Personal and aesthetic affinities united Álvaro and David, (Atención Tsunami) with Pablo (Biznaga) and Marco (Being Berber) in a project of great abrasive power, whose long debut “Return to the future” (Repeater, 23) has just seen the light. they are Charny.
The nine songs are no joke: think local Metz of similarly cathartic intensity, cutting guitars and punchy post-hardcore beats, or even raw and reinvigorated Lizard Nick, with lyrics that veer from existential to bitter social criticism; but also humorous and rhythmic outlets that broaden his palette. Recorded at Madrid’s Metropol studios on an old eight-track Tascam (with one useless), “Return to the future” dazzles by intensity and intention.
It is not easy to stay with them –they live in different cities–, so after a telephone conversation with Álvaro, we met with him through cyberspace.
If I’m not mistaken, the band was formed a long time ago and you released an EP in the difficult pandemic year. How has the journey been until this “Back to the Future”?
Yes, the first isolated rehearsals of the protogroup began about five or more years ago… It took a while to balance schedules (we all play in different projects) and settle things, but always without pressure, with the sole objective of letting off steam and enjoying playing together. In 2019 and 2020 we did a couple of bareback recording sessions at Metropol studios, to force ourselves to finish songs. We didn’t get to release an EP as such, but that’s where the three advances we released in 2020 and 2021 came from, and also the songs from “Back to the Future”.
“The underground is resilient because it feeds on a passion for music”
Your name usually has negative connotations, but if I’m not mistaken it is also a pretty nice breed of dog. At the same time, the word has a lot of sonority. I’m curious: why did you choose it?
For messing around and a mix of everything you point to. Many derogatory terms, such as “charnego”, deserve a second, non-offensive life. And yes, it is also the name of a mixed breed dog with nocturnal habits. So it goes to our hair [risas].
Where does the stark aggressiveness that emerges especially at the beginning of the album come from? Do you think it’s something more or less generational, because I can at least perceive it in other bands that are a bit on the same wavelength? I suppose the cover and the title have to do with that disenchantment.
Politically, the project is clearly positioned, I think there is no ambiguity about what and who it is directed against. But it would be difficult for me to identify aggressiveness as something generational (we comb our gray hair already!). I guess there is rage in all generations. Perhaps it is more a matter of genres: some are more appropriate than others to express it (and hopefully not just to neutralize it). There are many groups that we feel close to in this sense, but from our farm and also from others. The title refers to the sensation of living trapped in a loop of extraction, precariousness and the eternal return of the same, in which the future, even though it is the fashionable concept, is still a mirage for the majority. The dog sniffing its buttonhole on the cover elegantly expresses that idea.
How easy or difficult has it been to transfer to the recording the energy that you can guess you have live? It’s amazing that the disc is recorded on a modest Tascam, from what I’ve read. Was capturing that primal energy one of the objectives in the recording at Metropol?
At the moment we are almost a study group. The Sprout punk Prefabs! Seriously, we will officially premiere Tensura in El Juglar (Madrid) on March 3. Nerves! About the recording: when we thought about recording, Pablo spoke with Fran Meneses and Adolfo Párraga from Metropol Estudios and they had just picked up a second-hand eight-track Tascam with which they wanted to tinker a bit before setting up a small analog studio inside Metropol . We were also messing around, with the songs still to be done, they made us a price and it seemed to us that everything fit like a fucking motherfucker for the experiment. The desk had a channel screwed up, so we recorded with seven tracks. We like to think that’s the key to our sound: seven tracks, not one more and not one less.
In line with the previous one: Did you essentially record live?
Extremely rigorous direct, as evidenced by the sexy tempo fluctuations and the clearly audible prawns.
“I would rather do it” is probably my favorite. What can you tell me about her and her video, which by the way is very good?
It’s the last one we’ve done and I think it’s the roundest and the song with which we’ve begun to find our own way, after going wild and improvising exploring different paths, as always happens when four people get together to play together for the first time. The song is a sentimental ode to action. To fight against inertia, take risks and “do things”, like the Catalans, from Rajoy the sports writer. The video is the work of Josetxu L. Piñeiro, who got the rhythmic and frenetic point very well and turned the lyrics into the typographic puzzle of a fragmented and psychotic memory.
Another highlight is “Cuerpos”, in which you explore the very human need to be together with more human beings (by the way: is there an effect on the voice at certain moments?). Is it inspired by the pandemic?
Completely. It is composed and recorded in pandemic. We were so eager for contact and partying, and we were so tender inside that we thought it was a good idea to rescue Sergio Dalma and Seguridad Social in core mode. There is a good autotune out there yes!
The album starts out very aggressive and dark and my impression is that it becomes more rhythmic (and I would say optimistic) towards the end (“New urban mobility”). Do you see it like this? Which is the reason?
Actually, the order is designed in vinyl format, side A and side B, with the two long vehicles (“La ruta del pelotazo” and “Nueva Movilidad Urbana”) closing each one of them, but, thinking about it, I think you have reason and that, as the songs are arranged, some light enters the album as it progresses.
You dedicate your songs to two specific people: Enric Juliana and Fernando Arrabal (Minelarism is going to arrive…let me speak!). What about both?
They are followed because, in our minds, Arrabal and Juliana are like the total alchemical synthesis of opposites. All the good that Spain is capable of illuminating fits into that impossible diagonal that goes from Melilla to Barcelona, from the incubus of national surrealism to the totem of seny and criteria that is Juliana. There is a lot of joking but also admiration in those songs. I wonder if the two have ever met…
What route will the album have live and what expectations do you have now that things have normalized to play? And how do you see the underground scene, more complicated or the same as always?
Along with the presentation in Madrid on March 3, we will be in Zaragoza (May 27, Arrebato), in Dénia (June 17, La Mistelera) and Salamanca (October 7, MOM) and we are closing dates in Malaga, Don Benito, Barcelona, Zamora and some in Galician and Valencian lands that we will be announcing soon. As for the “andergraun” panorama, which we identify mainly with self-managed initiatives, I believe that no matter how bad they come, it is a circuit with an intrinsic vocation for resilience and perpetual renewal, because it is mainly nourished by the love of art, the passion for music, the desire to do things and personal networks and ties, of affinities and friendship, not monetary. That communal, creative and visceral drive is renewed with each generation, no matter how little it has been planted before. Never Dies.
