One die-hard Soda Stereo fan wants you to relive the magic of hearing
the Argentine rock gods reunited for an unforgettable night—one of their three
(you read right: only three!) Stateside appearances. The band played two
concerts in Miami this week and one in Los Angeles earlier this month.
Cerati and the boys are now headed to Peru, before going back home to
wrap up the historic 2007 tour in Cordoba and Buenos Aires.
By Winston Romero
Throngs of fans crowded Miami's American Airlines Arena on
Wednesday, December 5 to get their long awaited Soda fix. A mixture of
mesmerizing lyrics, high voltage guitar, strident drum beats from the crew of
Argentine-born vocalist Gustavo Cerati, bassist Zeta Bosio, drummer Charly
Alberti provided just the right dose of delirium. Cerati's voice was as strong
and sensuous as the guitar he so skillfully handles, his deliveries in between
songs as epic as those cemented in Latin American history.
Decades have passed since right-wing military dictatorships stepped aside to
let this, the rock movement that Soda led, take the continent by storm. Fans who
shut their eyes allowed themselves to be transported. Suddenly, it felt like 25
years were whisked away. They were back in time, skipping school in their
hometowns of Buenos Aires, Caracas, Bogota, Guayaquil, and Santiago, listening
to the undisputed titans of their time and absorbing their mythical lyrics—so
hard to understand but so easy to feel. Easy to float upon and be elevated to
places "En La Ciudad de la Furia." Others opted to open their eyes, their pupils
absorbing the experience like a vortex, catching every second of Cerati's grins
and sly looks.
At one point, Cerati pulled out one of his characteristic speeches that sent
the arena whirling into complete silence. In between his heavy breathing, he
proclaimed the arena a universe filled with stars. Fans began swaying their
cellphones to the hypnotic cadence of "De Musica Ligera," creating just
With "Cuando Pase El Temblor," the floor gave way to tremors, mixed with a
mystical feel of the Andes. After the last number, "Persiana Americana," the
crowd started to chant, "Olé, olé olé olé, Sodaaa, Sodaaa!" It was as if they
were exiting one of those historic soccer matches in Buenos Aires. Like the
heroes they're held out to be, the band came out to deliver one final injection.
Hasta siempre, Soda. Y gracias. TOTALES!