Rødhåd at Under Club: what really surprised me about his seven hours

On Friday I went to listen to the seven hours of Rødhåd at Under Club (Amerika), with a pretty logical expectation: I was about to listen to one of the most important techno artists in the world. A guy who comes from Berlin, who has spent years touring the most important booths in the scene and who, for anyone into this music, plays directly in the big leagues.

And it was great.

Seven hours of a DJ with craft, judgment, and a huge capacity to build a dance floor. This isn't about arguing that or nitpicking to say "it wasn't that big of a deal." On the contrary.

But as the night went on, something happened to me that I didn't expect: it didn't surprise me.

And I don't say this as a criticism of Rødhåd. I say it as a praise of what we have here.

Because there were several moments during the night when I thought: I could easily be listening to this on any given Saturday at the temple, played by an Argentine DJ.

The selection, the sound, the way of mixing, the construction of the journey. Obviously, each artist has their own identity and it would be absurd to say they all do the same. But that huge gap we sometimes imagine between "the international DJ" and "the local DJ" didn't show up that night, at least for me.

And that's where a question kept spinning in my head.

Why are we so willing to pay for an expensive ticket when a name from Berlin, Amsterdam, or London arrives, but we often don't have the same willingness to listen to the national DJ playing twenty minutes from our house?

This is not a criticism of international artists coming. Let them come. The more, the better. The exchange makes the scene grow, brings references, generates encounters, and allows us to listen to artists we admire without having to cross the ocean.

The problem arises when we confuse origin with quality.

When the flyer seems to be worth more for having a foreign name than for the music that is going to play that night. When we are willing to pay much more for someone coming from abroad even before knowing what they are doing, while national artists with years of searching, hours in the booth, and a huge musical identity continue to play for minimal entry fees, for free, or in front of dance floors that only fill up when the international headliner appears.

And promoters are also part of that conversation.

I understand perfectly that an international artist sells tickets. I also understand that producing an event is a business and that the numbers have to add up. But maybe it would be good to start asking ourselves how much space, investment, and value building we are also putting into our own artists.

Because if we want the local scene to grow, it's not enough to say our DJs are good. We also have to prove it with our decisions: going to see them, paying for their gigs, and understanding that a national ticket shouldn't automatically be a cheap or free ticket. An artist's value is also built when the public is willing to pay to hear them and when promoters can offer them conditions in line with their level.

Because after listening to seven hours of Rødhåd at Under Club, my conclusion wasn't that Rødhåd was overrated.

It was another one, a much nicer one:

In Argentina, there is a very high level and perhaps we have undervalued our own.

There are Argentine DJs making music, selecting, and mixing at a very high level. Some are playing in huge clubs abroad. Others continue to play here every weekend. And there are probably several who still don't have the name, the booking, or the financial recognition that corresponds to the level they have.

Maybe the next time we pay for a ticket just because a European name appears at the top of the flyer, it will also be worth looking a little lower.

Or looking a little closer.

Because it's highly likely that what we are waiting to come from Berlin has already been sounding here for a while.