El Indio Solari's Death Revives Post-Punk as a Cult Genre

El Indio Solari's death reopens the debate on post-punk

The news of Carlos Solari's death, better known as El Indio, leader of Patricio Rey y sus Redonditos de Ricota, has shaken fans of Argentine rock. But the echo has reached further: in Spanish music lover circles, his death has served as the perfect excuse to reclaim a genre many consider unjustly ignored: post-punk. This is no coincidence. The first five albums by Los Redondos, according to experts, are brilliant and draw directly from that current of the Eighties that mixed punk's rawness with synthesizers and drum machines.

What is post-punk really?

The label has always generated controversy. Some prefer calling it gloom rock or after-punk. The more sophisticated talk of cold wave, a name that, it must be admitted, sounds quite imposing: "cold wave" sounds intense. In essence, the definition is simple: punk with synthesizers. A natural evolution that took the energy of original punk and channeled it toward darker, atmospheric, and sometimes danceable textures.

The debate over the term is just the tip of the iceberg. The interesting part is the emerging consensus: post-punk was a brief but extraordinarily fertile movement. Bands like The Gun Club, with their 1981 debut, are considered true masterpieces. They are rightly called the Pixies before the Pixies. The influence of these groups extends to today, and it is not rare to find current musicians who claim that legacy.

The genre's canon and its hidden gems

In conversations about post-punk's legacy, certain names appear as mandatory. Killing Joke, for example, is mentioned with reverence. The figure of Pete de Freitas, drummer for Echo & the Bunnymen, is highlighted as a monster behind the drums. The recommendation is clear: one should always start with the early albums, when creativity was scattered and there was no past record to live up to.

But the genre does not stay in the Eighties. Some argue that millennial post-punk also has quality. The project Collapsing Realities is mentioned, a 2010 album that cost blood, sweat, and tears for its author. Then there are the oddities: Hungarian bands like After Crying, whose leader, Csaba Vedres, is considered one of the ten best composers in history. His subsequent band, Townscream, released a great album in 1997 that some rank as the third best of that year, only behind Radiohead's OK Computer and Dee Dee Ramone's Ain't It Fun?. A comparison that, undoubtedly, is disorienting.

Controversy as part of the DNA

Not everything is admiration. Post-punk also generates visceral rejection. Some describe it as pure garbage, so punk that it makes you want to stick an ice axe into the turntable. An opinion that, paradoxically, reinforces the spirit of the genre: provocation and discomfort as aesthetic values. The recommendation to listen to a track and vomit is, in the end, a perverse compliment.

The discussion extends to the present. Interpol's new album is mentioned, which according to specialized critics is their best work since the glorious debut or Antics. There is also debate about the legitimacy of asking an AI for opinions on bands like Swans. The answer is devastating: asking a text predictor for explanations about music is the height of late-stage cynicism. Swans is perfect for listening in the dark and with the volume that makes your ears bleed, but it needs no algorithmic validation.

The enduring legacy

El Indio Solari's death leaves a void in Argentine rock, but it also reopens the door to a genre that never fully disappeared. Post-punk remains alive in current bands, in concerts that fill venues, and in albums rediscovered decades later. The label may be debated, the canon may expand, but the influence is undeniable. Meanwhile, the lingering question is uncomfortable: how many more gems are waiting to be discovered?