Dardara (2021) - full transcript
After 25 years of non-stop creation and at the peak of their career, the rock band Berri Txarrak decided to hang up their instruments. But before they did that, and as a farewell, they did one last tour around the world to thank all those fans who had bopped to their music all those years. Filmmaker Marina Lameiro went with them with the intention of recording the occasion, construct-Eng a choral portrait from diverse stories that range from Spain to Mexico, Germany, Japan, the United States, etc., all marked by a common passion: the music of Berri Txarrak. We see what their songs have left behind in a story that follows the final steps of a group capable of transcending a style, a language, and several generations to become a universal phenomenon. Dardara (Trembling) is a documentary that progresses through the lyrics and reflections of Gorka Urbizu, author of the group's songs for a quarter of a century and who now faces the vertigo of a creative future that is yet to be written. A film about the power of music and passion - the "minimum requirement," as one of their lyrics says. Passion is what has guided them from their beginnings to this last tour and what has allowed them to become an important part of the life of thousands of people.
I've learnt a lot on this journey,
I'm still ignorant...
Amazed, compelled, loved...
Overrated, censored...
Satisfied...
Empty...
Starved...
Free...
But a slave to all this.
Grateful, and proud
of everything we've achieved.
A friend, and an enemy.
Embraced by so many,
yet alone.
Silently screaming...
I'm still here,
but I'm already somewhere else.
Wishing I could stop...
Scared of it all ending.
I want to scream
into the depths of my soul.
Loud like the silence.
Our truth is just as important
as yours is.
I want to scream.
Don't lose the thread that binds us!
And they talk for me…
I was 17
when we started Berri Txarrak.
Everything is pure at that age.
Noise is the easiest way
of railing against the world.
At 40, you're still the same person,
but you're not necessarily the same.
Now, at this precise moment
when satisfaction meets exhaustion,
I can say it’s been incredible
to have experienced
every minute of this group's story.
I also think it's time
to hit the pause button.
An indefinite halt,
a change of course.
After it was announced publicly,
the 25,000 tickets for our
final gigs sold out immediately.
Crazy.
Before we stop, we’ll do
one final world tour.
We've got nine hectic months ahead.
Eh… Gorka, let's try your voice.
Ok, a bit louder.
Good, that's fine.
David, let's hear your voice.
Our first European gig
was in Germany.
That experience
was crucial to us quitting our jobs.
If we wanted
to make it internationally,
we had to give it our all.
Sure, we already lived for music,
but making a living from music?
I was born for this,
and it'll be the death of me.
- Hi!
- Hi!
Are you here for Berri Txarrak too?
Yeah, but we don’t know if it's this door.
- Where are you from?
- Germany, I live near Frankfurt.
- Do you always go to the gigs alone?
- Yeah, usually.
It's rare that I can convince someone
to go with me.
Are you going to the other gigs?
You're following the tour?
Yes. If they're in Germany, sure.
At one concert in France
there was some problem with the advertising
and only one person went.
But they played for that person.
Yeah, it was on TV.
Just one person and they did the gig.
Here it is...
They play for one person in France.
I don't know.
How does 'Infra' end?
- 'Denak'?
- Wouldn't it be better to start with 'Infra'?
Yeah?
Yeah, you finish 'Jaio'
and ''oh yeah!''.
I say something, and 'Denak'.
And then...
No, after 'Jaio'.
- After 'Jaio'.
- After 'Jaio', to finish the set?
It'll be a really great moment.
And then at the end...
'Oihu', and then
'Min Hau' and 'Ikusi Arte'.
Shit, there's nothing from Haria
or from Payola.
What time is it?
Late! I need to change
and go through the rigmarole.
I need a tonne of imagination.
To keep calling anything
a revolution.
I'm really worried,
and yes, I'm the exception.
So much that I believe
that I can change something.
On my side: just six strings.
Enough courage
to ask myself questions.
Against us: a sterile inertia
that engulfs everything.
The years are long
in the century of turtles…
So much literature
to explain that probably.
More than all the watches in the world.
This time that’s slipping away
is worth a thousand times more.
Since that first tour,
we’ve returned countless times.
It's not massive, but I think
we've left our small mark on this country.
I remember the venues
we've returned to time and again:
Sonic Ballroom, Cologne;
Hafenklang, Hamburg;
Alte Hackerei, Karlsruhe;
the Au squat in Frankfurt;
and of course, Clash in Berlin.
When people sing your songs,
wherever the gig is,
it moves you deep inside.
That's when you realise:
''This is why I’m still doing this''.
Have you ever made a list
of all the concerts you've been to?
No, maybe I should.
But it's almost impossible now.
- A hundred?
- No idea, I couldn't say.
I started going to gigs
when Berri Txarrak went on tour.
There were loads of gigs back to back.
At gigs, I let myself get carried away.
I love being with everyone else.
Talking to them, getting swept along,
the music, the group...
It's an amazing feeling,
I can't describe it.
The same fire that burned you
lit the way.
The basic law of walking,
falling and getting back up.
The same fire that burned you
lit the way.
The basic law of walking,
falling and getting back up.
Dear Gorka,
I'm writing to ask you a favour.
When I started to transition,
I decided to get a tattoo that says
''ikasitakoa desikasten ikasi''.
I'd like to use your lyrics, if I can.
It'd be really special.
We've already had our final gigs
in Berlin, in Paris, in Gernika...
Little by little
you see the consequences
of this difficult decision.
From the dressing room,
you hear cries of ''Encore! Encore!''.
Then, you ask yourself…
Are you really going
to leave all this behind?
Prioritising was never easy.
Managing a group is making
thousands of small decisions.
Instinct has always guided the way there.
Even when you've felt over-exposed.
On one hand, you've got
the best thing music can give you:
people listen to what you say,
or to your music.
On the other hand,
this means learning
while everyone watches.
Now my instinct is telling me
that to keep exploring as an artist,
it's time to leave ''home''.
It's hard,
but you can't ignore a calling like this.
When someone becomes the battlefield.
What is victory? What is defeat?
I don't expect to come out of this OK.
But just to feel alive.
But just to feel alive.
- Mum.
- Yes, sweetheart.
In the song 'Min Hau',
why does it say
that they can’t find
the wound anywhere?
What does that mean?
Hmm...
what does that mean...
It means that...
...they feel pain inside,
and that they're not wounded.
Something can happen that hurts you
but doesn't leave a wound.
Like...
I don't know...
If someone behaves badly
it can hurt you.
- Like disrespects you?
- For example. Or...
...when someone you love... dies.
Or...
when they're far from home,
and you can't be with someone...
There could be
loads of things inside us
that hurt us,
- but don't leave a wound.
- But don't leave a wound.
Sometimes,
this pain is much more painful
than a wound.
Inner pain.
OK, great.
Straighten your arm.
Turn your wrist slightly.
I've got no idea what this means.
I prepared the tattoo
and forgot to ask you what it means.
It's a line from a song by Berri Txarrak,
As I said, I'm transitioning.
It means,
''learn to unlearn what you've learnt''.
I'm unlearning everything
that I learnt years back.
For me, this transition symbolises
not a new stage but a new life.
The life I always wanted,
but that it’s been hard to get.
- Great. It's ready.
- Perfect.
When is your first appointment
with the doctor?
Next week. So much waiting,
and now it's almost here.
- You must be really excited.
- Yeah.
Why do you like Berri Txarrak so much?
They've helped me so much
since I started listening to them.
Ever since school.
The thing is, everyone has problems.
Instead of turning to other people,
I turned to music.
Unlike people, music doesn't judge you.
You felt more understood.
We end up judging
without meaning to.
You might say something
to someone who's struggling,
and end up hurting them.
I started listening to them at 14,
then I started going to gigs...
to Berlin when I was doing Erasmus…
until now.
I think I'm a bit of a freak.
People tell me I am.
You can never be too freaky.
Sure, but you can always be freakier.
Where are these madeleines from?
These? Lekunberri.
No way!
Lekunberri!
Is the attic like it was
when we recorded Jaio.Musika.Hil?
No, no.
It's completely changed.
This is your home,
but for me it'll always be
the place where we recorded Jaio.
I remember how the drums sounded.
Later Albini copied you.
- Really?
- Yeah.
The reverberation in there...
To record drums like that...
Txap-style...
In you go.
The light?
You played here, right?
And Txap was there.
This was the control room.
The demo you made...
You brought it to GOR.
We did?
Yes. Three, maybe all four of you.
- Seriously?
- Yes.
I remember taking them
to bars and what not,
- but did we go to GOR?
- Yes.
And right at the end,
you were heading out the door,
and you said,
''If you ever need someone to work here,
I'd be delighted''.
- Seriously?
- Yes.
- Later you took me up on it!
- You don't remember, of course.
No. But I remember you calling
to offer me a job.
I was a bit of a nerd.
A good student and all that.
Always chasing my tail,
but I got good grades.
I listened to a lot of commercial radio.
I discovered rock late on.
My classmates would listen to
Rock Radical Vasco
but I didn't like it.
And now, do I regret it?
I regret it, I mean,
it's shame that
I didn't experience it then.
For me, the 1980s...
Look how important that decade was.
They paved the way.
We're here now
because of that explosion.
But I wasn't into all that.
Back then, I played keyboard, accordion
and that sort of thing.
And I listened to
loads of commercial radio.
Do you remember any songs?
It's May, and we're heading
to North America.
This time, we'll tour the west coast.
Portland, Sacramento,
San Francisco, Los Angeles...
In each city, we inevitably recall
at least the name of a group.
There's a reason we've recorded
our last few records here, in America.
We've also been able
to work with many musicians
that we worship.
For example, Bill Stevenson,
the drummer in Black Flag, among others.
It's amazing, but it was him
that convinced us
to record our last record,
'Infrasoinuak'.
In happened in a dressing room
in São Paulo,
right after we finished
the tour with the Descendents.
Ultimately, we're musicians
because we were once listeners.
What to say, and how,
about these dark times
that's not been said already,
by cartons and fatigue.
Where to start digging the tunnel
with these songs
insipid songs.
Because it's already been said
somehow or other
that they're wolves
that do the shepherding.
That they were thrown a rope
to get them out of the well,
not to go around their necks.
How to get to the surface.
How to get to the surface.
Because it's already been said
that vultures fly too high
beating their pigeon wings.
Time is the only polygraph.
The rest is speculation.
Time is the only polygraph.
The rest is speculation.
The rest is speculation
5 hotels in 3 days.
What do you make of that?
A record.
On tour, you can lose 23 hours of your day
to play for just an hour.
Our second home has four wheels,
and we've been in it for months.
This year, as well as the fans,
I feel like
it's the BTX Crew
that's kept this building upright.
Their job is
more complicated than ours.
They have to set themselves
really high standards,
knowing that the camera
is never pointed at them.
And we don't make their job easy.
Take the set list, for example.
We usually plan it the day of the gig.
Little tricks,
to fight inertia and the rut.
Without them,
we'd never have lasted 25 years.
It's a pleasure to perform here.
Next is a song
that's around ten years old now.
We recorded it back in 2009,
with the great Steve Albini.
It's a song about
how it feels to walk out on stage
and see everything from up here,
and the void that follows...
...some philosophical thoughts
about writing songs,
and sharing them with people,
which is what we most like to do.
Thanks for being here!
This one's called, 'The atheist God'.
Don't think
that I've invented something new
just because I asked you
the right questions.
Don't think you're safe,
forever dancing on the edge
of this abyss,
because you end up confusing
success with happiness.
Creating is trying to tackle
your inability to communicate.
A substitute, ultimately.
I don't know, I can write a song
but maybe I'm not able
to tell the waiter
that the soup is cold.
Sometimes writing is pure reaction.
Afterwards, I think
that there's a poetic intention.
We seek beauty somehow or other.
Maybe to tell some story,
and to question the few things
that we might hold certain.
You accept, of course,
that this attempt is doomed to fail.
Other times,
the pen is an escape,
like a marine creature shooting out ink.
In the beginning,
I was really focussed on the music.
The lyrics were... something
you had to write to finish the song.
Now I think it's the other way around.
I have enormous respect for words.
It's not about being original.
Many things have been said already.
But you try to use your own voice.
You get rid of all the excess layers.
Three with lean pork.
With tongue too and three with cheese.
I want three with tongue.
I'm burning here.
Right now it's burning.
I didn't know anything.
I didn't know the language,
who they were, what they played...
I was really curious.
This was a band that played a gig
for just one person, in France.
- That's when I started to investigate...
- With good reason!
…who Berri Txarrak were, because
I couldn’t even pronounce their name.
Mexico! You bastards!
It’s a pleasure for Berri Txarrak
to be back in this incredible city.
Maybe for the last time.
Thank you!
This one's called, 'Infrasoinuak'.
The infrasounds are coming.
The ones we can’t feel.
Across the sea.
When I saw them there,
my legs trembled.
I wanted to tell them so many things,
ask them so many questions...
But in that moment,
you wonder if it's real
or if you're dreaming.
Seeing them live,
remembering those moments...
- It moves you.
- Yes. You feel the magic.
You connect with that voice,
even though you don't understand
all the lyrics.
You connect with their
energy, their voice...
the emotion that Gorka brings to it.
It's like a journey.
It climbs, and climbs,
and climbs and comes down.
You feel alive,
you feel unique in that moment.
I can't remember any time
at their gigs
when I haven't been
totally transfixed.
Since this alleged flight started
It won't be this alleged flight.
Wicked and incorrect
A misunderstood drop.
Xabi!
It looks a bit uncomfortable.
Yeah, it sure is.
Having breasts...
I don't like it much.
You can really hear
how your voice has changed.
Don't you think
it'll change you on the inside?
Mentally, maybe, sure, but...
It'll make me stronger.
After everything I've been through...
At the end of the day,
this is what I want, right?
I chose this change,
it's what I wanted.
I wanted to accept myself,
to love myself, and...
Well, I'm getting what I wanted.
Slowly, but it's happening.
And you should do something crazy.
Like be happy, or something like it.
- Enough?
- Yes, enough.
Totally fucked?
- Why fucked?
- It has to sound brutal.
- So play properly!
- Sure...
With no people here...
Let's try the Fender
and then we'll do a few songs.
OK, Mikel.
Maybe it'd be cool
to play four rounds.
Three...
Now four.
And now it starts.
Yeah, it starts on the fourth.
And when this riff comes in,
the song starts,
and the crowd knows which one it is.
That could be the right time
to turn the stars on,
and then I start singing.
Sometimes I remember
about the need to forget.
The racket of those
who prevent us from listening.
Often I think
of Amaia Egaña.
With the burst ball
from the Bakr brothers.
Of that gang
of good-for-nothings.
There were like...
almost seventy shows.
When you're on the 23rd
you still have more than 55 left, right?
I was having a great time.
It's been incredible,
but as the end gets nearer
and you realise...
you think: I hope that what I want
doesn't come true.
It's a bit like that.
But great, honestly
the audience is incredible.
And everyone is watching.
The press is watching and
everyone is asking how you feel.
Well, we all like to play.
I've never gotten tired
of the hour and a half on stage.
You'll never get tired of that.
I need that drug
and I'm going to keep creating.
What I don't know
is when, or how, or in what format.
It's really alluring,
though later I'll panic.
But I think it's cool.
Sometimes I think of that film…
One by Spike Jonze.
It's called Her.
The film's a bit strange.
Part science fiction,
a bit Black Mirror...
It's about the ideal person,
our ideal companion,
except they're virtual,
they're not a real person.
They know you better than yourself.
It's a strange concept.
The film's alright, but there a point
where the protagonist says
that he's afraid
of feeling nothing new in the future.
That phrase...
It's scary to imagine
that what I feel from now on
could be a worse version
of something I've already felt.
I really identify with that.
When I heard it I thought,
''I feel a bit like that''.
I've never wanted to use rock or music
as a way of resisting.
When you gig in another country,
it's strange how you automatically think
about all the clichés
in the country you're about to visit.
We've often fallen into that trap.
The comments and jokes in the van
often revolve around these clichés.
Now, for example,
we're looking at
our fourth Japanese tour.
We find ourselves talking
about the Shibuya Crossing,
Sushi vs. Ramen,
the silence of the temples
and the latest technology.
Manga comics,
the streets of Akihabara or Ochanomizu…
Maybe we're simply turning into
those tourists who hate tourists.
It's a good idea to give your audience
a lasting memory.
Likewise, it's good
to bring a lasting memory home.
And not just a simple souvenir.
We came here to play:
fire, and then ashes.
Have you got 'Control' there?
The one we played before, or not?
Yes.
- The record by Pedro The Lion.
- I've got it.
- That'd be cool.
- OK.
OK, so it's on and
people are talking and what not.
And when it's time or you tell them...
Wero will let me know.
We turn it off,
and the crowd knows
it's about to start, right?
OK.
OK, and then?
You play the instrumental section
four times, and after the last one,
you play the last chord.
Iban!
Iban!
Wait!
It'd be cool to start like that!
Galder comes out and sorts them out.
I'm looking at the monitors
and I think it'd be better
if everything wasn't turned on
given Gorka will appear there.
We need a bit of mystery
until he appears.
Then, you can turn it on.
Otherwise, everyone knows
that he's going to enter there.
They've kicked the door down.
Who are these people
that come with no warning?
What are they looking for, Dad?
Why are they looking right at you?
Who are these people, shouting?
In the future, someone will remember
what happened
in this lagoon of oblivion.
Fear, the middle name of violence.
Who are these people
that come with no warning?
Now I remember
that old piece of advice:
Don't trust anyone
that's a slave to hatred.
In the future, someone will remember
everyone who drowned
in this lagoon of oblivion.
In some new song.
In the bark of old trees.
In the silver waters of the Arga River.
In sunsets.
They've kicked the door down.
Who are these people
that come with no warning?
Farewell to my sisters
and all my family.
Farewell to my friends
and to the place where we played.
Farewell to my beloved Larraga.
In the future, someone will remember
everyone who drowned
in this lagoon of oblivion.
In some new song.
In the bark of old trees.
In the stars of the Ribera.
In Navarre…
Let's go!
So...
I have a group,
and we're looking for a space.
We saw your ad on the board
and I thought I'd come check it out.
Sure. The rooms are all the same.
We've got 8, and right now 2 are free.
If you pay the rent every month
the place is yours.
We're 4 or 5 so the size is good.
Great. You can start whenever you want.
OK... How about next month?
If it were up to me,
we’d be called Pistilo.
- Pistilo Errea would be better.
- Why?
Why? Because the pistil is the
female reproductive organ in a flower.
I'm not joking!
- What does Pistilo mean?
- Naia, it's the female reproductive organ,
and since there are a lot of girls here...
Music groups
don't usually have girls.
And we sing just as well!
But it's not very international.
Do you want to go far
or do what you like doing?
The most important thing is to enjoy it.
But we need to be committed.
None of this... all guns blazing
and then losing interest. Right, Aaron?
- Yes, yes.
- I'm committed.
He'll be the manager...
The last few texts
are going to focus on the end.
Sure, all that's left
is the last leg.
I would focus the promotion
on the WiZink Center.
- And on the farewell.
- Yes.
And on the farewell message
in our press release.
Sure. But not long interviews
rehashing the last 25 years...
It should focus more on...
''Basque group that’s going to perform
in the WiZink Center''.
- The first group.
- Yes. It's historic.
Do you realise how many fans
want to go to multiple gigs?
If there were more tickets,
more would come.
This is a special moment: a farewell,
it's all ending for the fans...
For all those people
who didn't manage to get a ticket,
and who now won't be able to...
There'll be more people than
our gig with Rise Against and Refused?
Yes, of course.
Crazy!
The world has gone mad, I don't understand.
Maybe even 3,000 more people.
Hello, I'm Koichi Hanafusa.
I think you have my photographer pass,
for Berri Txarrak.
OK, let's see.
It should be there. From the manager.
- Yes, as part of the crew.
- Ah, OK.
Yes. Here it says a crew photographer.
Yes, I'm here to take photos.
- As a member, you get in free.
- Really? Thank you.
It's fucking great to be back here in Japan
for the fourth time.
Last time I think it was 2010.
It's been too long, I know.
Sorry about that Japan, sorry Tokyo.
But we're back, so,
Thank you.
This one is called, 'Zertarako amestu'.
We like... We need silence.
Like in the subway, you know?
Full of people but...
Silence, please.
And if we're sleeping,
why bother to dream?
And why wake up,
if you're not here?
And if we're sleeping,
why dream of free days to come?
Why dream?
It's not an order: it's the majority.
It's not pollution: it's progress.
Word and image: control.
This is the new century
in an ancient world.
Don't we realise
that they distort reality
by changing the words?
Interpretations and intentions interact.
- Because the last time, that was 2008.
- Yeah, 2008.
Yeah, at FujiRock.
I remember... we were like
the first band of the festival.
Yeah, the opening day.
- They cut the ribbon and everybody...
- Yes. That was the best time.
That was the best time!
Cause I was like, the first band,
nobody will see us.
- It was just the opposite.
- Everyone was there.
That's, one of the best.
Ah yeah, 2012.
I still have the pictures
you took in ViñaRock.
I remember... In the stairs... So cool.
We went to the stage...
That's the reason why
I like your music.
I don't understand a word
of what you're talking about.
- But music, I understand music.
- If it is touchy.
It's strange, you know.
The other side of the world.
- Yeah, but the energy of live music...
- We share the same thing.
That's the Berri Txarrak philosophy:
To be born. The Music. To Die.
Jaio. Musika. Hil.
So why are you finishing?
To rest a little bit. To take a break.
That means you might be back.
Yeah maybe, who knows.
That door is open for sure.
We're living a great moment but, yeah...
It's 25 years.
Each stone, a sound.
We can make music!
- It's like music.
- It's like music.
- What's the music teacher called?
- Amaia.
Well, this week
she has a surprise for you.
You're going to do something
with a Berri Txarrak song.
Have you bored everyone at school
with Berri Txarrak already?
Well Amaia really likes them too.
Why do they sing in Basque?
We'd have to ask them.
They've sung and played
all over the world.
They wanted to,
and I think it paid off.
- And...
- Even though people don't understand.
Well, I can listen to groups
that I like that sing
in English, German or French,
although I don't understand them.
And I like Lady Gaga,
and she sings in English.
Our 1000th gig was in New Zealand,
in the Antipodes.
It made me stop and think.
What comes to mind now
is the path carved by our predecessors.
All the people who have helped us.
And the mistakes we've made.
And all the things we neglect
and never discover
because we chose this way of life.
A thousand gigs; easy to say.
A thousand gigs:
always the same, always different.
The crowd is always there,
making the miracle of live music possible.
We owe the crowd everything.
Absolutely everything.
That's why
you don't always have to give them
what they ask for.
If possible, we grow
and learn together,
without being paternalistic.
''Respect is the key word''.
- First black, right?
- The other one for Jare, no?
- Shouldn't we have some music on?
- Yeah!
It’s like we’re going
to church or something.
Play 'Biziraun'.
- Is that your favourite?
- Yeah.
They might not sing that one today.
I think they will.
They'll definitely play 'Oihu'.
Show me your...
This tattoo has rubbed off.
No, it's here.
No, the one from
the last day of school.
Ah, OK.
Has yours rubbed off too?
- I didn't get one.
- Really?
I queued all morning!
It was the worst day.
The new trendy plague
will be isolation.
And your most important job
will be to make sure it goes unnoticed.
You'll have thousands of filters
at your disposal.
Freedom will be deciding
when and how.
And then, yes,
we'll finally be free.
And then, yes,
we'll finally be free.
The plural will make it hard
to clarify that ''Us''
and ''They'' mean everyone
in this dictatorship of ''I''.
Spoiler! Spoiler!
We won't wait.
We won't wait any longer.
At FujiRock in Japan in 2008,
I didn't understand a word
of what they said or sang.
But their performance moved me.
It wasn't average, or intermediate.
It was incredible.
And I thought, what is this?
Afterwards, I did some digging
and found out they were
a Basque group called Berri Txarrak.
I didn't even know
about the Basque Country.
I still remember
the first time I saw them.
I went with my brother
to a friend's bedroom
and he showed us a YouTube video.
We watched the video for 'Oreka'.
- Yes, I've seen it too.
- You have?
I didn't understand what they said,
but I couldn't stop thinking about it.
It's not fast, or aggressive,
but it touches your heart.
That's exactly it.
After 15 years,
I never tire of that song.
Me either.
I could listen to it forever,
because it's too perfect.
I've just woken up,
and I don't want to open
the series of doors
that'll probably save me.
The windows are enough:
nobody is waiting
in that street full of people.
I've used the light
to paint a dream
on the skin of this tired town.
We'll see how long it lasts
You already know
that they erase our memory here.
It's sad having to celebrate everything
when it's all still waiting
to be achieved.
Balance is worth nothing
when you're still on the ground.
Balance is worth nothing
when it's been ages since you fell.
We believed in our own lies.
Bored of the lies of others.
The contender for leader
insists we need a leader.
It's sad having to celebrate everything
when it's all still waiting
to be achieved.
Balance is worth nothing
when you're still on the ground.
Balance is worth nothing
when it's been ages since you fell.
I've used the light
to paint a dream
on the skin
of this tired town.
The contender for leader
insists we need a leader.
The contender.
It's sad having to celebrate everything
when it's all still waiting
to be achieved.
Balance is worth nothing
when you're still on the ground.
Balance is worth nothing
when it's been ages since you fell.
Thank you! Thank you so much!
It's about time we started
broadening our small canon.
Thank you!
I know there are a lot
of young people here.
I don't know if you're thinking
of starting a band,
of writing a book,
of starting a dance group.
Our language needs
active listeners!
Rehearsal tomorrow! Rehearsal tomorrow!
Yes or no?
Let's go!
Shall we all crouch down?
Yes? OK, crouch down.
When we started,
if someone had told me
that one day we'd attract
more than 20,000 people
to one of our gigs,
I wouldn't have believed them.
I still don't think we've come to terms
with what happened today at Kobetamendi.
After the emotion of today,
what's left for the last gig?
Swimming in the darkness.
In the middle of this forest.
The beast watches me.
Making a list with no words.
I can breathe.
If I'm quiet.
Swimming in the darkness.
Dreaming…
Tired arms.
And now, ''piztia dut''.
I'm the beast that watches.
I can see the other shore,
but I can't explain.
Am I getting nearer,
or moving further away?
And they talk for me.
And they scream for me.
The time we have left
is a blank canvas
that opens up before us.
I'm not afraid of the mud.
And they talk for me.
And they cry for me.
As though you could interchange.
Our drifts.
Our drifts.
What shall we do?
Shall we play something we know?
Yeah.
Which one?
'Infra'.
To hurt me? Postpone the concerts
in Navarra Arena.
Let's do the other one...
This one...
'Lobby'
I don't know if we appreciated
the roller coaster of extreme emotions
that this year would bring.
Probably not.
But here we are,
at our final rehearsal.
And it's all strange.
As the end gets nearer,
we're all faking
some sense of normality,
but nothing is normal...
In the end, everyone develops
their own mechanisms.
And it may sound clichéd,
but music is our best method.
I haven't forgotten you,
but I've grown tired
of simply remembering you.
It's a long time
since I gave my details
to the happiness lobby.
And now...
How can I say
how amazed I am
at people who try to change;
All that genuine effort.
We can do another one here,
on the cover.
What've you done here?
What's this?
We finished the notebook...
I accidentally tore it.
I'm overwhelmed to see in others,
this initiative that I don't have.
Let me repeat my mistakes
from time to time
until I've memorised them.
Don't worry:
the tireless happiness lobby
has had my details for a long time.
It's like that when you're young, right?
I like a group, and I'm going to do
whatever it takes to see them.
More so for Berri Txarrak,
because they're retiring.
You can't criticise me for spending
all my savings on seeing them.
When does the tour finish?
November 23rd.
So... OK...
Until November 23rd.
- And then you'll rest.
- No. I'll cry and suffer.
- Deep down I'm jealous.
- Really? Why?
I'd like to feel that passionate
about someone or something.
I understand…
I like music, but not that much.
I can't explain it.
I can't tell you
why I like them so much.
The most important things in life
can't be explained.
You could come too.
- But there aren't any tickets.
- There are people that sell tickets.
What about Malen?
Malen should come
and see a gig for once.
He's never been to a gig.
But he won't go to the one that you want.
He'll choose what gig he wants to go to.
Malen will like Berri Txarrak.
Who doesn't?
Your cousins from Cameroon
didn't think much of them.
You're not nervous?
- I'm not nervous.
- Really?
What I am is really cold!
- I think you're more nervous than cold.
- I'm cold!
Someone over there is saying
that they've gone to 7 gigs this year.
Music is a pillar.
That's why we ask for more songs.
That's why we'll keep creating.
Though sometimes, that responsibility
makes us tremble [dardara].
No one knows where the key is hidden.
We've been very fortunate.
We've managed to open some doors.
We've woven a few threads...
And this is the embryo
of a precious collective memory.
No running!
Slow down!
Every stroke is a step forward.
Birth.
Music.
Life.
A river of magma
flows beneath everything.
It's invisible, but it's so powerful...
that you have no choice
but to succumb to it.
It emanates from the epicentre,
and flows between us:
it is the quake, and its aftershocks.
A vibration that makes us
shake off all our worry.
Can you feel it?
Hands for writing dead messages.
Hands for feeling we're together.
Hands for applauding risk.
Hands for shaping this world.
It seemed it would last forever.
It ended forever.
What can't be done is impossible.
We’re coming to the end.
It’s been incredible,
a perfect farewell.
Thank you, Iruñea,
and everyone here today.
And for your 25 years
of support for this band.
Much has been said about Berri Txarrak,
but what really matters here
is the hole that you’re leaving behind.
That will be hard to get over. Berri
Txarrak is a feeling. Don’t forget it!
Thank you, and so long!
I'm still ignorant...
Amazed, compelled, loved...
Overrated, censored...
Satisfied...
Empty...
Starved...
Free...
But a slave to all this.
Grateful, and proud
of everything we've achieved.
A friend, and an enemy.
Embraced by so many,
yet alone.
Silently screaming...
I'm still here,
but I'm already somewhere else.
Wishing I could stop...
Scared of it all ending.
I want to scream
into the depths of my soul.
Loud like the silence.
Our truth is just as important
as yours is.
I want to scream.
Don't lose the thread that binds us!
And they talk for me…
I was 17
when we started Berri Txarrak.
Everything is pure at that age.
Noise is the easiest way
of railing against the world.
At 40, you're still the same person,
but you're not necessarily the same.
Now, at this precise moment
when satisfaction meets exhaustion,
I can say it’s been incredible
to have experienced
every minute of this group's story.
I also think it's time
to hit the pause button.
An indefinite halt,
a change of course.
After it was announced publicly,
the 25,000 tickets for our
final gigs sold out immediately.
Crazy.
Before we stop, we’ll do
one final world tour.
We've got nine hectic months ahead.
Eh… Gorka, let's try your voice.
Ok, a bit louder.
Good, that's fine.
David, let's hear your voice.
Our first European gig
was in Germany.
That experience
was crucial to us quitting our jobs.
If we wanted
to make it internationally,
we had to give it our all.
Sure, we already lived for music,
but making a living from music?
I was born for this,
and it'll be the death of me.
- Hi!
- Hi!
Are you here for Berri Txarrak too?
Yeah, but we don’t know if it's this door.
- Where are you from?
- Germany, I live near Frankfurt.
- Do you always go to the gigs alone?
- Yeah, usually.
It's rare that I can convince someone
to go with me.
Are you going to the other gigs?
You're following the tour?
Yes. If they're in Germany, sure.
At one concert in France
there was some problem with the advertising
and only one person went.
But they played for that person.
Yeah, it was on TV.
Just one person and they did the gig.
Here it is...
They play for one person in France.
I don't know.
How does 'Infra' end?
- 'Denak'?
- Wouldn't it be better to start with 'Infra'?
Yeah?
Yeah, you finish 'Jaio'
and ''oh yeah!''.
I say something, and 'Denak'.
And then...
No, after 'Jaio'.
- After 'Jaio'.
- After 'Jaio', to finish the set?
It'll be a really great moment.
And then at the end...
'Oihu', and then
'Min Hau' and 'Ikusi Arte'.
Shit, there's nothing from Haria
or from Payola.
What time is it?
Late! I need to change
and go through the rigmarole.
I need a tonne of imagination.
To keep calling anything
a revolution.
I'm really worried,
and yes, I'm the exception.
So much that I believe
that I can change something.
On my side: just six strings.
Enough courage
to ask myself questions.
Against us: a sterile inertia
that engulfs everything.
The years are long
in the century of turtles…
So much literature
to explain that probably.
More than all the watches in the world.
This time that’s slipping away
is worth a thousand times more.
Since that first tour,
we’ve returned countless times.
It's not massive, but I think
we've left our small mark on this country.
I remember the venues
we've returned to time and again:
Sonic Ballroom, Cologne;
Hafenklang, Hamburg;
Alte Hackerei, Karlsruhe;
the Au squat in Frankfurt;
and of course, Clash in Berlin.
When people sing your songs,
wherever the gig is,
it moves you deep inside.
That's when you realise:
''This is why I’m still doing this''.
Have you ever made a list
of all the concerts you've been to?
No, maybe I should.
But it's almost impossible now.
- A hundred?
- No idea, I couldn't say.
I started going to gigs
when Berri Txarrak went on tour.
There were loads of gigs back to back.
At gigs, I let myself get carried away.
I love being with everyone else.
Talking to them, getting swept along,
the music, the group...
It's an amazing feeling,
I can't describe it.
The same fire that burned you
lit the way.
The basic law of walking,
falling and getting back up.
The same fire that burned you
lit the way.
The basic law of walking,
falling and getting back up.
Dear Gorka,
I'm writing to ask you a favour.
When I started to transition,
I decided to get a tattoo that says
''ikasitakoa desikasten ikasi''.
I'd like to use your lyrics, if I can.
It'd be really special.
We've already had our final gigs
in Berlin, in Paris, in Gernika...
Little by little
you see the consequences
of this difficult decision.
From the dressing room,
you hear cries of ''Encore! Encore!''.
Then, you ask yourself…
Are you really going
to leave all this behind?
Prioritising was never easy.
Managing a group is making
thousands of small decisions.
Instinct has always guided the way there.
Even when you've felt over-exposed.
On one hand, you've got
the best thing music can give you:
people listen to what you say,
or to your music.
On the other hand,
this means learning
while everyone watches.
Now my instinct is telling me
that to keep exploring as an artist,
it's time to leave ''home''.
It's hard,
but you can't ignore a calling like this.
When someone becomes the battlefield.
What is victory? What is defeat?
I don't expect to come out of this OK.
But just to feel alive.
But just to feel alive.
- Mum.
- Yes, sweetheart.
In the song 'Min Hau',
why does it say
that they can’t find
the wound anywhere?
What does that mean?
Hmm...
what does that mean...
It means that...
...they feel pain inside,
and that they're not wounded.
Something can happen that hurts you
but doesn't leave a wound.
Like...
I don't know...
If someone behaves badly
it can hurt you.
- Like disrespects you?
- For example. Or...
...when someone you love... dies.
Or...
when they're far from home,
and you can't be with someone...
There could be
loads of things inside us
that hurt us,
- but don't leave a wound.
- But don't leave a wound.
Sometimes,
this pain is much more painful
than a wound.
Inner pain.
OK, great.
Straighten your arm.
Turn your wrist slightly.
I've got no idea what this means.
I prepared the tattoo
and forgot to ask you what it means.
It's a line from a song by Berri Txarrak,
As I said, I'm transitioning.
It means,
''learn to unlearn what you've learnt''.
I'm unlearning everything
that I learnt years back.
For me, this transition symbolises
not a new stage but a new life.
The life I always wanted,
but that it’s been hard to get.
- Great. It's ready.
- Perfect.
When is your first appointment
with the doctor?
Next week. So much waiting,
and now it's almost here.
- You must be really excited.
- Yeah.
Why do you like Berri Txarrak so much?
They've helped me so much
since I started listening to them.
Ever since school.
The thing is, everyone has problems.
Instead of turning to other people,
I turned to music.
Unlike people, music doesn't judge you.
You felt more understood.
We end up judging
without meaning to.
You might say something
to someone who's struggling,
and end up hurting them.
I started listening to them at 14,
then I started going to gigs...
to Berlin when I was doing Erasmus…
until now.
I think I'm a bit of a freak.
People tell me I am.
You can never be too freaky.
Sure, but you can always be freakier.
Where are these madeleines from?
These? Lekunberri.
No way!
Lekunberri!
Is the attic like it was
when we recorded Jaio.Musika.Hil?
No, no.
It's completely changed.
This is your home,
but for me it'll always be
the place where we recorded Jaio.
I remember how the drums sounded.
Later Albini copied you.
- Really?
- Yeah.
The reverberation in there...
To record drums like that...
Txap-style...
In you go.
The light?
You played here, right?
And Txap was there.
This was the control room.
The demo you made...
You brought it to GOR.
We did?
Yes. Three, maybe all four of you.
- Seriously?
- Yes.
I remember taking them
to bars and what not,
- but did we go to GOR?
- Yes.
And right at the end,
you were heading out the door,
and you said,
''If you ever need someone to work here,
I'd be delighted''.
- Seriously?
- Yes.
- Later you took me up on it!
- You don't remember, of course.
No. But I remember you calling
to offer me a job.
I was a bit of a nerd.
A good student and all that.
Always chasing my tail,
but I got good grades.
I listened to a lot of commercial radio.
I discovered rock late on.
My classmates would listen to
Rock Radical Vasco
but I didn't like it.
And now, do I regret it?
I regret it, I mean,
it's shame that
I didn't experience it then.
For me, the 1980s...
Look how important that decade was.
They paved the way.
We're here now
because of that explosion.
But I wasn't into all that.
Back then, I played keyboard, accordion
and that sort of thing.
And I listened to
loads of commercial radio.
Do you remember any songs?
It's May, and we're heading
to North America.
This time, we'll tour the west coast.
Portland, Sacramento,
San Francisco, Los Angeles...
In each city, we inevitably recall
at least the name of a group.
There's a reason we've recorded
our last few records here, in America.
We've also been able
to work with many musicians
that we worship.
For example, Bill Stevenson,
the drummer in Black Flag, among others.
It's amazing, but it was him
that convinced us
to record our last record,
'Infrasoinuak'.
In happened in a dressing room
in São Paulo,
right after we finished
the tour with the Descendents.
Ultimately, we're musicians
because we were once listeners.
What to say, and how,
about these dark times
that's not been said already,
by cartons and fatigue.
Where to start digging the tunnel
with these songs
insipid songs.
Because it's already been said
somehow or other
that they're wolves
that do the shepherding.
That they were thrown a rope
to get them out of the well,
not to go around their necks.
How to get to the surface.
How to get to the surface.
Because it's already been said
that vultures fly too high
beating their pigeon wings.
Time is the only polygraph.
The rest is speculation.
Time is the only polygraph.
The rest is speculation.
The rest is speculation
5 hotels in 3 days.
What do you make of that?
A record.
On tour, you can lose 23 hours of your day
to play for just an hour.
Our second home has four wheels,
and we've been in it for months.
This year, as well as the fans,
I feel like
it's the BTX Crew
that's kept this building upright.
Their job is
more complicated than ours.
They have to set themselves
really high standards,
knowing that the camera
is never pointed at them.
And we don't make their job easy.
Take the set list, for example.
We usually plan it the day of the gig.
Little tricks,
to fight inertia and the rut.
Without them,
we'd never have lasted 25 years.
It's a pleasure to perform here.
Next is a song
that's around ten years old now.
We recorded it back in 2009,
with the great Steve Albini.
It's a song about
how it feels to walk out on stage
and see everything from up here,
and the void that follows...
...some philosophical thoughts
about writing songs,
and sharing them with people,
which is what we most like to do.
Thanks for being here!
This one's called, 'The atheist God'.
Don't think
that I've invented something new
just because I asked you
the right questions.
Don't think you're safe,
forever dancing on the edge
of this abyss,
because you end up confusing
success with happiness.
Creating is trying to tackle
your inability to communicate.
A substitute, ultimately.
I don't know, I can write a song
but maybe I'm not able
to tell the waiter
that the soup is cold.
Sometimes writing is pure reaction.
Afterwards, I think
that there's a poetic intention.
We seek beauty somehow or other.
Maybe to tell some story,
and to question the few things
that we might hold certain.
You accept, of course,
that this attempt is doomed to fail.
Other times,
the pen is an escape,
like a marine creature shooting out ink.
In the beginning,
I was really focussed on the music.
The lyrics were... something
you had to write to finish the song.
Now I think it's the other way around.
I have enormous respect for words.
It's not about being original.
Many things have been said already.
But you try to use your own voice.
You get rid of all the excess layers.
Three with lean pork.
With tongue too and three with cheese.
I want three with tongue.
I'm burning here.
Right now it's burning.
I didn't know anything.
I didn't know the language,
who they were, what they played...
I was really curious.
This was a band that played a gig
for just one person, in France.
- That's when I started to investigate...
- With good reason!
…who Berri Txarrak were, because
I couldn’t even pronounce their name.
Mexico! You bastards!
It’s a pleasure for Berri Txarrak
to be back in this incredible city.
Maybe for the last time.
Thank you!
This one's called, 'Infrasoinuak'.
The infrasounds are coming.
The ones we can’t feel.
Across the sea.
When I saw them there,
my legs trembled.
I wanted to tell them so many things,
ask them so many questions...
But in that moment,
you wonder if it's real
or if you're dreaming.
Seeing them live,
remembering those moments...
- It moves you.
- Yes. You feel the magic.
You connect with that voice,
even though you don't understand
all the lyrics.
You connect with their
energy, their voice...
the emotion that Gorka brings to it.
It's like a journey.
It climbs, and climbs,
and climbs and comes down.
You feel alive,
you feel unique in that moment.
I can't remember any time
at their gigs
when I haven't been
totally transfixed.
Since this alleged flight started
It won't be this alleged flight.
Wicked and incorrect
A misunderstood drop.
Xabi!
It looks a bit uncomfortable.
Yeah, it sure is.
Having breasts...
I don't like it much.
You can really hear
how your voice has changed.
Don't you think
it'll change you on the inside?
Mentally, maybe, sure, but...
It'll make me stronger.
After everything I've been through...
At the end of the day,
this is what I want, right?
I chose this change,
it's what I wanted.
I wanted to accept myself,
to love myself, and...
Well, I'm getting what I wanted.
Slowly, but it's happening.
And you should do something crazy.
Like be happy, or something like it.
- Enough?
- Yes, enough.
Totally fucked?
- Why fucked?
- It has to sound brutal.
- So play properly!
- Sure...
With no people here...
Let's try the Fender
and then we'll do a few songs.
OK, Mikel.
Maybe it'd be cool
to play four rounds.
Three...
Now four.
And now it starts.
Yeah, it starts on the fourth.
And when this riff comes in,
the song starts,
and the crowd knows which one it is.
That could be the right time
to turn the stars on,
and then I start singing.
Sometimes I remember
about the need to forget.
The racket of those
who prevent us from listening.
Often I think
of Amaia Egaña.
With the burst ball
from the Bakr brothers.
Of that gang
of good-for-nothings.
There were like...
almost seventy shows.
When you're on the 23rd
you still have more than 55 left, right?
I was having a great time.
It's been incredible,
but as the end gets nearer
and you realise...
you think: I hope that what I want
doesn't come true.
It's a bit like that.
But great, honestly
the audience is incredible.
And everyone is watching.
The press is watching and
everyone is asking how you feel.
Well, we all like to play.
I've never gotten tired
of the hour and a half on stage.
You'll never get tired of that.
I need that drug
and I'm going to keep creating.
What I don't know
is when, or how, or in what format.
It's really alluring,
though later I'll panic.
But I think it's cool.
Sometimes I think of that film…
One by Spike Jonze.
It's called Her.
The film's a bit strange.
Part science fiction,
a bit Black Mirror...
It's about the ideal person,
our ideal companion,
except they're virtual,
they're not a real person.
They know you better than yourself.
It's a strange concept.
The film's alright, but there a point
where the protagonist says
that he's afraid
of feeling nothing new in the future.
That phrase...
It's scary to imagine
that what I feel from now on
could be a worse version
of something I've already felt.
I really identify with that.
When I heard it I thought,
''I feel a bit like that''.
I've never wanted to use rock or music
as a way of resisting.
When you gig in another country,
it's strange how you automatically think
about all the clichés
in the country you're about to visit.
We've often fallen into that trap.
The comments and jokes in the van
often revolve around these clichés.
Now, for example,
we're looking at
our fourth Japanese tour.
We find ourselves talking
about the Shibuya Crossing,
Sushi vs. Ramen,
the silence of the temples
and the latest technology.
Manga comics,
the streets of Akihabara or Ochanomizu…
Maybe we're simply turning into
those tourists who hate tourists.
It's a good idea to give your audience
a lasting memory.
Likewise, it's good
to bring a lasting memory home.
And not just a simple souvenir.
We came here to play:
fire, and then ashes.
Have you got 'Control' there?
The one we played before, or not?
Yes.
- The record by Pedro The Lion.
- I've got it.
- That'd be cool.
- OK.
OK, so it's on and
people are talking and what not.
And when it's time or you tell them...
Wero will let me know.
We turn it off,
and the crowd knows
it's about to start, right?
OK.
OK, and then?
You play the instrumental section
four times, and after the last one,
you play the last chord.
Iban!
Iban!
Wait!
It'd be cool to start like that!
Galder comes out and sorts them out.
I'm looking at the monitors
and I think it'd be better
if everything wasn't turned on
given Gorka will appear there.
We need a bit of mystery
until he appears.
Then, you can turn it on.
Otherwise, everyone knows
that he's going to enter there.
They've kicked the door down.
Who are these people
that come with no warning?
What are they looking for, Dad?
Why are they looking right at you?
Who are these people, shouting?
In the future, someone will remember
what happened
in this lagoon of oblivion.
Fear, the middle name of violence.
Who are these people
that come with no warning?
Now I remember
that old piece of advice:
Don't trust anyone
that's a slave to hatred.
In the future, someone will remember
everyone who drowned
in this lagoon of oblivion.
In some new song.
In the bark of old trees.
In the silver waters of the Arga River.
In sunsets.
They've kicked the door down.
Who are these people
that come with no warning?
Farewell to my sisters
and all my family.
Farewell to my friends
and to the place where we played.
Farewell to my beloved Larraga.
In the future, someone will remember
everyone who drowned
in this lagoon of oblivion.
In some new song.
In the bark of old trees.
In the stars of the Ribera.
In Navarre…
Let's go!
So...
I have a group,
and we're looking for a space.
We saw your ad on the board
and I thought I'd come check it out.
Sure. The rooms are all the same.
We've got 8, and right now 2 are free.
If you pay the rent every month
the place is yours.
We're 4 or 5 so the size is good.
Great. You can start whenever you want.
OK... How about next month?
If it were up to me,
we’d be called Pistilo.
- Pistilo Errea would be better.
- Why?
Why? Because the pistil is the
female reproductive organ in a flower.
I'm not joking!
- What does Pistilo mean?
- Naia, it's the female reproductive organ,
and since there are a lot of girls here...
Music groups
don't usually have girls.
And we sing just as well!
But it's not very international.
Do you want to go far
or do what you like doing?
The most important thing is to enjoy it.
But we need to be committed.
None of this... all guns blazing
and then losing interest. Right, Aaron?
- Yes, yes.
- I'm committed.
He'll be the manager...
The last few texts
are going to focus on the end.
Sure, all that's left
is the last leg.
I would focus the promotion
on the WiZink Center.
- And on the farewell.
- Yes.
And on the farewell message
in our press release.
Sure. But not long interviews
rehashing the last 25 years...
It should focus more on...
''Basque group that’s going to perform
in the WiZink Center''.
- The first group.
- Yes. It's historic.
Do you realise how many fans
want to go to multiple gigs?
If there were more tickets,
more would come.
This is a special moment: a farewell,
it's all ending for the fans...
For all those people
who didn't manage to get a ticket,
and who now won't be able to...
There'll be more people than
our gig with Rise Against and Refused?
Yes, of course.
Crazy!
The world has gone mad, I don't understand.
Maybe even 3,000 more people.
Hello, I'm Koichi Hanafusa.
I think you have my photographer pass,
for Berri Txarrak.
OK, let's see.
It should be there. From the manager.
- Yes, as part of the crew.
- Ah, OK.
Yes. Here it says a crew photographer.
Yes, I'm here to take photos.
- As a member, you get in free.
- Really? Thank you.
It's fucking great to be back here in Japan
for the fourth time.
Last time I think it was 2010.
It's been too long, I know.
Sorry about that Japan, sorry Tokyo.
But we're back, so,
Thank you.
This one is called, 'Zertarako amestu'.
We like... We need silence.
Like in the subway, you know?
Full of people but...
Silence, please.
And if we're sleeping,
why bother to dream?
And why wake up,
if you're not here?
And if we're sleeping,
why dream of free days to come?
Why dream?
It's not an order: it's the majority.
It's not pollution: it's progress.
Word and image: control.
This is the new century
in an ancient world.
Don't we realise
that they distort reality
by changing the words?
Interpretations and intentions interact.
- Because the last time, that was 2008.
- Yeah, 2008.
Yeah, at FujiRock.
I remember... we were like
the first band of the festival.
Yeah, the opening day.
- They cut the ribbon and everybody...
- Yes. That was the best time.
That was the best time!
Cause I was like, the first band,
nobody will see us.
- It was just the opposite.
- Everyone was there.
That's, one of the best.
Ah yeah, 2012.
I still have the pictures
you took in ViñaRock.
I remember... In the stairs... So cool.
We went to the stage...
That's the reason why
I like your music.
I don't understand a word
of what you're talking about.
- But music, I understand music.
- If it is touchy.
It's strange, you know.
The other side of the world.
- Yeah, but the energy of live music...
- We share the same thing.
That's the Berri Txarrak philosophy:
To be born. The Music. To Die.
Jaio. Musika. Hil.
So why are you finishing?
To rest a little bit. To take a break.
That means you might be back.
Yeah maybe, who knows.
That door is open for sure.
We're living a great moment but, yeah...
It's 25 years.
Each stone, a sound.
We can make music!
- It's like music.
- It's like music.
- What's the music teacher called?
- Amaia.
Well, this week
she has a surprise for you.
You're going to do something
with a Berri Txarrak song.
Have you bored everyone at school
with Berri Txarrak already?
Well Amaia really likes them too.
Why do they sing in Basque?
We'd have to ask them.
They've sung and played
all over the world.
They wanted to,
and I think it paid off.
- And...
- Even though people don't understand.
Well, I can listen to groups
that I like that sing
in English, German or French,
although I don't understand them.
And I like Lady Gaga,
and she sings in English.
Our 1000th gig was in New Zealand,
in the Antipodes.
It made me stop and think.
What comes to mind now
is the path carved by our predecessors.
All the people who have helped us.
And the mistakes we've made.
And all the things we neglect
and never discover
because we chose this way of life.
A thousand gigs; easy to say.
A thousand gigs:
always the same, always different.
The crowd is always there,
making the miracle of live music possible.
We owe the crowd everything.
Absolutely everything.
That's why
you don't always have to give them
what they ask for.
If possible, we grow
and learn together,
without being paternalistic.
''Respect is the key word''.
- First black, right?
- The other one for Jare, no?
- Shouldn't we have some music on?
- Yeah!
It’s like we’re going
to church or something.
Play 'Biziraun'.
- Is that your favourite?
- Yeah.
They might not sing that one today.
I think they will.
They'll definitely play 'Oihu'.
Show me your...
This tattoo has rubbed off.
No, it's here.
No, the one from
the last day of school.
Ah, OK.
Has yours rubbed off too?
- I didn't get one.
- Really?
I queued all morning!
It was the worst day.
The new trendy plague
will be isolation.
And your most important job
will be to make sure it goes unnoticed.
You'll have thousands of filters
at your disposal.
Freedom will be deciding
when and how.
And then, yes,
we'll finally be free.
And then, yes,
we'll finally be free.
The plural will make it hard
to clarify that ''Us''
and ''They'' mean everyone
in this dictatorship of ''I''.
Spoiler! Spoiler!
We won't wait.
We won't wait any longer.
At FujiRock in Japan in 2008,
I didn't understand a word
of what they said or sang.
But their performance moved me.
It wasn't average, or intermediate.
It was incredible.
And I thought, what is this?
Afterwards, I did some digging
and found out they were
a Basque group called Berri Txarrak.
I didn't even know
about the Basque Country.
I still remember
the first time I saw them.
I went with my brother
to a friend's bedroom
and he showed us a YouTube video.
We watched the video for 'Oreka'.
- Yes, I've seen it too.
- You have?
I didn't understand what they said,
but I couldn't stop thinking about it.
It's not fast, or aggressive,
but it touches your heart.
That's exactly it.
After 15 years,
I never tire of that song.
Me either.
I could listen to it forever,
because it's too perfect.
I've just woken up,
and I don't want to open
the series of doors
that'll probably save me.
The windows are enough:
nobody is waiting
in that street full of people.
I've used the light
to paint a dream
on the skin of this tired town.
We'll see how long it lasts
You already know
that they erase our memory here.
It's sad having to celebrate everything
when it's all still waiting
to be achieved.
Balance is worth nothing
when you're still on the ground.
Balance is worth nothing
when it's been ages since you fell.
We believed in our own lies.
Bored of the lies of others.
The contender for leader
insists we need a leader.
It's sad having to celebrate everything
when it's all still waiting
to be achieved.
Balance is worth nothing
when you're still on the ground.
Balance is worth nothing
when it's been ages since you fell.
I've used the light
to paint a dream
on the skin
of this tired town.
The contender for leader
insists we need a leader.
The contender.
It's sad having to celebrate everything
when it's all still waiting
to be achieved.
Balance is worth nothing
when you're still on the ground.
Balance is worth nothing
when it's been ages since you fell.
Thank you! Thank you so much!
It's about time we started
broadening our small canon.
Thank you!
I know there are a lot
of young people here.
I don't know if you're thinking
of starting a band,
of writing a book,
of starting a dance group.
Our language needs
active listeners!
Rehearsal tomorrow! Rehearsal tomorrow!
Yes or no?
Let's go!
Shall we all crouch down?
Yes? OK, crouch down.
When we started,
if someone had told me
that one day we'd attract
more than 20,000 people
to one of our gigs,
I wouldn't have believed them.
I still don't think we've come to terms
with what happened today at Kobetamendi.
After the emotion of today,
what's left for the last gig?
Swimming in the darkness.
In the middle of this forest.
The beast watches me.
Making a list with no words.
I can breathe.
If I'm quiet.
Swimming in the darkness.
Dreaming…
Tired arms.
And now, ''piztia dut''.
I'm the beast that watches.
I can see the other shore,
but I can't explain.
Am I getting nearer,
or moving further away?
And they talk for me.
And they scream for me.
The time we have left
is a blank canvas
that opens up before us.
I'm not afraid of the mud.
And they talk for me.
And they cry for me.
As though you could interchange.
Our drifts.
Our drifts.
What shall we do?
Shall we play something we know?
Yeah.
Which one?
'Infra'.
To hurt me? Postpone the concerts
in Navarra Arena.
Let's do the other one...
This one...
'Lobby'
I don't know if we appreciated
the roller coaster of extreme emotions
that this year would bring.
Probably not.
But here we are,
at our final rehearsal.
And it's all strange.
As the end gets nearer,
we're all faking
some sense of normality,
but nothing is normal...
In the end, everyone develops
their own mechanisms.
And it may sound clichéd,
but music is our best method.
I haven't forgotten you,
but I've grown tired
of simply remembering you.
It's a long time
since I gave my details
to the happiness lobby.
And now...
How can I say
how amazed I am
at people who try to change;
All that genuine effort.
We can do another one here,
on the cover.
What've you done here?
What's this?
We finished the notebook...
I accidentally tore it.
I'm overwhelmed to see in others,
this initiative that I don't have.
Let me repeat my mistakes
from time to time
until I've memorised them.
Don't worry:
the tireless happiness lobby
has had my details for a long time.
It's like that when you're young, right?
I like a group, and I'm going to do
whatever it takes to see them.
More so for Berri Txarrak,
because they're retiring.
You can't criticise me for spending
all my savings on seeing them.
When does the tour finish?
November 23rd.
So... OK...
Until November 23rd.
- And then you'll rest.
- No. I'll cry and suffer.
- Deep down I'm jealous.
- Really? Why?
I'd like to feel that passionate
about someone or something.
I understand…
I like music, but not that much.
I can't explain it.
I can't tell you
why I like them so much.
The most important things in life
can't be explained.
You could come too.
- But there aren't any tickets.
- There are people that sell tickets.
What about Malen?
Malen should come
and see a gig for once.
He's never been to a gig.
But he won't go to the one that you want.
He'll choose what gig he wants to go to.
Malen will like Berri Txarrak.
Who doesn't?
Your cousins from Cameroon
didn't think much of them.
You're not nervous?
- I'm not nervous.
- Really?
What I am is really cold!
- I think you're more nervous than cold.
- I'm cold!
Someone over there is saying
that they've gone to 7 gigs this year.
Music is a pillar.
That's why we ask for more songs.
That's why we'll keep creating.
Though sometimes, that responsibility
makes us tremble [dardara].
No one knows where the key is hidden.
We've been very fortunate.
We've managed to open some doors.
We've woven a few threads...
And this is the embryo
of a precious collective memory.
No running!
Slow down!
Every stroke is a step forward.
Birth.
Music.
Life.
A river of magma
flows beneath everything.
It's invisible, but it's so powerful...
that you have no choice
but to succumb to it.
It emanates from the epicentre,
and flows between us:
it is the quake, and its aftershocks.
A vibration that makes us
shake off all our worry.
Can you feel it?
Hands for writing dead messages.
Hands for feeling we're together.
Hands for applauding risk.
Hands for shaping this world.
It seemed it would last forever.
It ended forever.
What can't be done is impossible.
We’re coming to the end.
It’s been incredible,
a perfect farewell.
Thank you, Iruñea,
and everyone here today.
And for your 25 years
of support for this band.
Much has been said about Berri Txarrak,
but what really matters here
is the hole that you’re leaving behind.
That will be hard to get over. Berri
Txarrak is a feeling. Don’t forget it!
Thank you, and so long!