Tallersol, Santiago, Chile – 08/10/09
What better place to spend the night, after two years living in Spain, than Santiago’s very own Bar Madrid? A similar odd feeling of familiarity might be drawn up if a Spaniard were to spend two years in the states, be repulsed by McDonald’s, move to the UK and find, to his bitter disappointment, that they have the same tripe here too.
On re-reading, that seems a terribly unfair comparison to make – especially since this reviewer loves Madrid with a Mediterranean passion. Oh well, it’s written now…
Thankfully (or unthankfully? We’re all confused now), name is the only thing Bar Madrid shares with its motherland counterpart. The pub’s white-walled top floor (Tallersol) is setting for the evening’s festivities; looking much more like a poetry gathering than a rock hotspot. The audience certainly got their $1,500 pesos’ (about £1.50) worth from the three way dance of folk about to be unleashed.
First up is Pablo Lefio, a long-haired gent with nothing but a guitar in his hand and a mic in his face – not that he needs anything else, of course. All over the guitar, Lefio sings angelically as he plucks away madly, then hammers every string as he coos longingly. So powerful and complex is the mix of his voice over the one guitar that you’re left dazed and confused: one man can’t possibly make all those lovely sounds by himself. There has to be a backing string section somewhere in the place. Alas, no.
After Lefio, his cries of “desparece!” (disappear) and leaving the crowd in silence, up step Martin Pescador; a two-piece melding of indie and folk. Principal writer Ariel Acosta plays and records everything himself, but on stage he calls on the help of fellow guitarist Gonzalo Quezada to add a bit of punch to his pudding. As second guitarist, Quezada is left to blues it up or add in playful harmonics as Acosta hits the high notes, beautifully contrasting his charging guitar. With tracks such as Estatuas Bajo El Suelo and Pedro, the duo work splendidly off each other, cracking out one pained melody after another.
With the bare walls, plastic chairs and carpeted floor, it sometimes felt more like being at a poetry slam than a folk gig. This certainly affected the punters, who wouldn’t move for twenty minutes at a time, choosing instead to stay seated and continue being engrossed in the folksters. Mixed with the relaxed atmosphere though, this was perfect.
Finally, Felix Quiroz takes centre stage to give his round of slam action. Also with just a guitar in hand, Quiroz gives a performance not completely dissimilar from an amalgamation of both Jeffrey Lewis and Weezer. Coming straight out of Viña del Mar (neighbouring town to poet Pablo Neruda’s hometown Valparaiso), it becomes clear quite quickly that this lad grew up surrounded by art and beauty. Lovingly throwing his lyrics down alongside his ringing guitar, Quiroz gets your knees knocking in no time. His squealing voice teases perfectly over his brand of rock folk (or rolk, or fock), making you want to throw out the garden furniture and sway with everyone in the room.
Posted In Live Reviews, Oct 13 2009.
Words - Rich