They were just kids from the barrio. But tonight, they were gods.
Five years ago, they were sweeping floors in a tire shop in Quito. Their demo was a burned CD with a sharpie label. Record labels laughed. "Too urban," they said. "Too much Spanish. No one will play this next to Ricky Martin."
Tonight was the final night of the Haciendo Historia tour. The stage was a cathedral of bass bins. A massive LED screen behind them showed a collage of their journey: the tire shop, the cybercafe, their abuela crying at their first real show.