Los Thuthanaka: LIVE in Chicago
A Mozambique drill for the ages
Back again!
As ever, more shit is on the way when I have a spare moment, so keep your eyes peeled. But for now? Tap in for some Chicago shit (lots more where this comes from)! Big things soon, blah, blah, blah.
Ciao for now!
I’m outttt.
Required Listening
If you’re between the ages of 22 and 40 years old and read music criticism on the internet, there’s a strong chance that you think Los Thuthanaka is greatest band in the world right now. Maybe you’ve been hip to the singular greatness of the Siblings Chuquimia Crampton (Joshua and Elly) for the last twenty-ish years, or maybe you just got put on to them in the big two-five because they were awarded album of the year by P*tchfork. Either way, you probably think they’re the best in the business. And you’d be right to think that, as no one — no one — is doing shit the way they are.
Normally, I would try not to fawn over something is so overtly P*tchfork-coded - I’m just not that guy — but this Los Thuthanaka shit is really like that. I’ve enjoyed the siblings’ solo projects for quite some time now, and when they officially / finally joined forces in the form of a full-blown collaboration last March, it was wraps for the competition. It still is wraps, too, so when the duo announced their triple tap weekend residency at the Empty Bottle in Chicago back in December, I knew I needed to be there.
Before getting too deep, I should say this: Los Thuthanaka are members of the Great Pakajaqi Nation of Aymara People, and they blend Aymara sonics like huayños, salay, caporales, kullawada, and parrandita (among others) with noisy, chopped-up-never-slopped-up electronics and electronic ephemera in a never-before-heard type of way. Their music — their medicine for themselves and for the world — is uniquely ceremonial, and a major part of their ceremony is playing loud. Like, rattle your brain loose loud. Shake the dust off the ceiling cornices loud. Wake the neighbors loud. The sheer volume makes the music wash over listeners like a fuzzy, Lisa Frank-esque wave. And, to keep it a stack, that’s exactly the kind of shit that a gentleman like myself can get down with. I want my preconceived notions shaken from my dome so that I can enjoy music the way the artists intend for it to be enjoyed. The cacophony and symphony of it all relies on this volume, and listening to Los Thuthanaka requires you to emotionally and physically feel this shit. From what I now know, the siblings make sure to meet this requirement during their live performances.
Anyway, the Empty Bottle, for those unfamiliar, is a hole-in-the-wall bar turned world-class music venue, at least in my opinion. You can occasionally catch me there on a Friday night for the Hard Country Honky Tonk with the Hoyle Brother when my girl isn’t working. The Bottle itself boasts moderately priced drinks and a serviceable pool table, and they host a yearly millennial winter party called Music Frozen Dancing (more on this later). Their doglegged stage has recently hosted everyone from Agriculture and Béton Armé to Teklife and Ryan Davis, and every act always seems to lay it down just right. To say the least, this place really rocks. Nearly every bill they produce is significant in one way or another, and not a single slot is truly wasted. The Bottle is also loud as hell, so it’s pretty much the perfect place for Los Thuthanaka to attempt to execute a Mozambique drill of beautiful music on unassuming fans whilst also making their Midwest debut.
And execute they did. The first Los Thuthanaka set was on Friday night. Doors opened at 8, and the opening act, a Indigenous DJ named Toyacoyah, delivered the perfect appetizer to the Los Thuthanaka entree at around 9. The Chicago-based Toyacoyah threw the entire book at the audience, spinning Brazilian funk, cumbia, and god-knows-what-else for damn near 90 minutes, and they really had the place in motion. Well, they had me and mine in motion, and that’s what matters. Anyway, by the time 10:30 rolled around, Toyacoyah’s set was rumbling to a close.
After a brief intermission, it was on. Los Thuthanaka were on stage, fitted from head to toe in neo-traditional caporales-style suits and cutter cowboy hats. To be blunt, they were swagged out. On stage, there was a rack with a horizontally mounted keytar and a full keyboard, a sampler of some kind, a CDJ, a guitar, a massive Orange amplifier, and, notably, not a single microphone. They weren’t there for pleasantries, so they had all they needed. And, really, they did exactly what they were supposed to: assert their prowess and gave us their medicine in a beautiful, raucous way that only they could, all without uttering a word.
From the go, they wallowed in their instruments while keeping their feet on their collective gas pedal. The duo took their time with each song and made sure that the audience felt every note, each of which was, of course, extremely and necessarily loud. They kicked off their set with “Q’iwanakax-Q’iwsanakax Utjxiwa” (or “The Queer People-Medicines Are Here”), a luxuriating, shimmering bombast flecked with explosive synth, slowed-down Spanish tag drops, and a gently enormous guitar that eventually turns pluck-y and mathematical. In other words, they played a perfect song to perfection. The sound waves ebbed and flowed from the speakers to the bodies in the audience as if from a revitalizing fountain of love, joy, and appreciation.
It’s safe to say that the entire set was like this. I can’t say exactly which songs they played other than the opener, thanks to the fact that each song could seamlessly flow in and out of one another, but I can say that every song had the same effect. They all came together to provide the audience with a healing and ecstatic party for everyone involved. And, yes, it was also super swagged out. The swaggiest part, perhaps, was when the guitars and ephemera crashed out, and from the rubble emerged “Until I Find You Again,” the woodwind-ed crown jewel off Chuquimamani-Condori’s 2023 masterpiece DJ E. It was the ideal complement to an already ideal night.
When it was over, the crowd wanted more, cheering “Otra! Otra! Otra!,” but there was nothing left to play. Los Thuthanaka had performed exactly what they wanted to, how they wanted to. Those are just the facts. Nothing could’ve added to it, and any sort of encore would take aware from the ceremony that we, the audience, were just blessed to have witnessed. When all was said and done, their set ended at midnight, maybe half past, and even though my ass was tired (in a good way), I wanted more. Luckily, I wouldn’t have to wait long.
The very next day, Los Thuthanaka headlined the aforementioned Music Frozen Dancing, the loudest, coldest (usually), most millennial-style event of the winter, if not the year. The mini-fest had plenty of music and was very frozen this year, and there was indeed a lot of dancing. Unfortunately, the spectacle preceded the actual product. The people enjoyed themselves and it was loud, but, in this case, the event and its legend eclipsed that actual performances. For Los Thuthanaka, once again, fucking ruled, but the rest of the acts — the overripe “innovators: and cheap copycats — did not rule. The non-headliners were overall middling, save for local hardcore speed freaks Snuffed. They just weren’t that exciting, innovative, or even good, but, to be clear, they weren’t bad.
Outside of Los Thuthanaka, the other bands sounded as follows — Body Shop: not bad, but their brand of garage-y industrial electronica has run its course; the aforementioned Snuffed: solid as hell, but the lack of breakdowns breaks my listenership down; Good Flying Birds: fake mods… enough said; and Lip Critic: the mack-daddies of all the spittled pigfuck hopefuls who won’t end up doing shit before they undergo personnel autophagia. The bill was plenty varied, but variance in sounds and styles does not always make things interesting or even good. Los Thuthanaka, though, is a obviously shining star, and they made sifting through all this drivel somehow worth it.
At Music Frozen Dancing, it was a balmy barely above freezing all day long, and in the evening, after Lip Critic tried to captivate the crowd (key word: tried), there was a gentle snow that slowly gained momentum, providing a idyllic backdrop for Los Thuthanaka to lay it uniquely down. Without question, they laid it uniquely down for the second time in less than 24 hours. It was a sight to behold. They played a similar, if not exactly the same set as Friday night, but it was still uncommonly good. As the snow piled up, they played until they simply couldn’t, and the music eventually cut off without a word when the weather really started to turn. Maybe it was actually over and the band decided that they’d somehow managed to crank out a second perfect set in record time, but I feel like this couldn’t be the case. They played such a tight, calculated set on Friday night, only to play similarly and conclude with a stark cut-off? Unlikely. More likely is that they were victim of a weather shutdown, most likely from the torrential-lite snowfall attacking their electronics. It’s none of my business.
And it didn’t even matter. With a swift flurry of movements, Los Thuthanaka gathered their belongings and quickly made their way into the Bottle to host an afterparty DJ set with locals Conjunto Primitivo as an au revoir to the Midwest. I didn’t make it to the second indoor show due to prior engagements, but I don’t even care. I bore witness to a perfect set and a near-perfect set during a snowstorm from the best band in the world, both in less than 24 hours. From what I’ve heard, the DJ set also ruled, and they really managed to pull of a perfect Mozambique drill of beautiful music. What more could I even ask for?
Check them out if they come to your city ! Stream and buy this shit on Bandcamp ! You won’t miss the $11.11 at all ! Please !