The land of Ocas Grasses

This is Rosalía's country, but it's also Oques Grasses' country. Comparing artists is always false and unfair, and I'm sure there are thousands of fans of both who are happy and content to be contemporaries. But while Rosalía's international success is a unique phenomenon, Oques Grasses' ability to draw a crowd also deserves attention. He's already filled two Montjuïc stadiums and is on his way to four (equaling a record set by Coldplay, it must be said).

And new groups appear every day, and Mushka, The Tyets, Ludwig Band, Higa Flawas are successful... And established bands like Sidonie release an album in Catalan and tour it throughout Spain, and it's not the end of the world. And are we supposed to believe that it's a dying language that's capable of conveying this enthusiasm, this success, this communion? There's a creative tradition in the country, and a level of commitment, and a critical mass of Catalan speakers that allows for these kinds of miracles. Miracles that didn't exist three or four decades ago, because although native speakers made up a larger percentage of the population, we were fewer in absolute terms. Now, moreover, less self-conscious artists are flourishing; a strange specimen has appeared: the Catalan artist who's in no hurry to change languages so they can sign autographs in Ciudad Real. Or if they are, it's because in Spain, and in Spanish, they get paid better; such is the nature of the market. This isn't easy to solve. But a creator's success lies in changing things, not in being a victim (or perhaps an accomplice). There's no doubt that Oques Grasses belongs to the former group.

Another example: The Hilària festival, promoted by Cruïlla, the major event of thestand-up comedy In Catalan, which has practically sold out all its tickets with a crop of comedians who do something as simple as work in their language and also make a living from it. Thirty years ago, Catalan comedy only existed in the form of commercial theater and in the bubble—the bubble—of TV3. There was nothing like it in Hilària. But there was also no ARA, no RAC1, no Cruïlla, no stable circuit of festivals in the region, no La Sotana, no Canet Rock, no improv groups, no podcasts, and no TikTokers. Catalan is a vehicle of expression while the soufflé of the Esteladas rises and falls, while the human landscape changes, and the illegitimate children of Paco Candel proclaim that, because of separatism, the Catalan language She has become unfriendly. And the Spanish press laughs at their jokes and portrays them as victims.. Let the bowler hats: Catalonia is always reinventing itself with new blood, and that eternal metamorphosis is the most immutable thing we have as a country.

You'll have noticed that I haven't written a single word about political life, because all this is happening while the parties are going their own way, increasingly lost in their own labyrinth. I say this with regret, because if the Process demonstrated anything, it's that lasting change is impossible without politics; language is a right and it needs support and protection against the harshness of the market. But now I imagine the Montjuïc Stadium full of young people enjoying Oques Grasses, young people of voting age, and I wonder if the current, politically correct PSC, the disoriented separatists, or the Islamophobes of Aliança Catalana have the capacity to make them dream, to give them the tools they need. But another unchanging trait of the country's character is that people act without asking permission, without letting themselves be infected by apathy, without hiding behind the promise of a political freedom that never arrives. Perhaps that's why a stadium seems easier to fill than a ballot box.