Frontera Dogs by Gabriella Gutiérrez y Muhs & Eric Muhs

"In the dark times. Will there also be singing? Yes, there will also be singing. About the dark times." - Berthold Brecht

Dickens too gave us hope in the binary rendition of his world vision: "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times."

We live in the darkest of times in the last 70 years. In the 60s and 70s, when I grew up, there were The Rolling Stones, Three Dog Night, The Road to Shambala, David Bowie, Superman, Wonder Woman, Underdog, who saved us all from desperate situations.

Our present dystopia confronts us on TV, in the Media, and especially in the White House, where our current president lies and cheats. He is a foul-mouthed, racist and sexist man. He clings like a tick, continuing his thuggery, with an absurdly large cult supporting him, while children are imprisoned, treated as criminals, stolen from their mothers. Artists are choking in sadness, repulsion and unsettled by pervasive dishonesty. We, a country of immigrants, are now accusing the immigrants of being immigrants, and criminalizing the backgrounds that our ancestors come from.

Could we think of immigrants as pilgrims? Could we admire them, as as pilgrims? The people trying to enter our country are running away from crime, abuse, rape, division, from becoming drug dealers. They are fleeing their birthplaces, walking, paying with their bodies, to run away from the chaos we as a nation have contributed to, in Central America. But we fail to support them and see them as the modern pilgrims they are.

Within Frontera Dogs, I mourn the world we are still waiting for, that now rests on the mantel of a frozen America. Bertolt Brecht's quote reminds us that we must record the current times, write and sing about them, almost as a reminder of pre-columbian Flor y cantos. (in Nahuatl that's how you say "poetry," flower and song, in xóchitl, in cuicatl.)

As we place this poetic and cathartic lament upon your ear, we also reassure you that there is beauty in truth, and in the picking of whatever fruits still can be sung. Enjoy these poems in varied voices: from the immigrant, who knows that he/she will never truly be thanked or acknowledged, to the child, understanding that in his/her parents' language fruits are uniquely personified, to the love shouts with which one addresses the representation of the statue of liberty, as an immigrant. There is sleight of hand at loose in the world hand games, and yet hope never ends in this musical and poetic melange, made with love and the aesthetics of artists who sing and play.

gigging musician since 1981 in Seattle's seminal "new wave" bands STUDENT NURSE & AUDIO LETER. Got into recording in late 80's in Santa Cruz with MATA RATA. Built homemade 4 track tape loop system for 200 + solo performances. Now live back in Seattle, where I make instruments & perform with Metal Men. I've got a modest solar-powered recording studio. More at www.invisiblemusicstudio.org

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