“I knew you were going to ask me that question,” groans Michael Ramos when the ex-Rembrandt is queried about his involvement with the theme from Friends. “I was part of that record, which is a great record, but not a part of that song.

“I was gladly not a part of that song,” he adds, laughing.

Ramos has a lot to laugh about these days, too. After years of paying his dues as a much-in-demand sideman who’s played with everyone from John Mellencamp and Patty Griffin to Paul Simon and the BoDeans (of whom he was briefly a member), Ramos is finally releasing a project that’s all his own.

“I make my living as a sideman,” he says, “but my dream has always been to record the music in my head, the music that moves me. I’m very proud to have worked with some great artists, but as I got older I wanted to make my own music. I saw how much fun these guys were having and I thought, I should be doing that, too.”

The result is the Charanga Cakewalk project, a smooth cocktail of Tex-Mex border music, exotic, dub and chilled-out dance music that reflects Ramos’ Texan heritage.

“I grew up outside of Houston, in Angleton, Texas,” he explains, “My mom’s family came from Spain quite a ways back and has some Comanche in there, too; while my father’s family came from Mexico. So, as far as Texas goes, I guess I’m pretty indigenous.”

Like most kids growing up in Texas in the ‘60s, Ramos was far more interested in rock and roll than in Mexican music. “I love music, all music,” he says. “I started playing in rock bands because that’s just what you did. But my mom and dad and my grandparents all listened to hardcore Mexican radio stations. I was kind of ashamed of that, though, since, like most kids, I just wanted to fit in.

“Back then Mexican radio wasn’t so segmented,” he continues, “so there was lots of accordion music, and I hated it then. Which is kind of ironic, since I’m now known as an accordion player. I first picked up the accordion 15 years ago, my dad was so proud that he was bragging about it.

“I guess my attitude started to change when I first heard Carlos Santana on the radio,” Ramos continues, “and again when I first heard Los Lobos. They made Latin music cool for someone who was obsessed with rock and roll like I was. I remember the first time I saw Los Lobos. It was in Austin, around the time of ‘Anselma.’ They completely blew me away. They still do. Sometimes I listen to them just to put me in my place!”

Loteria de la Cumbia Lounge, the first release from the Charanga Cakewalk project (Triloka/Artemis), abstracts these Latin-rock influences and infuses them with a heady dose of Mexican cumbia, the, accordion-driven style that transformed a hip-swaying Afro-Colombian rhythm into a the syncopated, horsey sound of the border.

To get the sound right, Ramos recruited Maneja Beto, a local Latino band from his adopted hometown of Austin. “I saw them playing locally and they blew me away,” recalls Ramos. “So instead of putting together a group, I just hired a band that was already great. When we met, it turned out that they already knew me, so it was like a mutual admiration society.”

Inviting Maneja Beto to his Austin studio, the Cumbia Lounge, Ramos and the band laid down the initial tracks that would become Loteria de la Cumbia Lounge. But that was just the first step. Charanga Cakewalk’s trippy, dubby electronica vibe is as much a result of Ramos’ studio tweaking as it is of the actual musicians. Like Tijuana’s NorTec collection or Argentina’s Bajofondo Tango Club or the Anglo-Colombian collaboration Sidestepper, Ramos re-wires a traditional Latin genre for the 21^st century. But Ramos is wary of being part of any movement or scene.

“This evolved parallel to things like Manu Chao or Sidestepper,” he explains. “I had originally done a disc to sell to movie producers, and I was experimenting with atmospheric kinds of music. Cumbia is one of those staples of Latin music that’s very evocative, but I had never hear anyone doing anything like this with it. So I just started to play with it a little.

“I didn’t know who Sidestepper was until people started telling me about it,” he adds. “And then when I hear it, I loved it. I felt a kinship that was really inspiring, like I was onto something… But I don’t want to be lumped into a wave, because when that wave resides, you’re left high and dry.”

Ramos is also wary of being pigeonholed as a Latin artist. “Latin and world music are what I listen to when I’m not working,” he says. “I’m inspired by African and Brazilian music, too. I’m so happy that people think Latin music is cool, but I want to be thought of as a world artist rather than a Latin artist. There are a lot of other influences in this music that I want people to recognize.”

Ramos also cites other inspirations for his sound, including reggae and even the late ‘50s lounge-y “exotica” of Mexican camp favorite Juan Garcia Esquivel. “Reggae has been one of my loves since way back,” Ramos says. There’s definitely a dub sensibility to some of the tracks on Loteria.

“I was amazed at how delightful and uplifting Esquivel’s music was,” he continues. “It’s very witty stuff. When I started putting this together, I knew I wanted that lightness to be in there. There’s so much heaviness in the world right now that I wanted to make people laugh a little.”

That sense of fun extends to the project’s name, which Ramos explains he stole. “A friend of mine was visiting family down in the Rio Grande valley, and on the way back she saw a sign in front of a church that read ‘Charanga Cakewalk Today.’ I always thought it was a great name, and used to tell her that I was going to steal it for a title.

“Charanga is a kind of music,” he explains, “but for a lot of Mexicans, it also signifies a good time or a party, and a cakewalk signifies the same thing for African Americans and Anglos. It’s all about mixing these influences into a kind of Latin cocktail.

“I definitely took some chances and I’m really happy with the way this record came out,” Ramos adds, “but I still feel like there’s a lot more to be done with Charanga Cakewalk. I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface.”

-Tom Pryor