Let me tell you the story of what was sounding in Buenos Aires’ FM radios almost exactly 40 years ago.
“Oktubre”, by “Patricio Rey y los Redonditos de Ricota” released in its entirety in October 1986, is widely considered to be one of the greatest albums of Argentine rock of all time. During that year they released various singles off the album, among them one called “Ji Ji Ji”, a song which has become the signature song of the band in the decades that followed.
As you can see on the cover, the band took some inspiration from the history and culture (that’s Latin for “clichés”) of the USSR, in the process even performing a horizontal symmetric transformation on the wrong letter; yes, I guess the illustrator didn’t know (or gloriously ignored) that it should have been a “Я” (called “Ya”), appearing in a context where it actually doesn’t make any sense whatsoever… so we got an inverted “B”… that doesn’t exist in the Cyrillic alphabet.
To my Russian readers, you can stop facepalming now. The final results are worth it, I promise.
The whole album is a very personal interpretation of the times we were living in 1986; cold war, Chernobyl, communism, nuclear scare, and whatnot, as seen from a country on the literal antipodes of the USSR, that was barely emerging from decades of intermittent on-and-off dictatorships. To my ears, the album sounds sometimes menacing, sometimes nostalgic, often tough, mostly terribly naïve.
The album is freely available in the official channel of the band (whose name can be roughly translated as “Patricio Rey and the Ricotta Bites”). The video contains the full album in order, with the original lyrics in Spanish.
Speaking about which, in case you’re interested, the lyrics don’t make much sense, not even in Spanish, and not only on this album; they have always been a weird thing with Los Redondos. It’s like they privileged the sounds of the words to their actual meaning, and hence people think that they convey some satanic or prophetic message.
It remains a favorite album of mine. I was finishing primary school when I heard it for the first time. My parents both detested Argentine rock; for my mother it was all about depravation and drugs and violence (and she was right to a point). I now firmly believe it’s a masterpiece of rock, regardless of country, language, inspiration, colors, or origin. It’s rich, layered, poetic, enthralling, fun, and of course to me, it brings oh so many memories.
Personal favorite songs: “Semen-Up” (yes, it’s a pun and the word means exactly the same in Spanish and in English), “Motor Psico”, and of course “Ji Ji Ji” which sends shivers down my spine.
The Redondos disbanded in the early 2000s, and the lead singer (known as “El Indio Solari”) continued his career with another band named “Los Fundamentalistas del Aire Acondicionado” (aka “The Air Conditioning Fundamentalists”). They played songs from the Redondos, of course, and had their masterpieces too, like “Beemedobleve” (2013). El Indio also had some incredible collaborations with other bands, including this anthem called “Angel de los Perdedores” (“Loser’s Angel”, 1997), with the most amazing lyrics:
The night shatters your glass, selling illusions
leaving you scraps of dreams, in the corners
But, baby, your laughter is the magic of rock ‘n’ roll
I bear the mark of your stings tattooed on me.
You healed all your wounds with rotten water
you lied to the devil three times, selling him flowers
and you carried the Loser’s Angel on your shoulders.
In 2017 the Fundamentalistas performed the biggest rock concert in the history of Argentina (and probably many other countries) in front of… 400'000 souls. They literally took over a whole city in the middle of the Pampas (called Olavarría) for a day.
This video is filmed from the pogo. Don’t watch if you are sensible to lights and shaking cameras. Do watch it if you want a good laugh. Fast-forward to minute 2:50 for the crowd singing the chorus of “Ji Ji Ji”. To say it’s epic is the understatement of the decade.
You have no idea the cult following around El Indio Solari and the Redondos. He’s a bit like our version of Hunter S. Thompson in all possible ways. Sadly, Indio announced being hit with Parkinson shortly after that megaconcert, and lives since then in seclusion in an undisclosed location, only known to a few close friends.
The final lyrics of “Ji Ji Ji” in English can be roughly translated as follows… and I’ll leave the interpretation to you.
The final cut is really intriguing
It’s actually really entertaining
You’re walking through the dark crowd, caught off guard
Bullying those who’ve loved you
I didn’t dream it, yeah, eh-eh-eh
He stood up straight and toasted to your luck
I didn’t dream it, yeah, eh-eh-eh
And he offered himself better than ever
I didn’t dream it, yeah, eh-eh-eh
You were running adrift
I didn’t dream it, yeah, eh-eh-eh
Blind eyes wide open
Please don’t look, and don’t turn on the light
The image has disfigured you, uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh
See?
There’s Chernobyl, Chernobyl
Chernobyl, Chernobyl
Chernobyl, Chernobyl
Speaking about El Indio Solari, here’s a picture I took in April in Buenos Aires; it is a graffiti at the corner of San Martín avenue and Punta Arenas street, in the neighborhood of La Paternal, showing El Indio, Maradona, the FIFA World Cup trophy, the seal of the Peronist party, and the veterans of Malvinas/Falklands. All strong symbols of my birthplace.
