2023-06-15 23:04:29
A Paul McCartney Artificial Intelligence has served to bring John Lennon back and add a footnote to the virtuous circle of pop, but at the same time Sonar, synthetic paradise in which technology is both an end and a means at the same time, has allowed it to do something even better: spin its own history, 30 years of nothing, and play at disfiguring it in real time by melting down all the graphic campaigns of the last three decades. The result, disturbing, hypnotic and deliberately uncomfortable, can be seen these days at Fira Montjuïc and is one of the daytime attractions of a festival that, in full sun and at full speed, opened the doors of its thirtieth anniversary this Thursday.
Total birthday and, the occasion deserves it, people taking out their cell phones and recording themselves (or having themselves recorded) as they disembarked on the gigantic carpet of artificial grass at SonarVillage. As if it were the arrivals terminal of an airport. Or, even better: as if it were the promised land. In fact, there is something like that. Those who return year after year and those who evoked yesterday, between walks, the year that John Peel turned the CCCB upside down, the year of Jimi Tenor’s horse or the consecration of Sideral know it well. Sónar moments to which, who knows, we may soon have to add the abracadabrant performance of Marina Herlop. Pure magic.
The Catalan, Amazon of the avant-garde and Björk’s soul mate, at least creatively, claimed the voice as the most sophisticated of instruments and, accompanied by stuffed cake, he bewitched the festival with his Martian ‘beats’ and intrepid experimentation. Castanets, hairstyle of impossible volumes and disruptive star wood. The future, sticking its paw out between the red curtains that surrounded the stage and the track.
Playful and reflective route
In recent years, Sónar has more or less naturally integrated the supposedly brainy and reflective activities into the playful itineraries of the attendees, so that now it is just as easy to stumble upon a very crowded talk about the ethical implications of music. Artificial Intelligence in artistic creation (not everything is colored unicorns or evil skulls, Pau García, founder of Domestic Data Streamers, came to say) than falling into the cauldron of disfigured house and cubist rap of the Americans 700 Flash. Dark, radical electronica, all edges and slashed kick drums, bouncing around SonarPark as DJ Haram and the Moor Mother begged for a shot of water.
Because, sure enough, Sónar arrives and with it appears the crazy fever, people like they just waxed and having to dodge sweaty backs and sticky shoulders with ninja expertise. What’s more: the increasingly high temperatures have led the organizers to delay the opening of doors by a couple of hours (from 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m.) and to place a gigantic pergola that covers the entire artificial turf of SonarVillage, which significantly reduced the chances of suffering a sunstroke while the British Grove burned the dancehall. It is appreciated.
Atmosphere on the first day of Sónar
Waiting for the big headliners to arrive this Friday night, one of the great figures of the Sónar premiere was the American Daniel Lopatin, sought-after producer and right-hand man of The Weekend who landed at the festival aboard that ship acid electronics and at times progressive that is Oneohtrix Point Never. Nothing to do, as one spectator noted, with that twisted pop and soft-rock downpour promised by the festival’s official program and which Lopatin, very much his own, turned into a feast of ecstatic synthesizers, disheveled bass drums (literally; there were a couple of of toupees out there with a life of their own) and abrasive visuals. In the SonarHall, as in the good times of the CCCB, there was no room for it.
A good alternative, at least on paper, was the debut of the Japanese Tohji, a domestic rap phenomenon and Japanese reply to the Soundcloud generation. On stage, the young rapper donned retro-futuristic tracksuits and dazzling sunglasses, but his voice ended up buried among tons of pre-recorded, autotune to jet and indolence inherited from all those Yankee kids stuffed with Xanax. It was easier for Kode9, a dub eminent who screwed the audience to the seats of the SonarComplex while he speculated, between rhythm machetes and abrupt digital distortions, with a Scotland independent of the United Kingdom that is heading towards the stars. And that’s just the first day.
#total #birthday #full #throttle #experimental #euphoria