I spent three days in Lima at the end of last year and I went to every music event I could find. I want to say this upfront because what I'm going to write is based on that experience as much as on the listening I've done before and since, and the experience matters. You can learn a lot about a music scene from recordings. You can't learn what you learn from being in a room where the music is being played, from watching the audience, from talking to people at the bar, from the particular energy of a city that is alive and complicated and deeply itself.
Lima is deeply itself in a way that resists easy characterisation. The city of twelve million is internally diverse in ways that its international image — which is primarily about food, these days, the restaurant scene having successfully exported itself — doesn't quite capture. There are multiple musical cultures operating simultaneously, in different neighbourhoods, for different communities, with varying degrees of connection to each other. Chicha, the Peruvian genre that emerged from indigenous and Andean tradition encountering cumbia in the mid-twentieth century, is the deep root. Electronic music built on and around that root is where some of the most interesting current work is happening.
Chicha and Its Children
Chicha was always hybrid music. It was always the product of migration and cultural collision — Andean migrants arriving in Lima, encountering coastal musical forms, synthesising something new from the encounter. The synthesisers and electric guitars that characterised classic chicha gave it a psychedelic quality that connects it, across oceans, to global garage rock and electronic experimentation. Contemporary Limeño producers who are working with this material are doing what all good producers do with inherited forms: they're keeping what's essential and discarding what's particular to a moment that has passed.
The names I'm not going to write here — because the artists I encountered have, in several cases, asked not to be written about by foreign press yet, and that request deserves respect — are doing things with rhythm and texture and traditional melodic material that deserve a much wider hearing. What I can say is that the scene is real, is producing work of genuine quality, is not merely derivative of anything happening elsewhere, and is building its own infrastructure of labels and nights and connections.
On Going Looking
The music press tends to wait for music to arrive at it. This is partly practical — there is too much music being made for anyone to seek all of it out — and partly cultural — the assumption, which is sometimes unconscious, that important music will make itself known to the centres of taste-making without anyone having to go looking for it. This assumption is wrong, and it produces blindness that is cumulative and corrosive.
Going to Lima changed what I listen to. Going anywhere outside the cities that function as musical capitals will do this. The world is full of music that has not made the journey to the places where it would be recognised and celebrated, and some of it is extraordinary. The appropriate response is not to go and extract it — to arrive in Lima and leave with content and leave the scene itself unchanged. It's to go and listen, and to return, and to create the conditions for the music to travel if it wants to.
I'm still processing what I heard in those three days. I don't think I'll stop processing it for a while.
The broader point is about attention and where we point it. The global music press, even in its most open-minded versions, operates with an attention economy that systematically advantages certain places over others — not through malice but through inertia, through the accumulated weight of existing relationships and existing frameworks. Breaking that inertia requires going somewhere. It requires getting on a plane, or finding someone who has, or following recommendations from sources that don't share your cultural centre of gravity. Lima was worth going to. Every city is, if you go ready to listen. I came back with my ears changed. I recommend changing your ears.
The music is there whether or not I write about it. Whether or not anyone in Europe or North America pays attention, there are people in Lima making music that matters to the people it's made for. My job is just to listen carefully and point in the right direction. The direction is south.
