Pello Reparaz on ZETAK and the reach of music in Basque

Pello Reparaz: In 2017, I went to London on a scholarship to pursue a Master’s in Popular Music Composition. I arrived while Vendetta – my previous band – was still active. It was mostly in Spanish, with a few songs in Basque. Paradoxically, it was that distance that gave me a clearer perspective on what I was doing.

In London, I saw countless international artists trying to carve out a niche in the industry. The pattern was often the same: to fit current standards, they sang in English, neutralised their accents and, in doing so, shaved off the very elements that made them unique. Those who made progress were usually those who belonged to that scene organically, with an identity consistent with their own ecosystem.

That’s when I understood that my path had to be the opposite – not competing to resemble a “centre”, but diving deep into my origins. To work from what I have lived and breathed: a small town in northern Navarre, the Basque language, tradition, imagery and forms of celebration – and translate all that into a contemporary language.

ZETAK was born from that decision: to build something so specific and so honest that, precisely for that reason, it might spark interest beyond its starting point.

Reparaz: The key lies in consistency and in what I call the “radical nature of the specific”. I haven’t tried to invent a generic “Navarrese-ism”, but rather to open a window onto a real place: Arbizu and its emotional landscape.

Over the years, I’ve sharpened the focus to the smallest details – house names, mountains, local idioms, rhythms and symbols. That level of precision creates a universe with density and texture.

Interestingly, the more specific a world is, the more others want to inhabit it. For outsiders, it may seem exotic; for people in the Basque Country, it can feel that way too, because we rarely look at ourselves under that magnifying glass. In both cases, something similar happens: people sense that there is no pretence – that what they are hearing and seeing comes from a real biography, a community and a memory.

At a time when many projects become deliberately generic to maximise reach, ZETAK does the opposite: it offers its own universe. When an artist exposes themselves with that degree of clarity, audiences do not just listen to songs – they enter a narrative, recognise a truth and connect from there.

Reparaz: The Korrika is much more than a march: it is a collective gesture renewed every two years to remind us that a language lives through daily use. Basque is not sustained by symbolic affection alone, but by practical decisions: speaking it, teaching it, demanding space for it and making it liveable in schools, on the streets, at work and, of course, in culture.

Transmission is central. A language is not just a tool of communication: it is an archive of memory and a link between generations. I would not want that chain to be broken.

Reparaz: There are languages with millions of speakers that are still not hegemonic in cultural, media or economic terms. Catalan, for example, does not fit easily into the label “minority”, yet it shares with Basque the constant pressure of a hegemony that determines which language is considered standard, useful or profitable.

Speaking of non-hegemonic languages allows us to name that asymmetry more accurately. It is not about pointing to supposed smallness, but about recognising unequal access to platforms, industry, prestige and social normality.

Reparaz: I do not want them to seem like ornaments. Transmission is part of ZETAK’s purpose. We currently have a platform and, for me, it is almost an obligation to use it to bring back those who laid the foundations.

That is why icons such as Erramun Martikorena, Pantxoa eta Peio, or Maixux Zugarramurdi are part of the ZETAK universe. They show that Basque is not just a language “to be protected”, but one capable of producing beauty, emotion and community. That has enormous symbolic value. It strengthens our collective self-esteem.

Reparaz: Many people approach ZETAK without understanding Basque. They enter through the music, the energy of the live show, the visual narrative and the emotion. The discourse on non-hegemonic languages also resonates with them – especially those who live in similar situations elsewhere, but also those who approach it out of curiosity and respect.

Within the Basque Country, something particularly exciting is happening: we are reaching sectors that were previously very distant from Basque, even in places such as southern Navarre. If this is at least a first approach, that already means a lot to me. It could even be a reconciliation. And it is a dream if, in some cases, it leads to a desire to learn.

Reparaz: Rather than a model to replicate, I would speak of a transferable method. In an increasingly globalised world, digging into what is genuinely your own generates credibility – stories, symbols, landscape, language, contradictions.

This applies to linguistic activism, but also to any cultural or social project: build a coherent universe, care for the details, work for the long term and understand that reach is not achieved by diluting your identity.