The Bakalao Route, from cultural avant-garde to coven

Before the Ruta del Bakalao jumped onto the event pages, it was pure musical avant-garde on a European scale, associating the latest trends of the 80s (post-punk, gothic rock, synth-pop, New Romantics) to the city of Valencia and the clubs that dotted the road to El Saler. An effervescence that, after three decades of its melting, is in the background of the images of road chaos, jug techno and lurid headlines that come to mind when we think of the route also known as the Destroy Route.

That is where the thesis of ‘La Ruta’, the Atresplayer Premium series, points to, and that is what those who defend the cultural value of the phenomenon beyond its folklore have been holding for years, against all odds. “Now there is enough historical perspective to understand what it was & rdquor ;, reflects Luis Costa, author of the book ‘¡Bacalao! Oral history of dance music in Valencia, 1980-1995’ (Ed. Contra), which places the roots of all this in the Transition, “when modernity arrived and there was a cultural and social boiling & rdquor ;.

a European laboratory

In the 70s, some Valencian nightclubs played the audacity of Neu! and Kraftwerk. And in the early 80s, Joy Division, Bauhaus, The Human League… The city hosted early concerts by Soft Cell and Depeche Mode. “Valencia has always been very electronic, and labels like Virgin looked at what was played here to promote it throughout Europe & rdquor ;, says Fran Lenaers, ‘dj’ resident between 1984 and 1988 at Spook Factory, “the first great ‘after’ in Spain”. Lenaers, consulted by the directors of ‘La Ruta’, could play up to 16 hours in a row. There was public and agitation. And bands. “Betty Troupe, Video or Glamour, whose keyboard player (José Luis Macías) had been my desk mate at school”.

But what happened for that avant-garde drive to lead to makinero brutalism, with hymns like ‘That’s how I like it’ by Chimo Bayo? Around 1990, the music faded “and tended towards hard electronics, in line with European techno”, observes Fran Lenaers, with Belgian ancestry and access to Front 242 vinyl. The narcotics changed: from mescaline to ‘speed’ (the punk drug), cocaine and ecstasy. And the general media noticed the madness that surrounded the Valencian weekends.

The Instagram of the time

The celebrations of ’92 were approaching. “And it was not nice that the world discovered that we Valencians were degenerates & rdquor ;, Fran Lenaers plays. The fatal accidents on the highway, along with the express registrations (the Corcuera Law) tempered public opinion. The magazine ‘Primera Línea’ was a pioneer in uncovering all that to the average citizen. “And then, trash television practiced informational terrorism and created social panic & rdquor ;, Esteem Luis Costa. The Alcasser Crime, in which the three murdered teenagers had been kidnapped when they were going to a nightclub, contributed to demonizing the Valencian nightlife. Already then, the cod, with ce (“from ‘what a codfish’, applicable to the good aunt and the good album”), had given way to the more ordinary label, with ka, still discussed.

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From the emergence of that club itinerary (let’s add Barraca, Espiral, Chocolate or ACTV) remains the reflection of a lost world, at the base of which were the musical restlessness and the pure exaltation of the party. “In the clubs, only 10% came to flirt & rdquor ;, Fran Lenaers raises minutes. “90% went to listen to music, dance and have fun. to interact. It was the Instagram of the time & rdquor ;.

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