Steve Berlin has enjoyed 19 years at the top of rock with Los Lobos
 |
|
||||||||||
So how did a nice Anglo boy from Philly end up in Los Lobos, the celebrated Tex-Mex rock band from East L.A.?
Sax player Steve Berlin, sitting in the living room of his charming home on Vashon Island, smiles at the memory.
"I was in The Blasters when we opened for them at the Whiskey A Go Go," he says, stroking his unruly salt-and-pepper beard. "And they were so ... evolved." He chuckles and shakes his head. "They struck me as being light years beyond everybody else. I was obliterated by them. And we became friends."
That was in late 1982, and Los Lobos has continued to be a top rock band for 20 years.
Its biggest boost came in 1987 when it recorded the soundtrack to the film, "La Bamba," about Ritchie Valens, who died in a plane crash in 1959 at age 17, along with Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper. The soundtrack yielded Los Lobos' only No. 1 hit, a cover of the Valens' hit for which the film was named.
"It was a great ride," Berlin says. "It took us to places where we never would have gone without it. We finally saw what it was like to have the trappings of major-record success, but it was always with an asterisk because it wasn't our song. "
As a member of Los Lobos, as well as its offshoot band, Los Super Seven, Berlin continues to tour throughout the year and records with both groups. On its current tour, Los Lobos will play Aug. 23 at a Summer Nights at the Pier concert.
In addition to working with Los Lobos, the busy Berlin also plays sax on a variety of projects. He has played on albums by dozens of artists, including Sheryl Crow, Joan Osborne, Roomful of Blues and The Replacements. Locally, he has worked with Tuatura and Minus 5, among others.
'Seattle through and through'
Berlin first came to Seattle in 1988 with his wife, Michelle, a sculptor. They were looking for a refuge from the hectic pace of Los Angeles, a place to settle where they could raise a family. They visited a friend here who circled on a map a selection of quiet, out-of-the-way places they might consider. One was Vashon Island.
"It was a typical February day, drizzling rain, but it was great," Berlin recalled. "We got on the ferry - if you've never done it before, coming from L.A., it was pretty magical - and when we got off we saw a real-estate office with a sign that said `free island maps,' so we stopped to get one."
A real-estate agent there insisted on giving them a tour of the island, with stops at some available houses. The last one they looked at, not far from the real-estate office, required a hike through the woods because it was perched on a bluff overlooking the ferry landing.
"It was instant love," Berlin recalled. "It was like the house was waiting for us, saying, `Where have you been?' And it was ridiculously cheap by our standards. Twenty minutes later, we were back in the real-estate office, signing stuff."
They've moved
The Berlins have been on Vashon ever since. They moved to another house after their first daughter, now 8, was born, because that trail from the road to the first house was troublesome with an infant in tow. Their new home is at the crest of a hill, on a rural road at the interior of the wooded island. They keep an apartment in Los Angeles because much of Berlin's work is still there.
"I'm definitely Seattle through and through," he says. "It's changed so much in 12 years, but we still love it. "
Michelle Berlin's bronze sculptures, mostly with themes of nature and horses, are among the many artworks in the bright, breezy home. Drawings by their daughters - in addition to the 8-year-old, there's a 3-year-old - hang on the refrigerator door.
"Vampires must've lived in (the house) before us," he jokes, "it was so dark. But Michelle had all these windows put in, and did all the decorating."
French doors off the kitchen lead to a big, toy-filled yard, dominated by a bronze gazebo, made by Michelle with a theme of tree limbs and leaves. Nearby is her studio, above a two-car garage.
His workplace is in the former garage attached to the house, off the other side of the kitchen. It's chockablock with LPs, cassettes, CDs, books, videos, a couple of computers, a big-screen TV, etc. A couple of MTV Video Music Awards serve as bookends. Two of Berlin's four Grammys gather dust and cobwebs on a shelf. The others are somewhere amidst the clutter. Berlin picks up his beloved sax and plays a little. With the sax sounds, the room seems to mirror Berlin's love of music.
Are there any downsides to all this?
Other than being away from his children on tour, he replies, no. Then he remembers something.
"That Paul Simon record," he says. "It was not a happy experience." He's referring to the song "The Myth of Fingerprints," which Simon co-wrote and recorded with Los Lobos. "We never got paid for it," Berlin laments. "I've cursed him many times."
He says the band threatened to sue, but Simon's manager scoffed that it would ruin Los Lobos' reputation rather than the other way around. They decided he was right and let it slide. "He's the only person in the music business I really don't like." Berlin said.
He shrugs his shoulders. Then he picks up his sax and plays some more.