POP MUSIC : Louie Perez of Los Lobos

With their new LP, “Kiko,” L.A. hometown heroes Los Lobos have surprised even their die-hard fans with the quantum leap they’ve made.

Hailed by critics as the crowning achievement of their 18-year career, their sixth album synthesizes strains of zydeco, Duke Ellington, Chicago blues, rock, African pop and the traditional music of Mexico into a shimmering musical tapestry that resonates with mystery and complexity.

Musically, “Kiko” is ambitious in conception, produced with imagination by Mitchell Froom, and splendidly played. Combining the shiny surface of a Steely Dan record--and oddly enough, this record is evocative of Steely Dan--with the earthy soul of folk music, “Kiko” is a record of sophistication and range.

Musically, “Kiko” is decidedly upbeat; thematically, it’s troubled and dark to the point that it feels hallucinatory. All but two of the 16 new songs were written by David Hidalgo, who supplies the melodies, and Perez, who writes the words.

Perez, 42, was born and raised in East L.A., and now lives in Whittier with his wife and three children. He mentions Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits and the Pogues’ Shane MacGowan among the songwriters he admires. “I used to try not to listen to anything when I was writing because I was afraid it would influence me, but I feel I’ve found my own voice as a writer now so I’m a bit more relaxed about it.”

Explaining the genesis of “Kiko,” Perez says modestly, “David and I wrote a bunch of songs and worked them up on our ‘Little Rascals’ home recording system then took them into the studio.” Perez then reflected on the lyrics and tone of “Kiko,” and how they relate to events of this spring in L.A.

Question: Creatively there’s a great sense of renewal to this record, yet many of the songs seem quite despairing in mood. Is that something you intended to convey?

Answer: A lot of people have picked up on that and it’s true some of the songs are pretty downbeat. Maybe it’s just easier to write a sad song than a happy song, but that’s something I always seem to gravitate to. I live in L.A. and although I don’t know if I’d write differently if I lived out in the country, I’m certainly affected by the imagery of L.A.

Q: Do you see a link between the mood of the record and recent events in L.A.?

A: Most of the songs were written last summer and in the early part of this year and there’s a funny feeling of premonition in songs like “Peace.” The idea behind that song is that peace has become a word we don’t hear anymore. It’s like car alarms--it’s a sound we’ve become immune to and we naturally tune it out. You’re supposed to respond to those sounds but they become part of the sonic landscape and you just stop hearing them.

Q: Why is such a large faction of society turning its back on peace and embracing violence right now?

A: Gee, you got a couple hours? There are so many things contributing to this crisis. First, there’s what I call the suburbanization of L.A.--all the potential role models in the working class are leaving the community as soon as they can, so young people and other people who are still struggling don’t have anybody to look up to. And the deck seems to be intentionally stacked against the working-class community. Why is there a liquor store on every corner in South-Central L.A. and you can’t find one to save your life in Brentwood or Beverly Hills? How can kids attending run-down schools that haven’t been renovated in years develop any self-esteem? The problems in this community begin at a very young age, and though lots of liberal people think the solution is to throw money at the problem, it’s going to take a lot more than that to bring about any real change.

Q: How significant a role does music play in the direction the culture takes? For instance, do you think the hard-core rap artists fanned the flames of dissent that were brewing?

A: Bands like N.W.A. and Public Enemy are saying important things, but unfortunately young people naturally pick up on the extreme and romantic side of everything--you know, the romance of wearing the colors and all that. The message many rap groups are putting out has been misconstrued.

Q: Los Lobos is a successful band with an international following. Have you managed to maintain a connection with the working-class milieu that originally inspired and nurtured you creatively?

A: I live maybe 20 minutes farther east from where I grew up, but I can’t pretend this isn’t a conflict for me. I left L.A. for Europe just before everything broke loose here in April, so I spent most of my time over there watching the city burn on CNN. When I got on the plane to come home, I felt like an orphan coming back to something that didn’t belong to me anymore and I still feel really mixed up. I have three little boys and I don’t want them to live in this violence, but I don’t want to run away from the problem either. At this point all I know to do is sit down and put my ideas on paper and hopefully I’ll write some songs that might somehow make a difference.

Q: You’ve often commented that your relationships with your families are what keep you all grounded in reality and creatively fresh. As the pressures of success keep you on the road for increasing periods of time, how do you keep those relationships strong?

A: It’s certainly a very delicate balance. You see celebrities dump the wife of 17 years for the little blond chick, but I don’t see how people can do that to the people who supported them for years. It’s true there’s a lot more of everything available to you when you’re having some success, but we’re real idealistic guys--maybe too much for our own good.

Q: What’s the most difficult thing about growing up Mexican-American in this country?

A: Figuring out how to reconcile the pressure to homogenize into mainstream culture with the need to maintain your own cultural identity.

Q: What gave you the ambition, courage and imagination to ask for more out of life when you were growing up than most of the people around you were asking for?

A: Music and art. Before I became involved with those things I played around with gangs and did my share of giving my mom a headache, but music made me and the rest of the guys in the group realize there were other worlds out there.

Early on we weren’t fired with ambition and were happy to play in local rock bands but we eventually became dissatisfied that there was no forum for original music in East L.A. When we realized that playing Top 40 in local bars was the drill, we bailed out and found ourselves together as friends with the common bond that we were all gravitating toward our own roots.

We started learning the folkloric music of Mexico and buying weird acoustic instruments, and we were doing it for the sheer love of it with no thought of “career” whatsoever--we were just moved by the music. When we left rock ‘n’ roll in 1974 and embraced Mexican music, any dream we had of careers as successful musicians went out the window. There was no way we could imagine having hit records with the music we were playing, but we knew we had to do it because we loved it.

We could’ve trivialized it, put on the funny hats and camped it up and made a ton of money, but that would’ve lasted a couple of records and gone away. So we decided to go against the grain and do it on our own terms, and eventually we found our way back to rock--and then everything sort of synthesized together. And now we’re back where we started, aspiring to somehow be in there as contenders.

Q: What’s the most widely held misconception about the music of Mexico?

A: That it’s nothing but guys in ruffled shirts blowing trumpets. Mariachi music has been completely trivialized by the media in America and most people think that’s the only kind of music there is in Mexico. In fact, the music changes from region to region and there’s great diversity in instrumentation and vocal treatment--it’s an incredibly rich heritage.

Unfortunately, many regional styles are dying out because there’s just nobody doing it anymore. There are people in Mexico’s academic world who are trying to preserve it, but how long can it survive when the flavor of the month on the radio is all kids want to hear?

Q: Several critics have commented that the writing on your new record appears to have been influenced by the hallucinatory magical realist style of Latin American writers such as Marquez and Borges. Were they a source of inspiration for you?

A: Recently I’ve mostly been reading Chinese and Japanese poetry, but I have read that stuff and I guess that influence is there. Because of the pressure to homogenize that’s put on Mexican-Americans--and ethnic people in general--we become like antennas and absorb lots of different things. We have all these different stations floating around in our heads and sometimes they blur together--and I guess that pretty much describes the sound of “Kiko.”