GG Albuquerque → A SONIC THINKING OF DIRT AND NOISE: THE SOUND OF FAVELA FUNK DJS
Felipe Maia → PAREDÕES: SONIC WALLS, EMBODIED LISTENINGS, NEW TERRITORIES
Ollin Miranda → LA NATURALEZA DEL SOUND SYSTEM ES COMPARTIR
María Huerta → ECOTONAL: CUERPXS SONORXS EN RESISTEENCIA
Irazema H. Vera → SESIONES ÉPICAS. SONIC STATEMENTS IN LIMA’S SOUND SYSTEMS
GG Albuquerque → A SONIC THINKING OF DIRT AND NOISE
Felipe Maia → PAREDÕES: SONIC WALLS, EMBODIED LISTENINGS, NEW TERRITORIES
Ollin Miranda → LA NATURALEZA DEL SOUND SYSTEM ES COMPARTIR
María Huerta → ECOTONAL: CUERPXS SONORXS EN RESISTEENCIA
Irazema H. Vera → SESIONES ÉPICAS. SONIC STATEMENTS IN LIMA’S SOUND SYSTEMS
During times of social uprising, citizens become agents that shape multiple, ephemeral, and changing clusters of sound by adapting local and global ecologies of political expression to the logic of social dissent
(Tausig, 2019).
Has the sound system culture in Lima managed to blend climate action advocacy into 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 decentralization of music technology and the internet, which gave access to music blogs and the music communities behind them, allowed for a varied sonic approach with pluralist participation. Electronic indigenisms, Afro-Peruvian-oriented albums, atypical blends of popular hits from ’80s and ’90s Peruvian radio shows, the use of rainforest samples, and collaborations with Amazonian artists predominantly reclaimed 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, who 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 neighborhood now gentrified with a population of a higher socioeconomic background—the sound system culture, rooted in Caribbean tradition, was brought to Lima through Peruvian migration experiences in London, UK. Well received by the local reggae landscape, it paved the 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, which have maintained social, racial, and cultural hierarchies in the city to perpetuate their power (Montero-Diaz, 2019). Lima, the literate city that continues to discriminate in its auralities while also intensifying them, was moving toward aural modernity, along with the rest of the region (Ochoa Gautier, 2006).
Looking at sound systems at large, the introduction of this newfound sonic dominance from London to Lima met with similar idiosyncrasies of sounding (Henriques, 2011) in other socioeconomic sectors, with certain music influences primarily from the north and Andean regions. This may have contributed to the technology becoming 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 political undertones, and in finding room in Lima’s cultural agenda. An exemplary case is that of Lima Dub Club, committed to promoting sustainability in its music festivals, advocating for the protection of Lima’s marine and coastal ecosystems affected by inefficient waste management and contamination, and calling attention to the poor management of scarce water resources, all while creating room for a music phenomenon that gathers an audience in public spaces.
This essay reflects the first stages of an exploration into the nature of such settings and sonic recontextualization, while focusing on the initial question: Can Lima’s sound systems contribute to the ongoing resistance in a city facing constant water emergencies, in a country directly affected by the climate crisis, with recent state violence and repression in response to massive demonstrations demanding justice?
INTRODUCTION
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 admitted.¹ Lima is the cultural center where these resonances are formed and organized and have historically gained places to be recognized 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 mobilizations nationwide—mostly in the southern region and Lima—that branded her as ‘Dina asesina’ (Dina, the murderer), followed by organized 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 territorial 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 stigmatizing 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 a sound engineer, music producer, DJ, and instrumentalist—well aware of the need for such resistance and condemning the uncritical silence—or worse, the stigmatization 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, given the city’s limited aural tolerance in certain neighborhoods, is forced to continue to find ‘more suitable’ sites.
MIGRATION ECHOES IN LIMA: LA CHICHA Y EL SOUND SYSTEM
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, precisely because that connection found similarities in local music spaces and traditions. While the sounds defined by digital cumbia—tropical bass and other names of the phenomenon—flourished in Lima, the influence of Caribbean sound systems from the UK occurred in border circuits and subsequently placed itself as one of its technological mediations due to shared 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 for the constitution of a contested public sphere (Ochoa Gautier, 2006). Such is the case of digital cumbia in Lima, although its musical 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 to many of its inhabitants, even though this diversity isn’t apparent in the highest socioeconomic 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 into other musical languages and situations.
Contributing to the city’s bohemian nights by playing in music projects that conveyed reggae and then cumbia, it wasn’t until 2011 that Lima’s musician and producer Rafael Otero managed to organize, along with a network of producers, DJs, and musicians, Aba Shanti’s very first show in Peru. For the occasion, London’s well-known dub producer had requested a dub-style sound system, a wall of sound—something Rafael wanted to recreate in Lima after spending time in London and encountering the sound system culture there. That first session brought together a group of (mostly) male music enthusiasts who knew something significant was about to emerge from it. Many of them, such as Nicolás Borda, Guido Borasino, and Gonzalo Guivobich, would eventually build their own sound systems, and artists like Enrique Choque aka King Cholo and Lukro would go on to start their own music labels and production companies.²
They were all critical of the status quo (of music, politics, and 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 neighborhoods. They were already working on projects that included new methods and approaches to local electronic music, incorporating 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 who began DJing for events in newer districts with mostly Andean migrant populations, which Paz believes caused a revolution in the music movement back then. Others, such as Chakruna, Qechuaboi, and Sonidos Profundos, contributed on one hand, while producers with European backgrounds and DJing traditions like Thibault Quinon aka Mr. Zebre (France) and, years later, Jesper Frederiksen (Denmark) contributed 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 organized 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 during a period of self-produced events such as Toma!, Chorrillano Maldito, Revienta el sistema, Fiestas con Ch, and music evenings at Thibault’s AKS, among others. Underground parties became important events for resisting violent urban changes and the noticeable consequences of Fujimori’s regime a decade earlier. Apart from providing space for 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, and El Dragón del Sur during summer invited producers to be their resident DJs, regularly showcasing their sonic aesthetic.
CLOSING REMARKS on the Introduction
It is not possible to fit into this essay the full dimension of such complex sonic and aural processes, the musical migration, and the encounter between the sound system and the sonic turn of bass electronic music in Lima. Therefore, this is an approximation. Many points of convergence are at play in this encounter (male dominance, socioeconomic contexts, the city’s urban development, etc.). The political climate and the environmental crisis are only two aspects studied and addressed while contemplating the nature of 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 became increasingly aware of these particular aspects, of spaces and circles I grew closer to while simultaneously finding my place within them as a female migrant, a sound engineer, and an artist. I was present during some of the relevant moments mentioned earlier. Now, years later, as an already active—sometimes lazy—participant in the scene, revisiting an ongoing process that originated a movement and a political statement and discussing it with the group of people partly responsible for it reinforces the commitment to a phenomenon that changed the sonic perception altogether.
This movement 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 that the community, although more dispersed and busier now, has built strong ties and is proud of what has been achieved.
SPREADING THE SOUND SYSTEM MESSAGE
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 strict lockdown in a city home to millions, with neighborhoods offering little to no public spaces, they believed in promoting the sound system culture beyond dance clubs, indoor parties, and occasional festivals, while also providing a broadcasting platform for innovative sounds from the bass music cluster. They partnered with Borda’s Chulkilion Sound System, already managed by Choque, for most of their activities, and also with BQestia Sound System for larger occasions that required both. Over the last three years, they have held public events, including conferences and multimedia exhibitions.
Since its inception, one of LDC’s main objectives has been to seek opportunities and ways to advocate for their commitment to the environment. They have played a crucial role in delivering this message of awareness in recent years, striving to create safe spaces for the full exercise of people’s cultural rights and the enjoyment of music that promotes a conscious message. They have partnered with other sustainable initiatives and organizations so that the musical events they produce can offer encounters aligned with their mission, inspired by the sound system philosophy and the enjoyment of diverse local music in more open areas of Lima.
Although based in Barranco, they remain true to their objectives by focusing on expanding and diversifying their scope and advocating for the ocean, coastal ecosystems, and the beaches of Lima. These areas have been increasingly affected by growing numbers of cars, further highway expansions, and the exploitation of an allegedly “useless” space, as some have described it. They also draw 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 rapidly melt due to rising temperatures. Occasionally, during their events, artists have also addressed the current political situation, government abuse of power, and even the deaths that occurred in the south, as acts of collective memory.
Similar proximities between activism, sound systems, and public spaces have preceded them and paved the way for LDC’s journey. Initiatives such as the Selvámonos Festival, with its focus on decentralizing music by taking a large festival away from Lima to a small town on the edge of the Amazon forest, and the Perú Independiente Festival, which focuses on promoting independent creative arts using Lima’s limited public spaces for leisure, have contributed to the democratization of music and artistic production. Both festivals guarantee dedicated areas for bass music and sound systems and have played a key role in opening pathways to a wider audience. Another example is the Ultramar Festival in February 2020, a smaller precursor to LDC’s Consciencia y Soundsystem.
There are deeper, subliminal messages in the music and a growing need for sonic recontextualization in a city undergoing many transformations—such as the evolution of bass music and sound systems. These processes exist in the “in-betweens,” where the politics and poetics of local sounds are intricately embedded in multiple practices and disciplines that cannot easily be confined to a single space (Ochoa Gautier, 2006). For now, it is important to note that the founders, inspired by their migratory experiences in London, returned with the goal of kickstarting a local movement and ensuring its longevity, providing hope in this gray city that allows for diverse sonic interventions, even though it officially does not.
CONSCIENCIA & SOUND SYSTEM: A POST-LOCKDOWN VENTURE
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 strict 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 allegedly ‘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. Occasionally, during their events, artists have also addressed the current political situation, abuse of power from the current government and even the deaths occurred in the south, as attempts of collective memory.
Similar proximities of activism, 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 hope in this grey city that allows for diverse sonic interventions, even though officially it does not.
¹already documented and studied by Thomas Turino in the 80s. The Music of Andean Migrants in Lima, Peru: Demographics, Social Power, and Style, 1988.
²Not the case of Paz aka Deltatron who had already established his label Terror Negro Records back in 2010 as a parallel and equally crucial movement of bass music in Lima. He however recognises he had been inspired by Rafael Otero and his music endeavours such as La Mente long before, and also by Mexican sonideros’ sound systems.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BIELETTO-BUENO, Natalia. Ed., “Introducción,” in Ciudades vibrantes: Sonido y Experiencia Aural Urbana en América Latina (Providencia: Ediciones Universidad Mayor, 2020)
HENRIQUES, Julian. 2011. Sonic Bodies: Reggae Sound Systems, Performance Techniques and Ways of Knowing. London and New York: Continuum.
ITEN, Moses. The Roots of Digital Cumbia in Sound System Culture: Sonideros, Villeros, and the Transformation of Colombian Cumbia (Equinox Publishing, 2021)
MÁRQUEZ, Israel. (2016). Digital Cumbia: Tradition and Postmodernity. Revista musical chilena, 70(226), 53-67.
MONTERO DÍAZ, Fiorella. (2019). White cholos? Discourses around race, whiteness and Lima’s fusion music. Cultures of Anti-Racism in Latin America and the Caribbean
OCHOA GAUTIER, Ana Maria. Aurality: Listening and Knowledge in Nineteenth- Century Colombia (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2014)
OCHOA GAUTIER, Ana María. “Sonic Transculturation, Epistemologies of Purification and the Aural Public Sphere in Latin America,” Social Identities 12, no. 6 (November 2006)
TAUSIG, Benjamin. Bangkok Is Ringing: Sound, Protest, and Constraint (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019)
*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.
