
On July 2024 I brought my camera to the new Casal de Joves de la Prosperitat for Lereyerté, a punk and alt-rock festival that reminded me what DIY can really mean when it’s done right: not sloppy or chaotic, but intentional, rooted, and built with care.
This wasn’t just another gig in a youth centre. It was a space claimed and transformed by people who know the scene from the inside—who play in bands, run cables, design posters, and understand that making something feel raw doesn’t mean doing it without thought. Everything—from the sound to the lighting to the timing—was handled by people who take music seriously, and still manage to make it feel like home.
Inside, the atmosphere was dense and alive. No towering stage or separation—just proximity. Band and crowd in the same light, same air. The room felt charged before the first note even hit.
I wasn’t there to observe. I was there with my camera, but also with the people. Documenting, yes—but also participating.
Each band had something to say, and they didn’t overcomplicate it. No filler, no fake personas. Just volume, sweat, and truth. I shot close: vocalists mid-scream, guitarists bracing themselves on each chord, drummers hitting like they meant it.
Backstage didn’t feel like “backstage”—just friends passing around water, cables, encouragement. I caught small moments: bandmates setting each other up for the next song, the crew doing soundcheck without fuss, the calm before the next wave of noise.
People love to throw around “DIY” like it’s an excuse to not care. But Lereyerté is the opposite. It was punk run by people who care deeply—about the sound, the experience, the vibe, and each other. It wasn’t amateur. It was self-managed, intentional, and collective.
This one stuck. Dez — singer of The Fox 196 and one of the minds behind Lareyerté — caught in a quiet moment while serving homemade gazpacho in the courtyard. It’s not just a portrait; it’s the spirit of the fest in one frame: music, sweat, generosity, and doing things your own way.
Punk’s still alive, but it’s alive because people keep it that way. They build the spaces, book the bands, run the soundboards, and hang the posters. Lereyerté isn’t a spectacle—it’s a reflection of the scene that keeps working, keeps believing, keeps showing up.
Lereyerté felt like what the punk scene should always feel like: grounded, sharp, generous, and honest.
Gràcies to the crew at Casal de Joves de la Prosperitat and everyone involved in making it real.
If you care about music with guts, and spaces with soul, don’t miss the next one.