This post is also available in: Español
It took me a long time to find what I was looking for. I could say two years, but it must have been more -I am just as good with numbers as I am with punctuality. But I found it. Because I am curious, because I am demanding, because I am an adventurer, because I am solitary and, also, because I am crazy. It is Eli’s birthday, she wants to go to Cortez, I’ll catch you up later, I want to go somewhere else first, where are you going?, there is a party at a house, you and your weird stuff, I love it.
The sources are out there, but we have to look for them. If we do not search for new places, we inevitably depend on others. I wanted to listen to other types of music, enough of the degenerate of Ozuna: electronic music, rock, pop, jazz, cumbia, funk, reggae, tango, chacarera or, even, reggaeton, but played with passion, not to line the pockets of some colonialist record label. And if it can be played live, much better. A very cold IPA too, please.
Step by step, I stop depending on random recommendations and I started suggesting. Slowly but steadily, I sharpened my aim and I found huge samples of passion for partying in small scales. And let me make this clear: the passion of those who decide to make their life celebrating nocturnality through music, through the management of cultural spaces, the bartenders, the public relationships, the lighting technicians, the stage designers, the guys who carry beer crates and wait in line for three hours in the supermarket to be able to buy cheap beer even though they won’t win a penny.
Thus, once I got to an apartment in street No. 1 between 43 and 44 (in front of La Plata’s train station). Mine was the only car parked in the whole street. There was nobody in the street and it was cold. I crossed the street in doubt. I found the apartment’s number and the music slid from underneath the door. A walkway up with long stairs, tumult, loud progressive, smiles and water.
Rosa China is an established venue in La Plata’s night scene today, but they have been rowing for a long time. On the way, the house mutated, the walls transfigured and the rooms became alive. The guys kept the rusticity of the early days, but they are always looking for constant innovation and experimentation.
I went to La Linda for the first time when it hosted an overcrowded techno party. We were at the door for twenty minutes, which seemed more like an hour, but we could finally get in and we stayed until the sun roasted our foreheads. I went back a couple of weeks ago and I walked into a trance party with a live show. The drummer clearly deserved an award, even though he only received applauses. That hallway that debouches in the backyard, decorated with extravagant paintings and antique vitrauxs, is loaded with smoke and stories.
I met the guys of Mundo Perro when they played at Rosa China. Afterwards, I started following them on social networks and I could now say, without blushing, that I stalk them constantly. The “dogs” are house lovers and they play it in all of its variations: deep house, tech-house, progressive house y acid-house.
Attending my first doggy party was a turning point in my conception of La Plata’s under electronic scene. With very scarce economic resources but with plenty of intellectual resources, these guys mounted an alternative reality within the monotonous reality of this city. Their house selections elevate you to a trance that never lasts less than six hours. Always with innovative tracks, always taking care and boosting the environment, always with an honest smile of pleasure, always with passion and taking care of the details, always attempting to create a connection with the people that is deep and everlasting.
The dogs are diligent musicians: Gonza and Manu study popular music, Mati studies orchestra conducting and Fran was born stuck to a mixer and with the headphones on. The four musketeers are supported by a very talented working team: Agus and Marti in screenings and image editing, and Joaco in the rest of the fine work. Mundo Perro is a record label, is an artist collective, is an adventure, is a nuthouse, but above all, they are a group of friends.
To Mundo Perro Vol. VI, organised in La Ferretería Bar Cultural, they took Juan Ingaramo, Pyura and Canoa. The venue in itself is stimulating, but they turned it into a space capsule that glided through the world of rock, pop and electronic music. Gonza closed in the mirrored basement with an evil house that gave me goose bumps. The party finished at six in the morning, but we went to a terrace until eight to enjoy the morning sun and some more songs. That night (which turned into morning), nobody wanted to get detached from the music.
One month later, they found an amazing house in downtown and they invited Buenos Aires duet Carisma who destroyed the room that had lit on fire Andrés Sabat. The house developed a generalised short circuit (maybe because of the energy overdose produced by the attendants) and it reminded us that the under movement has these things. Here, they treat you as a friend, not as a client; here, everyone offers you water or beer if you are thirty; here, everyone dances and feels with all of the skin; here, nobody polices you; here, also, the facilities may break down because everything is done by the sweat of the brow.
In December, they got a revenge and they threw a wonderful party in an apartment that is already their second home. I celebrated New Year with them, I regretted their return to their home town, Mar del Plata, during the Summer, they invited Martín Vannoni to play live with vinyl records in March, and now they celebrate every Sunday on a terrace that it is not already Monday.
I experienced Solomun in Mandarine Park for four hours, with screens the size of whales, and thousands of people dancing at unison. I went nuts with Hot Since 82 in PM Party last month. However, the under movement is different: the trust between the people is not the same and the atmosphere created is totally different. In Mundo Perro parties, there is a general trance between cousins. I am glad I went out into the streets of La Plata at night and alone. This curious adventurer finally found what he was looking for.
This post is also available in: Español Llegar a la puerta de un lugar y que te digan que las entradas están agotadas implica que
This post is also available in: Español Pocas veces entré a una sala de teatro tan perdido: no conocía la duración del show, no sabía
This post is also available in: Español