So I swear that Siroco’s website (www.siroco.es) said the show started at 21.30 (which is 9:30, right? Ugh military time!). Turns out I booked it there for nothing. I finally got to the sticker- flyer- and graffiti-covered door where a tall guy with buzzed hair was slouching behind a podium.
I sputtered out some botched Spanish that was supposed to mean “What time does the show start?” The guy looked me up and down and chuckled. “A las diez y media.” “Diez y media?” I repeted to confirm. “Sí. Uh… teeen thiiirtyyy” and he snickered at me again. I couldn’t tell if he was laughing because I don’t look like the kind of girl to go to a punk show or if it was because I’m American. Either way, it irked me.
I sped off frustrated and found a bar around the corner where I ordered a Corona (Woo! Something familiar!) and stared off into space for half an hour.
I finally re-arrived, unfashionably right on time, and paid my 7€. The music hadn’t started yet so I took a seat in the bar/lounge for a while, which was filled with neon blue and orange lights. I played games on my phone and tried to look busy. The room started to fill up and after about a half hour I heard them sound-checking downstairs. I, along with the rest of the mass of people, headed below.
Downstairs waiting for the band to start, I got a chance to check out the crowd. The room was filled with mostly mid- to late-20s, some a bit older. Most of the girls had longer black hair with straight, thick bangs and reminded me of the girls from SLC Punk. One of the guys, who seemed to know a lot of the people there, was wearing a tight shirt, skinny jeans, converse, and long unkempt hair. I wanted to give him a huge hug because he reminded me of every scene kid in California that I’m missing right now. The other guys were sporting more retro clothes – I saw some flannel shirts, some Black Sabbath t-shirts, lots of black in general. Several of the guys had longer hair and beards and looked pretty grungy. Overall, it felt like what I imagine punk shows 10 years ago to were like – dark, smoky, and lots of booze. And then I noticed the music…
Let me preface this with saying that I don’t think I’ve ever seen or will see anything quite this weird in a venue before. The band Grabba Grabba Tape consisted of a “man” at the keyboard and a “man” on the drums. “Man” is in quotes because they were both dressed in suits which make them look like chicken. Red rubber covered their face which was attached to a white, fur-like fabric that encompassed their head and the rest of their bodies except for rubber that surrounded their thighs. I don’t know how I could possibly take them seriously! I let out a pretty audible laugh.
Unfortunitely I didn´t get any photos of them, but I pulled these off their myspace…
The keyboardist was playing rock-electronica while the drummer bashed away at the drums. They were somehow in sync. And then add to the mix that the drummer had a mic but the vocals were so distorted that they sounded like a melodic, echoing buzz accompanying the keys. It was hard to differentiate the vocals from the music, let alone tell what the words were (if there were any). At least one of the songs was a 90s punk cover, maybe more. No clue what the other ones were. And between each song, the drummer would say some stuff in Spanish, which I am inclined to call a story except that it was more like random words strung together to create ridiculous sentences. I don’t know if the Spanish people actually liked them or thought they were crazy too, but there was some definite head-bobbing and laughing going on. All in all, I would like to say that I hated them, but I really think they’re too funny to hate. The music really wasn’t that terrible. It was in key, even though it wasn’t very clean. So although it would pain me to praise them, I have to concede to their okay-ness.
After the chickens left the stage, some guys from the crowd walked on and started moving around equipment. Almost everyone from the crowd retreated to get a new drink or smoke or whatever. I took the opportunity to get closer to the stage hoping that I could more discretely take photos (but of course some black-haired bitch stepped right in front of me later).
Turned out those guys who walked on stage actually were the band. They looked like normal dudes. This band, Margarita, was a four piece and other than the guy on backup axe looking super old, they could have been from “The States.” The vocals were in Spanish and were an obvious attempt at punk – raspy and yelling. The music was rough and unpolished, but doesn’t most punk sound that way? The back up singer was whiney and at times sounded like completely haphazard droning, but that could have been intentional…? I wasn’t bothered by the music, but it wouldn’t have crossed my mind to buy their CD.
The second set change came, everyone left again, and I decide to cop a squat on one of the build-in benches along the walls. A girl and guy walked up and stood in front of me. She pulled out a bag, took out a pinch of herb (could have been pot, but more likely hash) and a paper and rolled a “puro.” THEN the guy pulls a needle out of a bag, flicks it, and then sticks it in his side like it’s no big thing! Granted, this could have been insulin. But I have never seen anyone shoot ANYTHING up especially in a crowd full of people.
Finally these average, emo-looking kids take the stage wearing jeans and t-shirts and the crowd pushes back in again. I know the name of this band! The headliner, Le Jonathan Reilly, sound better than they do on their Myspace. Punk is definitely a
genre better heard live. The dual vocals sound good together and although their words were few, it was in English! There were even some songs I could slightly sing along with, having heard them on Myspace first. The guitars were had a lot of distortion and the drums were heavy… they used the basic punk equation. I definitely liked these kids (but it’s possible that it can be attributed to a state of delirium after having been deprived from
shows).
After their encore, Le Jonathan Reilly left the stage and the crowd migrated – half upstairs and half to the bar. I made my way back up the stairs to where a merch table was set up. What I found there was two vendors – the one on the left had a box of vinyls and people were buying them right and left. The guy on the right was selling CDs, some of which was band merch. I was able to snag the names of the bands off CDs (since they were never announced on stage).
I wandered away happy. I had my show fix. I got my groove on. Lost a little more of my hearing. I’m set. For a few weeks at least.
