What began as a chance to hear Gondwana perform with Quique Neira again, after twenty years, turned into a night of music, photography, and unexpected encounters. Alongside Cultura Profética, I revisited songs that had accompanied me through my younger years, bringing back emotions and memories that remain very much alive. Between messages of love, family, and friendship, that night reminded me how music can bring us comfort and help us reconnect with our passions.
Tiempo de lectura: 6 minutes
This line from a song by Los Cafres, one of my favorite Spanish-language reggae bands, comes pretty close to describing what I experienced over the weekend.
Several months ago, I learned that Gondwana would be touring with Quique Neira, the band's original lead singer, after roughly twenty years. I was incredibly excited and started thinking about how I could travel to neighboring Costa Rica to see them perform. It was an opportunity I didn't want to miss, especially because Gondwana was one of the bands that accompanied me through my youth and helped shape my love for this music.
A few months later, they announced a show in Panama, sharing the stage with Cultura Profética, another band that has played an important role in my relationship with reggae. From that moment on, I wanted to find a way to attend, although nothing was certain.
Finally, almost at the last minute, thanks to a friend, I managed to make it. And in a way I hadn't imagined: with a photographer's pass to capture some moments from the concert.
It felt like the perfect combination. On one hand, I could enjoy the music I love, and on the other, do something else I really enjoy: photography.
Quique Neira.
Music and memories
There's something very special about live music, especially when you're listening to songs you've played over and over again throughout a good part of your life.
We often don't realize how many memories are connected to a song until we hear it again. Suddenly, people, places, moments, and emotions come back to us, as if they had been tucked away somewhere in our minds.
That's exactly what I felt that night.
Hearing Gondwana perform with Quique Neira again, along with Cultura Profética's songs, connected me with different stages of my life. I felt joy and excitement. I danced, sang at the top of my lungs, and even cried. So many years had passed, yet those songs could still move me just as deeply as they once did.
Despite the late hour, and the fact that staying on my feet late into the night is becoming a little harder these days, the music kept me engaged throughout the entire evening. There was something about hearing those rhythms and lyrics, surrounded by so many people singing along, that made the tiredness fade into the background.
And that's one of the things I've always loved about reggae: its messages of love, peace, awareness, and respect. The combination of rhythm and lyrics has a particular way of making me feel good while also inviting me to reflect.
Love was part of the night, too
There were two moments during the concert that made me think about love and family.
Toward the end of his performance, Quique Neira shared the story behind Sentimiento Original, a song he wrote when he learned he was going to become a father for the first time. What made the moment even more special was hearing that, twenty years later, that same son was accompanying him on tour as a backing vocalist.
I found it incredible to think about everything that can happen over those years. A song born from the emotion of becoming a father could now be performed alongside his son, sharing both the stage and the music.
Willy Rodríguez, from Cultura Profética, also spoke about love and what it means to be able to build a family. His words fit naturally with the messages both bands shared throughout the night.
I appreciated that, between songs, there was room for these personal stories. After so many years of listening to their music, it was also meaningful to learn a little more about the people behind those compositions and how their lives have continued to change.
If we'd planned it, it wouldn't have happened
As if everything I was already feeling weren't enough, I also ran into two close friends that night.
The funny thing is that none of us had planned to meet there. We simply ended up in the same place, enjoying music that had also been part of our lives.
At the end of the night, one of them said:
“If we'd planned it, it wouldn't have happened.”
That stayed with me. For months, I had considered traveling to another country to attend the concert. In the end, everything happened in Panama, almost at the last minute, with the opportunity to photograph the show and share the experience with friends.
I also thought about the kindness of the people who make these experiences possible. In my case, a friend's gesture allowed me to be there, enjoy the concert, and experience it from a different perspective, with my camera in my hands.
Sometimes we put so much effort into organizing certain experiences that we forget to leave room for things to happen naturally. That night reminded me of the value of spontaneity and how unexpected moments can end up giving us much more than we imagined.
More than hearing music, listening to it
I'm sure everyone can experience something similar with the kind of music they connect with most. It doesn't have to be reggae. It could be any genre, artist, or song that has accompanied an important moment in their life.
What matters, I think, is recognizing that music and allowing ourselves to enjoy it.
We're surrounded by songs and sounds while we work, drive, exercise, or go about our daily routines. But there's a difference between having music playing in the background and taking the time to really listen, understand what it communicates, and recognize how it makes us feel.
I don't want to get into a debate about musical genres or how the music industry has changed. Every generation has its own expressions and ways of creating. Still, I believe there are compositions that deserve our attention, both for what they communicate and for the work of the people who created them.
Perhaps my relationship with music also has a lot to do with a period of my life when I was a passionate drummer.
Back then, few things brought me as much satisfaction as getting together with friends to rehearse, learn songs, and eventually perform them in front of other people. We dedicated time and energy to preparing something that others could then listen to, sing along with, and dance to.
Having experienced music from that side of the stage helped me appreciate even more what happens during a live performance and the connection that can develop between those playing and those listening.
Reconnecting
When I got home, with the songs still playing in my head and the excitement of everything I'd experienced, I found myself thinking about the importance of keeping the things we're passionate about close to us.
Over time, our routines, responsibilities, and interests change. Some activities that once occupied an important place in our lives gradually fade into the background, often without us even noticing.
But that doesn't mean they've stopped being important.
That night, I was able to reconnect with music in several ways: as someone who grew up listening to it, as a former drummer, as a photographer, and, above all, as someone who simply wanted to enjoy a concert.
I'd like us to find more opportunities to reconnect with those passions. To see music as more than just a reason to go out or escape our routines, and instead as a place where we can feel comfortable, accompanied, and connected with ourselves.
As I listened to Cultura Profética, a line from Días Intensos resonated with me once again:
“No temerle a crecer…” — Don't be afraid to grow.
Perhaps part of growing is also learning to return, every now and then, to the things that have always made us feel alive.
