Finding their niche in the world

After eight years of struggling to make it as a musician -- years of searching for new sounds, sloughing off self-doubts, overcoming conflicts with collaborators and resisting pressure from parents and in-laws “to get a real job” -- singer Angel Garcia recently had a vision of his mission while on a beach in Yucatan.

Garcia, co-founder of the lauded unsigned alt-Latino duo named Mezklah, says he dropped LSD near the Maya ruins of Tulum and while hallucinating “got a sense of the permeability of the cosmos.” He recalls perceiving the subconscious hand of ancient cultures -- Egyptian, Chinese, Arabic -- influencing the bold designs he paints on his lean and lizard-like body before performances. He noticed the odd assortment of people passing by -- soldiers, European tourists, “trippy characters” -- that led to a realization about the interconnectedness of the world.

“I could see it so clearly,” says Garcia, the songwriting half of the duo with guitarist Greg Hernandez. “I saw that we weren’t only representing the Latin community, but we were representing the whole world community, in a sense. And I felt this huge responsibility to everybody. In my time here on Earth, I felt like I need to let this out. I felt I had something special, a certain way of combining music. This is my strength. This is my purpose in life.”

Mezklah, which performs Sunday in a benefit for a collective of farming families in South-Central L.A., has started to gain attention from the music business with its “tribal electronica,” a seemingly incongruous confluence of reggae, trip-hop, drums-and-bass, cumbia and hip-hop. Earlier this year, the group rose above scores of competitors to win an annual battle of the bands in Southern California’s buzzing rock en espanol scene.

The originality and passion of these sons of immigrants also won over Versa Manos, a publicist who volunteered to represent the group pro bono after seeing it perform in 2003. Manos, whose Gorgeous PR handles Tupac Shakur’s estate and other corporate entertainment clients, communicated her excitement about the band to Nic Harcourt, host of KCRW’s “Morning Becomes Eclectic,” who decided to air tracks from Mezklah’s self-released CD, “SpyderMonkey.”

It’s one of the rare times a local Latino band has made it on Harcourt’s cutting-edge show, which occasionally spotlights the best of Latin alternative music, mostly from other countries.

“No matter what it is that I play, from L.A. or New York or England or Mexico or France or whatever, it has to grab me as being a little different and standing out from the pack,” said Harcourt, who auditions 400 CDs per week. “So it’s got to be something that grabs you pretty quickly, and there was something about that [Mezklah] sound.”

Garcia, 32, and Hernandez, 33, have been developing that sound since they met in 1997, introduced by a mutual friend from the Jazz Bakery, where Garcia worked as a server in the cafe. They were delighted to find each other, since neither had been able to click with other musicians.

Originally, they had doubts about performing as a duo in a land of bands. But being compact and using tracks stored on an iPod for musical backing instead of instruments gave them the benefit of mobility. That served them well on exploratory tours through Mexico, where they would stop to play at whatever bar or cantina would give them the stage.

They cite influences from the Doors and the Clash to Oingo Boingo, Bob Marley and Nirvana, yet name no Latino artists. That music -- the rancheras they grew up with -- runs in their blood, they say.

Garcia says he didn’t start creating music until he was 18 and didn’t compose in Spanish until he started Mezklah, a deliberate misspelling of mezcla, the Spanish word for “mixture.” That’s hard to believe considering the quality of his poetic and onomatopoeic lyrics, reinforced by melodic lines that shift from a skittish hip-hop cadence to a smooth and lyrical sway with Caribbean overtones.

Though its sound sets it apart, Mezklah also is part of a loosely knit community of L.A. Chicano/Latino bands that combine art with activism. The duo helped organize Sunday’s benefit for the Alameda Community Garden, a 14-acre farm site in an industrial area south of downtown that is threatened by proposed development. Mezklah will be joined by Quinto Sol, Domingo Siete and Fosforo in a free concert to support the mostly Latino, low-income families who grow corn, cactus and other crops on this urban oasis.

They sat for an interview earlier this week at a picnic table on the farm, discussing their music and mystical pastiche of philosophies while a small group of men played dominos at a table nearby. Once in the midst of the farmland, the city seems to vanish. The only urban intrusion is the sound of honking cars, the clanging of a railroad crossing and the roar of frequent freight trains thundering down the tracks.

Garcia and Hernandez lament that they often get pigeonholed as just another Latino band from L.A., which means they’re expected to sound like Los Lobos or Ozomatli.

“I want people to break that mold they’ve got us in,” says Garcia. “We’re proud of that [heritage], but it’s a new time now. As a people, we’re a lot broader and we can go far beyond that.”

Mezklah is moving forward with plans for a new CD, incorporating even more global elements, including Middle Eastern rhythms and reggaeton. But it’s still a struggle. A distribution deal promised as the prize for the battle of the bands hasn’t materialized. Meanwhile, Mezklah still works to convert fans one by one.

Hernandez, sporting long braids in his hair and a goatee, said he realizes that charting a musical path can still be a lonely pursuit.

“It still seems like you’re going to church to search,” says Hernandez, noting Mezklah has played shows to as few as five fans. “You’re doing it for your own soul.”