One show, two cities
If somewhat belatedly, I’ll touch on the subject of the mega-event that was Argentine über-rock band Soda Stereo’s recent tour, after a ten-year hiatus. It is a well-known fact that any thirty-something who (such as I) grew in South America, especially below the Equator, has Soda running through his veins. And no, I was not one of those new wave types who listened to The Cure with the latest A Flock of Seagulls ‘do, and/or a look reminiscent of Los Abuelos de la Nada. None of that! I was a (no less pitiful) metal maniac with totally unkempt long hair and hundreds of t-shirts with bones on them, as thrash fashions went back then. But I digress…
Despite this apparent incompatibility in tastes during the eighties and much of the nineties, Soda was an undeniably important part of the soundtrack to my earlier years. Either at the teenage dance parties, on the radio, or at the homes of (more-conventional-than-oneself) friends, the early Soda’s simple but catchy tunes evoke memories of stereotypically better times. Their later productions, somewhat more sophisticated, lend themselves to repeated listening without becoming boring.
It was so that, while in Buenos Aires last june, I saw the billboard for Cerati-and-friends’ new tour, before it was announced in my own hometown, and decided to ipso facto organize a trip with my buddies of yesteryear, and, tix in hand, we went to the tour’s third date on November 3 at the River Plate stadium in Buenos Aires.
I won’t review the show (much less “critique” it, more so for my dislike of the negative connotations implied in the word, more often than not taken to heart by many a mediocre critic), but rather comment on how the city of Buenos Aires behaved that night… later moving on to Lima. (For an excellent and thorough review, in English, go to the Play blog).
In a city like BA, an event of this magnitude goes unnoticed. Seventy thousand souls in River’s cancha, yet, if wander more than a few blocks away from the venue and you won’t even know what’s going on. Access to the stadium was very decent (one could ride a cab up to very close to the front gate), and access to within the stadium itself was orderly and quick.
However, where the locals’ civility shone brightest was at the concession stands inside the venue: everyone respectfully formed orderly lines to buy panchos (hot dogs), patties (burgers), remeras (t-shirts) and other paraphernalia. I inadvertently flaunted my –so sadly Limean– disrespectfulness while attempting to purchase a t-shirt and walking directly to the front of the line (whose existence I hadn’t imagined), and detecting the incredulous stares of at least one porteño I walk-of-shamed my ass to the back of the line.
During the show, whose goers, I was pleased to note, seemed on average younger than thirty, and remained mostly within their designated seats, having a great time and not disturbing anyone… except on the seatless floor, where the crowd was going wild with astounding energy, a display we chose to observe from the comfort of our seats.
The orderliness, both in the event’s organization as among the spectators, in an event of that magnitude, was a refreshing change from past experiences in less civilized cities.
The show impressed me so that no sooner had I arrived in Lima that I bought tickets to see them again at the Estadio Nacional, this time from the floor (which had been comfortably broken into sections by the organizers to avoid a mobbing, ideal for my six-months-pregnant wife). I feared, however, that getting to, entering, and watching the show would be a nightmare.
Lima did well in proving that my prejudices against my dear city were completely unwarranted. The event’s production was impeccable. Access to the stadium was clearly labeled, well organized and with no lines. The sound system was excellent (except, on the second date, which I attended, when the PA system lost power in the middle of Texturas, the show’s fourth song, the band remaining quiet for a seemingly interminable ten minutes which made us all think we were doomed). In Lima we were lucky enough to hear Signos, which in BA, along with Tratame Suavemente were left out of the November 3 date (yet not from the October 23 show reviewed in the link above).
In both cases, an event of epic proportions. I relived all my kitschy eighties memories: the prom, New Year’s parties in Lapa Lapa (a beach I frequented about 67 km south of Lima); and others from the following decade: drinks at La Democracia in Barranco, etc. Exhilarating. If they played Lima again tomorrow, I’d be there for sure.
My only wish is that they do another reunion tour in another ten years to show my kids what real rock en español is all about.
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Argentina, Art, Buenos Aires, Estadio Nacional, Lifestyles, Lima, Peru, River Plate, Rock, Show, Soda Stereo, Travel
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