
David Hidalgo and Cesar Rosas discuss the band's new album, Native Sons, their legacy of bringing Mexican folk music into mainstream rock, early days playing in the punk scene, and how the group's singular sound evolved along the way.
Few bands have had careers as charmed or as unlikely as Los Lobos, and even fewer have successfully laced together the number of disparate styles found in the band's music to make such a unique yet cohesive sound. Los Lobos' blend of traditional Mexican folk, soul, blues, and roots rock is a direct reflection of the diverse musical environment they were immersed in coming up in East Los Angeles in the late '70s and early '80s. The band's voice has always mirrored L.A.'s eclectic sonic tapestry in a beautiful and authentic way, and in an era where the internet can sometimes dramatically homogenize how we make art by removing geography and local interaction from the process, Los Lobos' uncanny story and locally shaped sound are a reminder of bygone days.
They are a living, breathing, culturally significant remnant of a fast-disappearing version of Los Angeles—and one with a legacy much bigger than just their brilliant work on the La Bamba soundtrack—elevated by a unique personality and rendered in fabulous songs. The diversity which shaped Los Lobos' music has always made L.A. fertile ground for guitar culture, and a deep passion for the instrument has always underpinned Los Lobos' work.
The group's pair of guitar and vocal anchors, David Hidalgo and Cesar Rosas, have earned no small number of famous friends and fans in the guitar space over the years—including heavies like Billy Gibbons and Eric Clapton—and when Hidalgo is brought up in guitar circles, the conversation inevitably turns to how underrated a player he is. Despite the stout, soulful chops and deceptively difficult rhythms that lurk within Los Lobos' songs, guitar heroism has never been this band's bag. Los Lobos' odyssey has been a decidedly blue-collar affair that always put the songs first, from performing traditional Mexican folk tunes for punk audiences while opening shows for bands like Black Flag, X, and the Blasters in the early '80s, to sharing the stage with roots-rock greats and jamming with their heroes. Most importantly, Hidalgo and Rosas have learned from it all, remaining dedicated students of the various musical traditions that have influenced their sound.
Los Lobos - “Native Son” (Official Music Video)
Check out the title track from the band's 17th album.
Now, Los Lobos is looking back. Their latest album, Native Sons, is an unsurprisingly varied collection of cover tunes, which traces the band's early education and love affair with Southern California's music culture. "We went through hundreds of songs when we were choosing the songs for the album, and we took it back to the basics," David Hidalgo explains. "Everyone chose songs that meant something to them, so a lot of these were our breakthrough tunes, you know?"
The resulting recording is not only a fantastic primer on California's best music as Los Lobos sees it, but a prime example of this band's ability to take on just about any tune and make it their own without sacrificing what made the song charming in the first place. Hidalgo and Rosas are all-too-happy to discuss the music that shaped them as players and songwriters while growing up in Southern California during the glory days of AM radio. Hidalgo sets the scene for us.
"Growing up in L.A., everything was everywhere," he says. "You'd drive through all these different neighborhoods and you'd hear different music. The AM radio back then was great—it was wide open. You had rock 'n' roll like Chuck Berry, the Beatles, the Stones, the Animals, the Yardbirds, but also you had Stax stuff, like Sam & Dave and Otis Redding, and Motown. Then you had the Mexican music that was everywhere, from the mariachis playing in restaurants to all these different styles. So, it all made sense to us. My older brother was a drummer and he'd play weddings, and his band had to play everything. They'd play 'Time Won't Let Me' by the Outsiders and then they'd play a cumbia, or they'd play some Chuck Berry before playing a bolero. That was the tradition we grew up in. L.A. had T-Bone Walker and its blues side, but surf guitar was also born in Southern California, and you had guys like Dick Dale, and the South Bay had bands like the Pyramids and the Belairs. So, it was always diverse. On top of that, Fender came out of Southern California and Semie Moseley started Mosrite in Bakersfield, so a lot of pioneering guitar makers were from the L.A. area and it was just part of the culture. The city was different back then, too. Neighborhoods that are Black or Latino now used to be ranches, and there was lots of country music. The Wagon Wheel was a place owned by Joe Maphis in Norwalk, and you had honky-tonks 10 miles away from blues clubs where Bobby Bland was playing."
"When they threw us in that pool with Black Flag and the Circle Jerks and all those flash bands, shit man, we had to swim out of there!" —Cesar Rosas
Considering that Rosas met Hidalgo in junior high school, the pair's early musical interests were always closely aligned. However, Rosas found himself particularly drawn to the soulful side of things, which informed the airtight and colorful rhythm guitar work he excels at.
"Before I became a guitar player, I always took to a lot of soul and R&B music," Rosas says of his days as a nascent music fan. "In the AM radio days, KGFJ was my favorite station, and they played all Black music. So, I grew up listening to Aretha Franklin and Sam & Dave and the Memphis stuff, Booker T. & the M.G.s. And that meant I grew up loving guitar!"
The majority of Native Sons was tracked at Nest Recorders, which brought most of the band back to East L.A. from their homes in the suburbs, adding an extra layer of emotional weight to the process. However, since the record was cut during the pandemic, Rosas' contributions were tracked from the safety and comfort of his home studio in his "stocking feet," as he says. Rosas brought in album opener "Love Special Delivery"—a killer '60s rocker by Thee Midniters, an East L.A.-bred group that was among the first Chicano rock bands to have a major radio hit—and a sweet Willie Bobo ballad called "Dichoso," which Rosas finished with layers of fantastic yet delicate guitar work.
David Hidalgo's Gear
David Hidalgo plays a Silvertone during recent rehearsals for Los Lobos' Native Sons tour.
Photo by Piero F Giunti
Guitars
- Fender Custom Shop Nocaster
- Parts Telecaster with MIJ Body/MIM Baja Player Tele neck/TV Jones Filter'Tron in the bridge and humbucker in the neck
- '70s Les Paul Special
- '80s MIJ Fender Standard Strat
- Gibson Chet Atkins nylon-string solidbody
- 2000s Gretsch '59 Country Gentleman single-cutaway reissue
Amps
- Vintage Fender Deluxe Reverb
- Fender Pro Junior
- Modified Bell & Howell Projector amp
Strings & Picks
- Ernie Ball Slinkys (.009, .010, or .011 sets, depending on guitar)
- Herco .75 mm silver
Hidalgo's selections boast some of the album's standout guitar moments. He sought to honor the spirit of originals as closely as possible with his performances. "I've always been a guitar lover, so 'Bluebird' by Buffalo Springfield was one of mine. Between Neil Young, Stephen Stills, and Richie Furay, it has great guitar playing, great arrangements, and great tones. That was a song I've wanted to play since I was 16 years old, but it was always too hard."
The band's cover of War's "The World Is a Ghetto" features some of the finest guitar playing and tones on the album. Hidalgo claims it was a deceptively difficult track to get together, even for a decorated player such as himself. "It's one of those songs we grew up with, but you don't realize how intricate it really is until you start trying to play it," Hidalgo says. "Howard Scott's guitar playing is elusive. There's hard rhythms and he's riffing on it at the same time, and you can tell that band recorded that song live and in the moment, so they're not really set parts and they change throughout the song. So, I tried to at least cop that vibe."
TIDBIT: Los Lobos' 17th studio album, Native Sons, was recorded during the pandemic at L.A.'s Nest Recorders studio, except for guitarist Cesar Rosas' parts, which he tracked from the safety of his home studio in his "stocking feet."
The closing jam on the War cover flexes one of the rare moments on the album where the group allowed themselves to cut loose from an original arrangement. "The ending of that song always sounded like it went to the relative major to me, so we went into this almost Hendrix or Sonny Sharrock-like solo," says Hidalgo. "The end of that one was our chance to break it open and do our own thing a bit."
While the gear and amenities available at Nest were put to good use by his bandmates, Rosas had no shortage of killer gear at his disposal at home. The southpaw guitarist has amassed quite the collection of rare, vintage left-handed guitars over the years, many of which never leave his home studio, so the circumstances presented a rare opportunity to put them to work.
Cesar Rosas' Gear
Cesar Rosas stands by with a southpaw Candelas nylon-string during recent rehearsals for Los Lobos' Native Sons tour.
Photo by Piero F Giunti
Guitars
- 1952 Gibson ES-295
- 1960 Fender Stratocaster
- 1966 Fender Telecaster
- 1960s Gretsch Country Gentleman
Amps
- 1950s Fender tweed Deluxe
Strings & Picks
- Ernie Ball Slinkys (.009–.042)
- Clayton Triangle 1.0 mm
"I have my special gear that I keep at home, my vintage guitars and vintage tweed Fender amplifiers that I only use at home for recording," Rosas says. "'Dichoso' has three or four guitars overdubbed on it. I used a 1952 Gibson ES-295 and a 1960 Strat that's very dear to me. I recorded 'Love Special Delivery' with a Gretsch Country Gentleman and a 1966 Fender Tele. And I used an old '50s tweed Deluxe for those songs."
Hidalgo and Rosas have always brought their own unique playing styles and gifts as guitarists to Los Lobos' music, but one thing that's unified the duo is a love of gear and the endless hunt for tone. When asked if there's still tonal experimentation in the process after this many records, Hidalgo is emphatic about how much he enjoys that side of things. "Oh yeah! That's the fun of it and that's what keeps you doing it! It's gotten a lot simpler. We used to take 30 guitars and a bunch of amps to the studio, but we got it down to a hollowbody, a Les Paul or an SG, a Strat, a Tele, and a couple of old amps, like a Deluxe Reverb. There are ways to get a lot of sounds out of minimal gear. For amps, I used Deluxe Reverbs for cleaner sounds and I'd combine it with a Fender Pro Junior a lot, which sounds like an old tweed amp to me."
For Rosas, he'll take the real deal over hybrids any day. The self-proclaimed purist says, "Sometimes somebody throws an oddball guitar at me and I play it for a little while—like I had a Strat with a humbucker in it—but I eventually go, 'What's the point? I'll just play a Les Paul.'"
"We were playing a college in Madison, Wisconsin, once and there were a lot of young punk kids and they were having fun slamming, so we broke into this Mexican ballad and they started doing the same thing in the pit, but in slow motion." —David Hidalgo
The story of how Los Lobos fell in with L.A.'s emerging punk scene when the band was still performing traditional Mexican folk songs is more than just an unexpected detour. It's a tale that underlines how truly open-minded the early punk scene was. And it's a story that proves there are things to learn from all types of music if you're paying attention. Hidalgo and Rosas both look back on those days fondly. "There was no posing with those guys, and if it was real, people in that scene were open to hear what you had to do or say," Hidalgo remembers. "The sense of community, too. In the '80s, all the bands in L.A. supported each other. The Blasters asked us to open a show for them at the Whiskey a Go Go, and that was the stepping-stone that got us going, really. There was friendship, camaraderie, and respect for each other that made the L.A. scene special. We just kind of sped everything up a little bit so you could slam to it! We were playing a college in Madison, Wisconsin, once, and there were a lot of young punk kids and they were having fun slamming, so we broke into this Mexican ballad and they started doing the same thing in the pit, but in slow motion. It was fun and most of us were on the same page: If it was real and authentic, it didn't matter what it was. Everything is connected for me and that's what I draw from."
For Rosas, the way the punks approached guitar was powerful. "Just the way those guys played—they were fuckin' on fire! A lot of them just plugged straight into the amp and that hit home for me, and it rubs off on you," Rosas says. "It's just sick stuff and we could relate to that. When they threw us in that pool with Black Flag and the Circle Jerks and all those flash bands, shit man, we had to swim out of there! But we were into it with everybody and it was really cool! We're very lucky and very proud of our time in the punk scene. Those were very special times for us."
Native Sons' nostalgic spirit presents an opportunity to reconsider the band's journey, including the impact of their artistic breakthrough, 1992's Kiko. "That album was a turning point and a good time for us," Hidalgo recalls. "We had come so far, and on the album before, The Neighborhood, which I think is a great album and we did some good work on … but we had issues with the record company which soured the end result. It ruined the feel of the album because it ruined the enjoyment that we had doing it.
In this vintage photo, Los Lobos guitarists Cesar Rosas and David Hidalgo both play Strats at a gig circa 1984.
Photo by Debra Trebitz/Frank White Photo Agency
"So, when we did Kiko we needed something to fire us up again, and that's when we started working with Mitchell Froom and Tchad Blake, and they were in the same boat and wanted to shake loose from what they had done before with something they were excited about," Hidalgo continues. "That album means so much because we really learned how to use the studio with those guys. Kiko was the first time we went in the studio, wrote most of the songs in the studio, and changed the instrumentation and arrangements as we went. It really helped us get to the next destination as a band."
With so many years, critically acclaimed records, and wild experiences in the rearview, there's a lot for Los Lobos to be proud of, but the thing that brings both Rosas and Hidalgo the most pride is bringing Mexican folk music to new audiences and the tradition they've honored with their contributions to the form.
"The Wagon Wheel was a place owned by Joe Maphis in Norwalk, and you had honky-tonks 10 miles away from blues clubs where Bobby Bland was playing." —David Hidalgo
"The Mexican folk music we play is really challenging, and I'm really proud of when I can make that stuff happen," Hidalgo says. "You can compare it to bluegrass: Those players are so far advanced and you have to know that whole library of songs, but you have to have the chops for them. It's the same way with Mexican folk music, where it's a tradition and you have to be respectful to it, but at the same time, there's room to add your own voice and take it further. Folk music was made to evolve, you know?"
Rosas feels the same way, adding: "The legacy of the Mexican folk music that we carry is important. All of those rhythms and tough songs that we play—I'd like to be remembered for what we've done with that stuff."
Los Lobos - Kiko and the Lavender Moon (video)
This classic music video for "Kiko and the Lavender Moon," from Los Lobos' Kiko album (1992), showcases the group's unique fusion of Mexican folk music, rock, jazz, and other disparate styles.
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Neil Young announces the love earth world tour, kicking off this summer.
Starting on June 18 in Rättvik, Sweden, the first leg of the tour travels through the EU and UK. The North American leg begins in Charlotte on August 8 before concluding in Los Angeles on September 15.
Tickets are available beginning tomorrow, February 25 via an exclusive, 48-hour presale for Neil Young Archives members. General on-sale begins Friday, February 28. Click HERE for tickets and see the full list of dates below. More dates will be added shortly.
With his band, the chrome hearts—Spooner Oldham (Farfisa organ), Micah Nelson (guitar and vocal), Corey McCormick (bass and vocal), Anthony LoGerfo (drums)—Neil Young (guitar and vocal) is bringing his music and songs, new and old, to you. Their recent single “big change” is the first introduction of what’s to come on the love earth tour.
Neil Young is proud to partner with Farm Aid (co-founded by Neil Young in 1985) to bring HOMEGROWN Concessions to this tour, leading the way to change the live music food system. HOMEGROWN Concessions brings family farm food — produced sustainably with a fair price paid to the farmer and served on compostable serviceware — to music venues.
love earth world tour dates:
Jun 18 — Rättvik, Sweden — Dalhalla
Jun 20 — Bergen, Norway — Bergenhus Fortress
Jun 22 — Copenhagen, Denmark — Tiøren
Jun 26 — Dublin, Ireland — Malahide Castle
Jun 30 — Brussels, Belgium — Brussels Palace Open Air, Palace Square
Jul 01 — Groningen, Netherlands — Drafbaan Stedpark
Jul 03 — Berlin, Germany — Waldbühne
Jul 04 — Mönchengladbach, Germany — Sparkassenpark
Jul 08 — Stuttgart, Germany — Cannstatter Wasen
Aug 8 — Charlotte, NC — PNC Music Pavilion
Aug 10 — Richmond, VA — Allianz Amphitheater at Riverfront
Aug 13 — Detroit, MI — Pine Knob Music Theatre
Aug 15 — Cleveland, OH — Blossom Music Center
Aug 17 — Toronto, ON — Budweiser Stage
Aug 21 — Gilford, NH — BankNH Pavilion
Aug 23 — New York, NY — Jones Beach
Aug 24 — Bethel, NY — Bethel Woods
Aug 27 — Chicago, IL — Northerly Island
Sep 01 — Denver, CO — Fiddler’s Green Amphitheatre
Sep 05 — George, WA — The Gorge
Sep 06 — Vancouver, BC — Deer Lake Park
Sep 10 — Bend, OR — Hayden Homes Amphitheater
Sep 12 — Mountain View, CA — Shoreline Amphitheater
Sep 15 — Los Angeles, CA — Hollywood Bowl
There’s so much to explore when you decide to dip your toes into altered tunings.
There’s so much to explore when you decide to dip your toes into altered tunings. The jangly beauty of DADGAD and the new shapes found in open E and open C offers new inspiration. Caitlin Caggiano teaches you not only the easiest way to get into these tunings, but also a few handy shapes that will kickstart your playing today.
An imperfectly perfect routing job.
Take a moment to appreciate those quirks in your instruments that reveal their maker’s hands.
Let’s talk about obsessions for a minute. They come in all sizes and shapes; some are benign and harmless, while others can be cruel, crippling, or even life threatening. Members of 12-step and self-help programs remind us of how insidious our own self-delusion can be, which intrigued me enough to take a look at my gear and, ultimately, myself.
I took stock of any compulsive behaviors or things that kept me up at night. I tabulated items that pushed my buttons or irritated me. In the end, I had to admit that I’ve got issues—I’m obsessed. I can’t help myself, but I don’t want to either.
There are names and acronyms for what I have, but it all boils down to one thing: I’ve been obsessed with the little details. The little stuff that most people can pass by without a second thought. That candy wrapper teetering on the edge of the waste bin; I wonder, who could possibly tolerate that? That screwdriver with a worn tip? I’ve got to replace that! A small gap between a maple top and the binding? We can’t let that go. An uneven seam? To the bandsaw it goes, and then the dumpster. Those are the little glitches that make a statement individually and add up to a total that is less than what it could be. No, make that should be. Or should it?
The ancient Greeks were fascinated with the concept of arete, which refers to excellence or virtue. Arete represents the highest quality or state that something or someone can achieve. The German auto designer Ferdinand Porsche considered it almost a religion—indeed, the company’s motto has been interpreted as “excellence is expected.” I’m not imagining that I have the chops of a Porsche engineer, but we all have goals.Of course, there is a limit; otherwise, I’d never get anything done. I’m not crazy. So, in order to save myself, and possibly you, I encourage embracing a get-out-of-jail-free concept of sorts known to the Japanese as wabi-sabi.
Wabi-sabi plays a profound and integral role in Japanese culture and traditions, influencing various aspects of art, philosophy, and daily life. This aesthetic concept, ingrained into Japan’s culture, actually celebrates imperfection, impermanence, and simplicity. Some of the aesthetic principles of wabi-sabi include appreciating asymmetry, valuing roughness and simplicity, recognizing beauty in natural things, and embracing natural wear and tear. I think those of us who appreciate a real road-worn vintage instrument may already be part of the way there!
“As much as I don’t want my toaster to project sloppy construction, I do want beautiful instruments to approach perfection, while leaving little breadcrumbs that are evidence of the maker’s hand.”
For me as a musician and builder, I’ve come to soften my obsessions to appreciate and even look for the little “mistakes” in music and craft that tell me that a human being actually created those things. Things like off-mic banter in studio recordings, or fret buzz. As much as I don’t want my toaster to project sloppy construction, I do want beautiful instruments to approach perfection, while leaving little breadcrumbs that are evidence of the maker’s hand. Of course, under the microscope anything can be dissected and proclaimed imperfect, but there is a beauty to something that says, “This is as good as you need it to be.” Furthermore, you could say it’s beautiful the way it is because it has character shaped by virtues and flaws, just like a human being.
So, before I jump to a conclusion or judgement on a guitar, song, or most anything that is created by humans, I take a breath and consider character and personality. You might say that a perfect execution of lutherie might be flawless, but it’s the cold, sterile presence of the totally immaculate that I find flawed. When I look at the flatness of the finish on the top edge of a Collings headstock, I marvel at the determination behind it. But it’s not the entire beast, for that same guitar has telltale marks that prove it was made by people, not an alien force. They are the wabi-sabi—the maker’s mark.
I once owned a vintage Telecaster that was stunningly mint, but had a tiny knot in the maple fretboard, just past the 12th fret. Would I have returned it as unacceptable if I had been the original owner? Even at the time, many decades ago, I recognized the character that birthmark brought to my guitar. Even though it’s long gone from my collection, if I ever saw it again, I’d recognize it like an old compadre. And that, my friends, is what makes our instruments real to us. And I’m now obsessed with that.
Club- or festival-provided stage amps can be hellish or angelic. Here are some of the devils and angels Premier Guitar’s editorial director has encountered along the road.
I have a slight allergy to backline amps. I shouldn’t, because I’ve played through a lot of them at clubs and festivals over the years, and most of my experiences have been fine, but I think a few bad combos and unfathomable heads put me off to a degree I can’t quite shake.
One of the first times I got the backline shivers was in the ’90s at a New York City club gig supporting John Sinclair, where I was told we would not need to bring amps. Awaiting me was a severely scarred Peavey Bandit combo with nary a knob left on its face, and the EQ and pre gain didn’t even have posts left. I just twisted a few stumps and gave up on the rest. How was the sound? Like an amplified fluorescent light bulb. On the other hand, I’ve never met a backline Peavey Classic series amp I didn’t like. Or, really, almost any backline amp that got the TLC it deserved, along with the heavy use. I once plugged into a right-out-of-the-box amp delivered to a club in Geneva by a then-emerging European manufacturer that sounded great during soundcheck, but its transformer died on the first chord of the first song in my band’s set. Luckily, they’d sent two, so we had to stop, open a box, mic the new amp, and jump back on the horse.Another case: I like a little drive, so imagine my dismay to find a backline at a satellite tent at a major festival with zero master volume amps. At the time, I wasn’t using effects—just a Strat and a Tele. So I plugged into a big blonde Fender and just turned up. The stage volume was brutal, but I had my tone so it was great. At least for me. I hope the drummer who played with me that day can still hear.
Sometimes, even speccing the backline doesn’t help. While playing a series of gigs in France, I requested either Vox or Marshall amps, such as an AC30 or JCM800, and at one big stage I encountered a fresh-looking JCM 2000 Triple Super Lead atop a 4x12. I must confess, I took one look at both decks of buttons and push-pulls and my heart sank. I was out of my comfort zone at the time. Try as I might, I could not get anywhere near the mocha, mid-ripe sound I get out of my ’72 Super Lead without turning up to a stratospheric level. I felt terrible. Not for the audience. It was an outdoor stage with plenty of open space. But for the stage crew. When one of them shouted, “Ted, es-tu psychotique?” between songs, I didn’t need to consult Google Translate to know what he meant. I was embarrassed and regretful about the volume, but had a great time playing, nonetheless. (Sorry, crew!)
“Awaiting me was a severely scarred Peavey Bandit combo with nary a knob left on its face, and the EQ and pre gain didn’t even have posts left.”
Over this summer I played a voter registration benefit, and the large venue that held it sent a really appealing backline list, with a Deluxe and a DeVille included. When I got there, there was a Deluxe but no other guitar amp per se. I had to play through a bass amp, and it was okay, thanks to my pedals, but a decidedly less-than-magical experience.
I feel like I’m whining, but like most of you I’ve spent years chasing a particular tone, and when I have my own rig it’s as delicious as German chocolate cake. So maybe I’m spoiled. And there are some backline amps I’ve coveted at gigs—like the humble Blues Junior at Nashville’s Eastside Bowl that’s been upgraded with a Deluxe transformer. It speaks eloquently.
There have been many other funky, hard-to-manage (at least for me) backline amps I’ve wrestled with over the years. After all, I’ve played in a lot of juke joints and roadhouses. And I used to sweat about it. But I finally made my “whatever” peace with backlines thanks to some advice from Luther Dickinson: “No matter what an amp sounds like, you have to stay out of your own head.” Just let the music fly.
In that spirit, two of this issue’s gear features deal with backlines. One is a public service: If you’ve never played through a backline, here’s what you should expect; or if you’re putting one together, as I’ve had to do many times, here’s what to consider. The other piece polls eight heavyweight guitarists on their own backline gear specs—lending insight on how established pros ensure that they sound like themselves under any circumstances.
So, if stage life throws you a lemon for an amplifier, just plug in and make it as juicy as you can. Don’t worry, because there’s another gig down the pike where you’ll sound exactly like yourself.