Moris

The sound of Moris was unlike anything heard in Buenos Aires when he started playing. In the 1960s, local rock oscillated between covers of foreign hits and Club del Clan-style ballads, but he sought something different: a blend of electric guitars with echoes of tango and blues, something that sounded like both the street and memory at once. When Los Beatniks recorded Rebelde/No finjas más in 1966, they didn’t just release Argentina’s first rock single—they sparked a scandal that led them to perform half-naked in a public fountain. The photos ended up on the cover of a censored magazine, and they spent three days in prison, but the commotion gave them exposure no album of the era had achieved. The group didn’t last long, but that act—mixing provocation with music—became a hallmark of his approach: uncompromising and with the guitar always front and center.

In 1970, Treinta Minutos de Vida arrived, his first solo album. Among the songs he recorded that year, one instantly stood out: El Oso. It wasn’t a track that sounded like commercial rock but rather a sung narrative with a deep voice and a twelve-string acoustic guitar tangled with a wah-wah pedal. The lyrics spoke of a character torn between nostalgia and rebellion, and the arrangement, with strings directed by Rodolfo Alchourrón, carried a tango air few dared to cross. Moris always said this fusion came from listening to Carlos Di Sarli and Mariano Mores at home, but the result was pure rock with a Buenos Aires accent. By then, he had already composed Ayer nomás, which Los Gatos turned into a hit, yet he remained true to his style: songs that sounded like everyday neighborhood life, with guitars strumming as if telling a story.