Uruguayan Producers Pobvio and Lechuga Zafiro on the Ritualistic Goals of Salviatek

Founded in 2014 by Pobvio (Felipe Lobato) and Lechuga Zafiro (Pablo de Vargas), the label and party Salviatek was created with the goal of connecting Uruguay’s capital Montevideo to a global club music scene then underrepresented in the country. With a name that stands for a union between nature and technology – “Salviatek flows in the techno-organisms,” goes part of the label bio – the pair have since formed an important node in the complex network of producers based in Latin America, releasing and DJing electronic bass music and throwing parties that assert the importance of ritual above all. They are a major player in a vibrant ecosystem of labels, parties and DJs that have emerged in the last ten years, spreading their mix of cumbia, reggaeton, baile funk, techno and more throughout the continent, both reinventing indigenous sounds while fostering local scenes.

Both as members of Salviatek and as solo artists, Pobvio and Zafiro have made their names through features and collaborations with labels like NAAFI, Staycore and Cómeme, maintaining conversations with artists and parties from Mexico City (NAAFI), Rio de Janeiro (Wobble) and Buenos Aires (Hiedrah Club de Baile). Obsessed with candombe, an Afro-Uruguayan music and dance that came from African slaves, they have uniquely deconstructed the sound, re-imagining it via collaborations with local musicians and combining it with baile funk, global bass music, field recordings and sci-fi attitudes, aiming to decolonize the music and the associated Latino culture.

The results, which have been played out by artists ranging from Björk to Nguzunguzu, are undeniably intriguing, combining synthetic and organic sounds in a heavily percussive framework derived from local sounds and vernacular rhythms, imagining a world where culture and biotechnology merge. Salviatek is committed to present productions with a cultural backstory that reference the past while fully facing the future – in this interview with Pobvio and Zafiro, the duo discuss what that ongoing effort means to them, their place in Uruguay’s scene and their philosophies of “primitive techniques of music-making.”

In terms of your solo projects, how do you define your music?

Lechuga Zafiro

A flawed, ramshackle but energetic ecosystem that represents the idiosyncrasy of the places I’m connected with, aiming to reach towards the deep parts of your brain.

Pobvio

Deeply influenced by rhythm, dancing culture and nightclub experiences, mostly of our surroundings. It’s also motored by my own wishes of achieving a sound that can transmit what I feel in uplifting musical moments, be they dancing to a comparsa de candombe playing in the street of Montevideo and all the stories behind that, or another scenario where music meets culture and activism in a very direct way.

Pobvio, what’s your background?

Pobvio

My granddad gave great importance to music in life – not in an academic, professional or collectors way, but as a diary and healing tool. For me it was getting together with friends and making music that led me to this stage. It really comes down to friendship and resistance, music as an ally as well as a very powerful healing tool (a concept that DJ/producers Sikuri and Funeral are developing in Bolivia).

Can you explain that concept?

Pobvio

In their mixtapes for Hiedrah Club de Baile they speak of empowering oneself with music to overcome obstacles in order to re-establish unity, or being our own medicine through club experiences and home/phone music listening. It’s no news that things are not easy and getting heavier at the moment, so [we also need] time for releasing and refreshing energy through exchange with others, to organize and find strategies for a dignified survival, too.

Your sound has been drastically evolving in the last three years. How do you define your personal research?

Pobvio

I believe everything changes, and I’d like to compass my sound to these changes, because they also define us. Maybe everything will be at risk of total collapse at some point and people are gonna have to manage to make music, too.

Zafiro, you were a member of the industrial band Camposanto, produced as Carne Zafiro, were part of the Club Subtropical collective and redefined yourself as Lechuga Zafiro to co-found Salviatek. Can you tell me about your background?

Lechuga Zafiro

I think those were the normal steps you would do to find your voice through music-making. You work with different people, you learn from them, then one day you feel you have the need to create a thing of your own, an infrastructure that represents your ideas and beliefs. Pobvio and I have been doing very similar things, but we never did it together [before Salviatek]. He’s the only one who I could start this thing with in this city, and so we did.

Do you think there are still traces of punk in your music?

Lechuga Zafiro

In a way, yes. I remember getting punched by someone in the DJ booth that felt too uncomfortable with what I was playing, so I could say Salviatek’s music is provocative to some here.

How would you describe the scene in Uruguary?

Lechuga Zafiro

Our friends that make music in Montevideo don’t expect anything from music-making except playing at cool underground parties, having a good time or producing music. There’s no infrastructure, no economic support, no career projection if you are not making rock music or house/techno. So I’d say we’re kind of special in that sense. We come from a place where the people from our scene – an experimental/noise background mixed along with dance culture – know there’s no way to survive without a “normal job.” In a way, this stressful and real approach to cultural production bring unique results to the table, but it might feel maddening at times, so we’re also trying to change this situation, and that’s when Salviatek comes in. We want to project our artists internationally. We want them to keep on doing what they want and feel more free at the same time. We want the “first world” to share their privilege with us.

Can you tell us about your selection process and the ideas behind your DJ sets?

Lechuga Zafiro

When I play in Uruguay, my DJ sets are basically an attempt to break down prejudices and make people understand that the music in our cities is as important as any other “first world” thing they consume. When I play abroad, I want people to hear things they’ve never heard. In general, I want to make people dance and at times scratch their heads.

Pobvio

I feel pretty much the same. Many times when I DJ I try to be annoying to some - especially those who have prejudices towards “third world” music – and caring to others; sometimes I know that a track will make a friend smile. I also play for myself at times of disconnection, hoping my own satisfaction brings people closer, and other times I see the moment to throw in strong messages, like a speech, in a peak moment of the night.

Uruguay has a flourishing scene of house and techno producers/DJs, with several labels and parties running almost daily. Do you feel connected to that narrative?

Lechuga Zafiro

We respect it, but what makes us special in Montevideo, whether you like our music or not, is that we’re the only ones doing this kind of thing. We try to hold on to this idea.

What are your plans for 2017?

Lechuga Zafiro

I’m working on the final details of a new EP for NAAFI as well as preparing three Salviatek projects. It’ll be busy.

Pobvio

I’m releasing a track for a very special compilation soon, a remix of Zafiro’s masterpiece in the Salviatek remixes release of the Aequs Nyama EP; some new edits, and working on a new EP consisting of a lot of self-recorded organic material and primitive techniques of music-making, in order to represent the continuity of my culture through time.

I like the idea of “primitive techniques of music-making.” What is your workflow for that, technically and conceptually?

Pobvio

For me, the ideal workflow would be a balance between concept and technique to better elaborate and present your ideas. I think in every approach to sound creation the result is what matters, and if you are designing a complex set of sounds, that can be made out of something as simple as the intentional hit of a stick on a tree or even the recording of an animal making sounds without human intervention. It´s new tricks mixed with very old sound sources. So no matter where or when you are, almost anything is suitable for music-making, and there’s an irony between that and all the resources, and their availability, that we need to achieve a certain musical standard.

On both a personal and artistic level, what does Salviatek mean for you?

Lechuga Zafiro

Salviatek is the platform we’re shaping to express our ideas and build a network of friends. It has changed from being the label/party where we edit and play our music with our own set of rules, to becoming an infrastructure that helps other artists we believe in grow.

Pobvio

It also transcends us and becomes autonomous, capable of bringing ideas by its own. We are trying to build it in that way, dynamic and open.

Your releases present dystopian visions where music, design, nature and technology are combined. How do you envision these worlds?

Lechuga Zafiro

There is a big dystopian element as a warning. Personally, I’m always thinking about the future of South American political systems, surveillance systems and population control through little sci-fi stories. I’m finding the way to adapt these ideas for the Salviatek universe.

Pobvio

It is dystopian, but we intend to avoid the fetishist approach to it, instead showing the genuine concern of the voices that are silenced by market interests in this crucial point of worldwide cultural exchange.

What are the ideas behind the Salviatek event series?

Pobvio

The basics have always been to have a space where respect, diversity and identity are guaranteed, and that has come naturally on the events, really. A friend told me she noticed that “every Salviatek date is near full moon,” and I think that shows a connection not only to the aspect of attending an artistic performance but to a deeper consciousness of participating in a meaningful ceremony.

Can you talk about that ritualistic side of Salviatek?

Pobvio

That was an unintentional but very important one, planning events with moon activity. Also, the work we do to facilitate the occurrence of an elevated moment at the events, thinking about the lineup and its meaning, again, with the stories behind it and behind the people at the moment of sharing, which tends to be increasingly diverse, thankfully. For me it is very important to see social class mobility integrated and cut with the elitist white audience, especially if 80% of your DJ set is ghetto music.

You often collaborate with the queer and LGBT scene here in Montevideo. Is there a personal interest or is it part of the label’s political stance?

Lechuga Zafiro

Both. It’s not only dancers and party-goers but also DJs, singers and producers active in this community that are essential to Salviatek. I remember people from Tienda Rara being the only ones going to our parties even before Salviatek even existed, dancing to tribal or candombe-inspired tracks in an empty bar on a Wednesday. Since those days we’ve built a strong relationship: we’ve organised events together, played at Pride parties together. Nowadays, we’re planning records together.

How important it is for you to address racial and gender issues, especially within South America’s macho tradition embedded in the main narratives of genres like reggaeton?

Lechuga Zafiro

I think there’s a complex and very problematic intersection between race, gender, class and identity on our continent. We try and balance critical aspects of each one to create a new representation, a less bigoted and more respectful one. Through DJ sets, the records we edit and the acts that play at our parties, we inform people about our views on these issues. At the same time, these experiences in Salviatek are useful to fight with our own ghosts regarding those conflicts.

Pobvio

Uruguay has a very strong division of gender and race, which is a taboo, but I don’t feel like speaking of “races”; rather, ethnic groups and people of different cultures and backgrounds. Proof of this issue is that there’s an ongoing feminicide both in Argentina and Uruguay that it is not being well-addressed and gets out of the big picture.

There is a lot of discussion nowadays about the role and presence of women in local music scenes. How are you addressing that discussion in Salviatek and your own productions?

Pobvio

I want Salviatek to provide that space as much as I want to untokenize the subject. The truth is we are always working together, and if it’s not that active or visible it’s because of the same issues that we are trying to fight against: invisibilization, objectification or even tokenization is not cool. But universalisation of these problems is not a clever choice, either. We also have other female roles rooted not only in the well-known Western oppression of women but in the resistance of indigenous empowered women that has a long tradition in the Americas. I think we have to pay attention to these “other” forms of conceiving genre and roles if we intend to change the situation. Everyone is affected by this oppression, but in considering these “other” stories we learn that dominance and exploitation has more to do with economic interest than with human nature.

Lechuga Zafiro

If you get into the Salviatek world – read release notes, read video credits – you’ll see our way of collaborating with people has always been consciously integrated. Maybe not as much as we’d love to, but we’ve worked with amazing producers like Mobilegirl, Foozool, DJ Haram and Tayhana (the last two are part of upcoming releases). Paula Domínguez and Carmela Tzigana have been part of every audiovisual project, like our first video, the F5 video, flyers, etc... Tayhana, R€TUMB4, The Dance Pit and Tomasa Del Real have played on our events. We’re always thinking about balance and representation. Unfortunately, we still haven’t found a producer from our region that is interested enough in releasing a record with us or that can mingle with the Salviatek ethos. But we are eagerly looking for her, and hope we cross paths soon.

Do you feel Salviatek is connected in some ways with Uruguay?

Lechuga Zafiro

I guess this will be an important year regarding that. We are working on projects that should turn the heads of Uruguayans towards our label, like F5, a live project that involves Candombe drummers with Salviatek DJs. F5 has been crucial in the sense that it works as a hook for some listeners that perceive Salviatek as “too hermetic.” Balancing your aesthetics or ideals and a better connection with the public is a complex issue in Uruguay that I’ve recently started to pay attention to.

Pobvio

We live in an Uruguayan-claimed territory, and state apparatuses obviously have reached us since childhood. We have to play by these rules, but as I said before, much of our work has to do with deconstructing these barriers and becoming capable of understanding our history and identity beyond state hegemony and political frontiers. Candombe is an Uruguayan-born rhythm, but has its roots in Africa, so we feel very connected to Africa, too. Uruguay has less than 200 years [of existence], so Salviatek is also interested in the narratives that preceded the modern nation’s representation and, as the book The Invention of Uruguay from Uruguayan writer Gustavo Verdesio puts it: “The entrance of the territory and its people to the universal history.”

Candombe is a drum-based Afro-Uruguayan rhythm, a traditional celebration of freedom rooted in social resistance. You are both part of F5, a music project alongside three candombe musicians. How do you deal with that tradition?

Lechuga Zafiro

I think the project has significance beyond than just the concert or the music. The C1080 drummers tells us they feel like “F5 is a way to resignify and keep their culture alive.” We’ve also worked together in workshops that teach about the history and the way to play these tambores (drums). The aesthetic is plain and simple. It’s just what it is: candombe drums and CDJs.