Pitchfork

It's so nice to hear Joey Burns realizing that he can sing. It's been a slow process of discovery for him, as seven years of steadily improving and diversifying output from Calexico strikingly illustrates. On the band's 1997 debut, Spoke, he seemed almost afraid to rise above a whisper, as though he wasn't sure he wanted to be a frontman. And maybe he wasn't. At that point, Calexico were still a side project for Burns and John Convertino, who made their day jobs as Giant Sand's rhythm section, as well as in-demand indie session men. But as the band has slowly come to outshine everything else Burns and Convertino have done, they seem to have gained a good deal of self-confidence-- by the time they released last year's astounding Feast of Wire, they didn't seem to be limiting themselves at all.

Though their core sound still remains the aural embodiment of the nexus between the American Southwest and northern Mexico, they now deviate into simmering jazz, falsetto pop, dub, ambient electronics, and anything else that comes to mind more or less at will, and it's resulted in a fascinating and unpredictable discography. Lately, Burns retreats to his old whisper only for the effect it creates, and on the band's new Convict Pool EP, he spends more time in full croon than ever before.

In relation to Feast of Wire, this EP is pretty musically conservative, spending most of its time exploring variations on the band's Tex-Mex roots through three originals and three well-chosen covers. Love's "Alone Again Or" is really a no-brainer for a band like Calexico to cover, with its baroque Sonoran horn parts and Spanish guitars, and the band has been playing it live for some time now. This is the first time it's made it out of the studio onto a disc in the U.S., and frankly, it's the only disappointing track here. They've trucked in Swedish singer/songwriter Nicolai Dunger to sing what amounts to a lead vocal, and while it's not a desecration of a classic or anything, it comes off a little flat. The other two covers are more inspired: French singer Francoiz Breut's "Si tu Disais" gets a languid, waltzing read, with mariachi horns and pedal steel trading off the instrumental hook. D. Boon's "Corona", meanwhile, from the Minutemen masterpiece Double Nickels on the Dime, gets the full borderline treatment it so richly deserves, his original guitar riffs transposed to the horns and violins.

It's the originals, though, that ultimately bring it all home for the fan, and the three here find the band's songwriting in strong, if not peak, form. "Praskovia" is a twirling, equilibrium-challenged Eastern European wedding march for circus freaks, opening with a pretty accordion refrain before spilling over Convertino's rolling drums with swooping horns and wild accordion runs. "Sirena" is another of the band's charging spaghetti Western mariachi tunes, this time with a female backing chorus and twanging Morricone guitars. The title track takes a second to get going, but it's Burns' best vocal showcase, as he lets himself really emote and follow the melody where it wants to take him on the chorus, while Convertino rolls on the mallets beneath him.

As a layover between albums, Convict Pool is just about everything a devotee might want, a brief appetizer that tugs lightly at the edges of the band's sound and tosses out a couple of decent covers for good measure. It's place for the uninitiated to start-- that's Feast of Wire, or the Even My Sure Things Fall Through EP-- but it's a healthy reminder that Calexico are capable of making some fantastic music, even at their most casual.