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Los Nadies

Los Nadies bring a keen mix of social awareness, poetry, street party and musicianship every time they step on to a stage.

Front-man Juan Cuba, from Perú, infuses the songs with his poetic observations and social commentary, delivered in his distinctive voice and his electric presence. Mateo Nube from Bolivia, is our political soul and in-house activist and plays electric leads and rhythm and adds vocal support. Bay Area native Marty Jones, provides solid and driving bass grooves to complement Argentinean José Vergelin’s colorful and eclectic drums and percussion. Chris Mayorga, with roots in Nicaragua and the San Francisco Bay Area, brings his nuanced, virtuosic solos and rhythmic drive on both the electric and acoustic guitar. Effie Rawlings enriches and sweetens the Los Nadies sound with her crisp lead and backup vocals, while Alejandra Contreras from Mexico, mesmerizes, casting spells on the violin and further sweetening with her vocals.

Band Members

Juan Cuba

Juan Cuba

Lead Vocal

Mateo Nube

Mateo Nube

Guitar/Vocals

Effie Rawlings

Effie Rawlings

Vocals

Marty Jones

Marty Jones

Bass

Alejandra Contreras

Alejandra Contreras

Violin/Vocals

Chris Mayorga

Chris Mayorga

Guitar

José Vergelin

José Vergelin

Drums & Percussion

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The inspiration

Los Nadies 
por Eduardo Galeano

Sueñan las pulgas con comprarse un perro y sueñan los nadies con salir de pobres, que algún mágico día llueva de pronto la buena suerte, que llueva a cántaros la buena suerte; pero la buena suerte no llueve ayer, ni hoy, ni mañana, ni nunca, ni en llovizna cae del cielo la buena suerte, por mucho que los nadies la llamen y aunque les pique la mano izquierda, o se levanten con el pie derecho, o empiecen el año cambiando de escoba. 

Los nadies: los hijos de nadie, los dueños de nada.
Los nadies: los ningunos, los ninguneados, corriendo la liebre, muriendo la vida, jodidos, rejodidos. 

Que no son, aunque sean.
Que no hablan idiomas, sino dialectos.
Que no profesan religiones, sino supersticiones.
Que no hacen arte, sino artesanías.
Que no practican cultura, sino folklore.
Que no son seres humanos, sino recursos humanos.
Que no tienen cara, sino brazos.
Que no tienen nombre, sino número.
Que no figuran en la historia universal, sino en la crónica roja de la prensa local.
Los nadies, que cuestan menos que la bala que los mata.

The Nobodies
by Eduardo Galeano

Fleas dream of buying a dog and the nobodies dream of getting out of poverty, that some magical day good luck will suddenly rain down, good luck will rain in buckets; but good luck didn't not rain yesterday, nor today, nor tomorrow, nor ever, nor does good luck fall from the sky in a drizzle, no matter how much the nobodies call for it and even if their left hand itches, or they start the day on their right foot, or start the year by changing brooms.

The nobodies: no one's children, the owners of nothing. The nobodies: the no ones, the ignored, running the gauntlet, dying life, screwed, double-screwed.

Who are not, even though they are.
Who do not speak languages, but dialects.
Who do not profess religions, but superstitions.
Who do not make art, but crafts.
Who do not practice culture, but folklore.
Who are not human beings, but human resources.
Who do not have a face, but arms.
Who do not have a name, but a number.
Who do not appear in universal history, but rather in the red chronicles of the local press.
The nobodies, who are worth less than the bullet that kills them.

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