Here you will find those posts that originally were in english or the ones that have relevant content for that language.
A few weeks ago, when Ariel Scarpa (the editor of Sólo Rock) suggested we each choose our five favorite albums, I knew that in my case I could only start from number two —because the number one spot has been taken for decades. There are albums that, once you hear them, open a door that never fully closes again… and with Phantasmagoria, that’s exactly what happened to me.
In the history of punk, there are names that sound like anthems: Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Damned… but behind the bands, there was a group of young people who, without playing a single chord (or just a few), became protagonists of the scene. That group went down in history as The Bromley Contingent.
The United Kingdom in 1977 was far from a haven of stability. The economy was shaky, unemployment was rising, blackouts were frequent, and the unions were up in arms. Meanwhile, the Royal Family was preparing to celebrate Queen Elizabeth II’s Silver Jubilee: 25 years on the throne, with pomp, protocol, and truckloads of little flags.
It’s a wonderful thing to have the opportunity to write about what we love. It’s a difficult thing to try to express these feelings in words, at least for me… I have no doubt that the beloved Gustavo Aguilera would do it much better. Ever since the news broke that The Damned were coming to Uruguay, the idea of writing about it became my guiding light. And The Damned came, swept through, and left… but before, during and after, things happened.
On Thursday, March 6, we learned of Brian James’ death, and social media was immediately flooded with messages of sadness and fond memories from those who knew him, all with one thing in common: a musician who left his mark everywhere he went and, above all, a great person. Saying I was shocked might lead many to say “wait, Gonzalo… you’re exaggerating a bit…”, and I hope that after reading the next few paragraphs, you’ll understand why I’m not exaggerating.