“Los Crudos are playing tonight.”
There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say out loud. And for it to be true. Experiencing Los Crudos live is something I always considered to be thoroughly out of reach for me and why wouldn’t it be? Apart from a few sporadic reunion shows across the noughties, they’ve been inactive since ’98. In fact, so resigned was I to never see them play that they had begun to slip into the part of my memory reserved for historical events and mystical creatures. Things you read about in books and daydream about through long train rides. But there I was, surrounded by what seemed like the entire UK punk scene and about to tick a very important thing off my bucket list (unless, of course, they’d suck. Then I’d pretend it never happened. I’m a big believer in selective memory).
The sheer volume of attendees was explained both by the prestige of the racket about to be made that evening but also by the fact that this was Los Crudos’ only UK show of the tour. The parking lot outside the venue was a sea of denim, which was great to witness, although it did make me wonder how tightly packed the space inside would be. As it turned out, very.
T-Chances in Tottenham is big for a punk gig but Los Crudos filled it up sardine-style. The venue had a weird vibe, sort of a mixture of a social/culture centre (which it is) and a club (which it isn’t), or like my friend put it, “cans at the bar, bouncers at the door.” After grabbing a drink, talking shit with friends and queuing up to hand over my ticket, I made my way into the main room. The air thick with perspiration and anticipation, I came in to catch the end of Shopping’s set, which, incidentally, was the last band on before LC. I was really late and under normal circumstances I would have been bummed out by that because the other bands on the bill – Shopping, Frau and especially The Lowest Form – are all absolutely killer but I was there for one thing and one thing only.
Squeezing through the tightly packed crowd to the far side of the room, I started to worry. I don’t know where they all came from but everyone around me seemed to average at about 6ft 5. When I reached the far wall I found salvation in an inexplicably vacant bench. There’s nothing like a room with a view, especially when that room is far away from flailing arms and elbows. Don’t knock it. I’m old. And then Los Crudos played. It wasn’t sentimental, it wasn’t dramatic. There was no light show, no grand entrance, no dedications or back patting. What it was was straight up, no nonsense, furious hardcore punk. It was aggressive, groovy and fast. It was punishing and inviting at the same time but most importantly, it was genuine. To see guys who have been making noise for such a long time still have so much fire in their belly is nothing short of inspiring. It’s always incredible to see people play music not because they want to but because they have to and that was what Los Crudos looked like to me.
With barely a song over a minute, the set stretched to just over 20 minutes. A total blink-and-you’ll- miss-it performance but it couldn’t have been any other way. Sure, it felt weird seeing a bouncer sending people airborne if they crawled onto the stage and at one point half of the PA collapsed but no one cared, everyone was entirely captivated by the intensity. It was chaos without menace. It was pure fun. When it was all over and I was shuffling down the tiny corridor with the other 500 attendees, I thought of all my friends who weren’t able to make it to this gig because of prior engagements or distance. I’m not the one for gloating when I witness something spectacular but Los Crudos in London is well and truly stored in the you-should’ve-been-there category. Too bad you couldn’t make it.
- Kolbeinn Þorgeirsson
Watch the full set at Tadpole Records
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