Margarita – Explota El Cuerpo CD

Margarita – Explota El Cuerpo CD

I close my eyes and hear a band of Eskimos in the tropics, singing calypso around an effigy of the Whale-God. I'm happy as a bird but at the same time sooo sad, or maybe sad as a summer rain but at the same time so happy. Under the ice, under the volcano, the sea is boiling. A map of underwater currents, subsurface intensities, bubbling sands on the atoll, the unexpected collision of hot and cold. This is how bodies explode. This is how diamonds are formed.

Madrid's underground scene that inspired such huge headlines in the music tabloids a few years ago died before it came into existence. Dust and darkness, explosions and divergences, gangs of his father and his mother who, after the brief parenthesis of an imaginary community, left this plane of existence, followed their crooked paths or went over to high finance. The punk fell down the stairs. But Margarita weren't even from the capital, they came from the dark roads that border the urban monster. There they plucked the mysterious flowers that shine invisible under the concrete of the outskirts, they got on and off the Cercanías trains, they loudly announced a confluence of planets and springs. Margarita was a multicolored weasel with four heads. Always colorful, always cuddly.

But also slippery, angular, unpredictable.