Mexico City’s Austin TV Brings Math Rock to Chicago

Julie Simmons
2 days ago
3 min read

Updated: 22 hours ago

By Julie Simmons | Music Journalist

No one from the crowd sang because there were no lyrics. Everyone was wearing a mask - the crowd and the band. The crowd’s masks were more or less figurative, but for the Ibero-American post-rock band from Mexico City, Austin TV, theirs were literal and colorful. Instead of faces, we stared at what appeared to be eggshells, colorfully painted like bright orange lichen on gray stones. Soft white tassels emerged out of two small eye holes, giving the appearance of a permanent stream of tears dancing in the sun.

It was a mildly warm afternoon at Wicker Park Fest on Saturday, July 25. Though new to some Chicagoans in the crowd, Austin TV has been around since 2001. Long before the popularity of other fully costumed bands like Angine de Poitrine, Austin TV has been concealing their identity because, according to the band’s motto, "Tu Cara No Importa, Importas Tú,” which translates to "Your face doesn't matter, you matter.”

And there have been many faces in the crowd.

Austin TV has been known to draw tens of thousands of fans, most notably when they headlined the Festival Vive Latino in Mexico City (2023).

While Saturday’s crowd size was more modest, listeners were intrigued and engaged. The band’s math rock-inspired time signatures orchestrated the crowd to move, then shift, and try to find the beat again and again, to the point of surrendering to a pure, communal, rhythmic sway. Their music is all about avoiding the predictable.

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/X2vMJZaJ8vM?is=2nQeq8D5ViM-qKwY

Many eras ago, performers rattled their hips to challenge societal proprieties and — let’s be honest — sell records.

The moves turned into a dance sensation.

Artists changed their hairstyle to chip away at conformity (and sell records).

The kids became long-haired weirdos.

Musicians turned to makeup, face paint, and costumes to express their identities.

Fans started showing up to concerts in matching costumes.

So, as a seemingly backlash to it all, performers like Austin TV are hiding their faces entirely. Maybe it’s so we don’t see them, or maybe it’s so we can all try to break down the “us” and “them.”

A guitarist from the band did not remove his mask when he approached the microphone and explained that they’re not trying to hide their faces but rather to remove what gets in the way.

He went on, “It doesn’t matter what the system tries to impose [on] us. We want to say, ‘what matters is you as a person.’ So, this is all about that. It’s not about you and the band. It’s about all being together and community, and we’ve been trying to do that for a long time. I think we can do it. Thank you.”

As I stood two rows from the barricade, I noticed a difference in myself as I watched musicians who weren’t making eye contact. I wasn’t seeking approval for knowing the lyrics. No one was, because no one was delivering a lyrical message. Yes, we were watching them, but there was more focus on the music as a living organism. I assumed there were times when they could see us through the masks’ material, but we could never really see them. I found myself focusing on tattoos and exposed skin.

That probably wasn’t their intention.

When the set ended, the crowd applauded and dispersed. I watched the sweaty artists peel off their masks one by one. A guitarist threw his pick into the crowd, then bent down to coil up cables. If words were exchanged, I didn’t see them. A woman in front of me brushed past with a smile and tears in her eyes like she had just seen an idol.