Not ready for Arredefolk

IbizaThe four of them take the stage. First, Cristian Tur and Pere Serra Gallet start playing the drums and flutes; then, Genoveva Tur makes a uc, while Maria José Cardona picks up a horn, blows it, and announces: "There's a jarrito!" Up to this point, everything is normal (relatively normal, because, jarrillo, I didn't see it). Then, Maria José Cardona presses a button on a console in front of her and an electronic bass line begins to play. And that's the end of normality.

The four of them are from Formentera and are called Arredefolk: from 'folk'i'I was abandoned (euphemism forrredefotre). It may be the best band name ever invented in the Pitiusas. Arredefolk practice a fascinating fusion of traditional Pitiusan music with electronic bases and lyrics and melodies that are sometimes original, other times, hijacked from the popular songbook, of the hits international or the most countless pachanga. It's as if she combined a traditional pit dance with the KU of the 80s, the legendary Ibiza nightclub. They take all the instruments from traditional Pitiusan music: the drum and the flute as a base, with the occasional intervention of castanets and the espaci; not forgetting the redoubled singing, which Genoveva Tur has practiced since she was six. But all this is immersed in the electronic soup created by Maria José Cardona, the instigator of this demonic invention. "We don't want to copy anyone," assures Maria José. "So, the crazier the idea, the more we go crazy."

Maria José Cardona's compositional technique is cultural appropriation. In other words, like Rosalía. She takes any music that isn't Pitiusan, puts it through the capoladora, and comes up with a sobrasada coenta. For example, I have a yellow tractor transforms in a jiffy I have a pig who is an artistIn another song, the traditional ones are mixed His serenity falls small, with the return of Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes (Lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-looo-lo...) with the introduction of The Final Countdown from Europe (You-naked-nu-naked, you-naked-neither-naked-nor...). And it sounds good. It will be the third musical reincarnation of Maria José Cardona, after 4 de Copas and Imarantia, now transformed into a kind of Formentera Bizarrap.

Bandar and irreverent spirit

All of this is happening on the day of Carmen in Es Cubells, Ibiza. Arredefolk's capacity to attract crowds is evident; they've already performed a few concerts, everyone has heard about it, and some videos on social media have gone viral. The patio where the concert is taking place has long since become too small, and the audience invades a public path, to the despair of the members of the Civil Protection Unit. Maria José Cardona shouts "Arredefolk!" from the stage, and the audience responds as if risking their lives: "ARREDEFOLK!" You look at them and it's easy to think of the Mallorcans Ossifar (Do you remember...?) for the rogue and irreverent spirit, and even more so in the Ibizans Pota Lait, inventors of electropagés with their mythical Ibiza nidosinBut Arredefolk is something else; they have a global project, ambition, bad intentions, and a desire to have a good time. Ingredients that, perhaps, will bring them success. "We'll see," muses the group's leader. "We'll see if this will just be a one-night stand." For now, they confess that they've had to turn down a couple of performances because it was incompatible with the work lives of some of the musicians.

"When we posted the first video and in the first 24 hours we already had 20,000 views, the truth is we couldn't believe it; I was wondering if my phone had broken down," explains Cristian Tur. They were the first to be surprised by their success, and they still approach it with skepticism. "Our only ambition is for the audience to be happy," assures Genoveva Tur. "And, above all, not to leave with our guts torn." With or without a gonella, Arredefolk is a project that has grown rapidly; Maria José Cardona has had to learn electronic programming along the way, while the dreamers, Cristian and Pere, both 21 years old, both members of the dance group Es Xacoters from Formentera, accustomed to making everyone dance to their rhythm, have had to learn to adjust to pre-recorded beats. "At first, we sweated," says Pere. Genoveva Tur has had to do the same with the castanets. In fact, this is the most common formula on stage today: a pre-recorded beat, over which a few musicians play; sometimes, just a singer and some dancers. If it's done well, it's very difficult to distinguish what's recorded and what isn't.

A live band

Arredefolk are and feel like a 100% live band. "We're not planning on recording any albums," Maria José Cardona asserts emphatically. "Why? They're not selling anymore!" And they're not wrong. Sweating and making the audience sweat is their mission. The day of Carmen at es Cubells wasn't too difficult either; the heat was intense and the humidity stuck to your face like a rubber glove. Worse, like a noisy gonella. High up on the stage, the four musicians began to dance campesino (country dance). Among the spectators, a good crowd joined in. "Arredefolk!" "ARREDEFOLK!"And I think it's Catalan."said a tourist who was looking at him. Gone, yes.