By José Gandour Photo by Simona Malaika @simonaMalaika
Sunday at Rock al Parque is always the most colorful day, the one with the greatest variety of sounds, the day where there is the most risk in the curation And where the usual radicals have the opportunity to complain, vent their anger, and protest because, as always, "the concept of Rock has been betrayed." Some poorly disguised racists are absent during the second day of the festival because they believe that the spirits of mixed heritage will invade them and make them dance wildly. These timid characters believe that dancing is voodoo and that their glorious and chaste bodies couldn't bear such a burden of joy. They want Rock to always be gloomy, somber, limited, as if it were born in the North Pole. And as if he had had the bad luck of Kal-El, later Superman, of having to leave his iceberg forest to come and sadly live among humans.
Days like yesterday, on the Lago stage, are days when we remember that the vast name of Rock lives on thanks to... It ceased being an Anglo-Saxon exclusive a long time ago, and fed on the different sounds of the world. It's always appreciated when an artist, in these bland times, remembers that young people want to break free from routine, from the weariness of the everyday, and want to shake off the day's disappointment by dancing. In a land as rich in rhythms as Colombia, we've clumsily handed over the dance scene to genres as structurally impoverished and misogynistic as reggaeton. We've stripped rock music of its flavor and distill more anger than pleasure in our songs. Of course, there are notable exceptions, but doesn't it strike you as odd that most venues that organize concerts in Bogotá now avoid hosting rock acts playing their own songs on weekends?
The boys and girls want to dance. And that's why so many people crowded around the Lago stage to see the Congolese. Jupiter & Okwess. Most of those present, until yesterday, probably wouldn't have been able to locate the Republic of Congo on a world map. They would have been lost trying to name the number of languages and tribes spoken in that territory. They would barely remember, due to the popularity of the World Cup in Russia, that some of the Belgian players had family roots in that country. But they did know one thing: That unique substance that thrills our bodies every time it resounds in any corner of the world comes from Africa. We owe so much to Africa, yet we rarely turn our attention to what is happening on that continent. Sometimes we think it doesn't even exist, or we only remember it when we see those boats crammed with desperate human beings, on the verge of sinking, crossing the Mediterranean, hoping to reach land only to be met with hostility by Europeans.
With Jupiter & Okwess we remember that The Caribbean originates on the western coasts of Africa. We also remember the historical ebb and flow of sound that crossed oceans and became filled with new sonic trends, where the electric guitar is filled with endless riffs and where traditional percussion joins with the usual rock instruments of the West. They took to the Rock al Parque stage knowing that there were many people in front of them who, without knowing them, wanted to jump from the first note. They more than fulfilled their task, and achieved the unstoppable frenzy of the attendees. For the moment, in a festival whose edition hasn't quite delivered the quota of ecstasy we went looking for, It was the best act witnessed this year at Rock al Parque.
P.S. Rumor has it that, on the contrary, What we saw on the Eco stage, with Pussy Riot, was disappointing. Furthermore, and curiously, this Russian musical group was scheduled to perform at the same time in Edinburgh, Scotland. Interesting, isn't it?
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