One day you’re young and the next you’re a middle-aged man grumbling at a music concert. Duki.
Context for (quite a few) readers over 30: Argentina he reigns in urban music and he, at only 27 years old, is the ‘father’ of that scene. Before Shaving the one of Nicki Nicole, there was Duki. From cockfighting to autotune, from rap to reggaeton and trap, everything is there and everything works for those who have succeeded by rejecting the industry, it fills you two nights in a row Saint George and the WiZink, already has a date in the new Bernabeu and this friday turned upside down Kobetamendi in, next to Florence and the Machine, the moment of greatest collective madness so far Bilbao BBK Although whoever writes this did not understand anything or, rather, precisely because whoever writes this did not understand anything.
When we rationalize music, we screw it up.
He goes on stage dressed in Versace, but he introduces himself as if he were worthy in a casting: “Hello, for those who don’t know me, I’m Duki, an Argentine rapper.” But they know him, go if they know him. The audience that crowds the esplanade, many years younger than the festival average, recites his verses like psalms.
“I understand it as today’s punk. He screams, he shakes, he tattoos his face… It’s Iggy Pop”, guides me Pablo Gil,personal musical guru and of this newspaper. And something of that there, a cry of “fuck you” to all of us who observe (and judge) him from a medium distance with a beer in hand, two children at home and a thousand prejudices burned into the memory of what he we were and we are no more. A generation trying to explain what moves the next. What can go wrong?
Worth a look