Mediocrity, not stars, at awards show

A couple of months ago, the annual awards show organized by rock en espanol magazine La Banda Elastica was shaping up as the most exciting event at this year’s Latin Alternative Music Conference.

Then two of the show’s key participants pulled out -- El Gran Silencio, one of Latin rock’s most compelling acts, and Chilean pop-rock trio La Ley.

The downscaled awards show had to be moved from Universal Amphitheatre to a new date at the Mayan, where it took place Thursday, four days after the rest of the LAMC events were held at venues around L.A.

A big, noisy fiasco, the overlong and somewhat surreal evening lacked the cutting-edge spirit that has turned the 10-year-old magazine into the most authoritative publication of the Latin Alternative movement.

An uncomfortable mix of awards ceremony and concert, the event was marred by exhausting breaks between performances and the absence of stars. The few fans on hand were treated to a hodgepodge of abbreviated performances by genre middleweights such as Spain’s Amaral, Chile’s Lucybell and L.A.’s Awkid -- plus a forgettable closing session by veteran Mexican rocker Alex Lora.

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The evening’s undeniable highlight was a brief performance by Las Ultrasonicas, a female punk trio that makes up for its poor musicianship with surf-rock antics and hilarious lyrics.

“All male groupies are welcome backstage,” the women announced gleefully before launching into a now-infamous song with the most openly pornographic chorus in rock en espanol. With their trashy looks, pink wigs and disregard for convention, Las Ultrasonicas are Latin rock’s equivalent of a John Waters movie. It’s unlikely they’ll ever transcend novelty-act status, but for now they’re a brilliant addition to the scene.

The rebellious spirit of punk also was present in the music of Los Pinguos, an L.A.-based group of Argentine musicians whose festive singalong tunes are equal parts cumbia, son and tarantella. The septet offered one of the show’s most ingenious surprises when it segued into a soaring version of Sumo’s classic “La Rubia Tarada” -- an incisive piece of social commentary with an infectious hook, one of the few moments that equaled the magazine’s creativity.