Fiesta Bubamara: Unza Unza Time!

When was the last time that you were standing alone minding your own business and a perfect stranger skipped up to you, linked arms and swung you around in a jubilant do-si-do? If it’s been a while, since grade school perhaps, you need to head over to Fiesta Bubamara: ditch your cool at the door, cut loose, and get your Balkan-tinged rollick on.

The Fiesta Bubamara party was created to be an unpretentious environment where people could lose themselves in the celebration of ethnic music in general and Balkan music in particular. The party is named after the main musical theme song in Bosnian film director and musician Emir Kusturica’s acclaimed film ‘Black Cat, White Cat’. The organisers are four friends who had grown tired of the usual Buenos Aires party menu: techno in the clubs, rock in the bars. They shared a love of Balkan music–and what they refer to as “unza unza culture”–and decided to spice up the Buenos Aires party scene by bringing attention to this lesser known genre.

Their idea proved a soaring success. The Fiesta Bubamara parties have been taking place almost every month since December 2002. They’ve travelled to most all of the large cities in Argentina and have also played in Chile.

Stemming from the joyous spirit of this music, and its history of jumbled influences, the party was intended to be a place where people actively participate and share: musical styles, dances, smiles, hugs and kisses. The organisers told me, “we believe that Bubamara creates a space for communion which is quite unlike what you find at the usual club or bar.”

This theme of mixing and sharing extends to the lineup of musical groups that play at the parties. Each event features different acts, with the exception of DJ Toro who keeps the Balkan sounds spinning before, in between and well after the musicians finish.

On the night that I attended, Toro eased the crowd into the festivities with an opening set featuring a lot of ska reggae and some occasional Indian tracks. Humorous eastern European movie clips were projected on to one of the walls. While this set was fun and and the atmosphere jovial enough, by 2.30 in the morning I was beginning to wonder what all the fuss about this supposed raucous world music dance party was all about. Then, the first band, Onda Vaga, took the stage.

While claiming to be composed of members coming from rock pasts but having chosen to cut the cords and pursue acoustic expressions, make no mistake about it, Onda Vaga rocks! They describe their music as a mix of rumba, cumbia, reggae, folk rock and “happy tango”. Their soulful and energetic mix got the crowd worked up into a frenzy. Don’t let the name fool you, there’s nothing lazy about the band’s live performance. They powered through boisterous Manu Chau-esque fiesta anthems, with many in the crowd singing along.

The party had taken off. Purple and green lights swirled around the giant industrial space , illuminating a bouncing, joyous mass of concertgoers. The huge room was packed with flailing bodies dancing in all manners, unashamed and unapologetic. Not since a high school dance have I found myself surrounded by so many couples making out. There was no bashfulness about how much people were enjoying themselves, and this was refreshing.

Following Onda Vaga’s spirited set, groups of friends plopped down on the cold cement in small circles, sharing beers and laughs. Dozens of little campfire situations. I wandered into a small side room which I hadn’t even noticed until the set break and was surprised to find a cumbia band, La Repartija, keeping the tireless among the crowd bobbing and gyrating.

At around 4am the next featured band, Babel Orquesta, took the main stage and brought the crowd back to its feet in a hurry. Babel Orquesta played uproarious klezmer music, which featured a couple multi instrumentalists rotating between accordion, fiddle, harmonica, electric guitar and a giant French horn.  The musicians and lead singer were joined by two burlesque dancers in hoop skirts who coquettishly teased the audience throughout the performance.

By this time the crowd had thinned out a bit and there was more room to dance. Large circles formed with people linking arms and doing cancan kicks. A couple people began crowd surfing, others hopped up and down waving their arms in the local football-hooligan style. Long rumba-lines started snaking through the room. While I’ve witnessed a fairly diverse spectrum of Buenos Aires night life, I hadn’t yet experienced this sort of unrestrained exuberance.

Babel Orquesta’s set peaked with a rip-roaring performance of Dick Dale´s ‘Miserlou’, the surf-guitar classic know worldwide via ‘Pulp Fiction’. The singer and dancers dipped and flapped about in ‘Matrix’ style slow motion before leading the crowd in clapping along to the infectious rhythm. For their encore, the band came down into the crowd and lead a procession around the room, playing continuously until they eventually made their way back on stage to kick the rhythm into explosive new gears. I doubt there was a dry body in the building by the end of the set.

Without missing a beat, Dj Toro stepped back up and kept the party right on ticking. He played a mashed up version of Hava Naglia while confetti fell from the ceiling. Bartenders circulated through the crowed passing out free Jello shots. The movie clips reappeared on the screen. The people kept dancing.

Buenos Aires has rightfully earned its reputation as a party capital, but reputations can wind up miring people in self consciousness. Sometimes it seems like many clubs and party nights here are trying just a bit too hard to be cool, while losing the essential element of fun. If it’s been a while since you had a night of unabashed cavorting – the type that leaves your cheek muscles sore the next morning from all the smiling – you should be sure to catch the next Fiesta Bubamara.

Fiesta Bubamara usually occurs once a month. For information on upcoming shows please visit www.fiestas-bubamara.com.ar