A moment with which we never think to bust again in a slam. Los Monjo, one of the most bastard bands we witnessed at the Catharsis Festivalwith a special show, his entire repertoire and with his original vocalist, Tucho, back on stage.
A short time ago we went on an adventure in a truck full of rockers heading to the Catharsis Festival. A very surreal trip, of course, since they showed non-stop movies of dogs dying wanting to be human. I better get involved with my friends from the Carrion Kids and goLiz, Rojo, Cachi, Miki and I arrived in Guadalajara, laughing their heads off.
The whole festival is very cool, organized by beautiful and friendly people. We spent the quiet day with tortas ahogadas and steamed tacos. Between discussions about GG Allin and The Murder Junkies with Cosmo from the band Satánico Pandemonium and talks about Tank Girl with cartoonist Mini Lara, time flies at ease. But when they start The MonjosMy head is literally blown away.
Los Monjo: rock to lose your head
All eyes on stage and locked jaws about to explode and let go with this unmissable show. The four but ultimately five brothers from Jalisco are the essence of punk. Tucho arrives already a little drunk, gets on stage and says something incomprehensible into the microphone and with an invisible signal the band thunders hard. From the beginning the destructive and beautiful slam is armed. I’m in heaven. Being at a Los Monjo concert is total debauchery, it’s fucking your mother and enjoying it.
The Monjo are the best I’ve ever lived. Tiger on drums doesn’t let us rest, he goes crazy and we go crazy with him. He takes off his shirt and reveals his ACAB (all cops are bastards) tattoo that decorates his chest. Peter on the guitar drops the dangerous riffs while Rene kills the bass by taking out the forbidden notes.
The slam does not stop and at some point people throw down the fence, shouting “There is no salvation, there is no solution” at full volume. We turn to see each other in the slam, we understand each other: we are living a special moment, we uncover a secret in this world. Being at a Los Monjo concert is total debauchery, it’s fucking your mother and enjoying it. And my mother’s name is Tucho, she is androgynous, she is sexy and her voice is the best. I love bands that have their vocals loose, with no instruments other than the voice to tie you in place. That would be how to put the leash on Mr Pickles.
The mosh pit blender spits out the grouper YellOh! right in front of me, he looks me in the eye, he hands me a can of Four Loko and says: “fourlokeate!” Not to mention more. Between crowdsurfing and a Four Loko already warmed up, a guy gets too crazy and starts throwing punches randomly. But Miki Navajas comes to the rescue. Still in his wardrobe from the previous Carrion Kids show, shorts and leggings, he runs to throw him to the floor and slaps him until the bastard calms down, and goes to the bar for his courtesy beer.
Meanwhile scandal, Tucho lost his microphone for dancing and flirting, a fan picks it up from the floor and returns it to him. Tucho jumps to the people and to the slam singing. We push it with respect and affection.
We leave happy, in the truck with masochistic dogs and warm drinks.
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Los Monjo: being at their concert is total debauchery