Posted by paulrivas on:
Rivas Cultural Services took three (3) bona fide white people to see
the best Mexican rock band, Cafe Tacuba, at the Ventura Theatre Theater
a couple Saturdays ago. The Rivas Cultural Services contingent included
a plurality of the 12 total white folks in attendance among the crowd
of several hundreds. Representing white people hip to Mexico everywhere
were my girlfriend Clare, my protege Chase, and the latter's German
Ryan Hernandez and I checked out Cafe Tacuba when they came to Ventura two times ago, in about 2004. I missed their last trip on account of being in Argentina, where their producer Gustavo Santaolalla is from. Clearly, this one was not to be missed. Young Chase agreed, and made me proud when he jumped at the chance to see his favorite Mexican band play after having studied their music in Rivas Cultural Services tutoring sessions last summer. Bear in mind, Chase and Sebastian attend Laguna Blanca School, making them quite possibly the first Laguna Blanca students to ever see Cafe Tacuba in concert.
If you don't know what Cafe Tacuba is, it's basically the best, most intelligent, coolest sounding rock music made in Mexico. The band is named after a the world famous restaurant on Tacuba street in the historic center of Mexico City. When Cafe Tacuba plays a free concert in the Mexico City plaza, a quarter of a million people show up. Rivas Cultural Services places Cafe Tacuba firmly on the same level of artistic brilliance as Radiohead. Furthermore, we rank the Cafe Tacuba crowd many levels higher than that of Radiohead, whose last Santa Barbara show was chock-full of people trying not to get sued.
The band played from 9:30 to midnight. When was the last time you even heard of a rock band that played hard for 2.5 hours? They even outlasted their fans. By the time they stopped playing, Clare was already asleep in the car. They played about half of their newest album, Sino, plus a good 15 or so of their past songs, including crowd favorites: El fin de la infancia, Chilanga banda and Eres. The crowd of mostly late teens and early 20s first and second generation California Mexicans danced, jumped and crowd surfed. Twenty young women were even allowed on stage mid-show to rub sweat on the inimitable, indefatigable and impish lead singer with their tube-topped torsos. It was, by all accounts, a kick-ass show that all white and/or non-Spanish speaking fans of rock music should be seriously bummed to have missed.