Déjà vu

Bomba Estéreo at the Bataclan

When the music suddenly cut out during Bomba Estéreo’s show at the Bataclan in Paris last week, vocalist Li Saumet seemed determined not to leave the stage.

Not this time. Not again.

Back in 2019, Bomba Estéreo was the last act to play at the Tropicália Festival at The Fairplex in Pomona. The festival had a hard curfew and not even halfway through the set the plug was pulled, stranding Bomba Estéreo on stage.

My wife, Nuvia, was at the show. She’d managed to get backstage (as she is wont to do) and watched as the band’s emotions ranged from confusion to denial to disappointment that was shared by their many fans.

Bomba Estéreo is from Colombia with fans all over the world and if anything their disappointment was even more pronounced. For Colombians living abroad and Latinos throughout North America, the festival was a rare opportunity to see Bomba Esteréo. Whether it was because other bands went over their time limit, the festival was poorly managed, or a combination of both, the fact that the plug was pulled on a female-fronted band underscored the struggle that women artists in Latin America face in an industry dominated by men.

Formed by Simon Meija, Bomba Estéreo began in Bogota in 2005. Li was a guest artist on the band’s first release and by the second album in 2008 was fronting the band. Bomba Estéreo infuses electronic beats with Colombian salsa and cumbia over which Li raps and sings. Early hits include “Fuego,” “Yo Soy,” and the showstopping “Fiesta.”

While planning a work trip to Barcelona, we saw that Bomba Estéreo was playing in Paris. Could we add a day or two to the trip and slip away to Paris for 24 hours?

We booked a flight on Vueling, Spain’s budget airline (that I love because they still require masks for all passengers and crew) and used points to book a hotel near the venue. But by the time we got all the arrangements sorted the show had sold out. I reached out to some acquaintances online and after a few weeks was able to secure tickets. Twitter is still good for the occasional miracle.

Bomba Estéreo was not the same band that Nuvia had tried to see in Pomona. In 2021, the band released Deja, a groundbreaking album that showcased a milder, mellower sound. A lot had changed in Colombia—and not just the pandemic. In his review for Pitchfork Gio Santiago explains:

“When Bomba Estéreo began recording their sixth album in January 2020, Colombians were in the midst of violent protests sparked by strikes against political corruption and dissatisfaction with President Iván Duque Márquez’s government. The anger from students and indigenous activists alike had been simmering for a while... Bomba Estéreo sought refuge in the natural world and created Deja, a concept album foregrounding the environment as a means by which we can heal ourselves politically, socially, and spiritually.”

Deja is more introspective and mature. It’s a work that arises not from an urge to get people on the dance floor but from a place of deep reflection. The record resonated with Colombians dealing with political turmoil at home, Latinos suffering heavy losses from the pandemic, and my wife who lost her father to cancer earlier this year.

The song “Ahora” with its mantra-like repetition of “estoy bien”—“I’m okay”—serves as both a balm and an affirmation.  

We stepped into the Bataclan not quite believing that we’d made it, that we were actually there. It’s an old building. I could rattle off the names of various performers who have taken the stage but in 1892 Buffalo Bill performed at the Bataclan. Yes, that Buffalo Bill.

The crowd was a mix of Latinos and Parisians who seemed taken aback that Nuvia knew all the words to all the songs in Spanish. The crowd was most hyped for Bomba Estéreo’s older hits and the young women next to us all took off their blouses and danced in their bras.

Unfortunately, twenty minutes into the set, the sound cut out. The band seemed perplexed but held the space. After a brief delay the sound was restored and the band resumed. Then it happened again and again. The crowd went along with it, which is quite a bit different from the uproar that would have taken place at a punk show. I asked Nuvia if it bothered her and she told me that it did.

“I can’t remember all the songs where it cut out but for somebody who knows the words and is singing along it was disruptive. At first it seemed like Li was frustrated. Not enough people knew the words [to the songs on Deja] to keep the music going, but in songs like “Fuego” it was awesome and fun and they kept the energy. The band didn’t have to carry everything.”

During “Fuego” a dancer in a skirt with the colors of the Colombian flag leapt on stage and danced to the beat of clapping hands. But the interruptions bothered me as well because I kept thinking there was a reason for them. The show took place the week of the seventh anniversary of the coordinated terrorist attacks at the Bataclan that resulted in the killing of 90 patrons and wounding of 200 others during an Eagles of Death Metal show on November 13, 2015.

Isn’t that how it goes down in the movies? The needle scratches, the music stops, and mayhem ensues. Each time the music stopped, I looked around to see what I could see and what I could see was Nuvia singing her heart out.

After the sound cut out the last time, Li announced she would sing one more song and she did so while walking through the crowd, followed by a woman carrying the Colombian flag. The crowd held back, respecting Li’s space while her vocals soared.

The song was “Aqua Salá,” a traditional song with Afro-Colombian roots. After all the interruptions it seemed appropriate that the show ended with just her voice. No one else. No instruments. No samples. Just Li singing a song about sweat and tears and ocean waves. Waves of pleasure. Waves of grief. How they are all made up of the same thing. And if the music cut out again she wouldn’t have to leave the stage because she’d be with us in the crowd and could say goodbye to each and every one of us because when the pleasure is gone and the grief passes the waves just keep on going.

Corporate Rock Sucks in the News

Many thanks to Pitchfork for naming Corporate Rock Sucks: The Rise & Fall of SST Records one of The 15 Best Music Books of 2022. Here’s an excerpt from Nina Corcoran’s review":

With Corporate Rock Sucks: The Rise and Fall of SST Records, author Jim Ruland organizes a plethora of original interviews, newspaper clippings, and battered flyers into an ode to the label that helped rock evolve. Across 14 in-depth chapters, the book catalogs how SST moved beyond hardcore, fed college radio its meat and potatoes, and impacted regional scenes by amplifying their artists – often at the expense of the pockets of its bands. These anecdotes will likely become a go-to resource for punk archivists looking beyond the impact of Damaged or Double Nickels on the Dime.

Thanks to everyone bought, borrowed, or stole a copy of Corporate Rock Sucks and helped spread the good news.