Bonito Living

When talking about Latin America, the usual narratives are either, the magical realism of Garcia Marquez and Isabel Allende, or the dreadful depiction of Drug trafficking. Although both are part of our realities, its narrowness is rather silly. It is like thinking of England as Downton Abbey and hooligans! It took Netflix to create a documentary that tell the story of Rock in Spanish integrating the complexity of our cultural, social, political and economic context. Indeed, “Break it all” really changes the tune and brings together the richness and expansion of this universal language.

These are six episodes, packing in the best possible way the extensive path and dialogues of rock in 21 Spanish speaking countries in the American continent, highlighting the cultural powerhouses of Mexico and Argentina, but also including countries like Colombia, Peru, Chile and Uruguay. The language of rock transcends frontiers and the first groups try to imitate the big bands. Particularly The Beatles seem to be a huge infuence in our song-writers. Perhaps the most relevant example is La Bamba, by Ritchie Valens, an adaptation of a very famous Mexican song, packed and played with electric guitars for an international audience. Our rocks borrows and lends to the already rich music in Latin America: it marries mariachis and boleros, perhaps the most traditional of all our music, and transform the melancholic tango into surreal songs. It takes the protest music into electronic keys pointing the finger to the establishment and denouncing political atrocities.

This is perhaps one of the main differences with Anglosaxon rock, which albeit rebel and questioning, became quickly swallowed by the corporate labels and a “tolerated” part of the culture. In LatinAmerica, rock becomes the way of resisting the oppressive regimes of the Cold War, supported and funded by the USA in their war against communism, in what they think is their back yard. Music, art and poetry are powerful ways to challenge hegemonic regimes, and rock becomes the voice of the disenchanted youngsters in Chile and Argentina, completely squashed by the Military junta. Youth was proscribed and persecuted, free thinking and long hair, demonised. To try and have a concert or a gig is a matter of life or death. Perhaps the most cruel example is the way that the milicos in Chile cut the hands of guitarist and pianist Victor Jara; their aim and message was clear. Rock music and gigs are met with repression. In Mexico rock offered a escape and voice to young people, and the famous Avandaro concert in 1971, became the Woodstock of the DC. It was such the popularity and the power of this concert that the government banned rock and concerts

In this repressive environment, duplicated in many Latin American countries, many artists had to go to exile, the 60s and 70s spread the diaspora of musicians across the world. Those who stay keep on singing in hermetic lyrics that passed uncensored, but not unnoticed. Charly Garcia, perhaps one of the most prolific musician in the whole continent (our own John Lennon), creates a way of music that is surreal and political. A sophisticated mixture of social critique, nostalgia and political protest in heart breaking songs like Rasguña las Piedras of the film La noche de los Lapices, with groups such as Seru Giran and Sui Generis. Those who are in exiled despair at the atrocities of the Junta, those inside simply sing in order not to disaappear. And yet you cannot really get that in the music… you need to listen within lines.

Ironically, it takes the Falklands War to give to rock in Spanish an unexpected lift. The Junta forbids “music in English” but the radio needs to keep sounding, and the scattered groups of kids playing in the barrios suddenly became pop idols. Charly Garcia, Fito Paez, Luis Alberto Spinetta, amongst many others are heard. In the 1980s, the whole continent is embracing rock, and groups in Chile, Colombia, Peru, Panama, Mexico and of course Argentina sprout around. This is my time… and the Concert Bogota en Armonia in 1988 brought together groups from the whole continent and Spanish bands, placing Bogota and Colombia as a rocker city. For us Colombians, in the midst of the dark ages, completely banned from the rock tours, to have a home grown concert with such variety of artists was incredible. I remember getting to the concert with my friends early in the afternoon to get our seats, and go through each of the amazing groups, singing and dancing as if there were not tomorrow… only the pink sunrise in the high mountains of Bogota, took us out of our dream, but we know we were different: rock was the answer to the terror and darkness of our times.

While Bogota is definitively a city of rock, Medellin was the capital of Metal. As many other Latin American bands, musicians were borrowing languages, adapting ideas as a way to express our own realities. In Mexico, as expected from such cultural powerhouse, the bands were amazing: Cafe Tacuba, creating a hybrid between very Mexican rythms with the rock attitude; Mana, and its glorious mixture of rock with a heartfelt vibe; Jarabe de Palo… Times had changed, and Mexico, like the rest of Latin America the 1990s were about embracing the ideas of globalisation, neo-liberalism and “modernity”. In Argentina, bands like Abuelos de la Nada, los Rodriguez led by the charismatic Andres Calamaro have been part of my life. Let’s not forget our “song” while working in Reunirse/Opcion Colombia: Hace Calor! The choreography became our signature, alongside the dialogues with policy makers… but that’s another story.

In this galaxy of super stars and comets, my Sun is the amazing Argentinian band Soda Stereo. They are perhaps the most famous of the Latin American bands: because of their brilliant sound, the charisma of their musicians, and the particular voice of Gustavo Cerati’s. My life soundtrack includes many of their music. Rock is my religion, my credo, my soundtrack. Living in Bogota in the midst of the War on Drugs, the bombs, the corruption, Rock became my voice, my friends were all rockers, my first husband was part of the rocker circuit, a talented man whose untimely departure still pains my heart. My life is sung by these bands and my questions and interests reflected in their lyrics. And if Soda Stereo is the Sun, the great Moon, the eternal feminine band is Andrea Echeverri in Aterciopelados. I met Andrea at the University (Universidad de los Andes), she was this talented odd looking artist, doing performance art and ceramics, to turn to rock to express her inmense talent. I was a regular at their bar in la Candelaria, Barbarie, and their Barbie in the northest poshest part of the city. It is Andrea and the Aterciopelados who gave voice to my rebellion, to my love for the city, to my heartaches, to my own search for spirituality and chamanism... Andrea also brought an idea of being a woman without needing to conform to the stupid measurements of beauty; she was this authentic artist, looking for ways to express herself and with her, all of my generation. She also brought together the rich traditions of popular music and popular culture (normally snubbed by the so called cultured folks!) with the glamour of rock, while questioning everything, including herself. (This TedEx video about creativity and failure is great!).

Here things become a bit muddy and emotional. Because after watching the six episodes in two nights I could not sleep, I was high as a kite, happy and tearful. Because suddenly I saw my story, the story of my people. yes, focused on rock, and rock is quite masculine in this program, but my story nevertheless. The documentary is truly a great introduction to the complexity of our sub-continent, breaking with the stereotypes and linking our history with the world through the universal language of rock.