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That puzzling assurance could be directed at a new generation of rockeros in Mexico and abroad. "A lot of the new generation thinks we shouldn't be playing anymore," smirks drummer Andre who, like Hernandez, is within a few years of turning 40. "It has to do with consumer society; everything is disposable."
Jaguares' recycling of its own songs -- like the repetition of the band's epic ritual onstage, which generated an energy that threatened to blow away the tiny Colony Theater during the band's first show here last year and will likely shudder the foundation of Billboardlive this Wednesday -- stands as a reminder that there is no future without the past. The new is always anchored in antecedents.
"I think one thing that helps is to produce not from the point of view of sales or marketing, but from the point of view of evolution," says Hernandez. "Every time that you do something new, you have the possibility of inventing yourself." Suddenly overcome by the mystic, he adds: "In the end, living and dying are the same thing."
Does that mean that Jaguares will continue to rock beyond the grave? Running a hand through his thick hair, his dark mane shorn earlier this year but his manner as gothically rock as ever, Andre promises, "I'm going to keep doing this until my body can't do any more."