Coachella published their 2018 lineup, and besides listing two strange acts — Jamaroqui and Los Ángeles Azules — it’s completely unsurprising.
Frankly, I don’t give a shit about modern music festivals. Mingling with thousands of fans of horrible bands — or even good bands — is the worst. One has to listen to comments such as “OMG, Lizzie! Remember when you got shit-faced at Danna’s house party, and you gang-banged her stepbrothers to this song? You were so liberal with your body back then. THANK GOD you came around and voted for Trump.”
Still, I like to gawk at festival lineups. Mostly so that I can keep track of how out of touch I’ve become with the general populace. And looking at Coachella’s 2018 lineup, I might as well be from another dimension because I don’t understand any of it:
I don’t understand any of it because I thought music festivals were supposed to be about youth, counterculture, and freaking about your parents, and not about booking lame top 40 artists as filler, getting positive coverage in Cosmopolitan, and hanging out with weird-ass parents who try to “indoctrinate” their children.
But I don’t know anything anymore. For example, I didn’t know Jamaroqui, that silly MTV band band from the ’90s, had made a comeback (apparently neither did most people).
I also never imagined Los Ángeles Azules, a hardcore cumbia band from Mexico, would get booked to play in what is now the most well-known music festival on earth. Coachella has been booking Spanish-singing rock and electronic artists for years (Café Tacvba, Babasónicos, Zoé, Bomba Estéreo, etc), but Los Ángeles Azules are a work-class favorite, not a hipster’s fixation.
Well, sort of. These last couple of years Mexican fresas really took to the band. In 2014, possibly 2015, the band released a re-recording of their biggest hits with guest vocals by tons of rockeros, most of whom played Coachella before:
This record made it safe for bougie Latinos to get into the Los Ángeles Azules.
What’s truly surprising is that no reggaeton artist has been booked yet. Calle 13 performed in 2010, if memory serves me well, but by then they were more Manu Chau than Daddy Yankee. Many of last year’s darlings, such Bad Bunny or even Maluma, should have made Coachella’s 2018 lineup. They seem a bit more relevant during this reggaeton-crazed year.
Alright, I’m done writing about this.
Lizzie, let’s get shit-faced and go after some siblings. I know you still have it in you.
María Rubio was so good as Catalina Creel, an iconic telenovela villain, the role ruined her career
According to sources on Twitter, and also TvNotas, the holy bible of Mexican gossip, María Rubio, the legendary actress best known for her role as Catalina Creel de Larios in Cuna de lobos, has passed away. She was 83 years old.
Thanks to her role as Soraya Montenegro in María la del Barrio, Itati Cantoral has been dominating the internet with an insane amount of memes, gifs, and even a House of Cards promo special. Itati blew up in the mid ’90s, when older millennials were still teens, and she’s that generation’s go-to character when it comes to Mexican telenovela villains.
Yes, Cantoral was great as Soraya, but the top dog in the telenovela villain game was — and has always been — María Rubio. The Tijuana-born actress was so good in Cuna de lobos that, according to an interview she did with Cristina Saralegui, the role ruined her career:
“[Catalina Creel] was a difficult, beloved character. I enjoyed playing her, but she also hurt me a lot. People completely forgot about María Rubio and now it seems that, after 40 years of being an actress, I’ve only done Catalina Creel.”
Catalina, a murderous matriarch, was known for having some of the best one-liners in telenovela history. But in the same interview with Saralegui, which was filmed over 20 years ago, María proved to be just as cunning and smart as her infamous character, but also incredibly funny:
“[Although I played a villain], I’ve received nothing but compliments, love, and admiration. Never aggression. I think viewers do attack the bad ones — bad actresses, that is.”
If you understand Spanish, check out the hilarious interview below. Watch María viciously own everyone in a panel of full of young telenovela villains:
Traumatic advice from aunt Rosa: “Don’t torture your Care Bear, Mijo. Or else.”
I was 6 years old when I yelled at Tugs, my Care Bear. I put him in time-out for not agreeing to the rules of an imaginary game I had just created.
I built a little time-out fortress for him to stay in while I played with my other toys. Coincidentally my tía Rosa was visiting that day. I urged her to see all my toys when she came into the house. I also explained to her that Tugs was in time-out, to which she replied in shock, “Mijo, mira, You have to be nice to your toys.”
I replied, “Tía, I am nice to my toys, but I’m teaching him a lesson.”
She contested nervously, “No, Mijo, you have to be nice to your toys or they might not be nice to you.”
I wasn’t following her logic.
“Mijo, if you’re not nice to your toys, then at night time they might wake up and crawl into your bed to cut your toes with tiny razors,” she said slowly while staring at my imprisoned Care Bear.
“What?!” I whispered to her while looking at Tugs from the corner of my eye.
“Yes, your toys might do very bad things to you if you don’t treat them good.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
She stood up and walked towards the doorway.
“Mijo, I brought you some tortillas. Come in the kitchen and let’s warm them up,” Rosa said casually.
From then on, Tugs sat on a tufted pillow on my dresser while I slept in velcro shoes for the next year. Growing up in my Mexican-American family meant that everything was possibly alive and watching you.