What happened

On August 29th 2014, some friends and I went to cover a concert in Metepec. It was the first time we were attending a concert as press, and we felt suitably excited. We were getting recognized. The effort was paying off.

We arrived at the venue in my car. There was four of us. I parked the car in the corner in front of the venue, which was a very nice craft beer bar. It wasn’t really in front of the venue. It was almost in front of it.

The schematics of the bar are such that there are four windows looking out to the street right in the dining area. There is an outdoor garden in the back, in case you want to feel the fresh air on your beer. The restrooms are located in the second floor, which is also set up with tables and chairs, in case you want to dine high.

We disembarked (I tried to fancy up the expression “got out of the car”) and headed to the entrance of the bar. We had been led to believe that we would get in for free, being that we were there as press and all that. An hour and five cigarettes later, they told us that two of us could enter for free, we would have to pay for the other two. This was disappointing, but not unreasonable. There were four of us after all.

Meanwhile, the main band came outside to smoke and we had a very nice conversation with them. They’re called Bang Bangz. Check them out, they’re great musicians, not to mention, awesome people. We shared culture insights of Metepec and they shared jokes and told us about their trip so far and all of us were suddenly not bored. It was great.

I miss these guys.

They let us in after we paid and we started doing what we do best: Drink beer. We didn’t have much money, but we were drinking beer anyway. There were three bands scheduled to appear before Bang Bangz: White colors, Malvado and Greengo. They’re all great. I have linked each name to their facebook page, so check them out.

We listened to each band with a keen interest, so that we could write about this later. We assigned each of us a band to take pictures of. My friend Ivan is the greatest photographer out of all of us, so sometimes we would just get him to take the pictures.

After they played, we would rush them like a pack of wild dogs (but also very timidly) asking for an interview. We had never done that before. It was messy. What we did get was a bunch of pictures with them wearing the masks that we use as the symbol of our publication.

This is one of the best photos ever.

We made sure to frequently shout out our in-home created hashtag #QueBuenoQueVine (I’m so glad I came here) and infected some of the bands and assistants with it. Bang Bangz seemed to be the most excited about it, and made sure to shout it every time something even remotely exciting happened.

It was about midnight when the Bang Bangz finally started playing. I don’t remember exactly. They were great. Their sound engineer was not so great. We discovered, eventually, that is was some dude working with the production company and did not seem to know the most basic of audio concepts. Malvado made sure to scold him appropriately. That’s Malvado in the picture above, btw.

This is, of course, not the point of the article. I haven’t gotten to the good part yet. I’m building dramatic tension. And we’re already past the six hundred word mark.

The Bang Bangz guys seemed to not be as thrilled with their sound as they could have been, but they were still great. They gave us free stickers. I got a CD. It was wonderful. They made a shout-out to us during their set. We were crying tears of joy.

Being an independent musician myself, I was enjoying being part of all of it. Of both sides. I had just had a concert, not three days earlier. It had not gone too well, as some of my concerts tend to go. Some people sort of forget to send out invitations when they book you. It’s fine. So it goes.

So we came out of the bar tipsy and happy as could be. We kept pushing each other and insisting that “we had finally made it”. I was about to drive everyone to my house, from where everyone would spread out. We were just getting to that when we noticed tiny specks of glass on the street.

It was funny at first. I didn’t think anything of it. I vividly remember thinking “Oh man, they broke some guy’s car window.” I remember faintly smiling at the schadenfreude, when I noticed there were no other cars on the street. My friends were already standing around the non-existing window of the back door of my blue Ford Fiesta Ikon. It wasn’t there anymore.

I took this picture the next day.

Also not there anymore were my electric guitar, my looper, my microphone, my microphone stand, all my cables, and some of my hopes for my future. The electric guitar wasn’t even mine, it was my father’s.

It was a supremely humbling event. They had taken everything I had. Someone had won the fucking lottery and the grand prize was all my stuff. I was back at square one with an acoustic guitar.

My friends and I rode back to my house in silence. That’s how we show our support. There was an occasional “Man, it’s going to be ok.” and a “Fuck, man” and that was all that I needed. They spread out.

I let it plague my mind for a while. I wanted to hate somebody. Anger is normal in these situations. I wanted to kick someone’s ass. I wanted to steal back my stuff. Sometimes, I still fantasize about it.

I called my best friend and he was immediately pissed. I was taking it very lightly. I don’t like getting upset about stuff, but he was doing it for me, so it was great. He kept shouting that people are dicks and assholes and overall horrible living organisms. It made me feel better.

I spent the better part of the next day sitting at home, playing videogames. I stopped. I wanted nothing to do with music, for at least a while. Three days at least.

Once the storm passed, I started again. I shook the dust off the keyboard my god-father gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I experimented with vocals. I downloaded a looping app and started creating with it. I used electronic sounds more.

If you’re unsure what the point of this article is, let me shine some light. It is a story of resilience. Pretty soon, you will be hearing my new songs. The songs that stem from the really not-cool thing someone did to me about half a year ago. They’re good, I think. I love these songs. The people who have heard them seem to love them too.

I had to write this down because apparently I’m writing everything down now and I did not have an actual retelling of this episode. I had to write this down because some day I will be an older and wiser human being and I have to look back on something. I have to remember the moment when I was set back almost two years, technically speaking, and moved ahead.

My new album is coming around soon.

So here we go again.