Nathy Peluso recently spoke on a podcast about sometimes going through feelings of “not being enough.” Curiously, the reactions to his musical proposal and his own figure could not be more polarized and are torn between extreme hate and absolute adoration for his commitment to excess. Perhaps this lack of consensus explains why Nathy Peluso is perceived as an important cultural force that does not receive the most stratospheric streams, but does receive the absolute respect of the most prestigious musical institutions and that sells out tickets internationally, those of a tour that these days is saying goodbye forever after two years of filming.
I don’t know if ‘Grasa’ “lacked” something to penetrate the popular imagination, because as a pop work I gave Peluso 200%. Of course, the public seems more involved in Nathy Peluso’s salsa era than it was with that album, which did not make the noise it deserved. The only novelty at the close of this Grasa Tour, already seen at Spanish festivals last year, has been the inclusion of the repertoire of the ‘Malportada’ EP, integrated into a section dedicated to salsa that already appeared in the original show.
The public attending the tour for the first time discovers a theatrical and performative show, narratively supported by a mafia story starring Nathy Peluso herself, who plays a fugitive determined to safeguard the fat and the “truth of the Milanese.” This story is told through a mini-movie projected on the screen and, in parallel, also on the stage, giving the show an evident symbolism and conceptual depth that contrast with the minimalism of the staging, where the real action is Nathy Peluso herself, while the band plays practically in the shadows.
On that iconic electric blue carpet, Nathy Peluso – dressed in a pirate-echo look – walks songs from her entire discography, going from the strength of ‘Business Woman’ to the emotion of ‘Envy’, from the almost hostile aggressiveness of ‘La Lie’ – a high-level distorted trap – to the romanticism of ‘Insensata’. In fact, Peluso debuted live tracks from his salsa EP such as ‘Que Lluevan Flores’, his ode to marijuana, although personally I liked the translation of ‘A Caballo’ live less, perhaps because of how portentous the recording itself is.
Nathy Peluso’s overflowing performative energy, reflected in the athletic power of her choreographies and, above all, in the withering faces of disgust she makes while dancing, which are actually God-level confidence, has the press clinging to the semantic package that is usually used to describe her: empowered, overwhelming, overwhelming or, my favorite word, volcanic, always emphasizing that she is a woman. Less is said about his vocal and lyrical innovations or the humor contained in this concert, which plays so much with a specific and contemporary Argentine and Latin camp.
Although the Grasa Tour concert functioned as a pop show dedicated to excess, passion and self-esteem – Peluso’s speeches addressed to the public were something like that – and there is almost no need to underline Peluso’s vocal power or the massive reaction generated by his session with Bizarrap, ‘Ateo’ or even that ‘Malportada’ that is on its way to becoming one of his great anthems, the concert did leave the feeling that something was missing as the closing of the tour, that he should say goodbye in style.
Of course, it is a success in itself to culminate the tour at the Palau Sant Jordi; Symbolically it has enormous meaning, since Peluso started very low: many of us saw her perform for the first time at Sónar, on the smallest stage of the festival. Even then the space was packed and many people had to stay outside. It was impossible to look away from this artist who was already a performing beast, even if her repertoire was not as solid as it is today.
Although tonight the Palau operated with reduced capacity, its promotion is as evident as Peluso deserves no less. But the closing of the tour did not feel like such, but rather it seemed like another extension of the tour, only expanded to a larger venue. A greater presence of guest artists would have helped – only Lua Santana appeared to sing ‘Menina’ – because although Peluso deserves to savor this moment alone, it is also nice that her collaborators accompany her and celebrate.
On the other hand, it is true that the speeches that Peluso addresses to the public, although “inspiring”, also sound too scripted and as if they come from another era. This narrative rigidity seems to prevent memorable moments of spontaneity from occurring, beyond some reference to Palau itself or to Valentine’s Day, which introduces the highly praised ‘Living like this is dying of love’. Or perhaps with this criticism we are contributing to the narrative that Peluso mentioned in that interview about never being enough, when only with an attack of mane and a pose of a gun boss he is giving us absolutely everything.
While we ask, perhaps unfairly, more from a complete artist who has worked on a visual album and has turned out to be a pioneer in returning salsa to the collective imagination, we can stop for a moment to think about what it means that Nathy Peluso closes her tour at the Palau and soon at the Movistar Arena. It means that, fortunately, we already live in that future that we imagined almost ten years ago when Nathy Peluso recognized that she wanted to be an “icon” because of the effect it can “cause on society.” She is the goddess to whom we all pray, although many prefer to be atheists.
