Has the sound system culture in Lima managed to blend climate action advocacy in its sonic statement, defying centralism and celebrating diversity in a city that still rejects its inherent indigenous population?
The sound of today’s Peruvian bass electronic music has come a long way since its early days almost two decades ago, when the digital cumbia scene flourished locally – as it did in Buenos Aires and other capitals in the region – before attracting international attention. While it may have originated in Lima, the decentralisation of music technology and the internet that gave access to music blogs and the music communities behind them, allowed for a varied sonic approach with pluralist participation. Electronic indigenisms, afroperuvian oriented albums, atypical blends of popular hits from 80s and 90s Peruvian radio shows, the use of rainforest samples and collaboration with amazonian artists, etc., and predominantly reclaiming popular rhythms and genres such as cumbia and chicha. This phenomenon of expression took place as the sound system gradually established itself as one of the main media in Lima for a larger community of independent electronic dance music makers that claimed the space to broadcast a message that challenged the political, cultural and environmental status quo, finding a receptive crowd.
Starting in Barranco – the old artistic neighbourhood now gentrified with a population of a higher socio economics background – the sound system culture, rooted in Caribbean tradition, was born to Lima from Peruvian migration experiences in London, UK. Well received by the local reggae landscape, it made way for more spaces, sounds and sonic bodies (Henriques, 2011) that literally resonated with their low frequencies and celebrated cultural diversity in a show of resistance against the apparent hegemonic conservative and colonial monoculture of Lima’s traditional upper classes that have maintained social, racial and cultural hierarchies in the city to perpetuate its powers (Montero-Diaz, 2019). Lima, the literate city that keeps discriminating in its auralities, while also intensifying them, was moving to an aural modernity, along with the rest of the region (Ochoa Gautier, 2006).
Looking at sound systems at large, the introduction of this newlyfound sonic dominance from London to Lima met with similar idiosyncrasies of sounding (Henriques, 2011) from other socioeconomic sectors with certain music influences mainly from the north and andean regions. This may have contributed to this technology to become a natural extension of how sound was amplified and experienced until then. The result, almost 20 years later, is an auditory culture open to a mixture of sounds, interested in the political undertones and the pursuit of finding room in Lima’s cultural agenda. An exemplary case is that of Lima Dub
Club, committed to a message of sustainability in its music festivals, advocating the necessity to protect Lima’s marine and coastal ecosystems affected by inefficient waste management and contamination, and calling attention to the poor management of scarce water resources; while creating room for a music phenomenon responsible for gathering an audience in the public space.
This essay reflects the first stages of an exploration of the nature of such settings and sonic recontextualisation, while focusing on the initial question, in a city faced with a constant water emergency, in a country directly affected by climate crisis, with recent state violence and repression in response to massive demonstrations demanding justice.
To explain the current sound system situation in Lima, it is necessary to talk about the Peruvian political and climate crises, which are connected to sonic expressions throughout the country, on a variety of levels. Lima, despite being a city that ‘turns its back’ on the rest of the country and looks up to what happens outside, has always had points of resonance, echoes of those sounds apparently not admitted¹. Lima is the cultural center where these resonances are formed and organised and have historically gained places to be recognised and acknowledged as part of it. A similar process of an encounter between the sounds of resistance and Lima’s electronic bass scene with the sound system as a material of resonance is still in place. The intermediality of sound through digital technologies, music recorded through amplification technologies that cannot escape the territory’s disputes.
There were over sixty deaths caused during the first two months of Dina Boluarte’s repressive government in Peru since December 2022, in the midst of massive mobilisations nationwide – mostly in the southern region and Lima – that branded her as ‘Dina asesina’ (Dina, the murderer), followed by organised journeys to the capital for a great and significant protest march, named La Toma de Lima (Lima Takeover). This unprecedented movement of political voices to the capital, primarily from the Andean South of the country (Cusco, Arequipa, Puno and Ayacucho), was echoed creatively by various local civil groups: university students, art collectives, activists and independent media, demanding justice and reparations, as well as transparency from the questionably new government and overdue demands on territory issues and workers rights, a long list of unresolved tragedies left from Fujimori’s regime over two decades ago. Besides calling out the political crisis, people protested against an increasingly invasive far right discourse that overlooked all other emergencies – the environmental crisis propelled by an unbridled extractivist economy, poor management of natural resources, recent oil spills and unaddressed contamination cases, the renewal of mining concessions and new concessions in disputed territories, etc. – and focused on stigmatising and punishing communities that defend indigenous and land rights, and their right to participate in such matters.
This was arguably the first time the streets of Lima heard the voices of puneños, a cry of protest that expressed itself through the music, instruments, chants, melodies, accents and languages from Puno, where I am from. These were backed by many other supportive voices and bodies. Lima, a city where all the stories get condensed (partly because of its thick cloud bed) was experiencing sonorities with a political focus, from el Perú profundo directly from the source. This conversation continued in my music circles -in which I participate as sound engineer, music producer, DJ and instrumentalist-, well aware of the need of such resistance and condemning the uncritical silence -or worse, the stigmatisation and racism- from a great majority of the limeñan upper and middle classes. The demonstrators from the South and my creative community had a shared message filled with common concerns that continues to be expressed sonically and, giving the city’s limited aural tolerance in certain neighbourhoods, is forced to continue to find ‘more suitable’ sites.
The current relationship between Lima’s electronic dance music and sound systems has already established different circuits and sound proposals beyond dub and the undeniable influence of reggae culture, because precisely that connection found similarities in local music spaces and traditions. While the sounds being defined by digital cumbia – tropical bass and other names of the phenomenon – flourished in Lima, the influence of Caribbean sound system from the UK occurred in border circuits, and subsequently placed it as one of its technological mediations due to sharing auditory values since both are bass cultures.
As Ana María Ochoa Gautier has noted, because of the intense intermediality of sound, particularly when re-mediated through digital technologies, aurality in Latin America has become an increasingly privileged site of the constitution of a contested public sphere (Ochoa Gautier, 2006). Such is the case of digital cumbia in Lima, although its music roots – chicha and cumbia – were historically ignored and excluded as part of what has been considered canonical in Lima’s music. As contradictory as it may sound, Lima’s sonic diversity is audible for many of its inhabitants, even though this diversity isn’t apparent in the highest socio economic areas, where a strong conservative society still rejects and avoids most sounds that would be considered populares, indigenous and therefore out of place (there are specific places, times and contexts for them). In Barranco, however – and as it historically happened with Lima’s cultural elite – there were already music approaches that sought to bring such sonorities in other music languages and situations.
Contributing to the city’s bohemian nights by playing in music projects that convey reggae and then cumbia, it wasn’t until 2011 that Lima’s musician and producer Rafael Otero managed to organise, along with a network of producers, DJs and musicians, Aba Shanti’s very first show in Peru. For the occasion, London’s known dub producer had requested to set up a dub-style sound system, a wall of sound; something Rafael wanted to recreate in Lima after having spent time in London and having encountered the sound system culture over there. That first session brought together a group of (mostly) male music enthusiasts that knew something was about to come out of it. Many of them such as Nicolás Borda, Guido Borasino, Gonzalo Guivobich would eventually build their own sound systems, and artists like Deltatron, Enrique Choque aka King Cholo, Lukro would go on and start their own music labels and production companies. They were all critical of the status quo (of music,
politics, the city) in one way or another, probably and partly because they were either former students of Los Reyes Rojos school, known for its alternative approach to Peruvian traditional education, or Humanities students from PUCP, a prestigious private university appealing to young people with progressive ideas from well-off neighbourhoods. They were already working on projects including new methods and approaches to the local electronic music that involved the design and construction of sound systems. These were of course enriched with other elements in their collectives and labels that initially came from outside their social circle to become crucial members – through myspace Paz aka Deltratron met Álvaro Ernesto aka Tribilín Sound, a well-experienced DJ in Lima that started DJing for events in newer districts of mostly Andean migrant population, which Paz believes caused a revolution in the music movement back then among others such as Chakruna, Qechuaboi, Sonidos Profundos – on the one hand, and other producers with European background and DJing traditions like Thibault Quinon aka Mr. Zebre (France) and years later Jesper Frederiksen (Denmark) on the other. Aba Shanti returned to Lima on more occasions, and Channel One as well as other reggae dub artists also had their first shows organised by Dub Seen, Otero’s production company, and later by Lima Sound System, consolidating a strong connection with the international scene and encouraging an active sound system culture in Peru.
This community contributed to the diversification of spaces and sonic proposals while the real estate boom in Lima directly impacted Barranco and other districts, accelerating violent gentrification. Houses soon to be demolished like La Casa Rosa hosted parties through a period of self produced events such as Toma!, Chorrillano Maldito, Revienta el sistema, Fiestas con Ch, music evenings at Thibault’s AKS, etc. Underground parties became important events for resisting violent urban changes and the noticeable consequences of Fujimori’s regime a decade earlier. Apart from conceding space to a variety of music projects of eclectic genres, these events allowed new approaches for electronic music to thrive. Venues such as Toro Retro Bar, La Emolientería, Dragón, Noise, El Dragón del Sur during summer, invited producers to be their resident DJs, showcasing on a regular basis their sonic aesthetic and music selection. Initially, and for many of them who did not come from an audio engineering background, these were the first encounters with amplifying sound. They all agreed that the low end, both in dub and in tropical bass and its variations, was very much essential and needed particular attention, and therefore the subwoofers were always present for the extra vibration. Eventually music festivals like Selvámonos, and many years later Perú Independiente, started to give room to local electronic music projects and subsequently sound systems, allowing the music to finally be re-presented and propagated in a sensorial experience. In parallel, music labels such as Descabellado, Terror Negro Records, Matraca, Kebrada, all created by active producers in Lima’s scene, emerged and established new sounds and a growing music industry managed locally and distributed internationally.
Lima Sound System was probably one of the first sound systems in the city. It initially started as a production company that focused on bringing international dub artists to Lima, as a way to nurture the Lima dub scene that was developing. It had seen its crowd steadily growing but came to a halt when one of its creators was involved in a case of sexual harassment,
removing him and his sound system from the scene completely. What I gathered from interviewing DJs and colleagues that followed their work is that this episode hit hard in a community that sought to create safe spaces for everyone and therefore had zero tolerance for such behaviours. For them, it was an opportunity to revisit their positions of power, reinforce their initial values and continue to focus on the philosophy behind it, to make it a long-lasting tradition, regardless of the price to be paid or the effort needed.
Such efforts were in more than one aspect, and while this essay does not focus on the technical side, it’s still very admirable how well-stablished DJs and producers in the electronic music circuit became the sound system pioneers of Lima. Far away from the science, culture and industry, Choque remarks that the attempt to build a system locally needed to be more vigorous compared to what a similar process in Europe would be. Nevertheless, this difficulty encouraged collective collaboration with a common purpose that is perceivable in their testimonies. The importance to display a unique identity – sonically, visually and conceptually -, did not undermine their sense of belonging to a greater movement. After all, Rafael, Nicolas, Guido and Enrique also spent time in London where they personally experienced the famous University of Dub parties and attended shows during the Notting Hill Carnival. Guido y Gonzalo, both selectors and reggae connoisseurs, started in 2014 the Paradero Dub collective and organised events exclusively dedicated to reggae dub music, until they built their own system in 2022. Nicolás Borda, another historic DJ and producer, returned to Lima from London in 2012 urging to build a sound system for himself and as a contribution to the movement. This finally came to fruition in 2016, after years of planning, when he set off to build Chulkilion Sound System. The sound system then travelled around the city for music residencies and events for a while, until it got upgraded in 2020. Jesper, later joined by Yannet Vilela aka N3T4 started managing the BQestia sound system from Ventanilla – the largest district of Callao, Peru’s main seaport, part of Lima metropolitan area -, far off from Barranco where it was born, originating a new pathway, and organised LOUD, electronic music parties in the city center in which they have expanded the range of sonic proposals including techno and its variants, beyond the closed Barranco and surroundings route, attracting a wider audience.
Choque highlights that, even though at some point these sound system proyects were all thought out, ‘stored’ and managed in Barranco, it was rarely a suitable place where they could be used without restrictions. Once they were ready for amplification, it was very obvious that the neighbourhood, like many others in the city, had limited options for it. It took everyone an initial stage for searching and mapping out the possible circuit in which these apparatuses could function better and therefore the immersion and embodiment could happen, actually offering their sonic dominance, which produced newer connections and approaches between Barranco and other crucial spots in the city.
In march 2021, Enrique Choque aka King Cholo embarked on a journey to create Lima Dub Club, an events production company, along with three other friends and colleagues from the arts industry. Despite the limitations still imposed on the population after a year of stricted lockdown in a city home to millions with neighbourhoods with little to none public spaces, they believed in promoting the sound system culture beyond dance clubs, indoor parties and
occasional festivals, while also giving a broadcasting opportunity to innovative sounds from the bass music cluster. They partnered with Borda’s Chulkilion soundsystem, which was already managed by Choque, for most of their activities, and also with BQestia soundsystem for bigger occassions that require both. They have been holding public events in the last three years, including conferences and multimedia exhibitions.
Since its beginnings, one of LDC’s main objectives is to seek more opportunities and ways to advocate their commitment to the environment. They have played a crucial role delivering this message of awareness in recent times, striving to harbour safe spaces for the full exercise of people’s cultural rights and to enjoy music that promotes a conscious message. They have partnered with other sustainable initiatives and organisations so the musical events they produce can offer encounters that align with their purposes inspired by the sound system philosophy, and the enjoyment of the sonic encounter of a variety of local music in more open areas in Lima. Although based in Barranco, they remain true to their objectives by putting all their efforts on expanding and diversifying their scope and advocating for the ocean, the coastal ecosystems, the beaches of Lima that have been afflicted by an over increasing number of cars, more highway expansions and the exploitation of an alledgedly ‘useless’ space as some refer to. They also bring attention to the contamination and water crises in a metropolis whose water supply is depleting at an alarming rate as the glaciers of the Andes are rapidly melting with temperature increases.
Similar proximities of conscious messages, sound systems and the public space have preceded them and paved the way for LDC’s journey. Initiatives such as Selvámonos festival, with its focus on music decentralisation, taking a large festival away from Lima to a small town on the edge of the amazon forest; and Peru Independiente Festival that focuses on promoting independent creative arts by also using Lima’s limited public space for leisure, and contributing to the democratisation of music and artistic production. Both festivals guarantee dedicated areas for bass music and sound systems, and have played a key role in opening the pathways to a wider audience. Or Ultramar Festival in February 2020 which was a petite version of LDC’s Consciencia y Soundsystem.
There are more subliminal messages in the music and the need of sonic recontextualisations in a city with many processes – such as bass music and sound systems -, in betweens, in which the politics and poetics of local sounds are differentially embedded in multiple practices and disciplines that are not easily ascribable to a single space (Ochoa Gautier, 2006). For now, it is important to note that the founders aspiring to install this tradition in Lima returned from their migratory experiences in London, precisely with the aim to kickstart a local movement and ensure its longevity, providing hopes in this gray city that allows for diverse sonic interventions, even though officially it does not.
It is not possible to fit in this essay the dimension of such complex sonic and aural processes of the musical migration and the encounter between the sound system and the sonic turn of the bass electronic music in Lima and therefore this is an aproximation. There are many points of convergence at play in this encounter (the male dominance, the socioeconomic contexts, the city’s urban development, etc). The political climate and the environmental
crisis are only two aspects studied and addressed contemplating the nature of the social dynamics in Peru and a worldwide reality. During this exploration, from my perspective as a female Andean scholar and music producer from the contestant South, I got increasingly aware of some of these particular aspects, of spaces and circles I got closer to while I was simultaneously finding my place within those as a female migrant, as a sound engineer and as an artist. I was present during some of the relevant moments mentioned earlier. Now, years later and already an active – sometimes lazy – participant in the scene, to be revisiting an ongoing process that has originated a movement and a political statement, and to discuss it with a group of people partly responsible for it endorses the commitment to a phenomenon that changed the sonic perception altogether and installed ethics that turned out to be beneficial to Lima’s electronic dance music industry. The openness and disposition to start and resume the conversation showed me the community, although more spreaded and busier, built strong ties and is proud of what has been achieved.
¹already documented and studied by Thomas Turino in the 80s. The Music of Andean Migrants in Lima, Peru: Demographics, Social Power, and Style, 1988.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
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*Gracias a Enrique Choque aka King Cholo, Rafael Otero, Adrián Leon Lostaunau aka Lukro, Álvaro Ernesto aka Tribilín Sound, Jesper Frederiksen, Yannet Vilela aka N3T4, Nicolás Borda, Guido Borasino, Paz Ferrand aka Deltatrón por darse el tiempo de compartir conmigo sus testimonios. Faltan muchos más y continuará.