Of course, my tireless work on behalf of this band is well documented both here and on my website. But it should be pointed out that when I first began championing Los Dug Dug's online, my view of them as "Mexican rock gods the world ought to know about" was shaped by just three albums: their self-titled debut, "El Loco," and the "15 Exitos" compilation, which for its generous representation of the band's other albums only included the title track of "Smog." Thus, I've only been able to enjoy "Smog" in full for half of its existence. Oh, but as big a fan as I was up to the point where I finally heard it, "Smog" would prove not only to be the album which totally changed the whole Dug Dug's fanboy game for me, but in light of what happened between me and the band soon after my first hearing, it would soon take its place in my world as nothing less than a prophecy of what was about to come.
"Smog" first came my way on a grey Maxell cassette as part of a tape trade I'd made with a fellow psych fan I'd struck up a brief online acquaintance with. He had all three albums I'd yet to hear in full by the band ("Cambia Cambia" and "Abre Tu Mente" being the other two) and had taped them all for me, but it was "Smog" I rushed to hear first. The kind gentleman who made me the tapes gave me no advance warning that I was in for the ride of my life. No "this is one of the ballsiest records you will ever hear," no "and by the way the heaviest track on it is 12 minutes long," just "here you go, enjoy." The muddy sound quality confirmed it was a copy of a tape he'd received in a trade with someone else, who for all I know might not even have owned the original source vinyl copy himself. But I had to hear what I'd been missing up till then any way I could.
But even if the guy who had mailed it to me had been more specific about its contents, there would have been absolutely no words in the end which could prepare me, or anyone else, for that crucial, life-altering first listen to "Hagamoslo Ahora (2a Parte)," the multi-part suite which takes up most of side one of "Smog." It had me right at the double-bass kick drum beat which starts it off and runs through damn near the entire song, such a sucker am I for a double-bass drum sound. Through a succession of simple-yet-hammering riffs and scorching drum and piercing guitar mini-solos, it took me on a 12-minute rollercoaster ride of complete and total hard rock power.
Words here are practically useless in describing this monster of a track -- you have to hear it to believe it, especially Daniel Tello's performance on drums which sounds like nothing less than the Iron Man Decathlon of drumming as he keeps pace with the most intense performance Armando Nava ever committed to tape. (Mr. Tello has recently rejoined Los Dug Dug's, and when they performed "Hagamoslo Ahora (2a Parte)" in honor of the 50th anniversary of Avandaro last year, he recreated his drum marathon perfectly and looked like he was hardly breaking a sweat the whole time!) It was so far above and beyond any Dug Dug's track I'd heard until then that I was literally in shock over it for a full week afterward.
To say "Smog" made me more determined than ever to track down Armando is an understatement, and just days after that first hearing, the series of events which led me to him began in earnest. When we finally established contact less than two months later I was genuinely convinced that listen had brought with it magic powers. This theory was proven further when he not only visited me in April of the following year, but made me almost run off the road when he tried to present me with a vinyl copy of "Smog" in my car. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction, folks.
Of course, "Hagamoslo Ahora (2a Parte)" is just one part of "Smog." As a whole, it's an album containing the full range of '70s hard rock passion and emotion, from the Jethro Tull-esque title cut and "No Somos Malos" to the straight-up rocker "Cual Es Tu Nombre," and the gorgeously reflective, orchestral 7-minute closer "Voy Hacia El Cielo." And then there's my other favorite track "Yo No Se," a quirky and almost punky song which sounds practically like Devo to my ears! And then there's that album cover depicting the band as cavemen, complete with Armando's bleached grey locks, a dead giveaway that this album doesn't quite sound like the Carpenters. ("I don't have to dye them that way now!" laughed Armando to me recently.) This album is every bit as great as the albums I named earlier and so many more, and what's more, it rocks harder than all of 'em combined.
The fury of "Smog" can easily be traced to its historic background, as Los Dug Dug's were a band in turmoil throughout the album's entire production. Their original lineup had imploded after playing the Avandaro Festival, its scandalous aftermath having led to a government crackdown on rock, and Armando wanted to change their image from flower-power to full-on heavy rock and reverse the then-prevalent trend in Mexico of local bands singing in English in the process. RCA wanted another album in English, still promising to promote them in the States despite having done no such thing with the English-language album they'd already cut. Steadfastly refusing to buy the bridge they were selling him, Armando defied RCA and hid away for two weeks to make the album in Spanish with a new lineup of the band which lasted pretty much about the time it took to complete the album before once again breaking up. Daniel Tello was so swift to exit, in fact, that Armando's brother Enrique had to stand in on the photo session for that amazing cave-rock cover, though he became their new drummer soon afterward.
In fact, the band's new super-heavy hard rock image itself didn't withstand the release of "Smog," as Los Dug Dug's version 3.0 went on to release "Cambia, Cambia" as the follow-up in 1974, with a distinctly mellower, poppier sound and the band clean-shaven on the cover. I can only imagine how shocking "Cambia" was to fans who had fallen for them via "Smog" when it was first released in Mexico, though it's still a good album on its own terms. But while the "Smog" lineup may not have been long for this world, they left a mark that would eventually travel the world, better late than never, thanks in no small part to this truly obsessed and dedicated "Smog" fan's efforts.
"Smog" has easily taken its place in my book as perhaps the single greatest and most personally important and spiritually significant album I've ever known. Even after hundreds upon hundreds of listens I'll never get sick of it. I always have to watch my speed when I play it in my car. I could probably listen to it on repeat for the rest of my life and be just fine (not that I'm about to, of course). Rating-wise it is an easy and effortless 10/10. And 25 years after I first heard it, 50 years after it was first released in Mexico, it's still one of the freshest-sounding albums you'll ever experience. They've just issued it on clear vinyl in honor of its golden occasion. You should get it. It just might change your life too.
