Los Enanitos Verdes: Soaring on the heights of popularity
A handful of songs that don't have or need a passport have taken them to all corners of Latin America. Besides the hits "La muralla verde" or "Lamento boliviano," Los Enanitos Verdes have earned their place in Spanish-language Pop/Rock through many hours of flight and an eternally adventurous spirit.
That same spirit made the members of the band that was born at the foot of the Andes in Mendoza, Argentina decide to tour the continent, using a compass that never lost its north.
They went so far north that Marciano Cantero, the band's famous bassist, lead singer and songwriter now answers his phone in Mexico. For two years he has made his home in Hermosillo, Sonora, a three-hour drive to Tucson, Arizona in the United States.
"At the moment I am working on some good melodies, once again arranging songs on my guitar," announces Cantero, clearly showing that he has left the keyboard by the wayside in order to compose the new songs that he plans to record this year in a simpler, and perhaps more effective, way.
Los Enanitos Verdes love to perform covers of other artists' well-known songs when closing their shows, the latest being "Tu cárcel" by Marco Antonio Solís. The singer ended up liking it so much that he frequently plays their version before his own concerts, in order to warm up the crowd. Logically, this has brought the band's name to the forefront of a notoriously massive audience, something quite noteworthy when taking into account that this is happening after millions of miles traveled across the continent, right when the group is celebrating its 25-year anniversary.
Our talk with Cantero starts with a statement that colors the entire conversation: "The places can be very pretty with spectacular landscapes, but it seems to me that liking a city is based more so on the people who live there."
A large part of Los Enanitos Verdes' career has happened on the road, throughout the continent. What cities in Latin America do you recommend?
I don't have a favorite place; I really like all of Latin America and am blessed to have been able to see most of it. In a way, it's almost as if all of Latin America were a single country, blurring the borders that were created afterwards. If you go to Chiapas, in Mexico, which is not known as a tourist town, it reminds you of the vegetation that you see in Colombia or Ecuador, or in other places in Central America, where it's much more robust.
Are there countries where the folks are nicer? For instance, you live in Mexico. Could it be that that's the reason?
I have been living in Hermosillo, in Sonora, for almost two years. It's been a long while since we left Argentina and started traveling, and obviously one starts to grow fond of lots of things outside your "home." Nothing against Argentina in this case, it's just that you start to see very pretty things that you'd never see there. Every country has its own characteristics and special qualities. Regarding Mexico, it is a country that we visited a lot, for a long time; I believe that my ending up living here was a logical consequence of that. But I know that I could live in any city in Latin America, because I feel comfortable in all of them. Perhaps I would avoid the busier cities, with lots of people, which is something that overwhelms me. After living in Buenos Aires for 15 years, I've had my fill of noise.
Over time, what type of relationship have you established with the audience in Central America?
The nice thing about Central America is that it made a very good impression on me from the first time that I went there in the '80s. And the most interesting thing about it is that every time we return, I keep feeling the same way. Not long ago we were in Costa Rica, in Guatemala, in El Salvador. That spirit stays exactly the same, that feeling of camaraderie with the people… And they have some delicious coffee! When you go to a city for the first time, you're a tourist, but when you've gone back four, five, six times, obviously you become something else. In some ways, you become more a part of the city.
Do you have any rituals when you travel? Are you a good, disciplined traveler, or is it harder each time you start planning to leave?
In the last few years, traveling has gotten much better, especially compared with our first trips. I was recently reading a book about Discépolo (the famous composer of Argentine tangos, Enrique Santos) and the tours that he took in 1930 and 1935; they traveled by ship, and if sometimes there was a plane, it was a miracle. I think that nowadays a flight of six or eight hours is much easier.
Is it complicated keeping a band together at a distance, given the fact that Felipe Staiti and Daniel Piccolo (the guitarist and drummer, respectively) live in Mendoza while you live in Hermosillo?
It's been a while since we've lived in the same city. In 1986 I went to Buenos Aires, and I never returned to Mendoza. It's nothing new that we each live in a different city because it's been that way since almost the beginning.
How do you organize things?
We establish a work dynamic. When we're going to record an album, we get together in some city or predetermined place and rehearse or record. Logically, for albums it's important that we spend more time together. That way, everybody has to participate. For example, Dallas is a neutral city that comes to mind as a place where we'd prepare for a tour of the United States.
Does the fact that you get together for concrete projects rather than seeing each other all the time explain the longevity of the band?
Yes, being together all the time can be overwhelming. We've lived through that period, so don't think we didn't. During those 25 years, for a long time, we lived in the same place. I think that we've gone through all the stages that any rock band that cares about music goes through. We lived in a workers' barracks, we went hungry—I think we went through everything that we needed to go through.
Did you ever imagine that you'd have a career spanning 25 years behind you, like the Rolling Stones?
I don't think that we ever thought about it. We thought about success. We wanted it badly. And we had a lot of hope. Looking at it from a distance, I can say yes, we had the "power," and a terrible desire. It's like we wanted to succeed, and that energy bore fruit. Obviously, nothing was easy—nothing. But, well, our popularity grew. What is most surprising today is that there are lots of teens—kids—singing our old songs and, just as loudly, our new songs, every time we play.


