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El Diario NY     LINK           Nacotheque, una disco anti-esnob Silvina Sterin Pensel | 2008-04-20 | El Diario NY Nueva York/especial para EDLP   — La pista de baile arde, late; parece adquirir vida propia con los cientos de pies y cuerpos que se bambolean frenéticamente arriba suyo. Desde sus consolas, los disc-jockeys practican su alquimia y llevan a la muchedumbre danzante a su máxima expresión. Lo logran con una batería infalible: una canción de la blonda brasileña, Xuxa, luego una ranchera, seguida de un tema de la banda Timbiriche; un poquito de la estrella madrileña La Prohibida y para rematar una cumbia villera; un ritmo que comenzó en los barrios marginales argentinos.   Cuando todo indicaba que habría un momento para tomarse un respiro los parlantes vibran escupiendo un ‘Para enamorarse bien hay que venir al sur/ lo importante que tu vayas cuando quieras tú/y si sufres no lo pienses más,/espera que te pase y vuélvete a enamorar’. Las estrofas las canta Rafaella Carrá y la multitud estalla en éxtasis, olvidando por completo las presiones de la ajetreada vida neoyorquina. El mandato es pasarlo lo mejor posible y bailar hasta que las piernas pidan basta. La gente obedece y los dj’s dan su misión por cumplida.   Pero estos pinchadiscos, Marcelo Cunning y Amylulita Meneses no son solamente responsables de la música; son además los ideólogos de esta particular fiesta que sábado de por medio se le ríe en la cara a los selectos clubs neoyorquinos; esos donde porteros semipoderosos deciden arbitrariamente quién queda de un lado de la cuerda de terciopelo y quién del otro. Aquí, en un sótano del Lower East Side, tienen la oportunidad de desquitarse todos aquellos a los que alguna vez se les negó la entrada a una disco. Este verdadero antídoto contra el esnobismo neoyorquino es Nacotheque o la disco de los nacos; el niño mimado de Marcelo y Amylulita.   El vocablo es de origen mexicano como Marcelo, que nació en Guadalajara, pero cada cultura tiene sus nacos propios: en Colombia los ñeros; cacos en Puerto Ricos; los gronchos en Argentina y los cholos en varios países andinos.   “El nombre se lo pusimos en tono irónico”, comenta Marcelo, un joven de penetrantes ojos verdes e impecable sonrisa. “Pero es nuestra forma sutil de decirles a los arrogantes y a la gente pretenciosa que quizás éste no es el lugar que más les va a gustar. Quienes vienen a la Nacoteca vienen a divertirse y a escuchar buena música”, agrega. Y precisamente la música es uno de los factores más distintivos de esta propuesta. La nacoteca comenzó hace ya dos años de la mano de un eslogan que pinta perfectamente a la disco: ‘música de calidad para gente corriente’.   “Siempre estamos buscando cosas nuevas y reciclando viejas”, dice Amylu. Para nosotros el único criterio es que la música sea buena. Con Marcelo nos pasamos revisando que hay en myspace, en Internet, para rescatar a músicos nuevos no muy conocidos y promoverlos en nuestras fiestas”, agrega.   Un gigantesco mural logra que al menos un sector de este subsuelo debajo del bar Fontana’s —sobre la calle Eldridge, entre Broome y Grand— parezca una playa de palmeras y anaranjado atardecer. Apoyados sobre ese tropical escenario Amylu y Marcelo hablan apasionadamente de los estilos musicales que les quitan el sueño. “Puede ser la cortina musical de una novela vieja pero remixada, con un toque electrónico o uno de los temas de Juan Gabriel”, explica Marcelo mientras se acomoda una boina de cuero negro. “El criterio más importante es que todo lo que pasamos es en español”, agrega Amylu.   Buscar y hurgar en el pasado y el presente hasta encontrar el mejor exponente en español del pop-rock, baile funk, nueva ola o de los 80’s no es un capricho de estos jóvenes, sino que obedece a un objetivo bien definido: “Por un lado intentamos darle un ámbito a artistas nuevos para que difundan su trabajo. Si tú escuchas la radio en español te darás cuenta que siempre pasan lo mismo; no hay un espíritu de buscar cosas nuevas, de innovar; es todo muy comercial. Además en la Nacoteca estamos mostrando constantemente que los hispanos no escuchamos únicamente música caribeña”.   La turba se mueve al unísono esta vez al ritmo de una canción de Amandititita, la cantante mexicana —hija de un diputado del PRI— conocida como la reina del sonidero callejero y la anarcumbia; como su nombre lo indica una mezcla de cumbia con un toque anárquico. Pero esa gran masa exaltada y feliz nada tiene de masificada. En Nacotheque ningún look es igual al otro; no hay jeans de marca ni uniformes a la hora de vestir. Los nacotecos celebran la diversidad y disfrutan siendo originales.   Moviéndose al compás de ‘una libra de cadera no es cadera/dos libras de cadera no es cadera’, las célebres estrofas de ‘Tu pum pum’, de Jhonny Prez, está Johanna Laracuente, una boricua de turbante y párpados pintados de púrpura. “Marcelo y Amylu se han montado algo increíble y yo estoy siempre aquí en sus fiestas. La verdad es que nos han cambiado la vida a muchos”, agrega. Luego se pone más seria: “La Nacoteca combate los estereotipos que hay alrededor de nosotros los latinos. No todos somos salseros; no a todos nos gusta la bachata ni el merengue ni el reggaetton”, dispara.   Con un estilo kitsch rigurosamente pensado, Marcelo y Amylu son un dúo dinámico que no pasa desapercibido. Es difícil encontrar una parte de los brazos de ella que no esté tatuada y a pesar de las insistencias se resiste a compartir las historias que motivaron cada una de las imágenes que adornan su piel. De sus labios carmín sólo sale el dato de que nació en Connecticut y que su padre es hijo de españoles y mexicanos. El es delgado y pálido y su rostro, casi inmaculado, despide una inexplicable calma. Cuando no están detrás de las bandejas —se turnan pinchando música durante media hora cada uno— se lo pasan saludando a amigos o “tomando chichaito”, un trago mezcla de ron blanco y anís.   La nacoteca es una cita fija aquí en Nueva York pero a menudo sus dueños embalan sus equipos y computadoras y se llevan la música a otra parte. Barcelona, San Juan de Puerto Rico, Chicago y Los Angeles son apenas algunos de los lugares por donde pasaron. Ahora, están en la tierra de los verdaderos nacos, en México y ya han hecho bailar a Guadalajara, Puebla y el Distrito Federal. “Es rico poder ir a México y pasar tiempo con gente querida y también descubrir lugares nuevos donde poner en pie la nacoteca que ya se convirtió en una fiesta nómade”, dice Marcelo. ¿Se imaginaban que lo que crearon generaría semejante culto? “No, la verdad es que no”, dicen a coro. “Pero nos enorgullece saber que nuestra Nacotheque no discrimina y permite que todos se diviertan por igual”.   La próxima Nacotheque en NY es el 26 de abril.

Guanabee

Village Voice

URB     Zoom In Here:     ------------------------------   Nacotheque: Native Tongues :: NYC’s hottest indie rock party… en espanol By Michael Vasquez   Photography by Ruvan 02/19/08 :: URB 152     The life of a contributing editor is unpredictable—you get all kinds of last-minute assignments—and tonight it’s Nacotheque, the NYC party that’s been described to me as the “Spanish Misshapes,” instantly alerting my own Puerto Rican mistrust of that whole Latin Alternative genre-tag. I’m also curious though, because the flyer is repping some beautiful, semi-naked Go-Go girls that I wanna, umm, videotape for URB dot com. I enter the stairway down into the cave on 2nd Avenue feeling like Harry Haller in Steppenwolf, following that sign reading “For Madmen Only.” I turn right and there are the Go-Go girls, as advertised, but there’s also a fuckin’ open-shirted madman on the stage. Forget Latino Misshapes, this cat’s a misshapen Latino. The crowd is packing in towards him, but the front row takes a collective step back when he gets too close. He keeps shaking his sweat all over them. The air is dense, filled with smoke—and not weed—cigarettes! Fuck the mayor’s ban. A campy, noir-ish rhythm is hitting me; the lighting washes the walls and faces all blood red. Bashing his head against a sampler, the portly dude looks like a decadent, nihilistic Louis the 16th or Spanish Inquisition-era counterpart to Daedelus’s Edwardian-era schtick. Of course, that’s an imperialist, Eurocentric comparison, seein’ how this cat’s from Mexico. He’s called Silverio, and he’s stripping out of his irony-free (and ironing-free) red and black suit, down to his bikini underwear, looking like Les Savvy Fey’s frontman wearin’ John Oates’s hair. Silverio is grinding on the go-go girls, sandwiched against a wall. In a split second, my job tonight will involve him air-humping really close to my face (and maybe into the camera), an editorial task I very certainly did not sign up for. I keep filming, glad for the shot, my left hand at the ready to grab balls and kill this kid, should he slip. He cuts it short as it were, sensing danger. The six-dollar Heineken I just bought gets knocked over. “¡Tres teh-keeelahz!” he screams over the heavily-reverbed P.A. I do the math: Silverio + two Go-Go girls = no replacement drink for me. “Order me a Heineken, too” I tell him. “¡Que fresco es!” he exclaims over the PA, belittling me in a SoCalexico drawl, in which second syllables are back-weighted, like a foot gallooshing in a puddle. “Tumbaste my botella y acabo ha comprar lo. Me debes una cerveza,” I insist, realizing that at this moment my life is a bi-lingual Heineken commercial. “¡Tres teh-keeelahz!” he screams again. Silverio is coming straight from the Id, a morph between the “Stinkin’ badges” guy and an Andy Kaufman alter-ego. And the crowd is right there with him. I ain’t getting my replacement beer. There are good-natured hecklers aplenty and Silverio offers up the mic, but only after shoving it down his pants and swabbing himself completely, silencing any would-be takers. Cats like this have been party fixtures since Roman times, though there’s more to Silverio than just the give-him-tequila-watch-him-go persona. Despite his best intentions to kill all rhythm dead with his snazzy dancing, his soundsystem actually cooks, as minimal electro makes a fairly funky bed for housey keys, glam riffs and campy film bytes, while he filters his appreciably aggro vocals through a dub chamber.   Online, the Silverio genius/fool debate rages: one person heralds Sliverio as bigger than Tiësto, another says he’s ridiculous, and one appraisal takes both sides: “Es el rey de los prophetos falsos.” False prophet or not, it wouldn’t be surprising if Silverio’s posted all three himself. By putting himself out there, down for whatever, “Silverio” exists in the eyes of the beholder, which he’s always trying to poke: Arch send-up of the drunk Mexican cliché? Somebody’s dysfunctional, always-blacking-out dad? Cheesy porn star? Again, he’s likely to agree with every assessment. I’m wondering why more people aren’t dancing during his gig, then realize that unlike, say, former Bonde Do Role frontwoman Marina Vello, Silverio weighs over 200 pounds, and is an all-consuming, infernal, hypnotic spectacle. At the door, two prospective customers, maybe taking a tip from Time Out, are debating whether to pay the five-dollar cover. They have exactly no idea what awaits, but even if you didn’t speak Spanish, you’d know some lewd shit’s transpiring between S and the crowd: SILVERIO: “¡Y ha maldito’ chupo todo!” VOICE IN CROWD: “¡Candela!” SILVERIO: “Chinga ha manera ha su jeva, cabron.” VOICE IN CROWD: “Pinche (inaudible)” SILVERIO (to Go-Go girls): “You want a teh-keeelah? Me too. Pinche putos. Vete ha la verga, puto.” VOICE IN CROWD: “¡Pinche (inaudible) Culero!” SILVERIO: “Vete ha chingarse” One girl offers her love. “Shut-up cokehead!” he tells her. Another girl wants to get onstage claiming she has a penis, and he says, You wish; not missing a beat, she replies: You wish. Standing near a speaker, Nacotheque co-founder Amylu Meneses, aka Amyluita, perches over the crowd. Clipboard in hand, she’s equal parts guarded promoter and enthusiastic fan. Her “Bodies: The Exhibit” t-shirt works very nicely as a double entendre—like that touring exhibition, she and her partner Marcelo Cunning are curators and purveyors of all manner of human form. She’s wisely pacing the flow of tequila to the stage. Later, she will be the gracious hostess with regulars streaming by—while also managing to locate my lost parka—but right now she’s hoping things onstage stay Tony Orlando and Dawn (albeit the X-rated version) and not go fully G.G. Allin. It’s a hectic time for the Nacotheque crew; they’re on the verge of a tour taking them from Puerto Rico to Barcelona and points between, and they just had the behemoth TV network Univision, which broadcasts to basically the entire Spanish-speaking world, cover last week’s party. Tonight is a one-off at a new venue, and though the attention might all seem new, Nacotheque is a growing brand that’s been built with a lot of hustle. Amylu explains, “We did it just because we had a void to fill for each other—there had to be people like us out there, even though there was no scene yet.” And likeminded individuals they did find: “Five people showed up to the first one. Some people complained that because we didn’t play merengue and salsa that we weren’t really a Latin party.” But they just kept playing records for themselves, and eventually there was a payoff. “We found [fans] all around the world—we didn’t realize there were so many people that had this void.” Although it’s on the must-visit list for Latino travelers to NYC, Nacotheque is not an ex-pat party—it’s fully native. Like the Asian-Americans at Basement Bhangra or the Ukrainian and Russian Americans at Gogol Bordello’s parties, Nacotheque reps a new American crowd listening to music in their parents’ tongue. “We’re playing everything that’s indie to them—a mixture of rock, punk, electro and dancy, underground disco—but it’s in Spanish and they’re totally blown away.” Marcelo stresses that these DJs are not rock stars: “We got to Chicago and people were really excited. It wasn’t about us—it was what we represented: Playing new music that has no exposure in the mainstream.”  They’re wary of Latin-whatever genre tags, as Marcelo succinctly puts it: “You don’t see Air in the French bins at record stores.” The Mexican-born son of agrarian workers, for Marcelo there’s also the DJ’s redemption of cross-fading in “blue-collar Latin music; now rich kids can dance to cumbia; it’s got a significance that it didn’t have before, but to me it was always good music.” Amylu, a Connecticut-bred rebel who left for the Big City at 17 years old, shares a musical epiphany from her formative years: excavating a record by a group called Alaska y Los Pegamoides. “I totally thought it was punk. On the cover they’re all dressed in Mohawks and jackets and hologram make-up…and [instead] it was this weird disco…to me, it was like danceable, weird stuff I’d never heard before.” Alaska, the group’s Siouxzie-esque singer has since gone on to fame and fortune on South American kid’s TV. In the DJ booth, Amylu and Marcelo keep it fresh by tag-teaming half-hour sets. A couple comes by and asks Marcelo to play a tune, “La Atrevida.” The girlfriend tells him it makes her crazy and the boyfriend adds an emphatic cutei-sm, “¡Locisima!” Looking around the room, I find a sexy pan-Latin essence spanning all-out trendy dolls, mellow students, young career profs, over 40s, BoHos, and a seriously good time is being had by all and the vibe just feels a little more culturally open than your average party. Oh, and the bartender replaced my beer. He didn’t have a problem believing that I was a Silverio casualty.

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So... Jul. 14th, 2007 | 03:57 am there is this party/club I go to at least once a month (it is held roughly every other saturday at a bar called "fontanas") called Nacotheque which features some of the oddest music mixed to dance/house type stuff. it is all in spanish, but im sure you can all imagine say some really old...i mean stuff your grandparents would have enjoyed...being mixed with the dj's own dance beats. Meanwhile around you are a bunch of people dancing some girls and some guys. You think nothing of it until the light hits one of the girls at just the right angle and suddenly you think - wait - I think that is guy - then the disco light moves again and you think the same of the girl over there. This is nacotheque - A party scene where sometimes the who is who of spanish rock and dance music come together and do some pretty wild stuff. Normally I wouldn't go to a scene like that unless it was an afterparty for a band I liked, like tonight's event, but I go on regular nights simply because there is always something different there to see. There are a colorful cast of characters at these parties...too many to list here really... The first time I went I didn't know what was going on and thought the people were a bit odd if not overly eccentric and animate about old songs. Then the lights turned a certain way and I thought I just hallucinated things. The second time I knew what to expect but didn't expect karaoke cross-dressers. Nor men and women making out left and right and dance-humping to a dance remix of the spanish equivalent of say nat king cole. Mind you, all this stuff happened the first time i went...but i didn't see it i guess. The third time I went everything seemed normal and all that...well as normal as it is to see people making out and dry humping around you while people cheer them on and dance right through it all. At some point in the night, the room began to fill up with smoke and I thought, "cool they have a smoke machine, this goes well with the lights." no one made any notice to it since I guess they figured people were smoking indoors down there. Non one paid notice until there was a strong smell of burning rubber and hot metal. Turns out that one of the speakers was getting too hot and was starting to melt its own cables and system. Clearly it was a fire-hazard since there were beers and drinks all over the top of the speaker...not to mention the sweat from the go-go dancers...oh yeah, i forgot to mention they have those. However very few people cared and those that left mostly went to get more drinks. No one knew what to do but dance...after all the songs were damn good... My trip today to one of nacotheque's afterparty events was just like above...expect that this time there was a fight between two gay men...well a short scuffle really...oh. there also was no burning speaker or melted wires today. However, I did notice that I was dancing a lot more and enjoying the songs more since I actually knew them...crap...im becoming one of the hetero people that actually go to the club. I knew the songs and actually danced to them more than I would have before...crap. - http://waddlyman.livejournal.com/

Chilango Mag

What's that, you ask? "Nacotheque is a made up name combining the words naco and discotheque. Naco in Mexico is a way to describe the Latin American hard-drinking, jalopy-tinkering working class – whom Americans would consider cheesy white trash." But in New York it's quite possibly the coolest Saturday nght party I've been to in a really long time. And you guessed it, it's an all Spanish dance-athon! I would even go so far as to dub it, "The Spanish MisShapes," but the DJs are more animated, the attendees are more fun, and the whole thing takes itself nowhere near as seriously as that other Saturday night staple. Plus it's at the little known bar/club, Fontana's, in the LES/Chinatown region. Aside from the cute boys and girls in the basement for Nacotheque, this place draws more of a bridge and tunnel type crowd.   Anyhoo, it's a party "where Latino and Anglo hipsters alike pogo-bop to Spanish-language, nouveau-eighties electropop, vintage rock, and cumbia. The Nacotheque hosts and resident DJs, Marcelo Cunning and Amylulita (pictured here), bring back old school Latino hits from the 60's, 70's, and 80's as well as introduce you to new Latin-alternative music coming from Mexico, Spain, Puerto Rico, Columbia, and even the United States." In other words, it's the bees-knees.   - Shanon Kelley (paper mag)   March, 2007

Latino University     "Naco-Chic" - Nacotheque is the hottest and most original latin party in NYC. Here, creators Marcelo Cunning and Amylulita dish their secrets to achieve naco-fabulousness.   DJ Name? Marcelo Cunning   Fave place to spin? The Delancey or Fontana's. Basically any smallish place with aa decent sound system, monitors, and lights.   How do you select your tunes? I try to feel the vibe of the crowd. I don't like continous-consistent tempos so that plays a big part of it.   Recipe for a Nacotheque party? Have good bad taste, blend it with current relative music and pour it over undiscovered talent. Remember to dance off the calories.   What gets people on the dance floor? When you place something that patrons think nobody else knew about.   Marcelo's Picks:   Dame Dame - Moderatto Terechkova - La Prohibida Disimulo Ser - Javiera Mena No Me Destruyas Mas - Zoe Bam Bam - Dick El Demasiado   ----------------------------   DJ Name? Amylulita   Fave place to spin? The Lucky Cat or 85A. I agree with Marcelo. A smallish place, it's more intimate and you can be right next to the dancing people while you are deeyaing.   How do you select your tunes? Fun, silly, entertaining, and dancey.   Recipe for a Nacotheque party? Pop, rock n' roll, ye-ye, cumbia, electro pop from the 70's to today's music, all in one night. Oh yeah, and dance ultil you are covered in sweat!   What gets people on the dance floor? Maria Daniela, Flans, or a flamboyant performance by Perla lip-synching to an oldie but goody while waving her large black fan.   Amylu's picks:   No Coke - Quiero Club Dias Tontos Y Grises - Dixybait Fiesta De Cumpleanos - Maria Daniela Sonido Total - The Pinker Tones Sister Twisted - Kinky

NYremezcla.com   "The brainchild of Mexican DJ/Producer Marcelo Cunning, Nacotheque was born soon after he moved to NYC from Sacramento and teamed up with party scenester Amylu Meneses, aka Amylulita.  This dynamic duo has a knack for highlighting new music from all over Latin America and Spain, boasting an enviable collection of music, new and old, popular and obscure, specializing in indie, rock, ye ye, cumbia, and more.  Marcelo and Amylu are the resident DJs, but the party also features the occasional live band as well as a guest DJ almost every time, including various local figures as well as Fofé from Circo, Memory Man from Zoé, Gil Cerezo from Kinky, and more.  Nacotheque has only been around for a year, but has firmly established itself in the scene as a reputable party and king of the after-party."   - Claire Frisbie (NYremezcla.com)   FEB, 2007

Nacotheque FONT (pc)