“No quiero ser normal”(I don’t want to be normal), or how a music band was capable of defining a path of its own, strange and popular
Foto: Fernanda Montoro
“El Cuarteto de Nos” (“The Us Quartet”), whose members, for the past twenty five years, have been the Musso brothers (Roberto and Riki), along with Santiago Tavella and Alvaro Pintos, is a music band founded in Montevideo in the late 70s, based on legitimate and sometimes conflicting reasons: Roberto wanted to be famous like his idols (the Beatles, and John Travolta), Riki wanted to make music like his idols (the Beatles, and Woody Allen) and Santi wanted to have fun like his idols (the Beatles, and Andy Warhol). Alvaro came in afterwards proving the group the versatility necessary to play varied rhythms, and contributing to the simple fact that, if they wanted to sound like the Beatles, they should not sound like an annoying version of a unprecedented jazz-rock mix.
Maybe because they agreed on the four from Liverpool, they developed an obsession for becoming a quartet, even when the founding members had been three. They also shared their preference for British humor like Monty Python (Allen, Maslíah, etc.), and they all wanted to produce pop though their product resulted in a mix of parodic Frank Zappa-style elements, and most of all in a gallery of sickly characters, or “so freaky”, as Adrián Dárgelos would say, mostly inhabitants of the pre-teen imaginary City of Tajo, built by the Musso before they reached the age of 10. Among the first songs was “Acapulco no se emborracha” (Acapulco does not get drunk), and that was when neither rockandrollers nor popular folk fans would understand their songs, and they were a long way from knowing what it was like to stand before a public that would call for more.
The songs of El Cuarteto de Nos that were initially placed on radios by the mid 80s, immediately following the military dictatorship, led the group to the rising generation of rock groups like Estómagos (Stomachs), Traidores (Traitors), Tontos (Dummies) and La Tabaré. They played rock and electric rhythms, but sounded strange. It was in to sound like the Pistols, the Cure or Clash, and they were more like an amorphous and healthily incorrect thing. Someone to remember was Andamio (Scaffolding) Pijuán, the idiot who used to bathe in tar to avoid seeing himself in the mirror and, poor Andamio, “one day he fell asleep in the sun”. Or even the sex addict members of the Berrantes Family, including a sadomasochistic 15-year old who demanded her casual lovers to dress like Che Guevara. But beyond all that nerve, dressing with her aunts’ wardrobe, and singing deep-rooted generational verses: “Me tengo que joder, porque soy una vieja. Los guachos de la cuadra, si salgo maquillada, me escupen y me tiran piedras”. (I am fucked-up because I’m an old wreck. If I go out with makeup on, the bastards on my block spit at me and throw me stones). The LPs Soy una arveja [I’m a green pea] (1987), Emilio García (1989) and Canciones del corazón [Songs of the heart] (1990) make up the Tajo trilogy and the initial stage when the group was a band for minorities, and undoubtedly not subject to classifications of any type.
Sudden glory came in times of the compact disc Otra Navidad en las trincheras [Another Christmas in the trenches], in 1994. The songs of The Quartet trascended the college elite at a fast pace. The great public, especially children and teens, were in tune with the iconoclastic and parricide key of the songs by the Musso brothers, a key that was already there for the public to apprehend, along with the speech of the Quartet, unacceptable to the most conservative sectors of society. Roberto Musso (guitar and lead singer) started to show an incipient punk trend, taken from the colleagues of the 80s. He became a little serious and came up with a nihilistic humor plan in certain major pieces like ‘Oriental desertor’(Uruguayan defector), which includes the punk cliché “a mí la patria me chupa un huevo” [I don’t give a shit for my mother country]. All this without losing the post-Tajo humor of a strong sexual content, as in “Solo un rumor” [Just a rumor]. Santiago Tavella (bass and voice) played the psycho-sex maniac loser from the post-Masliah languages that go so well with him: like in the classical sex-mantic play of “El calzoncillo a rayas” [The striped under-shorts]. And Riki Musso (guitar and voice) continued to create his legendary deformed characters. In ‘Soy un capón’ [I’m a castrated ram] the narrator confesses why he cut his balls off with a paper cutter. Songs were direct and overconfident, but continued to work in the second, tenth and hundredth time they were listened to. Beyond the first humoristic layer in the speech, the group ended by defining a style of parody rock that proved to work perfectly by integrating rhythms and genders also unacceptable or of dubious good taste.
After the success of 1994, which can be proven by the 30,000 copies sold of Otra Navidad…, they came up with Barranca abajo [Downhill] (1995), a songbook as self-destructive as lucidly provocative. The group’s sound is far from correct and distant from the variety reached in the previous work. The superimposed layers of guitar of “Vino en mi jeringa” [Wine in my syringe] and “Tupamaro” prevented the themes from becoming radio hits. Riki Musso, in charge of the arrangements and the art production is responsible for taking the punk-nerd vein of the Quartet to the extreme, and the result of that is a record obscure that takes them back to the category of “strange” that they had in times of Soy una arveja. This, in combination with the dissonant keyboards of Andrés Bedó, an occasional fifth member of the quartet who had been temporarily lost in the radio Standard “Bó cartero” [Hey you, mailman] and in the inspired musical jokes of “Me agarré el pitito con el cierre” [My weenie got caught in my zipper] and “El putón del barrio” [The male hoar of the neighborhood].
The records that followed-up El tren bala [Fast train] (1996), ¡Revista Esta! [This! Magazine] (1998) and Cortamambo [Mambostop] (2000) came to show that the song factory continues to be productive, though the identity crisis of the group, evincing a daring speech despite the fact that the band’s members were no longer teens, was more than explicit.
Way too old for the acne humor that lingered from the Tajo mythology, and too young to give in to the correctness and the demagogic codes of Latin rock which turned the rebels of the 80s, and everything that sounded strange, into something anachronistic. Several landmarks, which paradoxically never got to be hits, showed that El Cuarteto de Nos was not giving up. “El día que Artigas se emborrachó” [The day that Artigas got drunk], was a song that triggered the most commented Montevidean scandal of the decade, and was considered, of course, an insult to the national hero. This was an example of the revulsive aspect of the Quartet’s songs. “No somos latinos” [We are not Latin] appeared as another expression that came to prove that the group was far from joining the predominant sounds and codes. It was not easy. They once again became a band for minorities and they even lost – like in the initial stages of the band – the support of the public that followed them in those beginnings. A new generation of university students and rockandrollers were their newly acquired fans, who were in search of something different. The Quartet was always there. It was their public that changed, as some left their milieu while others arrived.
In 2004, this Uruguayan embodiment of incorrect humor with a South Park style decided to give a try to releasing a “greatest hits” album. Times had changed; following the 2002 economic crisis, the new generations sought direct songs that would express their troubles, and those who had looked the other way during the bubbly 90s found, once again in the Quartet, an honest and authentic mirror to reflect upon with humor and a good dose of cynicism. It is not an easy task to remain a “Uruguayan idiot” for life, but with a career of twenty years, the Quartet’s public included varied generations and socio-cultural segments. Though it was not active, it could be called upon if they found the right formula. They gave their first “greatest hits” album a shot. The sound of El Cuarteto de Nos, the cd, was in itself a declaration of principles. They were fed up of being looked down on in the River Plate’s rock scene, and this time they chose a repertoire 100% electric that at times made them sound as if the band playing were the craziest punks on the planet. A band that was certainly capable of anything at all, from calling upon – humorously, of course – intravenous suicide (“yo quiero que un amigo ponga vino en mi jeringa”) [I want a friend to put wine in my syringe], to telling the misfortune of a guy called Manfreddi (“El dios de los infelices no lo dejó entrar/ porque tenía albergado a más de medio Uruguay”) [The God of the unhappy would not let him in/ because he carried more than half of Uruguay with him]. Two pearls in the new disc were the “Ramonic” version of the bizarre and lively hit “El putón del barrio” [The male hoar of the neighborhood], and the new confessional punk anthem “No quiero ser normal” [I don’t want to be normal].
The key to the Quartet’s new era is in the old issue of balance, of searching for a third look with commonsense. Inviting undergrounder Juan Campodónico to take charge of their artistic production led to progressively avoiding Musso’s radical features and Tavella’s bizarre attacks, to empower Roberto’s composing talent which would become the main feature of records to come, as the group’s leading creator. In his first work with El Cuarteto de Nos, Campodónico devoted his efforts to a songbook plentiful of small and great strokes of genius. In other words: he came to polish the best diamond in the rough in Uruguay’s contemporary pop music. Everything was set for the band’s second or third life, with its members reaching 40 years of age as if they were still 20. Freaks, popular, strange.
The record Raro was released in 2006. The explosive resounding cocktail drawn by Campodónico worked perfectly well with Roberto Musso’s compositions, a fact that would rank him even higher as lyricist: he acquired a verbosious touch, centered on stories that revolve around losers and border with Eminem’s hiphop style. “Yendo a la casa de Damián” (Going to Damian’s) was an instant hit, in fact, the group’s greatest hit ever. And Musso’s enjambed rappings went along quite well with noisy guitars, though only those of Strokes. El Cuarteto de Nos is reaffirmed, paradoxically, as a “strange” band, at the exact time when it is defining a more definable and pragmatic path. The character on the cover – made with photoshop with facial features of the four historical members – personalizes the ideal freak of a perfect disc that will probably prove unbeatable. This was the disc that launched them as an international band and turned them popular once again – more consistently and maturely than in times of Otra Navidad en las trincheras [Another Christmas in the trenches].
Where will the Quartet head for after Raro? Will it seek an anti-success antidote as it was the case with Barranca abajo? Roberto managed to become famous (in addition to an excellent lyricist). Santiago is having the more fun than ever before (and re-invents the band as if it were a work piece of conceptual pop in itself). Alvaro follows the beat, like he always wanted to (and continues to be the one managing the team from the background). The problem was that Riki started to feel uncomfortable. He was no longer making, or defining the music or the sounds; that was something that someone else, the producer – a fifth member of the Quartet named Juan – was in charge of. That was the start of bipolarity, a new imbalance that resulted in a songbook where they sound better than ever, but opens the door to new paradoxes and debates. Bipolar (2009) includes a song the surely defines this new stage. Its title is “Nada me da satisfacción” (Nothing satisfies me) and it is certainly exemplary of the paradox of being both strange and popular.
The Quartet is a creative entity that has survived and reacted to varied times and contexts. It has put together a consistent and original musical work that functions as a mirror of a possible Montevidean urban counter-culture: an identity also strange that suggests an indefinition at this end of decade – in its most vital element – as to whether embracing a progressive country resulting from a homogeneous, successful and pragmatic left wing, or taking the hard way of dissenting, exile, and the illusion of experimenting and risk. The story goes on, and the song is the same, or maybe not.
“No quiero ir donde todos van (I don’t want to go where everyone goes)
Yo odio la Navidad. (I hate Christmas)
Muchos dirán: “eso está mal” (Many will say: “That is wrong”)
No quiero ser normal (I dont’ want to be normal)
Y no sé por que será (And I don’t know why)
Si algo me entra a gustar (When I start to like something)
Nunca está en el ranking, raiting, ni el top twenty
(It is never ranked, rated or among the top 20)
Y si se vuelve popular (And when it becomes popular)
A mí me aburre y ya no me interesa” (It starts to bore me and I’m no longer interested)
[Excerpt from “No quiero ser normal” (I don’t want to be normal)]
Foto: Fernanda Montoro
ROBERTO MUSSO: a bipolar interview
about RIKI: “Most of all, I want to make clear that Riki continues to be part of the entity called Cuarteto de Nos. He’s not gone for good, he simply asked for some time off to take a rest for an indefinite period, and he is not currently participating in the live shows; but I think that this is just a parenthesis in the group’s history and he will soon be part of tours and shows.
about JUAN: “With Juan we formed a team 5 years ago, and have already produced 3 records. He has been a fundamental piece in the groups evolution, no only in what refers to sound specifically but also in the overall artistic aspects. The results are unquestionable from the point of view of the public’s recognition and from the critics that those records received. They have been the reason for the Quartet to be a group renowned and respected beyond borders, and they also made it possible for the children of our fans from the 80s and 90s here in Uruguay to discover the band as an up-to-date sound of current times”.
about RARO (“strange”) and BIPOLAR: “Raro”(strange) is strange and Bipolar is also strange, though at times it is bipolar and that sounds strange… But beyond words said, there is actually no concept established for bipolarity in fact expressed in the cd, simply because that was not intended. The name came up because there was the song entitled “Bipolar” which inspired the people at Land responsible for the cover’s art design and there were other songs that incidentally related to the subject, like “Doble identidad” (Double Identity) for example, but there is a great number of songs that are “unipolar” we could say.”
about MUSSO’s LYRICS: “I think that in the lyrics of Bipolar I tried to put more emphasis on what in Raro appeared as a simple suggestion or an interesting line of work to go by. I could compare it to the time when we released Canciones del corazón (Songs of the Heart) in 1990, which included several songs that drifted from the style we had been into, and exploded in Otra navidad en las trincheras [Another Christmas in the Trenches]. It so happened that I started to come up with a number of lyrics based on concepts, extensions, rhymes and language schemes that led to a form of interpretation related with rap because they could not be contained in a traditional pop format, so I obviously resorted to the style’s referents like Eminem, Peyote Asesino, or Kanye West to mention some examples”.
Gabriel Peveroni
