JOSHUA ABEYTA A new monthly column by the co-founder of Los Mocochetes WELL, THIS IS AWKWARD. About a month ago, I was approached by Denver VOICE Executive Director Giles Clasen, who asked if I’d be interested in covering the local music scene for the paper. Clasen had previously covered Los Mocochetes, the award-winning Denver band I co-founded and primarily managed for almost 10 years, documenting our unique “Xicano/Funk” sound and activism. As has happened with many folks who’ve covered us, Clasen and I became fast friends, both in real life and on social media. As I imagine it, he must have been reading some of my long-form critiques and thought, “I should hire this guy.” Who knew Facebook rants would pay off? While not as awe-inspiring as the prestigious FIFA World Peace Prize, Los Mocochetes have been given laser-cut glass plaques for a variety of accolades, such as Best Funk Band, Best Latin Band, Best Stage Presence, Best Band of Activists, even listed as one of Denver’s Best Jam Bands (despite being definitely NOT a jam band) by the likes of Westword, 105.5 The Colorado Sound, and more. In 2018, we even made honorable mention for the ultimate indie pipe dream, NPR’s Tiny Desk Contest. By all accounts, we were making anything music quite unlike else in town. We spoke about injustices here and abroad, including the detention and imprisonment of our dear friend Jeanette Vizguerra by the ICE Gestapo, the 43 students of Ayotzinapa, the genocide in Gaza, colonization, gentrification, empty commercialism, and post-modern malaise. You know, party music! But the tagline, “Revolutionary music you can dance to,” was a fitting descriptor, and we were able to alchemize these heavy topics into a cathartic soundscape that helped move the stagnant energy through your body like a limpia you didn’t know you needed. Like a steady drumbeat, the opportunities rolled in. We opened for some of our heroes and giants in the industry, such as Thundercat, Ozomatli, Los Lonely Boys, Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats, and even the queen of Xicano/Funk herself, Bonnie Raitt (true story). We were the first band to grace the stage at the newly-renovated, historic Holiday and Federal Theaters in Denver’s Northside (don’t you dare call it the Highlands). We helped christen Denver’s Meow Wolf: Convergence Station, thanks to our sibling band and purveyors of Mexican rock, Izcalli. We even got to play on the lead float for the St. Paddy’s Day parade in Downtown Denver one year, which was awesome, if not exactly onbrand. We were breaking barriers, cutting ribbons, smashing glass ceilings, and taking no prisoners. But, hidden beneath the bright lights, the crowd surfs, the accolades and the praise, I was breaking down. Here’s the awkward part. When Giles Clasen approached me, unbeknownst to him, I had just decided that I was leaving the group. Creative differences… typical. But vague and overused excuses aside, the grind was taking its toll. The past decade was a dizzying parade of sweaty music festivals, sweet mountain runs, nonprofit fundraisers, graduation parties, cancer benefits, and school day performances. We’ve played everything from sold-out crowds in the round at the Denver Botanic Gardens, or on the famous TEDx red dot in the Buell Theater, to standing on a plank of OSB in a backyard in Westminster (Colorado, not London) or trying to cram into the Bermuda Triangle of a tiny stage at the Lion’s Lair at 11 p.m. on a Sunday in the dead of winter, when the crowd is nothing more than the bartender and the ghosts of Colfax. We’ve been paid in tacos, tequila, exposures, and fictional bitcoin, but also a decent amount of real money. In the midst of this whirlwind, two years ago, after years of battling, bargaining, and denying that I had a problem, I finally got sober from alcohol. This past October, we took our first trip to SoCal, where we were super wellreceived in Long Beach, Oceanside, and San Diego. I had a bucket list moment when I ended up playing drums for us at Alex’s Bar, a famous LBC haunt for now-famous bands, when it was clear the guy we hired out there wasn’t going to work out. As Sublime’s unapologetically biggest fan, it was akin to travelling to Mecca and getting a job once I got there. We then topped that off by playing an even more culturally significant space when we were the first band to perform inside the Chicano Park Museum, a sliver of liberated land that lives under a byzantine series of bridges that connect mainland San Diego to Coronado Island. But, while we were dreaming of Californication, and without revealing the intimate details of the dispute, those creative differences finally came to a head, Photo by Manual Aragon and in a moment of gut-wrenching clarity, I knew. When I got back to the Mile High City, I took a significant amount of time to weigh my decision, but all the while I was looking back at the footprints in the sand, and I knew deep in my soul that it was time to carry myself into the future, which brings us to today. The future is here. Starting now, I will be your new intrepid reporter for the burgeoning Denver music scene. I will be working through a revolutionary lens in search of creative disruptors, change makers, avant-garde truth tellers, and nuanced alchemists who use the medium of music to convey their message. As for my musical stylings, I will be focusing on my two main groups: my rock, soul, & hip-hop “solo” project, lil piñon, as well as The Xisme, an alt-pop duo with my wife, Nicole, which is releasing our selftitled debut EP on Friday, February 13. The show will take place in the Tuft Theater at Swallow Hill Music. I’ll also be performing on bass with my cousin Julio Perez’s group, indie darling this broken beat, and, as always, experimenting in the lab with new collaborators, steady clipping at the heels of the muse. When not at my day job as outreach director at Swallow Hill Music, taking care of my family, playing hockey, chess, cheering on the Denver sports teams, skiing, marching, or organizing, I’ll be hitting my favorite local spots in search of Denver’s next wave of simmering talent. Which means, I’ll be doing what I’ve always done, but now I’ll have a little light in the window to shine on all the love that I’ve found. 12 COLUMN
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