In 2023, my friend Sílvia went to a festival. I was already familiar with the whole QUERALT LAHOZ thing back in 2021, when she asked me to design a few things for her merchandise and her tour wardrobe, and also because she is another person from Catalunya who has to fight every day in the Barcelona metropolitan area to make civil servants understand that, yes, “Queralt” is a first name and not a surname.

The thing is, the day after the festival, I sat down with Sílvia to drink forty beers and, when I asked her what interesting things she had seen, time stopped and she said: “I had an epiphany at the QUERALT LAHOZ concert. I don’t know what happened to me, it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” She was deeply obsessed with a white light in the middle of a stage. She kept saying: “It’s just that, suddenly, I was there in the middle and she appeared, and there was a white light.” The tone was a bit like when someone who has been abducted by aliens tells you their story and you, not wanting to be insensitive, play along a little and ask questions that hover somewhere between curiosity and mockery. That is what stayed with me, and that is what I am telling you. Because what I would say in this text I have been asked to write is that QUERALT should be on your lists because, besides being a musical prodigy, she has her ovaries very firmly in place. But it is even more important that you listen to Sílvia: “You have to listen to QUERALT LAHOZ because one day, standing in front of her, I touched the sky.”

And, just like when someone tells you they were blinded by a white light in the middle of a misty forest, you can laugh about it to their face, but you cannot deny that, after a conversation like that, you have at some point gone home and the first thing you did, more out of curiosity than mockery, was type “QUERALT LAHOZ” into Spotify to feel, for a few seconds, the same thing Sílvia felt.
 

Queralt Guinart ‘Kerrature’

Illustrator, designer and communicator