5. Pepe, Pirates, and a Positive Outlook
The night that I meet with Pronoise, I step out to see Montaña Electrica rehearse, a full force guitar-driven set. They are preparing to travel down to Cordoba to perform in a couple of days. From there, some of the members take me out to a more official venue, where bands are playing heavy rock. Clearly these types of venues still exist, but the competition for them is intense. We indulge into the night, and I make my way home again in the morning; such seems to be my routine here in Buenos Aires.
The next day, Maxi has arranged for me to see Pepe Castro, host of internet radio show VA COMO PIÑA (come like a pineapple). We enter in. Pepe is at his desk, a bulky man with a dark close beard, and a Fu-Manchu moustache speaking quickly with great enthusiasm into a microphone. VA COMO PIÑA has used the internet to share independent music, culture and news through Argentina for over a decade.
Let's unite the musical ranges. Let's culturalize ideals. Culture is independent, the media too says the show’s Facebook page in Spanish.
Listeners can tune in to Castro’s show, and others, through https://sindialradio.com.ar.
Internet radio seems to have somewhat revitalised radio in Buenos Aires, challenging the more limited commercial offerings of traditional stations, a trend that comes with the Internet internationally, not just in Argentina.
Another insight to the world of Argentine radio comes from Sirius Mazzu again, the Discordian Argentine who linked me up with the Underground on my first visit to Buenos Aires. He worked in Radio between 2000 and 2007, and shared this story with me over the internet.
I worked as a technical operator on an AM radio in my city called LU3 "Radio del Sur". LU3 had had its glory days in the 60s/70s and by the 2000s it was pretty down. Despite the fact that a lot of music was played on CD and from PCs, vinyl was also played (there were two trays!), and the radio record collection was huge and amazing (I spent hours diving among albums). Many times it happened to me that they brought me to play a record that still had songs furiously crossed out with the words "NO PASAR! CUIDADO!" (DO NOT PLAY, BEWARE!"); the director of the radio at the time when I worked there, Alberto McDougall, had been a journalist in LU3 at the time of the dictatorship and he told me that in the 70s he was getting lists with prohibited artists and songs (if they passed them they could close the radio!) Folk singers like Mercedes Sosa and Horacio Guarany were directly banned.
The next day, Maxi has arranged for me to see Pepe Castro, host of internet radio show VA COMO PIÑA (come like a pineapple). We enter in. Pepe is at his desk, a bulky man with a dark close beard, and a Fu-Manchu moustache speaking quickly with great enthusiasm into a microphone. VA COMO PIÑA has used the internet to share independent music, culture and news through Argentina for over a decade.
Let's unite the musical ranges. Let's culturalize ideals. Culture is independent, the media too says the show’s Facebook page in Spanish.
Listeners can tune in to Castro’s show, and others, through https://sindialradio.com.ar.
Internet radio seems to have somewhat revitalised radio in Buenos Aires, challenging the more limited commercial offerings of traditional stations, a trend that comes with the Internet internationally, not just in Argentina.
Another insight to the world of Argentine radio comes from Sirius Mazzu again, the Discordian Argentine who linked me up with the Underground on my first visit to Buenos Aires. He worked in Radio between 2000 and 2007, and shared this story with me over the internet.
I worked as a technical operator on an AM radio in my city called LU3 "Radio del Sur". LU3 had had its glory days in the 60s/70s and by the 2000s it was pretty down. Despite the fact that a lot of music was played on CD and from PCs, vinyl was also played (there were two trays!), and the radio record collection was huge and amazing (I spent hours diving among albums). Many times it happened to me that they brought me to play a record that still had songs furiously crossed out with the words "NO PASAR! CUIDADO!" (DO NOT PLAY, BEWARE!"); the director of the radio at the time when I worked there, Alberto McDougall, had been a journalist in LU3 at the time of the dictatorship and he told me that in the 70s he was getting lists with prohibited artists and songs (if they passed them they could close the radio!) Folk singers like Mercedes Sosa and Horacio Guarany were directly banned.
Of course, another impact of the internet that hit radio stations internationally, was the way it facilitated piracy. Via Facebook, Peruvian musician Juan Capurro of Liquidarlo Celuoide tells me how the ability to pirate music allowed new strains of underground music to influence bands throughout Latin America.
Liquidarlo Celuloide comes from a current that emerged in the early 2000s, closer to everything that sounded outside the normal radar. Here we have handled a lot of rare bands’ piracy in those times. More than anything noise rock, psychedelia, krautrock and industrial. Not from any particular country. The interesting bands from around the world are the ones that have interested us. Much more than some particular source of information such as internet radios. For example, a band like Silver Apples was a powerful influence here for the music circles I am referring to. In many Latin American places, they are not known. All this thanks to piracy. Now, the concept of piracy is almost absurd. But the mysterious charm of rare things was a great motivator for the collector of those times. Let's say the first contact was a pirate, and then you tried to find the originals. That kind of search and discovery marked the scene from which we came.
Tonight, Pepe is speaking with Satan Dealers, a larger band in Buenos Aires. They started playing in 1999, and have been able to achieve a good deal of success. Maxi later tells me that the frontman, Adrian Outeda, is responsible for the musical movement of Buenos Aires Hardcore. After their interview with Pepe Castro, they agree to speak with me. I talk with band member Allejando Cannuci.
Tonight Pepe has been interviewing successful Argentine band 'Satan Dealers'. After they finish speaking on air, I have a chance to talk with member Alejandro Cannuci. During the interview, Maxi told me that Castro asked the band how the Under has changed in those 15 years. I repeat this question to Cannuci through a translator. He tells me that they’ve watched this considerable change as individuals as well as band members.
“The movement changed when the Internet arrived. Also, in the 90s places were very rustic but now we have more sites to play with professional audio.”
Unlike Nacho, Cannuci doesn’t seem to miss the old world of the Underground.
He doesn’t like or dislike it, I'm told, but he can name positives. "Bands can be more popular. It's easier with the internet and the radio now. In the most popular radio now they play bands - before, the Underground was not played on the radio, it was not possible and now this has changed.”
Unlike some of the other musicians I interviewed, Allejando Cannuci does not see such a grim picture of the difficulties of success in Argentina. He describes the arrival of contracts, management and radio play as a ‘natural’ result of a fifteen year career, and found the small challenges – such as their name being in English – to be fairly surmountable. Not even the disaster at Cromañón – a venue they themselves played at - proved to be an impossible challenge.
“In the 90s, El Under here was played in any place. You can play in a restaurant. The 'law' doesn't exist. The big bands, the bands that grew big, they were more popular than Cromañón; they didn't have to play there… After Cromañón it's more difficult to play, because the places (to play) were very expensive… Today there are more options. It's easier. We return to the first question. The Underground is not Underground now. They play in theatres.”
My interview with Satan Dealers offered what was perhaps a rare display of optimism. They perform, they tour, they’ve featured on major radio stations, and they show no sign of slowing.
The next day I venture out to see Mauro rehearse with his band Las Sombras. I arrive at the address he gives me on time, to meet with a bleary-eyed shirtless man who tells me to return in an hour. I do so, and enter into a pleasant enclosed space, with terracotta coloured tiles and vine-like plants climbing over surfaces.
Mauro is in this space, moving a fender with great effort. "As you see, only I do any work around here,” he cries out. “Put that in your book!”
Later he cries out again; “Sin droga no puedo trabeja!” (How are we supposed to work without any drugs!) Ever the performer, Mauro has no qualms in finding himself the centre of attention.
Mauro soon introduces me to Manuel, another member of Los Sombras. They are, as I will soon discover, a rock and blues act, with a powerful classic sound. They are inspired by 60s and 70s acts such as Manal, and Folk Argentino sounds. Their four members provide two guitars, three singers, a bass and a drum.
“Today we are rehearsing because we played a lot last year and this year we want to record more and play a little bit less,” Manuel tells me. Their last album was recorded in a now non-existent studio in La Plata.
The group met in La Pampa, but are living here to study, and on the whole sound enthused and optimistic about their music.
“These days we are living in are a good time for musicians and rock n' roll,” Manuel tells me.
“It's a good time to come and see the Under bands,” adds Mauro.
“There's a lot of good bands.”
“And a lot of musicians. It's a good time.”
... |
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