By Álvaro Ramal
Photos by Isabella Burckhart and Sol Garrido
At the second to last date of the North American tour for his latest release Sayonara, Puerto Rican rapper Álvaro Díaz performed a sold-out show at 9:30 Club on the 28th of September. Safe to say, it exceeded expectations.
I was headed to the show with three of my closest friends. Off drunk confidence, getting there on time was the least of our worries. Doors opened at 10:00 PM and we got there at 10:20. We were going to be fine. But before we even got out of the car, we were greeted by a three-block-long line out the door, as if making fun of us for thinking we would be anywhere near the stage once inside.
Defeated, we trailed toward the end of the eternal queue composed of half of D.C.’s Latin American community. Familiar voices of home shot out from the factory line, as we distinguished Puerto Rican, Colombian, Argentinian, Chilean, and Venezuelan accents coming from fitted-up concertgoers eager for the show.
Finally at the end of the line, joining a friend from American University, we faced our demise. There was easily an hour and a half wait in the queue and I wasn’t having any of it. Having waited too damn long for this night and now with newfound journalistic responsibility granted to me by D.C.’s number one Foggy Bottom college radio culture blog, I had to get a good spot.
Cue the Mission Impossible theme song.
I made my way back to the start of the line, zigzagging through the masses, and headed directly to the bouncer. I asked him if I needed to do the line even if I had “press credentials” and a “media team.” In reality, all I had with me was a forwarded email confirmation from Kendall, WRGW music co-director, and four teenagers with two small digital cameras. A Hail Mary that defined our night’s outcome.
To my surprise, he took me to the side and quietly said, “Bring them here. Look for me. Do it quick.”
Trying to contain the ego trip, I ran the whole mile back and yanked my friends out of line and to the main entrance at 9:30. The bouncer made way for us to get quick access inside. As we got our tickets checked for entry, we crossed paths with two Puerto Rican freshmen getting kicked out for trying to wash the no-drinking stamps off of their hands. Omens of a great night ahead.
Finally at ground floor, the excitement was palpable. We found a pretty decent spot mid-floor next to some GW students from back home in Puerto Rico and a random 27-year-old Ecuadorian mom we befriended for the time being. Not a single word of English was being spoken in the whole venue. It was fantastic.
As the venue got more and more packed, the audience, which was growing impatient, chanted “ALVARITO ALVARITO” any time the lights dimmed a little. The stage was empty except for a microphone stand with the skeleton version of Coco el Cocodrilo, the signature crocodile character that Álvaro Díaz has been using since his third album, built into it.
Suddenly with no warning, a huge screen started playing a Star Wars-esque opening crawl with a voice-over narrating the ups and downs of romance, the beauty of making memories with a partner, and the universal pain of losing the love of your life. The crawl ended with “That’s the case in this story. Of a love that started in Felicilandia and ended in a world called Sayonara.” A great display of world-building that ties Díaz’s last two albums together in a narrative progression. Immediately after, a message popped up, representing the first of the concert’s three acts.
“NUESTRO MUNDO SE FUE A LA MIERDA” / “OUR WORLD WENT TO SHIT”
Gradually, the booming synth notes of the beginning of Sayonara’s intro “TE VI EN MIS PESADILLAS” started to play. It felt as if the venue was going to explode. Slowly, as the synths got faster and enormous-sounding 808s bellowed across the room, Álvaro Díaz finally made his way onto the stage exactly at 11:30 PM.
As the song ended, Díaz looked around the audience, the section up top and those below. A sold-out 9:30 Club was completely in his grasp.
Díaz utilized the lethal beat switch from “SIN PODERES,” to segue into the next act of the show, composed of the cutthroat breakup songs he is so well known for. However, before continuing with the concert, the screen lit up again on a machine with a Siri-like voice addressing both the rapper and the audience. Following the show’s narrative of love and loss, the machine told us to remember the good times of a relationship, think about how much we loved that person, and what we’d do to get them back. Just like that, the second message of the night appeared on the screen.
“LA HISTORIA NO SIEMPRE FUE TRISTE” / “OUR STORY WASN’T ALWAYS A SAD ONE”
The next stretch of the concert gave way to my favorite performances of the night. Díaz’s stage presence, although more subdued, shone through his self-proclaimed sad boy anthems. The way he kept himself in the dead center of the stage only moving his arms to emphasize the lyrical impact of the slow-dance ballad “Bbysita :(” was mesmerizing. He shined in the venue’s dimmed lights, lit up by a strong spotlight that made the performance all the more impactful. So much so, that it visibly invoked in the audience memories of past relationships that they might or might not have wanted to relive again. No doubt these songs helped to release a lot of bottled-up emotions that night. Suddenly, the screen lit up with the third and final message.
“MAYBE NO TE TENGO QUE DECIR ADIÓS” / “MAYBE I DON’T HAVE TO SAY GOODBYE TO YOU”
Then, Díaz sang “PARANORMAL,” Rolling Stone’s best Latin song of 2023 off of Tainy’s album DATA. Its blasting drums and headbanging production, especially the beat switch, were on another level live in concert. During this song, I felt a strange sense of community with my fellow concert-goers. Apart from the logical Latin-American connection, there was a communal love and respect for the artist and his career’s progression. Diaz himself expressed his gratitude for the D.C. audience highlighting the room’s energy from the start of the concert up until the final stretch. Even if he was alone on stage, there was no sense of detachment from the audience to the artist. It was a unified energy that created a singular organism in the venue.
After playing some fan favorites, the rapper left the stage while the audience danced and screamed like wild animals. Without saying goodbye to D.C., Álvaro Díaz ended his concert.
Until, of course, the encore.
The venue incessantly chanted “OTRA OTRA OTRA” or “ANOTHER ANOTHER ANOTHER,” which is the tradition in Latin American audiences, and as expected, the blue spotlights turned on again and Díaz complied. What followed was probably the most emotive performance of the night, with the rapper leaving his soul out for “YOKO,” the first Sayonara single he released almost two years ago. You could sense that everybody in the venue, from Díaz, to security, to the backstage technicians, to the people on the top floor and those on the ground floor, was enjoying the moment to the fullest. The singalong was deafening, but if a pin dropped you could hear it. It was a beautiful display of artistry, stage presence, and audience connection.
Once again putting Puerto Rico on the map and strengthening his connection with the capital’s Latin American community, Álvaro Díaz bid “Sayonara” to Washington D.C. after a concert experience that’ll be for the books and stick with me for a long time.
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