I'm sure some science-fiction writer has written a story involving the otherwise untapped entertainment potential in the most evocative yet underdeveloped sense: smell. Electrodes might be connected to stimulate the olfactory system, and artists might be commissioned to craft a complex melange of virtual aromas for one's private delectation, a symphony of scent. As Marcel Proust lovers know, scent can unearth dense and mysterious layers of memories and associations in a way incomparable to the capabilities of other senses - or those of the arts that animate them. Except, perhaps, for music. Calexico mobilizes an impressive array of sounds to evoke landscapes and myths associated with the region of the American continent implied in the band's name. Joey Burns and John Convertino - best known, perhaps, as rhythm section for Howe Gelb's shambling Giant Sand - here paint with acoustic guitar, sand, brushes, dry wind, steel, shadow, violin, sage, trumpet, stars, and maracas. The instrumentals (two-thirds of the tracks here) are generally more varied than the songs featuring Joey Burns' artfully mumbled vocals. Calexico bears comparison to a Latin Playboys stripped of the characteristic Froom/Blake sound and left reliant on rawer inspiration and less avant-gardiste tinkering. A good choice for a long day's drive - dry out the humid Wisconsin summer air with Calexico's cool desert night.

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