Wango Chango

Houston rockeros Chango Jackson take on touring in Mexico, Ted Nugent and a bold new direction in rock en español

Ever since his band Chango Jackson switched from singing in English to Spanish and later changed its name from Moscas, guitarist-singer Chango Van Jackson has felt a new freedom, but also discovered an ardent desire to do something that has never been done before.

"I'd been real disappointed with English music," he says, as he pours himself a glass of St. Arnold from a pitcher. We're at the Rice Village-area bar Under the Volcano, which with its Day of the Dead theme seems a singularly appropriate place to talk to a band that sings about Frida Kahlo.

"With rock en español you can do whatever the hell you want," Chango Van continues. "There's never been a Spanish-language musician that's really done anything new. There's never been a Hendrix, no Doors, nothing. It's all pop. Not that I think that we are gonna be such a great thing and be the first really original band in Spanish, but no one else has, either. Fuck it, why can't it be us?"

If it's Sunday, we must be pimps: Fly gear is but one of Chango Jackson's many guises.
If it's Sunday, we must be pimps: Fly gear is but one of Chango Jackson's many guises.


Friday, July 25,
Club 713, 3860 South Gessner

And it is hard to say who or what Chango Jackson sounds like. They sure as hell don't sound like Maná or any of the other Mexican rock bands that have copied them. Elements of jazz, metal, rock, hip-hop and ska collide in a caldo that is all their own, one that bassist-singer Mojo Jackson has dubbed "cock rock for the new millennium." It's not surprising that they're having a hard time selecting singles from their upcoming self-titled album. All of the grooves are caramel-sticky and the melodies hang around long after the disc stops spinning, but right now they have it narrowed down to the ska-like, horn-driven "Sana Sana" and to the Rage Against the Machine-like "Speak English," which actually is a defense of the right to speak Spanish.

The writing of "Speak English" was inspired by Ted Nugent's 2000 concert/ tirade at the Woodlands Pavilion in which he told Hispanics to learn English or "get the fuck out of America." Nugent's remarks divided the band. Chango Van sided with Nugent's view, while Mojo, who pens all the band's lyrics, says that the fundamental right to freedom of speech applies not just to what is said but also to what language is used. At any rate, Mojo's view is declared in both languages, as the song's chorus runs thusly: "No quiero hablar inglés / I don't wanna speak no motherfuckin' inglés."

Other Chango Jackson highlights include the heavy metalish "La Lana Gana," a lambasting of telenovelas and the women who believe their messages of miraculous transformation, and the jazz-funk album opener, which features the flute of Bob Chadwick and is so reminiscent of War that you can practically hear the Afros growing. Then there's a hard-driving, raplike ode to Frida Kahlo's artistic drive, not to mention a polka about their testicles.

A polka? About their balls? Mention of the song brings up memories of one show in Chicago a few years back.

"We showed up there dressed in the worst cowboy getups we could find," remembers Chango Van. "There was some real rockers in there, leather jackets and the whole bit, and they were really staring at us. And we opened up with the polka. There was this big 'What the hell?' from the crowd…"

"We played the polka and just walked off-stage," interjects Mojo.

"You could hear random people like, 'Do we clap or what?' " continues Chango Van. "And then we went back on stage and did the rest of the show."

The band uses lots of different themes for their shows. Their default setting is pimp regalia -- band lore has it that Mojo, Chango Van, guitarist Jaco and drummer Smokey Jackson are half-brothers, all fathered by an obscure Funk Brothers bassist with a weakness for Mexican women. (In reality, Mojo is Faustino Ortega and Chango Van is his former Moscas bandmate Moises Alanis.) They also have taken the stage in chemical suits and gas masks, and at another gig they threw tamales to the crowd. Most shows these days find wild guitarist Jaco with a new message painted on his guitar (sometimes it's Alice in Chains song lyrics, another time it simply read, "Houston bands suck") and wearing a dress, a couple of costume jewelry necklaces and a wig.

"He has three or four different dresses now," says Mojo. "People tend to focus on him. We're busy singing and he's over there having fun and doing shit on stage."

Like Los Skarnales, the band has toured Mexico a fair bit, albeit thus far only as Moscas. To paraphrase the ad campaign about Texas, Mexico is like a whole other world. They started finding out how different it was at the border crossing in Laredo.

"You can only take one instrument per band member," says Chango Van. "We didn't know -- we took all our shit. And they were like, 'Where are you going with that?' They wanted like a $5,000 deposit so we wouldn't sell all our instruments down there. We had to make some phone calls to Monterrey to make sure we had a PA, and we left the equipment at a friend's house in Laredo."

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