By José Gandue @Gandour
It all really started in a bar, it all started with the first drinks and those conversations where we heard several musicians getting together and inventing bands or where the already established ones scheduled gigs for several groups. Love was also born in bars, when we saw those girls dressed in an alternative way and one could talk to them about the new Primal Scream or Pulp albums. It was a guilt-free pleasure to watch them dance and look at each other, knowing we were all watching. Some of them, as they swayed, sang bits of Kinky Afro, from Happy Mondays or The only one I know from The Charlatans UK, That made the atmosphere even hotter.
The bars of that time were the furthest thing from the sophistication of today. They were practically warehouses that looked like they were about to be demolished, where the owners, with much more ingenuity than budget, hung anything and everything on the wall., They painted the wooden tables with whatever paint they could find and set up sound equipment bought from secondhand stores, praying the speakers would last until the next month's paycheck to replace them. It was in places like that that I saw my first concerts. Velvet, Cathedral, 1280 souls, and other glories of the Bogota underground. Likewise, right there, every time a song I didn't know came on, I'd approach the DJ on duty (in Barbie, north of the city, it was almost always Hector Buitrago, (who always came up with surprises) and asked him, in the most nerd of the world, what was that and he told me The Farm, Ned's Atomic Dustbin or Black Grape. He noted that he had been in there for only a few days. Antiphon, one of the few decent record stores in the city, and he would order it. It was a never-ending cycle: He would hear something new, look for it, and leave, after several hours in the store, with two or three more records in his bag.
Among the dives he frequented, some of the worst cocktails in history were served. One of them even had a concoction on its menu called Doctor Spock, green in color and with a taste similar to what a radioactive toilet bowl should contain. Furthermore, and dangerously, some waiters were putting plastic toys in glasses, which more than one drunk person swallowed without realizing it. More than one person must have a collection of toy soldiers like the ones in... Toy Story, after a stomach attack that I wouldn't envy anyone. Other alcoholic inventions of the time had names like Acid Rain, Monkey Kick, Panther Milk and other labels that gave clear signs of the liquid decay they contained. But that was part of the game. Did they really expect the customers of those places to order Black Seal, Crown Royal, or Glenfiddich? It's a miracle people could tell the difference between turpentine and Lady Di gin, a 100-year-old tradition.
The first time Bogota's alternative nightlife as we knew it He died when they declared the carrot law. Suddenly, faced with a rise in homicides in the city, the mayor decided that all entertainment venues would close at 1:00 a.m. Immediately The bars of that time stopped featuring live music because the owners could not afford the costs of each performance And besides, when the band played, the bar service stopped, and with such limited hours, they couldn't afford that. On the other hand, the party went underground, and it was an opportunity for electronic music producers to claim their space. People wanted to dance, get high, and seduce anyone, and for that, in those circumstances, a band playing rock and roll was useless. Then came the new influx of entertainment entrepreneurs linked to drug trafficking, those who began to celebrate big raves on the outskirts of the city, bringing every week to «"best DJ on the planet"» According to the latest English magazine, they were paid four, five, and even eight times more for their performances than they usually charged in European clubs. At these bacchanals, one could see, on exclusive balconies, characters of dubious reputation., with teeth and watches of exuberant gold shine, accompanied by silicone dolls dressed in the style cowgirl, jumping around with whistles in their mouths, holding bottles of champagne with unpronounceable names. And the bars, in general, were empty.
A few years later everything fell back into place. The new generations wanted to see live shows, they wanted to hear real songs. Of course, the teaching of electronic music had been integrated into recent local proposals. And on the other hand, the fusion of indigenous music and contemporary sounds was rediscovered. The nightclubs became more sophisticated, with architectural effort and glamour in their design. The sound amplification was decent and powerful, and the drinks, although presented in a more conservative manner, They did not carry a risk of internal bleeding. In those bars, the exchange of information between musicians also resumed. Of course, social media already existed, but it was in those small venues where one could finally see live performances. Mr. Bleat, Cero39, Mabiland, Maiguai. It was the place to see the Latin surprises that visited us: Rubio, Planet No, Austin TV, Dengue Dengue Dengue. Until a few weeks ago, I enjoyed going to places like The Shaman, Latino Power, Disco Jaguar..Today everything closed and, without falling into unnecessary scandal, we know that those places will hardly survive this quarantine. With them dies a large part of the Bogota music scene, for more Facebook Live that we invent, nor online festivals that we want to put on. Here the reasons for these cancellations are more than understandable, but It wouldn't be surprising if clandestine celebrations returned and the authorities looked the other way while the usual cheats lined their pockets again., This time, there's no need to bring in the world's best DJ or juggle international artists. Those scoundrels, with their lack of taste, will just get any street-corner chimpanzee to bang cymbals and get the desperate crowd dancing.
