Right or wrong, the new Thunder album arrived on May 13 to put a handful of generational impulses at the center of the scene and connect them through sound with a socio-cultural history that constitutes our national identity.
This second album, which adds a stepping stone to the 20-year-old’s journey from freestyler to musician (founded on his previous album, Atrevido), has two striking points. The first is that it raises an idea that was unthinkable for many people for a long time: protest and celebration are not necessarily two mutually exclusive or opposing instances of action. The second is that this idea is explicitly stated as a manifesto. This declaration of principles inscribes it in the strong inclination of the exponents of current urban music to inject in their work a clear trace of pride for their origins and a great will to present to the international scene the marks of Argentine history in their eyes. and its artistic proposal.
We are facing a material that is displayed on giant posters in the streets of New York while enunciating, without mincing words, the indelible marks of the civic-military dictatorship in our society, and uniting them with the experiences of other Latin American countries. In Tierra zanta, Thunder sings together with Víctor Heredia -whom he himself understands as “a true spokesman for a generation that suffered much more” than his own and thanks to which today he feels, together with his colleagues, “the security to say what we want” – that Latin America does not cry, it sings.
Thus, in the fourth theme of the album, it synthesizes the idea that conceptually supports it and that makes it an invaluable generational record: protest and celebration can be exercised simultaneously, being part of each other.
“Music is our means of expression, our means of protest and fun at the same time,” Thunder declared in an interview with Télam. This idea is linked to one of the great contributions of the debates that promoted feminism during the last decade in our country, which is the reflection on desire in the instances of struggle. “We are moved by desire” is a leading phrase of feminist mobilizations and meetings since 2017. This perspective stems from the premise that the personal is political, and has colored the ways of thinking and doing politics far beyond the strictly feminist frameworks. And it is that deep down, it implies the idea that changing the world is not only a duty -as clearly appeared in the rhetoric of the revolutionary movements of the 60s and 70s- but also, and very fundamentally, a desire. A decision connected at its root with the legitimation of each one of us, our identities and our sources of pleasure.
“The ‘young people’ are the ones who have the upper hand. We are the soldiers in this war against injustice, repression and inequality” says Trueno in Manifesto Freestyler, putting on the table a will to dispute that can only be consolidated in the recognition of those other soldiers, those of previous generations, who had to leave their lives so that today that fight is possible in alliance with fun and celebration. In some way, singing to the national identity without forgetting that it is “a shattered country” but “with golden dreams”, implies celebrating and raising as a flag the surrender of those who preceded us and enabled a land so that today Let us wish with more force and conviction a better future.
In the field of urban music (a term that inappropriately tries to synthesize a panorama that has expanded, stylized and diversified at an impressive speed), this desire to connect the current movement with expressions, voices and elements of past generations accompanies a quest to ensure that the international success of this expressive flourishing works as a platform to legitimize the new Argentine popular music as an autochthonous product with a specific value.
In that sense, elements such as the dialogue with tango that Ysy A maintains -and her latest manifestation in the song Native sound of the river that she published together with Bajofondo and Santaolalla-, or the title of Duki’s imminent tour, “From the end of the world”, do not seem to be isolated gestures, but rather expressions of a common drive that weaves, from the place each figure occupies, a narrative: there is a new Argentine popular music, which understands the conditions that mark its existence and celebrates its identity .
Good or bad, it finds, in this context, a particular characteristic that gives it personality. It declares itself a political manifesto, and takes ownership of the terrain it occupies as an amplified voice in an absolutely explicit way. “Argentina is fighting,” he says, without euphemisms, “the poor are crying out for equality, the prisoners for justice, the politicians for forgiveness.” Elements of Argentine folklore rub shoulders with contemporary feelings and affectivities to dispute meaning in a post-colonial panorama and launch a message of identity resistance on the international market that overflows the representation of the neighborhood of La Boca -always present in the work of the young man from Buenos Aires- and expands embracing all of Latin America.
“Right or wrong, they’re going to remember us,” said Trueno when he announced that his album was available on all platforms. I have a feeling that us could be much, much bigger than his team, or the handful of select artists who achieve international visibility. An us that carries in its DNA all the disputed terrains of meaning that a generation has built, on the rungs founded by previous generations. An us for those who protest, and celebrate, and understand that this struggle is for identity and is from desire.
