card from shards of discards;
It won't be hard to throw a feast.

(The hat he wore) He measured for the mitre,
And he fit for the shoe.
(The hat he wore) He saved nine lived,
Can you blame him for two?
(The hat he wore) He looks kinda funny,
And he acts like a creampuff.
His feet are tied in a bag underwater,
But at least he'll get out of the handcuffs.

Look Ma,
It's just Billy in the box.
Purple socks don't change the way that he walks.
His curt question unlocks the men he mocks
With slack magic, like absolution.
Look Ma! There's no rabbit in the hat.



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BLISTERS

When the confession started, she couldn't shut her mouth.
The white walls of Louis' diner must've looked like a church she left
behind her,
And I had taken the Father's place
With a fork full of fish-fry a half-foot from my face.

We always met in restaurants
I lurked behind a deep-plush pile of pancakes
She ate just like a debutaunte
Picking at her oats and cornflakes.

You can't eat it all.
You can't eat everything in a five-minute swing.
A five-minute fling could sling
You foot upon the street will put a blister on your feet
Then apply a little heat to put a blister on your teeth.

She liked a man with girth
And only feared a dearth by drowning.
But as she sank, her throat was pounding
And swallowing the earth.

When I finally wiped my chin,
I was amazed at the volume of the trash I shovelled in:
"I'll tan your hide", my wounded pride, a subway token,
Everything I've known except the words I'd spoken.

There ain't no cookin till the coals are hot!
If the chicken's to your liking, give the pork a shot!
The broth still simmers in a frothy pot!
But the eatin' goes fleetin' if the peppers rot!

There ain't no woman like the one you got.
And I bought it.


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