RADIOHEAD, memoria, verdad, justicia

March 24th is Dia de la Memoria por la Verdad y la Justicia, a national holiday in Argentina to remember, and oppose, Jorge Rafael Videla's military dictatorship from 1976 to 1983. The streets of Buenos Aires were alive with a youthful, hopeful energy that day, as cafes, restaurants and streetfairs filled with people milling, chilling and drinking mate on their day off.

This tame enjoyment proved a stark contrast to the chaotic energy that circulated through the Club Ciudad de Buenos Aires later that evening. I arrived at the open-air concert venue around 5:00 with Kristian, Molly, Chris, and Kyle* for the Radiohead/Kraftwerk concert, eager as hell to experience my fifth Radiohead show (and second one in 7 months!). Anyone who knows me knows how much I love Radiohead; they´re my favourite band, they externalize - in sound - the way I feel about pretty much everything, and I love that they´ve been together for 15 years and are still writing perfect songs that feel so good to listen to while doing pretty much anything: thinking, gardening, cooking, partying, loving, dancing, agitating, creating. I love love love them. I was really excited to share Kristian, Chris and Molly´s first live Radiohead experience, which, in my opinion, is nothing short of spiritual.

The show was phenomenal, of course. They played for 2+ hours, did 3 encores, played Kid A (the song, not the album), which is THE most beautiful song I have ever heard live, and sounds so different from the album version. It was all the awesomeness I´ve ever experienced at a Radiohead show, but with some serious Argentine hooliganism thrown in.

While Kraftwerk - a kitschy, electro-minimalist German band that revolutionized electronic music in the 1970s and 80s - were playing, people started pushing. Pushing real hard. Before long, there was a crowd within the crowd getting all riled, pushing and shoving people forward where there seemed nowhere to go. Since I was starting to get my Kraftwerk dance on, this really pissed me off. There are a few things I absolutely have no patience for, and one of them is outright inconsideration for the safety and well-being of others. Before long, I was swearing at some of the pushers (who were actually really hard to distinguish from the pushees since, at this point, everyone was pushing everyone around them just to stay afloat), giving them my erin death-glare and generally hating on Argentines.

When Radiohead started playing, it became even more chaotic. Because I am the world´s biggest Radiohead fan, I wanted to be as close to Thom and Jonny and Colin and Ed and Phil as possible. So I let myself be pushed forward, hoping that I would end up closer to the band than I´d ever been, inside the music if possible (or at least able to see my boys do their awesome thing up close and personal).

Entonces, NO. The band started out their set with 15 steps, the first song on In Rainbows, and I spent the better part of that song fighting to stay on my feet, gettin´ sweaty as hell, gettin´ covered in my sweat and the sweat and stink of hundreds of reckless Argentine man-boys. I was especially worred about Molly, whom I couldn´t see anymore (I´d become separated from the rest of my posse), because she´s really tiny and petite people have a particular kind of trouble in moshpits. Getting trampled at shows is a common phenomenon, and I didn´t want anyone getting hurt. After my earring got ripped out and my flipflops disappeared into the sea of surging bodies, I started pushing my way out of the pushfest, towards calmer grounds.

I eventually made my way out of the worst of the mosh-madness, and had to settle on only a so-so view of the band. But then I had to deal with people (mostly man-boys again) chanting what I assumed is a futbol chant. Argentines are superserious futbol fanatics, and I think that some of that fanaticism got transplanted to the Radiohead concert. I yelled real loud in Spanish for everyone to listen, cause they weren´t listening, and isn´t that the point of a concert, to actually HEAR the music, HEAR the band do their magic?

Things eventually settled down a bit more, and I got my revenge by busting out my crazy dance moves that only seem to really come out of me while I´m experiencing my favourite bands play live. It was hella fun, and I even enjoyed the barefoot walk home.



*I met Norwegian-Canadian Kristian about a week into my Buenos Aires trip at a deserted late-night shindig, and then met Molly, who´s from the Yukon, and Chris, who´s from Vancouver, through Kristian. They´re all really cool and we´ve become fast friends.