Giant Sand

After a considerable absence, Howe Gelb is having fun again. It’s mid-October, and he’s in Munich, Germany, wrapping up the final leg of a three-week European tour with the latest incarnation of his longtime desert-rock combo, Giant Sand. More than two decades of road-testing has taught Gelb to keep things in relative perspective, but even he admits to being pleasantly surprised by the turnouts.

“I never know how big the crowds are ever going to be. Over the years they go up, they go down, they go back up,” Gelb explains. “You stay around too long and it’s all a pattern of waves. So this time attendance has been better than anticipated and the playing has been more fun than it has been in many, many years.”

At 48, Gelb remains one of Americana’s most adventurous songwriters, blending dusty lo-fi folk and roots rock with transient bursts of Neil Young-inspired feedback and Beefheart-ian lyrical free association. And that’s just the foundation. Giant Sand’s latest work, the sprawling, cinematic Is All Over the Map, stays true to its name by incorporating flashes of mariachi waltzes, cowboy-poker-bar blues, country ballads and Cuban rhythms. While some listeners may have difficulty reconciling these disparate elements, Gelb insists they are all part of the burgeoning sound of Americana.

“The sound of Americana is the sound of a gigantic ½ltering system,” he says. “America is just a Petri dish of all these different migrational situations from over the years. And so now the sound of Americana, in a sense, is Americans going out there in the field, back to the sources of these sounds. It feels more like a mobile filtering system out there. Yeah, it can still be dubbed Americana, but I don’t see much difference with throwing in the Latino beat, or some Tripolitan sensibilities or what I’m picking up in Europe.”

It’s this sort of freewheeling eclecticism and experimental bravado that’s fueled Giant Sand’s quarter-century run in the underbelly of Americana. But with the years running against him, Gelb hints that Giant Sand’s days may be numbered. Still, his optimism remains.

“Fender tubes, right before they die, they flare up and they sound better than ever,” he says ominously. “And there are those moments, I don’t know if I’m about to die or what, but—especially on this tour—we’ve been flaring up pretty good and rockin’ again. It feels fun. It feels buoyant.”