By José Gandue @Gandour
Luckily, every musical era has its detractors. Luckily, we have the stubborn exponents who want to go in reverse., Those who hate to hear advice from so-called experts on how artists should behave in this digital age. Yes, we're talking about those who hate receiving advice on how to use platforms to their advantage, and yawn when a specialist approaches them and tries to lecture them on how to promote their material to get more plays. In this case, we're talking about a quintet of forty-somethings, with many years on stage., with a punk sound (so punk that some accompany its description with the word "scrap dealer"), who speak in their songs of the particular misfortunes of living in Bogotá, with anecdotes with decades of formation, and narratives by annoying voices that do not stop shouting fables of gangs full of bullets and drunken nights. Who, at this stage of the game, releases a twenty-song album that doesn't let up on the tension of its distortions throughout its almost forty-nine minutes of duration? Who, in the age of reggaeton (its tyrannical, omnipresent majesty), still believes that punk is alive? Who still thinks that pogoing continues to lift the spirits of the most unfortunate, compared to those who deceive themselves every night with twerking? Well, perhaps they are few, but among them are these standards of Colombian capital rebellion, these monuments to resistance called Chite, who are releasing their album Radio Surfin Distrital.
This is an album of well-rounded recordings, of vocal pieces that stick to the brain like gum, where the chaos of the city is discussed (Lourdes, don't forget me), which spits on the memory of despicable murderers (Piloting the city of tired dreams), which recalls the presence of certain thugs who terrorized the first shopping centers in the capital (The Billis) and where, suddenly, without losing intensity, and resorting to humanity and cynicism, Chite gets romantic and sings I've left everything for your love, as a break from the splashes of prohibited substances and blood that accompany the other compositions. Radio Surfin Distrital It's not a subtle album; it doesn't seek to please listeners who come to this material unprepared. It doesn't have stupid tunes dedicated to the Colombian national team, nor does it intend for its melodies to be adopted by the continent's hooligan groups. The musicians of Chite are from Bogotá and they realistically describe a violent, unjust, unequal city, a hell of nine million inhabitants who, amidst their ongoing decline, fortunately present themselves as honest and effective poets of reality, outspoken and doing whatever they please. They defy all conventions, but, Who doubts that this new album by Chite will be listened to by thousands, regardless of the rules of the current market?
