By Nehuén Gusmerotti *
At 84 years old and with a career that can rival that of the greatest rock musicians in history, Wilfrido Aníbal Quiroga, always known as “Willy,” retired from the stage. The announcement was made during the afternoon of August 15, “I have to give you some news that I never wanted to give,” begins the statement published around 5:00 p.m. on their official social networks. “At 84 years old and with all the desire to continue, I have developed an illness that does not allow me to sing, play or continue with the band.” The legendary bassist announced that he will finally stop playing, although his band still has some commitments ahead of it, during which it is estimated that Quiroga will not go on stage. The illness to which the musician refers was not disclosed, so it remains a private matter.
“A thousand apologies, life has these things and never tells you,” concludes the first part of the statement in which Willy is sitting outdoors commenting on the situation. Although it was speculated that the date of August 24 in San Miguel would be the last for the former Vox Dei, in the statement he clarifies that his band will fulfill the commitment, so it is most likely that Quiroga will not play. This is the end of the longest-running rocker in activity, and one of the last of the founding generation of our rock. “I am grateful to have been part of a change, and to have had a virgin world ahead of me”he expressed some time ago to Graphic Radio in a note about the 50th anniversary of La Biblia, the most transcendental work of Quiroga, Vox Dei, and rock in general. It was the first heavy metal band from Argentina, the first to make a conceptual album in our country and the first from the southern suburbs to establish itself as a pillar of the young seventies.
Vox Dei, trio format with Ruben Basoalto and Ricardo Soulé
“For us, coming to the capital was like going to the moon on our knees”Quiroga, a resident and lover of Quilmes by adoption, told Nacional Rock some time ago. Because Wilfrido Quiroga was born in Córdoba, on May 17, 1940, in Río Cuarto, and came to live in the south of Buenos Aires as a child. A Boca fan, although when he grew up he became more of a baseball fan, he began playing at 17 when he bought a criolla from a neighborhood drinker who “hit his guitar a lot.” He formed a duo and began doing shows at a pizzeria in Quilmes in exchange for food and drinks. There, by fate, he would meet Rubén Basoalto, with whom he would found a short time later one of the pillar bands of criollo rock, Vox Dei.
Although the group, which was completed at that time by Ricardo Soulé and “Yodi” Godoy, began its career as Match 4 and making songs in English, a visit to the capital and a Manal album would change everything. Because the myth of Luis Alberto Spinetta asking them why they didn’t sing in our language is only half true, the first reality check came through Javier Martínez, months before the memorable show at the Teatro Payró. Vox Dei, the voice of God, was thus positioned as a hybrid band on the virgin stage of nascent Argentine rock. In Quiroga, the heaviest compositions were born, closer to Manal, while on Soulé’s side came the sensitivity and sweetness closer to Almendra or Los Gatos. The alchemy was perfect, the sound was unlike anything else, and from Quilmes the quartet walked on eggshells and made a name for themselves that would remain etched in national cultural history.
It didn’t take long for the quartet, which had become a trio after internal frictions that led to Godoy’s departure, to compose their masterpiece. The idea of a conceptual album had been discussed, Quiroga had thought of Martín Fierro (the question of what would have become of Vox Dei if José Hernández’s classic had been brought to life will forever remain). But Soulé came up with a gigantic madness, to make a version of the most important book in the history of Western humanity, The Bible. Thus, at Quiroga’s house and after marathon meetings that were only interrupted by his wife to bring them plates of ravioli, the band began to create their masterpiece. Siete Movimientos, chosen by Willy who cabalistically believed that this was the number they should respect. Seven songs (if we unify Christ, Birth, Death and Resurrection) and an album that left the church itself speechless, which after some doubts ended up promoting it within the institution itself.
Vox Dei, in the years of the Bible.
Although Vox Dei’s path continued, the band’s history was marked by the differences between Soulé and Quiroga. Jeremías, Pies de Plomo (1972) and Es una Nube, No Hay Duda (1973) were the group’s only successful albums after La Biblia. The comings and goings ruined a conceptual album about the poem of the Mío Cid (Soulé would release it as a soloist a few years later), several fights, discussions about the use of the group’s name, and also some meetings and reunions. Vox Dei only needed 4 years in full swing to lay the foundations of Argentine heavy music, with nothing to envy Black Sabbath, but with Soulé’s sweetness contrasting in its discography.
In addition to Vox Dei, the band that accompanied him throughout his life, Quiroga had other projects of varying scope. Destroyer, his first experience outside of Vox Dei, together with JAF and Polo Corbella, with which he only released one album; Willy Quiroga y la fuerza and Willy Quiroga trio, two short-lived projects. In addition, his last period was playing in Willy Quiroga Project, with whom he played until his recent retirement.
Willy Quiroga with Chizzo recording “Genesis”.
“I know that life has an end, but in the meantime I will continue on. I am preparing a new band, with other musicians, I will continue.”he told Radio Gráfica in that note from 2022. At that time he had barely released “Rugido de Cien mil Dragones”, together with Chizzo Nápoli and Claudio Marciello. It was one of his last compositions, and part of the closing of a career that has given too much to Argentine rock, and which now remains to be enjoyed. 23 albums, thousands of live shows, a work for all time, 84 years of journey. Hundreds of pages could be written about his career and his contribution, it is better to listen to him and enjoy what a legendary musician has left us. In all his work, perhaps in one of his best-known songs we have a dissent. “Presente” says in one of its verses: “What I started today will not be eternal.” Contradicting this work, Willy Quiroga, Vox Dei and all his songs are already eternal.
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