When Creamfields returns this November 16 and 17 after almost a decade of absence, more than one thing is going to feel different. For the 2015 edition, tickets cost approximately 1,000 pesos. Today, the cost of the day pass is literally 90 times that value. Nine years ago, on its last date at that time, The mecca of electronics gathered thousands of enthusiasts in Costanera Sur, one of the locations that was repeated the most throughout its legendary history.
This month, however, the cycle will opt for a new home: the City Park in Villa Soldati, which in December also hosts the Buenos Aires Trap festival. During a string of 15 years of consecutive editions (from 2001 to 2015), The festival par excellence of electronic music in the country accompanied the history of this style side by side. In between there were government changes and devaluations, Spotify won the fight against the physical format, and rock lost a certain centrality in the taste of the local listener. In turn, dance music had its own coming-of-age, today with a specialized audience that spans generations and that recognizes each subgenre by ear (remember when everything with a beat was called “marching music”?).
It becomes almost obvious, then, that the return in style of Creamfields is today also a participant in the other great current within electronic music: the conquest of female DJs on the main stages of the world.
The 2024 Creamfields grid reveals a greater today, dancing is no longer just the territory of men. the gender
Finding the line-up of the first Creamfields is not as easy a task as it might seem. But in addition to giving us an overview of the “who-is-who” of the scene at the beginning of the century, the 2001 curatorship also reveals what is missing: except for the exceptions of Romina Cohn and the late Carla Tintoré, the women shine mainly due to his absence.
In the 2024 grid, a greater share of the female gender reveals that today dance is no longer just the territory of men. More than a dozen female DJs, from the American The Blessed Madonna to the Russian Nina Kraviz and local talent, prove it. He was overlooked, underpaid and questioned his talents behind the layups. Now, many of them occupy the main festival times. It is a change that has been brewing slowly but steadily, Sol Ortega tells Viva.
Beyond sexism
Sol (31) is today one of the protagonists of the national scene. The DJ from Buenos Aires, who has been playing music for more than a decade, will perform on Sunday the 17th, when she will mix house, techno and other sounds in the 4 pm set. Participating in the return of Creamfields is a confirmation of a career that is always on the rise: Sol tours around the world, shares the bill with its references, and even curates a label, Maquina Latina, where it gives the opportunity to new voices in the scene. However, becoming a world-class DJ was not without its pitfalls along the way.
“When I started, I felt like there were very few of us. I went through situations of sexism and comments that made me distrust what I was doing. Luckily, a few years ago, with the feminist revolution and after the pandemic, things changed a lot,” says Sol. Now, sees more space for women in the line-ups, something she attributes in part to female quota policies at festivals. “At first, it seemed to me that the quotas were a bit pigeonholing and could divert the debate about music, but it was necessary to give visibility,” he admits, remembering that before, few DJs were seen on the scene.
Sol’s career began with a close reference: his father. He was also a DJ. In this way, From a young age he had privileged access to a tray to begin to find his own style: Everything naturally led her to follow her dad’s love for electronics. However, it was at his first party in Buenos Aires when he encountered a woman on stage and truly felt that this was the way to go. Witnessing Magda, DJ from the legendary Richie Hawtin’s label, tear it up live was decisive.. “Seeing her there, among several men, doing her thing, inspired me a lot. It was at that moment when I also saw myself in that place,” Sol remembers.
For the artist, little by little the role of women and diversities on the scene has been accepted, without the constant questioning of whether they can do it well or not. However, although there is still a way to go, Sol warns that focusing only on the label of “female DJ” makes us lose focus: They are ready to be called DJs. And period.
There is a big taboo about the life of DJs and mental health.
When Sol began to chart his own path in electronics, in an industry that idealizes the non-stop party lifestyle – and the DJ as a party guru – taking a break to breathe is more complex than it seems.
Sets that last until dawn, sleepless nights, tours through half a dozen cities in the same week… In between, it’s time to gather the strength to mix music each date in front of a different audience, sounding fresh and without noticeable wear. It is the ideal cocktail for a peak of stress.
Sol does not shy away from talking about the challenges he has faced, including panic attacks and anxiety. Finding a balance to the chaos of touring was an urgency more than a desire, although he admits that today it is still difficult for him to balance his personal life and his music.
Creamfields, the classic electronic music festival, will be held in City Park.“People think that DJs party all the time, but many times they don’t see all the work behind it: the trips, the sleepless nights, the loneliness”he explains. Now, her next goal is to be able to travel with someone more frequently, thus spending more time with her partner and family, instead of just when she returns from tours.
Over the years, Sol found an ally in therapy to learn to cope with the hurried pace of his professional life.. But he highlights that mental health is far from a finished conversation. “There is a great taboo on the subject. People believe it is a matter of will: If you’re traveling the world and doing what you love, why aren’t you happy all the time? “They don’t understand that you might be having a bad time.”he reflects.
In addition to helping her change, turning to professional help and externalizing what she feels allowed her to gain more confidence in her abilities. At first, Sol often felt like an outsider in a scene that had not yet learned to give women their space. “I am very introverted and it is difficult for me to be in front of many people, which as a DJ is something quite complex. There was also some bullying when I came in – they didn’t understand what women were doing on the scene,” she says. “Now I understood that there are people who will like what you do and others who won’t – and that’s perfect.”