Near your navel

I am not very up to date with the music scene, nor have I been a big fan of Oques Grasses, and I had always thought, perhaps from the original sin of Barcelocentrism, that these guys from Osona moved in the more or less modest figures of the rest of the leading groups in Catalan. But I read that they accumulate millions of plays of their hits more popular, and at the time of their farewell they filled the Montjuïc Stadium for four days, with 225,000 tickets sold, equaling a feat that until now only Coldplay had achieved. I have seen the videos of the concerts and they make a great impression. So many young people singing their anthems by heart; quality music, with diverse influences; celebrities and guest artists, and above all a feeling of resounding success, of mainstream, which is still not common in artistic expressions in our language.

Everything is forgotten / near your belly button... sings Josep Montero while the Stadium goes into combustion. Oques Grasses is a pure success story, that is to say, it is the result of the emotional connection between the artists and the public through a handful of good songs and a shared language that is now valid for crafting anthems. The Montjuïc concerts are not the consequence of a national fever like that of the years of the sovereignty process, quite the opposite, they coincide in time with a situation of a certain political dampening, and this does not subtract substance from the event, and, instead, adds a—forgive me—business value: it is a demonstration that our musicians and promoters can make a good living without renouncing their language, as so many illustrious predecessors of theirs have done. Catalan can be a strong language, despite the factors against it, if it is capable of producing a competitive cultural industry that shines, that is profitable, and that makes those who do not know Catalan feel that they are missing out on something worthwhile.

When I was the age of those attending Oques Grasses concerts, what was playing in Barcelona's nightlife venues was the new Spanish pop: Radio Futura, Golpes Bajos, Alaska, Mecano, Celtas Cortos, El Último de la Fila... In Catalan, in bars or on the radio, nothing ever played, except for the totems of the Nova Cançó, which we young people of the eighties despised as hippie relics. And I am talking to you about a time when the Catalan-speaking population far exceeded 50% of the country... But it was taken for granted that pop had to be in Spanish or English. Suddenly, in 1989, L’Empordà, by Sopa de Cabra, started to play, and it was liked so much that even the very Spanish nightclubs of Barcelona and the radio stations had to play it. I remember the first time I heard it playing in public, in a venue full of people dancing wildly (I think it was at the Liguero de Marta, in Mataró). The impact that scene had on me was so great that, instead of dancing, I stood still looking around me, as if I were in the middle of a hallucination. I thought—and I wasn't wrong—that something was changing in the public consideration of Catalan.

We were told for too long that Catalan was not a national language, but a domestic language, for singing Christmas carols; but over the years we have consolidated a diverse and talented cultural space, which first excelled in light cultural industries (radio, theater, publishing world) and is finally also making a place for itself in cultural sectors that require more industrial and financial muscle (music, television and cinema). There is a lot of work to do, especially in the digital sphere, but we have managed to ensure that, in a moment of strong linguistic competition, Catalan can go out and play the game. Congratulations to Oques Grasses for making it evident in such a brilliant way.