Being a postmodern Christian singer-songwriter hanging out in El Lay must have been a bit like being an Old Testament prophet living in Judah before it all came tumbling down. Or so it would seem listening to Olé, the long-lost jeremiad by Tonio K. In it, he looks at life in that “beautiful prison,” giving an account of the broken hearts, wrecked homes and beat-up kids that exist beside the “bronze gods” and “bikini girls.”
Olé was originally recorded in 1989 and 1990, and finally released late last year. Its tortured history is oddly in keeping with the career of an artist who was born Steve Krikorian, adopted his performing moniker after the protagonist of Thomas Mann’s short story “Tonio Kroger”, and became infamous for wrestling stuffed snakes, busting guitars and cooking pancakes onstage at clubs such as the Whiskey A Go Go.
While early Tonio K. albums such as Life In The Foodchain (1979) and Amerika (1980) were critically acclaimed and cultishly adored for their high-powered sardonic strangeness, Olé follows in the more restrained footsteps of later offerings such as Romeo Unchained and Notes From The Lost Civilization. With an eclectic cast of great musicians — including producer T Bone Burnett, Booker T Jones, Marc Ribot, Bruce Thomas, Peter Case, David Hidalgo, Charlie Sexton and Paul Westerberg — the sound could easily be called “pros with soul.”
But it’s that special K. mix of tough and tender (and often preachy) observances that carry the album. And by the time the last track, “We Walk On”, swells from an elegy to a wounded affirmation, you can only wonder how he manages to make music so catchy and idiosyncratic at the same time. Oh, and the cover photo of a leaping bull about to retire a backpedaling toreador is also quite nice.
