Adrian Quesada and the Long Path to His First Official Solo Release

Adrian Quesada at Electric Deluxe (Photos by Jackie Lee Young)

Somehow, Adrian Quesada remains unimpressed with himself. Yes, things are very good for the multihyphenate, to say the least. Of course, Quesada has built out a homegrown world-championship-level team as the Black Pumas' player-coach, to use a basketball analogy he would appreciate. He has released a fantastic new record of modern psychedelic boleros. Argentinian singer and longtime Thievery Corporation collaborator Natalia Clavier described the 45-year-old Laredo native as "the most talked-about man in the Latin music everything right now," aside from the current reggaeton galácticos.

As a person in demand, he's always on the move, like then-Mos Def on "Travellin' Man": "I'm a travellin' man/ Movin' through places, space and time/ Got a lot of things I got to do."

None of this seems to register with Quesada.

Please take the following anecdote: I texted Quesada for the phone number of Pumas' pacesetter Stephen Bidwell, which he promptly sent over. Almost as quickly, he texted that the talented drummer was not on his new album, his first official solo release, Boleros Psicodélicos, and didn't want to "ruffle any feathers" because only one other Pumas member made the record.

The preceding, seemingly inconsequential story proves informative. Here the Austinite is, a full-blown, article-prefixed star – as in, the Adrian Quesada, who could easily care little about anyone's feelings, even those of the people (very technically) working for him. Few would publicly condemn Quesada (or Pumas lead singer Eric Burton) if they "went Hollywood," to whatever extent; these things tend to come part and parcel with ascendance and financial gain. The "spoils" can occasionally include frosty temperaments and gratuitous self-pats. However, it is the opposite for Quesada; he's incredibly concerned about the feelings and lives of those within his various concentric circles.

Quesada's work ethic and willingness to be patient are even more impressive than his grace and humility – even if it was often involuntary and unplanned. Superstars, real ones, typically aren't forged overnight. It's rounds of hurry-up-and-wait, being the right people, with the right people, at the right time – an idea to which Black Pumas serve as an example. Success can suddenly arrive in a hurry for those willing to stay in the game.

But what do you do once you've got everything you dreamed of? What does superstardom look like for Adrian Quesada in real time – especially when he's decided never to act as one?

"What is 25-year-old Adrian doing?" I ask Quesada from the couch at his Electric Deluxe studio on Austin's Eastside. It's a curious location – situated in a non-glorious lot of storage units and workshops next to businesses where people in coveralls turn wrenches. It was here that he recorded the 12 mesmeric, guest vocalist-heavy tracks making up Boleros Psicodélicos.

"Twenty-five was not good. Twenty-five, I would've blown this shit big time," says Quesada. "At 30 years old, I was pretty focused because I had a daughter at 28, and that was when we started playing with Prince."

(Yes, Adrian Quesada once worked with Prince. Yes, that one. Eventual Grammy winners Grupo Fantasma served as a house band at his Las Vegas nightclub in 2007 and also backed him at Super Bowl and Golden Globe parties.)

"I was playing with him, coming home, and delivering food at night to pay the bills," he continued. "I had a little studio, and I would crank out in the studio during the day, play gigs with Grupo, and then deliver food at night. Celeste was at home taking care of our kid. That was real-life shit – it made me prioritize my time right away. Every year, I've become more grounded and able to process everything better."

The guitarist also admits to being more "hotheaded and bigheaded" in those days. The constant production toil and Grupo's work kept his name ringing in various circles. There was a project with jazz/soul analog Adrian Younge and his solid work with Martín Perna (from Brooklyn-based Afrobeat group Antibalas) as Ocote Soul Sounds. Another side project under the Echocentrics moniker would be helpful for a later undertaking.

Then, he admits something surprising.

"I've been humbled a lot through the shit," he says, matter-of-factly. "I just saw [esteemed rapper and academic] Bavu Blakes play at the Far Out a month ago, and we hung out there. I told him, 'Man, right before Pumas, I was about to take another side job.'"

For reference, "right before Pumas" means four years ago, or roughly a year or two before the Black Pumas' 2019 debut. And now that he has the massive platform, he says he's hungrier than ever. Outside Pumas' efforts, he has other side missions to complete, including working with Jay-Z, which would be "the top of the mountain," as he sees it.

"It's obsessive," he confesses. "I was thinking the other day, I'm like, 'Damn, I'm at a point where I can take some real time off.' Do whatever I want to do. That part of the thing with the pandemic was trying to have hobbies. I do a lot of bike riding. But it's detrimental to a point. I don't know what it would take to make me stop and breathe. I see these opportunities, and I'm like, 'Damn, I can't miss this window now that people are paying attention to Pumas, and I'm putting another album on the side. I can't miss that window because I don't know when I'll have that window again.'"

Even with the new opportunities, it doesn't appear that Quesada's compass has changed much. He's still the same workaholic musician, the same exceedingly pleasant and thoughtful human. There are no "I'm top shit" airs wafting off him at any point, but then you speak to his wife, and one can see why.

Adrian Quesada is sturdy, partly because his talented wife, Celeste, is also made of polished granite. The Quesadas are exceptionally family-oriented and are pillars of strength, especially of the spiritual and moral kind.

"There are similarities that Adrian and I share, within our intimate world, as people, and as partners," explains the philanthropist and former producer of the Austin Music Awards. "I, very much, subscribe to many of his philosophies in my way, and I think that's what makes us complementary. It feels like I'm the air traffic control – the hub of his world, our two daughters' world, and our extended family's world. It's part of our fabric."

She adds to their mission as a family unit, a shared heritage, and Adrian's public ascension with Black Pumas, which she speaks of as an ongoing process: "I think this is what we signed up for. We are creating our life story; what we are most attracted to are people who keep it real.

"The more and more we are fortunate to be blessed with, the more we feel committed to giving back to our community," she continues, with a dose of implied meaning. "We instill into our children that our ancestors – our parents from both sides – did not work this hard to take it all for granted. And we do our part to the best of our ability. And we learn every single day how to look within and try to be better for our community. I mean, both of us are first-generation [Americans]. The state of the world has not gone past us."

Lying in an overlapping circle are Quesada's Pumas bandmates, nearly all of whom admit their overwhelming success is as much a result of impeccable timing as their collective talent.

"The biggest reason is my personal life wouldn't have allowed it because my kids were so much younger then," said singer Lauren Cervantes when asked whether all of this would've been possible years ago. "But even like mentally, I don't think I was mature enough. I don't think I would've had the tools. I wouldn't have known back then to remove myself from that to maintain a balance."

Her "sister" and backup singing partner Angela Miller concurs: "Can you imagine being freshly married and then having to tell your spouse that you're about to travel and be gone two, three weeks out of a month?"

She half-rambles and laughs at the idea. "Oh God, it was not going to work," she admits. "Yeah, I'd probably been divorced. I'd have to choose; you know what I mean? I'd be broke; I'd probably be living under 35."

Lead singer Eric Burton, however, sees the Pumas' success as right on time. He prefers not to consider the whole of it, not to overwhelm the present and what lies ahead.

Adrian Quesada

"I feel like it could be distracting for me to dwell too much on what people are saying about it, how big the venues are, or even people's reaction to the music and performances after the fact," says Burton. "I don't think about it. I rely on the fact that in our most basic form as human beings, we're intellectual. And for me, that means that if I can delegate most of my energy and focus on creating the next new thing, then everything else will come."

The reality likely lies between Burton's assurance in "the right time being today" and the slightly older members' knowledge and honesty of their younger selves. One unanimous item is Quesada's leadership and leadership style, in being the group's north star – or at least the one pointing at it.

"Adrian's whole thing throughout all of this is like this no-pressure attitude," says Cervantes, whose thoughts echo with everyone interviewed. "[Maybe] that's how he's able to have so many projects and work on so many things. He's not overly critical of himself or us. He lets the music happen organically. You never feel like, 'This is your boss, and you must produce whatever for him.' It doesn't feel like that. I don't think I would know how to be in the music machine if it wasn't for Adrian."

Cervantes is probably not entirely accurate about Quesada not being overly critical of himself.

"Honestly, I just feel like I need to get better all the time," he says. "I hear the Pumas album, and I hear things that I could have done better."

While considering why this was the right time for a solo album, Quesada sees it as an opportunity to express himself – not in a way that disrespects Black Pumas but augments its success. Also, ATO, his label, implied the window for a non-Pumas project might not remain open long, "striking while the iron is hot," and the like. Gabriel Garzón-Montano, a New York-based vocalist and multi-instrumentalist who sings on the excellent "El Paraguas," offers another consideration: "You must always do new work that honors your relationship with the craft."

The preceding reflections are likely why his latest offering, Boleros Psicodélicos, is the first record with his name front and center. Think about it – many knew Adrian Quesada before the Black Pumas or had some awareness. But how many of his releases could someone remember where he wasn't working behind an alias? One could perceive this as an artist compartmentalizing, and perhaps this is true. But he also concedes to some measure of fear, which he's overcome.

"I'm not afraid to just put my name on it anymore," he says. "On the one hand, I used to be nervous about putting my name out there like that. Now, on the other hand, there's a name recognition from Pumas, so I may as well embrace that people are paying attention."

And Boleros is a project to pay attention to, with its outstanding features and historical nods. Bolero music – not to be confused with French composer Maurice Ravel's orchestral masterpiece – originated in 19th-century eastern Cuba's trova tradition. Its hopeless romantic stylings eventually spilled into the rest of Latin America, including Mexico and Puerto Rico. It existed all around Quesada, who initially was not interested, preferring Wu-Tang Clan and DJ Premier productions over classic Javier Solís cuts.

"I was actually with my dad in Mexico one time, under the influence of a lot of drinks," he recalls. "I remember they were playing music at a restaurant, and I was like, 'Damn, this is beautiful.'"

The producer first experimented with the form on 2011's Echocentrics project, Sunshadows – recording a cover of the bolero standard "Esclavo y Amo," sung by Natalia Clavier. The 2022 version for Boleros is superior, warmer, and more in tune with the mid-late Sixties/early Seventies psychedelic sound. The Argentinian vocalist remembers him saying, "I can't believe you're not calling me crazy," when detailing his psychedelic angle.

She says she's "fucking stoked about [Quesada's success] because if anybody deserves recognition and popularity, it's this guy because he has been grinding in this industry for over two decades – and always with this quality of being so humble, so down to earth, never bragging about his crazy skills." (See, there it is again.)

Dreams are usually made of moments hard to qualify within the moments they are occurring, but they can be documented on occasion.

"It's crazy," Quesada starts. "There was a guy on our crew as our backline tech. We were talking about [playing for tens of thousands of people] because we opened for the Stones. [Ed. note: Yes, the Rolling Stones.] We talked about watching MTV when you're a kid, and you think that's how it will be, but it's not really how it always is.

"When you're a kid, you don't realize that there's a healthy middle to upper-middle class of people working in music. Those people don't exist [when you're young]. We talked about how once you start doing it, you realize – I wouldn't say it's just a job, but it is somewhat. When we did the Stones gig, I remember telling him that's what I thought it would be like when I was a kid, all the time, every stadium."

When I relay how it appears on social media or television – to mean larger than life – he's appreciative of the distance he's traveled.

"With Grupo, we had some of the best shows I've ever played," says Quesada. "But when you have a few nights of a slow turnout at a small club, it affects you mentally. It also wears you down. It affects how you perform.

"If you were walking out to sold-out crowds, it's hard to fuck that up."

Five Favorite Boleros

Los Pasteles Verdes, "Esclavo y Amo" (1975)
The constantly rotating group originates in Peru but has been based in Mexico for decades. This ballad is the totem for Latin romanticism and has been sampled in hip-hop.

La Lupe, "Puedes Decir de Mi" (1972)
The legendary Cuban songstress' version contains a dusty and epic Morricone quality.

Los Angeles Negros, "Y Volveré" (1970)
Los Negros provided a unique mixture of boleros, psychedelic funk, and rock music, known as "balada rockmántica." Heavily sampled by hip-hop producers.

Rodolfo Aicardi, "Vuelve" (1971)
One could have picked several from the late Colombian troubadour's discography.

Leo Dan, "Yo Sé Que No Es Feliz" (1970)
The Argentinian composer/singer is equally popular in Mexico. Another song, "Te He Prometido," features in Alfonso Cuarón's 2018 multi-Oscar-winning film, Roma.