By José Gandue @Gandour
Photo by Oscar Perfer
(Editor's note: Some archaeologists found a strange letter at a site near where we are, which speaks nostalgically of an event that took place in 2015, and seems to have been written by a father who wanted to tell his son about one of the best musical memories of his life).
My beloved: Yes, it was a long time ago, But you're old enough now that I can tell you about a great experience. It was Monday and the weather was still unsettled. It was around 4:00 in the afternoon. In the middle of a mega-event taking place in Bogotá, a festival called Rock al Parque, in one of its most lackluster editions, Suddenly, a strange light descended from the sky, signaling that amidst the boredom, a glimmer of peace and joy had arrived. Just when some friends and I were feeling disillusioned, thinking that what they called Rock was trapped in the hands of fake people, burdened with too many prejudices and lacking in smiles, Three extraterrestrials arrived on stage who, in order to cross the stratosphere, disguised themselves as Argentinians residing in the Basque Country.. They called themselves Capsule and thought it would be a good idea to dress like those guys. glam icons of the early 1970s in England. His arrival frightened several hipsters in the area and scandalized the metalhead clergymen preaching in the park.
When the scoreboard lit up indicating their stage time, this trio had no better idea than to kick things off with a daring version of It's best not to talk about certain things, Sumo announced that the atmosphere could quickly fill with beautiful and classic auditory psychedelia, available to the audience. The attendees, still surprised by this stage presence, moved closer to the barriers. Some sonic magnet was drawing them in, pinching their ears.
Duchess Coni captivated the lovelorn with her sensual movements, while the sound of her bass resonated deep within the audience. Ricardo Camino Vega laid down the mesmerizing rhythm from his drum kit, completely focused on his work., managing, through the torture of their drumheads, to subdue the increasingly captive audience. But the priest officiating this psychedelic mass was Martín Guevara, a man who barely survived the test of time., but possessing an inexhaustible energy to envelop the existential complaints of the public and bury them for at least an hour, her hour, where she asked, ordered, complete attention for her art.
As a good shepherd of his own religion, Guevara urged the masses to join in his chants of rebellion, ...to denounce that the world was heading down dark paths built by ill-gotten interests with the blood of others, and to warn of impending hells. At times, to further capture the attention of his ever-growing number of converts, It breached the security barriers and leaped over the hypnotized bodies. When he returned to the platform, he knew the chains of pleasure were assured among the euphoric audience. He threatened to end the mass after thirty minutes, But it was just a little trick to continue surprising.
3600 seconds without losing control of the audience. Incandescent fire for a whole hour. Capsule had left its breath in the air, and everyone was spellbound from the beginning until the last note fell. Then the trio disappeared behind the curtain and We all had the feeling that something magical had happened. Perhaps, just perhaps, Rock at that moment recovered its old name, cleaned it up, polished it, and placed it in our memory as an unmissable treasure.
Beloved son, I hope you can have a moment like this in your life. I hope you can, at least for an hour, enjoy the music as I did that day.
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