… is called Ella lo Sabe. That translates to She Knows It. What exactly does she know? I’m not sure, but I do know this group’s front man needs his own TV show.

I had my first, and hopefully not last, contact with Ella lo Sabe when I went a little music festival two nights ago in a town called Lago Puelo, which is 10 miles or so south of El Bolson (where the farm I’ve been volunteering is at). I was expecting traditional Argentinan folk music — that is, lots of fast-paced accoustic-guitar playing and plenty of mentions of the word arriba. And that all happened. But not before Ella lo Sabe opened the evening with its own unique version of rock/pop and roll.

It was still light out when the groups´s piano player, bassist, guitar player and drummer took the stage. They started rocking slowly, but slowly picked up steam. Then the pianist held down a high, sustained note. Was this an intro or just a weird song? I didn’t know. And then he appeared. The lead singer, dressed all in black, cigarette in hand. I don´t know what his name is. I´ll call him Greg. I imagine his name is actually along the lines of Fernando, but to me, he looked like a Greg. Greg saunters out, head bobbing with the music. No rush. He’s focused. His goatee is glistening in the late-afternoon sun. Also, he’s smoking a cigarette — I know I said that already, but hot damn, how sweet do you have to be to come out on stage smoking? (If you’re a lounge singer, okay, but a rock/pop and roll singer? That takes a certain breed.) Greg raises his hands, does a little jump and then starts howling into the microphone. Greg´s voice is lacking, well, pitch and smoothness. But that´s all right because what he lacks in vocal skill he more than makes up for in general on-stage enthusiasm. At the end of the second verse of that first song, Greg backs away from the mic and the guitarist goes into a pretty nice solo. Greg nails every note on air guitar. Then the pianist takes the melody. Greg is right there on air piano. Now, it’s the bassist’s turn. Can Greg complete the air-instrument traid? No. He’s inhaling tobacco. But when the song’s last note hits, he’s right there, jumping up and landing on the final beat, fist in the air, cigarette sparkling.

Every song pretty much follows the same pattern. Greg gives a little intro and thanks the audience. Then he sings somewhat out of tune. Then he does awesome things with his hands. Then he smokes. As each song comes to a close, Greg does a little hop and takes a swig of Pepsi. In one song, he yells out “Gar!” repeatedly. For me, this song shines brighter than all the others. Ella lo Sabe plays for half an hour and then Greg waves goodbye as he and his bandmates walk off, making way for the other, presumably more well-known bands. Ella lo Sabe’s set may be over, but over the next day and a half I continually replay it in my mind.

Gar!