And suddenly Red Hot Chili Peppers were playing in the Dream. Retrovade, Anthony Kiedis. Sacrilege? Namely. Stranger things have been heard. Even heard. Especially here, where surprise and shock are already routine. So as much as it seems, the same thing appears here Judeline from Cadiz to lower the tension and revolutions to Shakira's 'La Torture' that the Japanese had Yousuke Yukimatsu He is placed at ground level and immediately comes up to shoot 'Otherside'. Only it's not really 'Otherside', but rather a battered version of the Californians' national anthem. The trance of a summer afternoon. Hype through the roof, the 'bmp' galloping and the audience behind it, with their tongues hanging out. The time? Half past seven in the afternoon. Just over three hours of running and the Sónar is already going full speed ahead. First day, romp through the sound world map and the Australian Surusinghe Waxing the village's artificial grass. Here we go.
Early in the morning, and perhaps because of the confusion, a spring breeze at the gates of summer, a long-sleeved meal after dinner and a guitar still life with drums in the background to welcome the day. On the stage, pablopablo, son of Jorge Drexler and occasional partner of C. Tangana, patents his bedroom pop and ruffled sheets between bursts of distortion and voices infused with 'vocoder' and 'autotune'. He even has a station wagon for that. In between comes a keyboard melodrama with galactic cabaret lights and the song of the author's premiere (“I did this two weeks ago,” he says to introduce 'De ti'), gradually merging with that other music that runs through the rest of the song started to stretch out. the phases.
An acceleration of organic music, artisanal pop made by hand and machine, in an edition characterized by the new debates generated by the rise of artificial intelligence in the creative field. “We are panicking because this technology seems very human,” say the experts gathered at the early morning opening conference. And right there, in that gap between humanity and technology, fits a festival that reaches its 31st edition with an almost perfect balance between exploratory desire and hedonistic joy.
Sónar opened its XXXI edition on Thursday with artists such as Pablopablo and South African rapper Toya Delazy
Thus, the Italians in the bowels of the Complex are a haven for dreamers and free radicals Valentina Magaletti begins a dense and oceanic exploration of rhythm in which two batteries, a vibraphone and a light show alternate that burn the corneas and make the students dance, on the artificial grass of the village the whirlwind of Zulu rap begins to leave its mark. Toya Delazy. Wearing a life jacket (?) and a stubby Grace Jones school hat, the South African opens a new sonic window of feverish polyrhythm, tribal strokes and words spit out at full speed.
Another turn to the world map, to the United Nations of Advanced Music, namely Sónar, which the Iranian company will soon join Sevdaliza, diva for a day and sonic puzzle made from bits of R&B, dirty electronics and digital punk. On paper a tasty discovery. On stage, like someone put Dua Lipa and Charlie XCX in a press machine. Fan at maximum power, costumes as if they just came from Asgard and pop hooks with a view to reggaeton and club music. A little bit of everything so that nothing is missing.
In the past, in the Park, trap por bulerías and the soundtrack of a generation of tired people. debuts Judeline, who had just opened for J Balvin during his European tour, and does so on the same stage that has seen Morad and Rojuu shine, La gaditada, akin to Rosalía by roots and flamenco, comes out in star mode, but the sound does not accompany . Electronic fainting and voice buried under tons of autotune. On stage a gigantic door of 'props', who knows, as a metaphor for his long-awaited entrance into the highest pop classes, and the smell of conquest of songs like 'Canijo' and 'En el cielo'. This is how stars are born, something Sónar has known about for a long time.
The Iranian Sevdaliza, during her performance
The opposite extreme is that of the horrifying sound and piercing scream Zwarthaine, suffocating project by the British Tom Hayes, choreographer and spokesperson for the despair that transforms the Hall into a black hole of industrial nihilism. Darkness, danger and hellish noise. Aggressive lighting, convulsive shaking on and off stage, and a million exercises that work on the eardrums of the audience that endures the downpour. This is what an apocalypse sounds like. Or a multiple collision. The acidic neon rave sounds next to him Shyboi It sounded like cheerful elevator music. And today comes Air, that of audio beauty.