SANTIAGO, Chile — In the late 1980s, the Chilean indie band María Sonora recorded an album that existed more as rumor than fact. Helmed by brother and sister duo Sebastián “Tan” Levine and María José Levine, the group was known for mashing together what was then an unconventional array of sounds: dance hall, samba, electronica, rock guitar, a dash of Elvis. Their live shows were ebullient, with charismatic frontwoman María José donning handmade outfits crafted out of bright plastic. María Sonora landed like a colorful bolt of lightning during a dark period when Chile was deep into its second decade of dictatorship under General Augusto Pinochet. During that time, the band recorded a studio album, but, like many edgier acts, they were unable to secure commercial release. So, María Sonora did what any underground act would do during that era: they distributed their music themselves on a limited number of homegrown cassettes. This meant that if you didn’t know the band, or someone who knew them, good luck locating their album. Until now, that is. Nearly four decades after they came together, their self-titled debut, María Sonora, has finally been formally released — an event marked by their first live gig in 31 years. Held at the Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (GAM) in Santiago in late October, the sold-out show drew fans to a dim basement gallery where Tan, decked out in a tie-dye blazer behind his drum kit, greeted the crowd with a cry of “María Sonora — 35 years later!” before launching into the buoyant opening riffs of a calypso-tinged tune called “Zandunga.”María Sonora reunites on stage after 31 years on October 24, 2025, at the Centro Cultural Gabriel Mistral (GAM) in Santiago, Chile; Sebastián “Tan” Levine on drums and María José Levine on vocals (photo Carolina A. Miranda/Hyperallergic)This very belated release took place thanks to a long-running side project by artist Iván Navarro. Born in Chile and based in New York, Navarro is best known for creating sculptures out of neon and mirrors that toy with illusion and the ambiguities of language. (One work from 2014 consists of a giant drum that appears to show the word “bomb” receding into infinity — an expression that could be read as a threat, harmless slang, or an onomatopoetic interpretation of a musical beat.) In 2005, the artist, who has created numerous works inspired by music and instrumentation, launched Hueso Records, a diminutive label devoted to releasing limited edition recordings of sound art works and other niche projects. “It’s a way to do public art,” he told Hyperallergic. “It’s putting art projects not in museums, nor in galleries, but in other more popular channels, like record stores or a radio station or the internet.”The label’s first release, in 2005, was Roquerío by Christian Torres-Roje, a Chilean vocalist who goes by the name Nutria NN. It was a modest undertaking — a limited run of 500 CDs — but it led to others in a similar vein, small acts that often had a link to the art world. Five years later, Hueso started releasing albums on vinyl. An album cover for a 2024 self-titled release by the Chilean all-woman band Cleopatras features cover art titled “Dialogue with White Pig” (2001) by Argentine artist Liliana Porter. This album marks the first collaboration between ISLAA and Hueso Records. (image courtesy Hueso Records)The label also became a way for Navarro to explore under-documented corners of Chilean music. He began connecting with some of the underground bands that had captivated him as teen: fringe groups whose music had arrived in his hands not encased in glossy sleeves, but as bootleg cassettes — since the dictatorship made impossible the free circulation of anything that might seem even remotely anti-authoritarian, especially punk rock. Navarro remembers safekeeping elusive cassettes for ’80s punk acts like Los KK, as well as the notorious Pinochet Boys, for which Tan of María Sonora also played drums. (Their irreverent lyrics included: “Music for the general/Music for the general/Son of a bitch.”) Often, tapes were tinny from repeat copying, which, said Navarro, gave the sound “an interesting texture.”In 2012, Hueso released the only two studio tracks ever recorded by the Pinochet Boys. The record sold out, was re-released in 2021, and has since sold out again. Other recordings followed, including a live album by experimental rockers Electrodómesticos, as well as a re-release of an early album by Pequeño Vicio, a band that straddled the worlds of music, theater, and dance. (Two of its members went on to co-found the Grammy-winning rock band La Ley.) Independent music journalist Marisol García said that Navarro’s label is helping to document the country’s music and, by extension, its history: “It’s not just about releasing the record — it’s about the search, the investigation, the creation of an archive.”The cover of the 2021 re-release of Pinochet Boys (image courtesy Hueso Records)Now Hueso’s releases are growing in scope. In 2024, Navarro teamed up with the Institute for Studies on Latin American Art (ISLAA) in New York City, which is assisting with funding and with locating artists whose work might be reproduced on album covers. Last year, a Hueso recording by Cleopatras, an all-woman Chilean band that also delved into performance, featured cover imagery by Argentine artist Liliana Porter — a photographic vignette depicting a porcelain figurine of a woman facing a pig. María Sonora’s album contains work by the late Brazilian artist Nelson Leirner, who fabricated geometric abstractions out of fabric and zippers; his unorthodox use of materials pairs well with the band’s approach to music. Included in these recent releases are thoughtful liner notes by García. (For those who don’t have a turntable, the albums are also available on Spotify.)ISLAA founder Ariel Aisiks explained that the goal is to expand the project beyond Chile and produce an edition of 24 albums by underground bands who existed throughout Latin America during the era of the dictatorships (principally, the 1970s and ’80s). Navarro jokingly refers to the series as “the soundtrack to Operation Condor” — the infamous campaign of coordinated political repression among eight right-wing dictatorships in South America at that time. Said García: “My job now is to find the Cleopatras and María Sonoras of Brazil or Argentina.”A view of Iván Navarro’s solo installation, “Penumbra,” at the Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (GAM) in Santiago, Chile, October 2025. In the foreground is “The Music Room IV” (2017), made by Navarro and Courtney Smith. It is a listening station of radical music collected by Navarro. (photo Carolina A. Miranda/Hyperallergic)María Sonora’s much anticipated reunion concert in Santiago marks the ways in which this tiny label has served as an important bridge between Latin American music and art. The gig took place amid an installation of Navarro’s work titled “Penumbra” that was part of the 17th Bienal de Artes Mediales de Santiago, a scrappy citywide biennial focused on new media arts. Organizing the live performance was García, who has curated a musical series for GAM since 2023 called Interferencias, featuring site-specific performances in locations around the building. For Navarro, seeing it all come together in his native country — where his father was once held as a political prisoner — has been “a dream come true.” What makes the project especially poignant are the ways in which Hueso is reinscribing histories suppressed by authoritarianism. In the early years of the dictatorship, the hulking structure that houses GAM — a weathered steel building resembling an aircraft carrier — functioned as the headquarters of the military junta. Since 2010 it has served as a cultural center. In late October, one of its galleries became an improvised underground nightclub where María José bounded about the stage in an exuberant ensemble of sequins, tulle, and red fishnets, plunging into the opening lines of “Armenia,” a trumpet-laden tune bearing Arab influences. Neon sculptures by Navarro cast a red and green glow on the restrained gallery crowd, which, as the show wore on, was moved to dance. It was thrilling and joyful — art finding a way to outlast those who attempt to suppress it. The neon wheelbarrow sculpture that appears in Iván Navarro’s video “Linterna: No soy de aquí, Ni soy de allá” (2006). (photo Carolina A. Miranda/Hyperallergic)The cover of the 2016 album ¡Viva Chile! by the experimental rock act Electrodómesticos, featuring a cover design by Pablo Castro, drawn from a historic photo by Manuel Martínez. (image courtesy Hueso Records)The team behind María Sonora’s comeback takes a bow. Music journalist Marisol García is seen kneeling at left. Singer María José Levine is at center wearing red fishnets. Sebastián “Tan” Levine speaks into the mic. Iván Navarro is on the right, taking a bow in a black t-shirt with a triangle pattern. (photo Carolina A. Miranda/Hyperallergic)