You wouldn’t think that slow-paced instrumental guitar music from two Swiss-Ecuadorian brothers would be enough to pack out the Shepherds Bush Empire. Such is the quiet charm of Hermanos Gutiérrez, however, that they have become a word-of-mouth sensation on the strength of a handful of self-released albums.
Alejandro Gutiérrez learnt classical guitar at nine and focused on the complex rhythms of South America, while his older brother Estevan came in with his electric guitar and bongos during a jam session at Alejandro’s flat in Zurich in 2015. Together they have forged a uniquely dusty sound: reminiscent of Ennio Morricone’s soundtracks, but with a layering and interweaving of the various parts on acoustic, electric and lap steel guitar in a way that evokes a brooding, magical quality.
They looked the part too. With their Cuban-heeled boots, wide-brimmed fedoras and moustaches, the brothers had the air of dark-eyed banditos who could have given Clint Eastwood a run for his money. “Buenos noches, amigos,” said Estevan in a gentle tone, playing the part expected of him. “It feels like a special night.”
It was. In the absence of lyrics, the brothers made their guitars sing through bending notes with the tremolo arm or creating a sense of yearning melancholy in the melodies, the way they switched from lead to rhythm between each other was almost telepathic. Their use of flanging on Sonido Cósmico — the title track of a forthcoming album — brought psychedelic mystery; the sparse echoes and reverberations of the suitably titled El Bueno y el Malo did indeed evoke the eerie menace of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.
The frantic nature of the modern age has created a thirst for music with this sense of calm; the Texan trio Khruangbin have gained a huge audience with a similarly chilled-out take on instrumental funk. As the chiming, desert sounds of Tres Hermanos (a collaboration with Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys) brought to mind coyotes, lizards and other things not generally found in west London, the value of that music, as a form of escape but also solace, became obvious.
★★★★☆
