Juan Garcia Esquivel

Juan Garcia Esquivel, who became a pop-music cult icon when his eccentric music from the 1950s and '60s was rediscovered in the '90s, died Jan. 3 at his home in Jiutepec, Mexico, after a stroke. He was 83. The pianist-composer-bandleader, who used just his last name (followed by an exclamation point) professionally, was known for bold, idiosyncratic orchestrations marked by radical dynamics, odd, wordless vocals and unexpected sounds such as steel guitar and whistling.

Juan Garcia Esquivel, who became a pop-music cult icon when his eccentric music from the 1950s and '60s was rediscovered in the '90s, died Jan. 3 at his home in Jiutepec, Mexico, after a stroke. He was 83. The pianist-composer-bandleader, who used just his last name (followed by an exclamation point) professionally, was known for bold, idiosyncratic orchestrations marked by radical dynamics, odd, wordless vocals and unexpected sounds such as steel guitar and whistling.

Juan Garcia Esquivel has been called everything from the Mexican Duke Ellington to the King of Quirk, but the 77-year-old composer-pianist is probably best known as the master of Space-Age Bachelor Pad music. This bizarre and futuristic style was used to sell ultra-modern hi-fi systems called "stereos" in the early '60s, systems that RCA described as possessing "movement so real your eyes will follow the sound."

Juan Garcia Esquivel has been called everything from the Mexican Duke Ellington to the King of Quirk, but the 77-year-old composer-pianist is probably best known as the master of Space-Age Bachelor Pad music. This bizarre and futuristic style was used to sell ultra-modern hi-fi systems called "stereos" in the early '60s, systems that RCA described as possessing "movement so real your eyes will follow the sound."

Randy Van Horne, whose Randy Van Horne Singers performed the theme songs for "The Flintstones," "The Jetsons," "The Huckleberry Hound Show" and several other popular television cartoons of the 1960s, has died. He was 83. Van Horne died of cancer Sept. 26 at the Motion Picture and Television Country House and Hospital in Woodland Hills, said his son, Mark. In the late 1940s, Van Horne began his career in Los Angeles as a studio musician.

Frequenting the cocktail lounges in your neighborhood is a good start, but what to do when you get back to your bache lor/bachelorette pad? Dust off your turntable. The best--and cheapest--way to amass a good lounge music collection is by rummaging through bins of 50-cent records at garage sales and thrift stores, says collector Kevin "Mr. Fabulous" Trantow. The up-and-coming hepcat can afford to take musical risks at that rate.

Start talking with Colin Larkin, editor of the "Encyclopedia of Popular Music," and free association kicks in. Anything, anyone, might come up. Dave "Baby" Cortez, for example. And that's exactly what Larkin intends. "The whole point of the EPM is to enthuse people," says Larkin, whose own obsession with pop over half a century has evolved into a full-time business. The fourth edition of the reference work, now expanded to 10 volumes encompassing 3.

At first, filmmaker Gus Van Sant was so affected by Kurt Cobain's 1994 suicide that he wanted to make a biopic on the Seattle grunge musician's life. What he made instead -- "Last Days," which opened Friday in Los Angeles -- isn't one per se. Indeed, "Last Days" is best described as an impressionistic art/experimental film -- a mood piece -- that attempts to get inside the confused and agitated state of a rock musician named Blake, just before his suicide.

Once, on a street in Mexico City, David Harrington, the Kronos Quartet's first violinist, encountered a one-armed street musician playing standard melodies by blowing on the edge of an ivy leaf. It is an eerie sound, unlike any other, and you never forget it. Harrington knew instantly, he told the audience at UCLA's Royce Hall on Friday night, that one day Kronos had to play with Carlos Garcia.

**** KRONOS QUARTET "Nuevo" Nonesuch Sometimes, it takes outsiders to find fresh perspectives on a musical culture that natives take for granted. On this brilliant album, Argentine rock producer Gustavo Santaolalla teams with Kronos, the experimental U.S. string quartet, to create a revealing, impressionistic portrait of Mexican music, from the corrido to the classical. Though the 14 tracks span a century, the album's innovative interpretations earn its title, which means "new."

Ross WRIGHT, a.k.a. Elvis Schoenberg, is stirring the pot. But though his homemade spaghetti sauce, its pungent aroma wafting through the air, may be assaulting olfactory senses, it's the sound of 20-odd musicians tuning up -- violins, trumpets, woodwinds, percussion, electric guitars and keyboard -- that nearly blows the roof off his tiny Highland Park home.

Brian Wilson squinted through a blue spotlight after he finished singing his new ballad "Lay Down Burden" Wednesday at the Rosemont Theatre here. The song was inspired by his brother, Beach Boys member Carl Wilson, who died early last year. "Lay Down Burden" is about seeing through the haze, confronting redemption--and gathering the strength to move on. Wilson and co-producer Joe Thomas wrote the song in California the day they learned that Carl had cancer.