By Clara Sofía Arrieta @mediatica Photo by Simona Malaika @simonamalaika
Usually, before going to a concert, I have a little personal ritual: while I get ready, get dressed, eat something, and have a drink, I listen to the band I'm going to see. It's like I'm spiritually preparing myself for what's to come. Yesterday was no exception, but since I was getting ready to see 21 bands, the preparation had to be general: one song (maximum two per band) and then I'd run to the park. You can imagine the result was a playlist as eclectic as the lineup on Sunday. And that pretty much sums up my overall feeling for the whole day. I ran from one stage to another because I wanted to see a little bit of everything, capture some impressions, and retain some images. (It's impossible not to think of Santiago Rivas running from one stage to the other, notebook in hand, filling it with drawings of each band. Too bad, I can't even draw a line.) And the truth is, now I'm a little confused by this frenetic and schizophrenic accumulation of sounds, memories, and stage performances.
Let's try to unravel this mess, but first I want to clarify one point. Due to personal preferences and tastes, while I attended all three stages, I always found myself much more captivated by what was happening on the Lake Stage and the Eco Stage. And yes, taste has that problem; it's not objective. There was an initial period, from the opening at 3:00 PM until 5:40 PM, featuring bands completely unknown to me. Except for Rocka, the rest were groups making their Rock al Parque debut, and you could feel that excitement that comes with first-time jitters. And another of the virtues of this event is that it serves as an initiation rite for the groups. There's no need to reiterate that there's a before and after Rock al Parque. To quote the women: "it really gets them going." At that moment, I ran into Professor (Álvaro González) from Radiónica, who told me about the exciting new music coming out of this generation. Another key feature of this annual music festival is that it broadens the audience's listening horizons, so I'm committed to keeping an eye on Mad Tree, Manniax, Lika Nova, and La Mano de Parisi.
From that point on, I most regretted not having the divine gift of ubiquity. How wonderful it would be to be able to split myself in two and dance to three rhythms simultaneously! And if we're talking about dancing, we come to what was my band of the day: Jupiter & Okwess. If you don't know them, do yourselves a favor and look them up right now. This gem comes to us from the Democratic Republic of Congo, and they clearly came to remind us of the joyful and democratic virtues of dance and good vibes. Each member was a spectacle individually, so you can imagine the scale of the show when they all perform together. Jupiter, the band's leader, is a force of nature on stage. A highlight was when they sang The World Is My Land And among the many countries they mentioned, they shouted, "Colombia is my land!" Yes, my dear Jupiter and company, Colombia is your land. While no translation was necessary, because this is where the cliché that music is the universal language truly rings true, the band invited Rafael Espinel from La Chiva Gantiva (who came directly from Brussels to perform for the first time today, Monday, at Rock al Parque) to sing. He served as host and bridge between the dancing crowd and these great Congolese musicians. Finally, what a beautiful ending with that a cappella song that left us all wanting much more.
When I talk about the problem of omnipresence, I'm referring specifically to the fact that you have to run from Jupiter to see a band that also comes from another planet. I'm referring to Inspector Cluzo, who comes to us from Gascony, which, although within French territory, is far from aligned with French politics and cultural precepts. But well, I couldn't do an analysis of the tensions between Gascons and French, but yes, I can observe in this band the purest sense of rock. As we say here: they don't bite off anyone. They're an independent band (in every sense of the word), they've never signed with a major label, but rather they sow, reap, and sell to make their music. And that independence makes their sound something truly unique. They're not afraid of mixing, combining, whimsical creation, or the power of randomness. And in a world of such prefabricated, clean (or digitally distorted) sounds, the organic and intuitive is an act of complete rebellion. Furthermore, Malcolm Lacrouts' voice is breathtaking; it rises and falls as it pleases and can sometimes sound like Johnny Cash, Sting, Jack White, Brad Roberts, or Dan Auerbach. Applause for this rock farm.
Returning to the dance, Antibalas, the North American Afrobeat band with twenty years of history, moved us with that number of excellent musicians that inevitably made me think that Fela Kuti was in the air of Simón Bolívar Park. Yesterday, the Lake Stage was the space where all that was needed was to let the music in so that it could do its work on the bodies of the spectators. Circles formed in the audience, small dance floors where everyone let themselves be possessed by the sound. It was impossible not to. Personally, I must admit that large orchestras hold a certain fascination for me. So much is happening there, right in front of me. And in this case, we were all moving obediently under the influence of the pink man. Another dance—and a very different one—occurred on the Eco Stage when the guys from HMLTD took over. These artists, who can't deny their British origins, are a glam punk collective. Of course, the visual aspect is high, and if you don't like the music, you can certainly be entertained by their outfits. There, the issue of gender is not an issue; masculine and feminine coexist with complete ease. And their vocalist, the handsome and captivating Henry Spychalski, commands every inch of the stage, challenging his audience to keep up. And to cap off the danceable energy, what better way than to close with Dancing Mood, a fantastic Argentine instrumental band that melts away any physical resistance. Another large orchestra took over the Lake Stage. With their impeccable sound, they made us revel in the ska that occasionally looks back to jazz, and under the direction of Hugo Lobo, reminded us why we here in Colombia enjoy these offerings from the southern part of the continent so much.
Let's talk about the girls. Candace Kucsulain, the vocalist of Walls of Jericho, is the tremendous redhead who lends her furious voice to this hardcore band. She was also forceful in speaking to the audience about how each day is a personal struggle to make the world we live in a little better. She spoke of living in that continuous quest to be who you want to be, to look the way you want to look. And then she invited us all to raise our middle fingers at those who don't understand and shout FUCK at that world that only wants to control. Later, in another part of the park, at the Eco Stage, people were getting impatient for Pussy Riot to infect us with their defiant attitude. There was a technical problem that made the wait a little longer, and when they finally started, they launched into the fifth point of the 27 that made up their manifesto. It's a shame they didn't translate the text into Spanish; the booing from the crowd was mainly due to not being able to understand it. (Which perfectly validated the points in the manifesto that addressed the power and wealth of the few over others, the world powers and their imposition—even linguistically—on Third World countries). I've read comments criticizing this collective's presentation, but I found it very interesting to have access to this staging, which is performance art, political activism, feminist movement and fury, resistance, and which opens the door to queerness (The Tupamaras enter shouting forcefully that they empower gay men, transvestites, lesbians, and ultimately their families: the outcasts, the misunderstood, and the rejected). I was happy to have at home the women who defy Putin and who have been imprisoned for speaking out against politics, religion, and feminism. They managed to destabilize the control of the World Cup, the most important event on this planet. In short, I'm happy because I believe, like Pussy Riot, that the vagina has a lot to say and that it's going to win the race.
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