The multiracial, Grammy-winning Los Angeles-based crew has been around for nine years in a variety of incarnations. Ulises (Uli) Bella–who plays tenor sax, clarinet and vocals–says the transformations helped the band grow and develop. Bella, an original member, spoke to NEWSWEEK’s Vanessa Juarez about Ozomatli’s evolution, a run-in with Austin police and the state of world affairs. Excerpts:
NEWSWEEK: The band came together in a sort of sociopolitical way, right?
Ulises Bella: Wil-Dog Abers, the bass player, and the original drummer, Anton Morales, started this community cultural center called the Peace and Justice Center. It was dedicated to youth and art in L.A. They started having poetry groups … a lot of really good things came out of there. One of the things is they had to have these events that would raise money for basic things like art supplies. And so Wil and Anton called up a bunch of their musician friends–all of us were in different bands at the time. We showed up and all looked at each other like “What are we going to do?” We just kind of relied on what everyone already knew–funk or reggae or Mexican folk music. People had beats on a turntable. That was our first gig. It was April Fool’s Day and who knew, you know?
Who came up for the name of the band?
Anton suggested Ozomatli. The name comes from the indigenous language of the Aztecs, Nahuatl, and it represents the little monkey on the calendar. It’s like the God of Dance, of Fire, the new Harvest of Music, Orchestrator of the Jungle. He kind of sold it to us like that without telling us that it was his astrological symbol [laughs], so we were like, “Wow, that’s a cool name,” and he was like “yeah, it is.” So we all picked it.
How do you keep such a big band together for so long?
There’s a joke that goes around in the band that’s like, “This band is the longest relationship any of us has ever had.” [Laughs.] And I think in a lot of ways we’re family, and we have gone through a lot of lineup changes and interpersonal conflicts, but I think that’s the struggle of working in the collective. It has to do with giving and taking.
There are traces of Middle Eastern sounds in “Believe.” What kind of statement are you trying to make?
Naturally, especially in a warlike state, there’s a certain level of dehumanization going on with whoever is the enemy, and in a lot of ways I think that by representing this sound, we’re lending out support to all the people who obviously have nothing to do with what’s been going on and all the beauty that’s come from that region of the world.
Did something specific inspire it?
I remember a couple of us were watching a documentary on Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, and his nephew was doing this show. They play Sufi Kawali music and in a lot of ways it’s like gospel music, it’s not for entertainment purposes. Seeing people trancing out, dancing really wildly, just feeling such an energy in that particular documentary, it’s like “Man, I want that vibe at my show,” where it’s not about the clothes, it’s about embracing the music and using that to connect to something bigger. I think that’s how that particular song started….
Back in the fall of 2002, you all were speaking out against the war. And last year, you all put on a protest concert. A lot has happened since then….
After the [September 11] tragedy happened, it’s like we kind of held this high moral standard. I think that’s how this country sees itself or it tries to portray itself. All of the things that have happened since then–the Halliburton scandal or the prisoner abuse or all the civilian casualties, [the government has] been very careful and selective of what they show and what they don’t show. I believe there’s a solution, and I believe that it’s one that involves compassion, it involves love and one that’s not profit driven. If we’re going to play the song and dance, we better do it really well.
How does the band handle it?
We’re very sensitive to people who are going over there and are risking their lives. At the same time we feel that the reasons and the things behind it, like the leadership–I’m not going to get mad at the team, I’m going to get mad at the coach, you know what I mean?
What happened in Austin in March?
Two of our members, Jiro Yamoguchi and Wil-Dog, and our manager got arrested. We end the shows in a samba precession, you know, we’ll get off the stage. We had been there in ‘99 before and we marched in the street with all our drums. So that night, the club was over capacity. We go outside and right when we’re ready to rev up the party, the [police] came through and told us all to shut up and started grabbing drum sticks. We were confused, and they told us to go back in. Then the problem is that there’s people pouring out of the club to watch us but then here we are trying to get back into the club, and then that’s when the [confrontation with police] started. Unfortunately, the charges haven’t all been dropped, and I’m sure they’re all getting wheeled and dealed right now. Particularly with Jiro, his charges are very serious. They’re trying to get him for felony assaulting a police officer, which you know, in Texas, that’s jail.
Ironic, since you’ve dealt with the issue of police brutality in your music.
[Laughs.] We’re completely ignorant to the reasons why the police even intervened in the first place. There was a noise ordinance going on and, basically, none of the musicians knew about it. But unfortunately this mess happened, just for us playing music on the street. We’ve been in crazier positions than that and no one flinched. We had just come back from a two-week trip from England where we played a lot of different venues and festivals. I mean the cops would be grooving.
How do you feel about being called Gen-Y’s Los Lobos?
Hey man, those cats have been playing for forever. We have a connection to that band–[guitarist and accordionist] David Hidalgo has been on like every record we’ve ever been on. He just happens to stumble into the studio and we can’t help but having him on there. He’s an amazing musician. I feel like we play different music than Los Lobos, you know, but if we last half of the time Los Lobos has lasted and kept their musical integrity the way they have, that’d be great. We’ll have to put on a couple of extra pounds though. I’m just joking, don’t write that. I love Los Lobos. [Laughs.] I’m working on it though, between some Coney Island dogs….
How would you describe Ozo in a nutshell?
Ozomatli’s music is like a really good soup, and we’re all chefs and everybody puts a really good ingredient in it, you know, and in the end it tastes really good.
