Chimo Bayo, from king of track to businessman | Economy

Chimo Bayo, from king of track to businessman | Economy

Chimo Bayo, day 5 in Valencia.

Chimo Bayo He arrives a little late to the appointment at 11.30 in the bar of the Astoria hotel in Valencia. He apologizes, goes to the bar and orders a glass of champagne. The symbol of the Bakalao route lives a sweet moment. He survived what he calls the "stigma of drug addicts" with which the legendary Valencian circuit of electronic music was dismissed and has been reinvented several times since then to become, as he defines himself, a successful brand.

In nine months, 100,000 bottles of 'techno-red' Hu-Ha have been sold

In the last year he has published a book (I was not going to leave and I lie). He has launched his own wine. It has become the main claim of Love the 90's macro concerts, which in 2018 has gathered 150,000 people hungry for remember or musical nostalgia. He has multiplied his sessions as disc jockey He has walked through the great Spanish television humor programs. He has starred in the promotional campaign for the third season of the Netflix series Narcos And he has left stone more than one when making the leap to Bankia prescriber, with an ad that sounds on the radio and Spotify: "I'm Chimo Bayo and today I'm not here to tell you: This one is, this one is not. I'm here to tell you that electronic music is already 37 years old. Hu ha! Time flies by, that's why you need a pension plan. "

Mariano Casares, director of advertising and corporate image of Bankia, and Circus, the agency that created the ad for Netflix, affirm that the DJ is today a "cultural icon" that connects with several generations and its campaigns achieve an instant impact on social networks. And Toni Arráez, manager of Bodegas Arráez, explains that the techno-red Hu-Ha, of which they have sold 100,000 bottles in nine months at four euros per unit, has opened the doors of the great distribution. It is sold in the Consum and Más y Más supermarkets and in the Alcampo hypermarkets of the Valencian Community.

"Chimo Bayo is doing what, saving the distances, is normal in the world of hip hop in the United States, where singers win more with other businesses, thanks to their image, than with music, "he says. Joan Oleaque, journalist, university professor and author of the essay on the Bakalao route In ecstasy.

Version for the general public

Born in Valencia in 1961, the son of a secretary and a notary officer, Chimo Bayo did not finish high school and arrived at his first booth, Number One, a music club in Cullera specialized in music funky, after a traffic accident ruined his plan to become a professional motocross rider. Despite having emerged as the maximum exponent of the Bakalao route, Bayo was never part of its nucleus. He played on a parallel circuit to the neuralgic and his songs were not heard in the great Valencian nightclubs that integrated the avant-garde of world electronic music. In addition to its facet of showman, its merit, Oleaque indicates, consisted of offering a version suitable for the general public with a sound that was very strong in the late eighties. underground.

"People say: 'Look at the madman of Chimo', but I am a brand that always meets," says

"All the big ones disc jockeys of Spain were concentrated in 20 kilometers. Overcoming that was very difficult. They were great technicians, and I am more explosive. While they could be three minutes mixing a song to make it perfect, I was standing on the plates, singing, inventing slogans and lyrics, going down to the dance floor with the people. Mine was pure energy and empathize with the public. And I think that's what has kept me here, "says the DJ, who acted in Israel and Japan and sold, he assures, one million copies in 35 countries of his great success I like it that way to me, published in 1991.

The route ended definitively at the end of the nineties, then enveloped in social and artistic discredit. And Bayo stayed in no man's land. For years he had a program on a dark local television in Valencia, he went through low moments and was redeemed by humor and by the first wave of nostalgia of the eighties.

Own DJ he sponsored an ironic version of himself on his television show, called This moves, says Oleaque. And that prepared the ground for the comedians to recover it. The self-parody allowed him to get rid of the most negative connotations that weighed on him and his music. "There is no laughing at yourself. When he went out with Joaquín Reyes in The chanante hour, he said: 'Chimo is not well, he is worse than us,' Bayo recalls.

After almost a decade without DJing, in 2007 they started calling him again to give key concerts remember. An industry that has not stopped growing. Bayo is the only participant in the two annual tours of Love the 90's held so far, which he will repeat in 2019. "It's a little bit the agglutinator. There is a lot of public that comes dressed up as Chimo or with merchandising of Chimo. And when you offer artists to the media, they ask you for interviews with Chimo, "says Isabel Martín, head of communication at Share Music !, the company that organizes the show.

The DJ he has sung this year before 19,000 people in Valencia, but he has not stopped performing in village festivals. "You have to be elegant and always give everything. When there are few people in a performance, the 200 that there are are your fans and you can not let them down. You have to make a performance as big as if it were full, "he says. "Being able to trust an artist is very important for entrepreneurs. People say: 'Look at the crazy Chimo', but Chimo is a brand that has always fulfilled. In 38 years I think I've failed twice. "

The great success that nobody wanted to publish

Chimo Bayo was already in 1991 a disc jockey very well-known. But when he tried to publish his first album, That's the way I like it, the success that elevated him to the star of dance music, he found a wall.

"Nobody wanted to take out the song. Nobody understood the hu-ha and the chiquitan. The big ones managers electronic music from Europe told me to remove them. I went through all the record companies, I came to offer to give them the rights in exchange for taking out the vinyl, but they still did not accept it. And thank goodness, but later he would have killed me. In the end it was taken by a company that, instead of giving me 12% of royaltiesHe told me that we were going to profit and loss; We agreed on a percentage of 33% that I should have paid if things went badly. They screwed up alone, because I had tried to give it to them for free. "

The song made the DJ, he redoubled the influx of the public to the Bakalao route and, for some, marked the beginning of his musical decadence and the progressive passage of the discotheque circuit to the pages of newspaper events. "Chimo Bayo defends that from him the thing went wild," says Joan Oleaque, author of an essay on the Bakalao route. "He is at the limit of the music that could be heard, because his bases would fit in the electronic body music, a genre of Belgian origin. It was not the Makino Smurfs, let's go, "he concludes.


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