It was late Thursday night, the eve of the first day of the first post-pandemic edition of Rock in Rio, and from the window of our temporary home in Rio de Janeiro—a modest second-floor apartment in Copacabana, a few blocks from the beach—we could hear, perhaps too clearly, life happening in the bar across the street. On the speakers, there was no samba, no funk, no sertanejo, and no pop music in general. Just rock and roll. This is perhaps one of the things that makes Rock in Rio so unique as a festival. The city seems to revolve entirely around the event for a few days, from the Uber driver's conversation to the bar's playlist, from the visual communication on the streets to the special bus line connecting subway stations to the City of Rock; thousands of people are involved and impacted directly and indirectly by the production of this mega-event.
To avoid wasting your valuable time, dear reader, I want to make it clear that I won't be filling these lines with setlists or generic praise for how amazing everything was at this or that show. I won't even talk about all the big bands that played. I'm sure you've already read that kind of text elsewhere. I'll try here, modestly, to point out what most strongly captured my attention and heart on this first day, and what I perhaps didn't like so much.
The first day, known as Metal Day , brought to the Olympic Park in Barra da Tijuca, home of Rock in Rio, a crowd dressed in black – these beloved enemies of so-called “good taste,” usually reduced to the vulgar label of “metalheads.” I dare say that Metal Day might be the most uniform of all days, so to speak. Contrary to what this superficial uniformity might suggest, however, there is much diversity beneath this monochromatic cloak, and that was one of the strong points of the first day in my opinion.
Yes, it's true that the vast majority of black t-shirts likely bore Iron Maiden , and the legendary band was probably the main reason for much of the audience's presence, but there was much more to Metal Day between the World Stage and the Sunset Stage than your vain philosophy suggests, dear reader. On the main stage, the World Stage, thousands of people had the opportunity to watch the distinguished English gentlemen of Iron Maiden perform the heavy metal for which they have been known and idolized since 1975 in a show mixing theatrical elements, with several set and costume changes, and a solemnity that seems only those seriously talking about infernal beasts possess. On the other hand, a much smaller but equally enthusiastic audience saw the legendary Rio de Janeiro underground band, Gangrena Gasosa . The gentlemen of the so-called "Saravá Metal" are also theatrical, they also fill their music with demonic themes, albeit in the most irreverent way possible, and they are also under the broad umbrella of "Metal Day," but their music is as different from the music of English gentlemen as cachaça is from wine. And let it be clear here, both cachaça and wine have good and bad sides. Specifically, one of Gangrena Gasosa's hits, called "Quem gosta de Iron Maiden também gosta de KLB" (Those who like Iron Maiden also like KLB), carries the unflattering message to the large tribe of black shirts that "nowadays metalheads are a bunch of rich kids."
Allow me to go back a few hours in time now, still within the general theme of diversity during Metal Day, patient reader, and return to the moment when the first guitar chords sounded at the festival. The first show of the first post-pandemic Rock in Rio in history was headlined by Black men, and that's important. Black Pantera , a thrash metal and punk trio from Minas Gerais, invited Devotos , Pernambuco punk icons, to the Sunset stage, the second largest and most important stage in the City of Rock. I wasn't expecting it, but it was quite exciting to start with that banger. Despite the impressive structure of the entire festival, I had gone in there a little skeptical of the industrial side of it all. If you like rock, it's likely that some part of you wants to question something. When everything is too pretty, like a theme park, full of sponsor logos and helpful, smiling people, you get suspicious. The initial kick-off given by Black Pantera disarmed some of that distrust. Not that distrust isn't relevant and necessary. It's still there, but I think navigating through these doubts is more complex, and I promise to reflect on that in my posts about the 8th and 9th. But going back to Black Pantera, they simply came and took their place there with authority, protest, homage to Elza Soares , and great pride. Charles Gama floating superbly with his guitar above the crowd will certainly become one of the iconic images of this edition, and I was there, very close!
On a related note regarding racial diversity, it was also beautiful to see Living Colour , an American band formed almost 40 years ago, also by Black men, on the same stage as Black Pantera, later that night. They were joined by guitar virtuoso Steve Vai , adding a further blend to their already well-known sound, a fusion of funk, metal, hard rock, and more. Everyone still plays their instruments very well, and Steve Vai seemed to have a lot of fun with the group, but Corey Glover, in particular, continues to sing incredibly well. The show also wasn't without its political undertones, as in addition to a sign calling for voting and democracy, the performance was dedicated to the murdered councilwoman Marielle Franco .
This inclination towards indignation and protest, whether in song lyrics or in separate demonstrations within the show, was once strongly identified with rock, or at least with some of its subgenres. Perhaps nowadays this is no longer so evident, and that nagging feeling I had two paragraphs ago lingers, waiting to discredit some of the protests, but to be quite honest, I was very pleased to see this side of rock so present in several shows. Besides Black Pantera, Devotos, and Living Colour, there was Gojira making a pertinent protest against the destruction of the Amazon and indigenous peoples; there was Ratos de Porão (and not Ratos “DO” Porão, as the production put on the door of the dressing room of the band with over 40 years of experience) who thankfully only need to be making music to protest; and there were, of course, the many times when a large portion of the audience at several shows spontaneously chanted the now classic chorus of “Hey, Bolsonaro! Go fuck yourself!”.
Now, specifically, just to reinforce the argument "look-how-crazy-and-diverse-Metal-Day-was," among many other shows and attractions that I couldn't see because I don't yet have the gift of omnipresence, I highlight one that I could, albeit partially: Sepultura playing with the Brazilian Symphony Orchestra . It was something memorable, heavy, and beautiful, interspersing some of their greatest hits with beautiful renditions of famous classical music compositions. The whole crowd humming along to the melody of that most famous passage from Beethoven was breathtaking. Unfortunately, and here's my first criticism of the festival, some confusion in communication in the press room made the process of distributing vests to photographers a bit chaotic, and my brother and colleague responsible for our photos ended up, very frustratingly, being left out of the list to photograph this beautiful show. So, for images of Sepultura with the Orchestra, just Google it.
Since I've already started criticizing the festival, I think another small point is in order. I've talked a lot here about diversity, especially racial diversity and subdivisions of styles within rock and metal, but I didn't notice a significant presence of women on the stages during the metal day. I inadvertently contributed to diminishing the only all-female band performing on the Supernova stage, Crypta , because I couldn't arrive in time to see their show. Anyway, I don't know if this would be a criticism of Rock in Rio or metal in general. I just didn't want it to seem like I hadn't noticed the massive presence of men on all the stages.
Last review for today: the side screens on the main stage, Palco Mundo, are incredibly small. The situation is this: you're quite far from the stage and you see the musicians as tiny ants. Then you look at the screen and you see them as bigger ants, that's all.
Now, to end on a positive note, I had the pleasure of briefly interviewing the guys from Sioux66 , a hard rock band from São Paulo, after their show on the Rock District stage. They've been around for over 10 years but still have an enviable enthusiasm and play with the same energy (a lot, in fact) whether the show is opening for Aerosmith , in an underground bar in São Paulo, or on one of the smaller stages at Rock in Rio. Look for the interview; it will appear here.
Phew, if you've made it this far, resilient reader, it's time to say goodbye. On the 8th and 9th we'll be back at Rock in Rio and afterwards I'll be back here for another round of impressions, ramblings, cheap philosophy, rock of various kinds and hopefully some protest.
Check out exclusive photos from our contributor Rafael Beck from Metal Day:
