Remember those carlos Castaneda books of the early '70s in which the author goes on mystical journeys to the Mexican countryside with Don Juan the Yaqui sage, who turns spiritual knowledge inside out like a serpent god shedding its own skin? If there were ever a perfect soundtrack for those spacey tomes, it would be performed by Caifanes, a Mexico City dream-pop trio whose fourth release, El Nervio del Volcan, coincides with a gig on Peter Gabriel's WOMAD tour.

Like Led Zeppelin, who used pagan Celtic codes as a launch pad to psychedelic metal transcendence, Caifanes borrow the visceral legacy of Mexico's indigenous culture – even ritual sacrifice – to create a new rock mythology. Riding a plucky guitar riff and a synth-pop groove, "It's Not That Way Here" admonishes outsiders who "Tread over ancient territories/Invoking forces you will never understand," who "come from where blood was never sacrificed for love." Although this attitude arms Caifanes with roots-rebel energy, the band cleverly melds classical Spanish, Afro-Latin, blues and art-rock influences in one postmodern world-beat package.

The shaggy-haired, liberally tattooed Saul Hernandez is a grungy reincarnation of the withered old Don Juan, crooning, yelping and whispering his way through mythic anthems and dark ballads that elicit the latent necrophilia in the Mexican sensibility. On Nervio, Hernandez seems obsessed with actually getting under your skin – in "Till You Stop Breathing," he moans, "I need to watch you from the inside," while on "Outside," a catchy pop pearl that features Beatleslike harmonies, he insists, "You don't exist outside, only inside." Gracefully underpinning Hernandez's songcraft, guitarist Alejandro Marcovich picks percussively like a salsa pianist might, then stretches out languidly like Tom Verlaine, while drummer Alfonso Andre kicks with Keith Moon's heavy bass foot when he's not trying to sound like Santana's entire rhythm section.

Oh, yes, despite my translations, all of Caifanes' songs are in Spanish – which shouldn't really matter, because this record's unrelenting lyricism and high hook quotient are enough to outdo the buzz you might get from the worm at the bottom of your next bottle of Mezcal. (RS 696)

ED MORALES