by Fabiola Feyt
I crashed La Fiesta Muda Vol. IV with previous days hangover added to very few hours of sleep. I’m sitting in the entry way of a house waiting for Lautaro, my faithful Mujercitas Terror concert companion. I get up to buy a beer, some kid asks me for a sip, “I’m here alone,” he explains to me. It’s a quarter past midnight and they’ve just opened the doors of Plasma. Everyone goes inside to escape the cold, I hang back to finish my can and because a bright light shines directly onto my notebook allowing me to write about everything that passes by. The cops drive past and look at the foggy red light that appears every time someone opens the door. Two beautiful women from another era, pale with painted red lips, scurry past in heels. I couldn’t deal with the wind and the seclusion so I head up the stairs. A truck passes by and throws a bottle of wine out the window. Lautaro still hasn’t arrived.
Mujercitas have played at innumerable shows as the openers or guests of the nights headliners without ever being able to play many gigs that genuinely represented them, and so together the band (Daniela Zahra on bass and vocals, Marcelo Moreyra on guitar and vocals, and Federico Losa on drums) created Fiesta Muda, a sort of birthday party (although it happens once a month), where the trio string the venue with bats and little ghosts and crosses made with silver tape. Projected on the wall is a spectacular selection of videos with Andrés Cáceres in charge of getting the show started with his mix of post-punk gems.
Every night welcomes a new opening act, on this occasion it was Olfa Meocorde, the cuartet made up by Hernán Cassiodoro, Demián Visgarra (both on guitar and vocals), Federico Lavia (bass and vocals) and Cochi Conde (drums). Just like Mujercitas, Olfa has been present in the underground porteño scene for more than ten years now, always playing around with their brand of experimental and chaotic psycho-noise. At about two in the morning, and with a video show that left me in a state of narco-amnesia, they started off with Toshiro, Federicu and When I Go. I hadn´t seen them live since a concert at Remember (2006?). That night, Fede Lavia jumped off the stage in the middle of a song and continued to sing while he stripped off his clothes in the middle of the crowd before jumping back on stage. Did he really strip naked or did I see it in a photo? Did that really happen?
They have a new album (although a physical copy still isn’t ready), it’s the second official disc since their self-titled release in 2008. Before they recorded everything amateur (with used TDK cassettes), tonight they showed off new unfinished pieces that follow the same sound as their previous work. At one point they stopped completely, so that they could open with an entirely new song, that exploded before finishing off the night with the lysergic blowout of Dr Fontana.
The sensation of improvisation is present in every one of Olfa Meocorde’s songs, throwing out the traditional structure of a rock composition. The results are little uncontrollable treasures. And the screams and the cacophonies conclude the frantic matter completely, because sometimes the only valid answer must be told without words.
I sat feeling slightly broken with Lautaro next to me calmly sprawled out on the couch, watching me struggle to put down words for what we had just listened to. But whatever, as Simon Reynolds (journalist and rock critic) famously wrote: the rhetoricians of noise destroy the power that they fight to celebrate. So “shhhh” and “aahhhhh”.
With a timeless aesthetic beauty (a little bit vampire, some leather and lace, languor and the wisdom beard of Federico) and an overwhelming force, Mujercitas Terror is my local under band of choice. Their concerts are my preferred ritual; reality gets split down the middle when they begin to play and this state of semi buzzed and slightly drowsy melancholy that has been dragging behind me for the last few days is when I enjoy hearing them play the most. Less than two months ago they released Excavaciones, their second studio album, and, with these 14 songs that still sound fresh, they added three brand new ones (Besame la Cicatriz, Tus Frases and Adiós Amigos), joined by the classics (Actriz, Los Alfonsos y Ojos de Vidrio) from their eponymous 2007 CD. And special mention to Mujercita Blue, Hechos Injustos y Mamá Mata Niños, from their new álbum, that with the illustrations by Daniela that compose the booklet and Marcelo’s lyrics filled with the surreal journeys and dreamscrapes, encapsulate the world of Mujercitas.
It appears obvious that they feel the most comfortable at Fiesta Muda. No one rushes them, the audience moves as they do. They are happy to be the ones responsible of everything that surrounds them and it shows in the way that they play non-stop, at times having to gasp for air. They end the encore with Desayuno de Campeones, and the party ends at 5 o´clock in the morning. We leave Plasma and are greeted again by the cold. We don´t talk about anything, navigating the neighborhood backwards as always, until we find the bus stop.
The beautiful chaos of Mujercitas Terror can be explained in each one of their songs: boundless energy, a raw ball of sounds mixed with full choruses, phrases and chords that are clean and sweet. They are like heavenly creatures that, while playing in the garden, fantasize of a parallel world where the play with their own ghosts and the ones of their past, okay, it sounds sort of monstrous, violent and innocent, but there is a little bit of that in all of us.