The Mills celebrates 20 years of career with a unique concert at the Movistar Arena: "We still get excited like it's the first year."

When The Mills started playing in Bogotá in the early years of this century, its members weren't thinking about the future. They wanted to live in the moment, play in bars, write songs that spoke true meaning, and be part of a scene.

"I never imagined it would last 20 years, honestly," confesses Bako (Álvaro Charry), the band's vocalist. Today, that story, which began as a youthful experiment in alternative rock, has become one of the most solid trajectories in contemporary Colombian music.

In a conversation with EL TIEMPO, the musicians recall what it's meant to reach this point. The announcement of their most ambitious concert yet—on June 17, 2026, at the Movistar Arena in Bogotá— is just the beginning of a larger celebration: that of a band that has endured, that hasn't betrayed itself, and that continues with the same energy as its beginnings.

"The state of the band, what we're doing, what we're enjoying, feels like we're in our second or third year," Bako says. It's not posturing. There's a genuine tone of wonder and gratitude in his words. "We get along really well. We enjoy the rehearsals, the shows, the soundchecks. We've been very fortunate with what we've been given."

The Mills hasn't just survived the passage of time: it's left its mark. Their discography includes anthems that have accompanied thousands of young people through important moments in their lives. One of them is "Guadalupe," a song that has become a farewell letter, a refuge, and a shared voice.

"Even today, they write to us every day, thanking us for that song. They tell me it's helping them get through a tough time. That they're getting through it," Bako says.

He also states with a smile: "I believe that if I were to be struck by lightning tomorrow and die, just having left 'Guadalupe' would have made me feel completely satisfied."

For The Mills, that's the deepest meaning of making music: connecting. A song expressing what another person can't, a balm in the midst of a difficult situation.

One of the phrases Bako repeats, like a mantra, is: "The only one who loses in this business is the one who stops." And they certainly haven't stopped. They continue writing songs, driven by the inner need to say something, but also by the demands of the digital environment.

"You have to feed that monster that is the algorithm," he acknowledges, but immediately clarifies that it's not just about complying with an external mechanism. " You need to get things out from within yourself because otherwise they'll rot inside. And you can only achieve that by making songs."

In that sense, composing remains a vital, therapeutic, and profoundly human act. The band gets together to compose not out of obligation, but out of desire. " We're still excited by everything," says Bako. " We still surprise ourselves: 'How come we're going to such a place?' And we experience it with pure joy."

Although rock has been at the heart of their work, The Mills aren't afraid to experiment. What they do reject is the idea of making music to follow a trend or please a soulless algorithm . "If you try to please people, you're always late," says DC, one of the founding members. "It's not about chasing trends. We make music we want to play and enjoy."

This authenticity has allowed them to stay relevant without losing their essence. "We're not doing this to become famous or millionaires, but to have a good time," adds Dizee (Diego Cáceres).

For them, musical honesty is more powerful than any commercial strategy. "If you don't like reggaeton, making reggaeton is going to sound terrible. And if you don't like rock, you don't have to do it."

In an era where the industry seems to demand extreme adaptability, The Mills respond with a conviction: to remain themselves. " There's no such thing as music to be famous anymore; there's honest music. And people connect much more with that," Dizee concludes.

Relationships in bands, like those in families or couples, wear thin. Cohabitation, touring, and pressure often break even successful projects. What has kept The Mills together? For Bako, the key lies in affection, respect, and shared energy. "We still get along, we still laugh, we're still excited about what we do. That's not normal after so many years."

That shared enthusiasm isn't just a consequence of music, but also its origin. Rehearsing together remains a joy. They still feel like they're taking to the stage as a privilege. "I'm very happy to have been around for so long and that we're still so enthusiastic. That's what I value most."

The band has toured Colombia and parts of Latin America, playing at festivals, bars, and theaters. But they've never performed at the Movistar Arena. The next one, on June 17, 2026, will be the first time .

And it won't be just any show: it will be a concert celebrating their 20th anniversary. The Mills are billing it as a unique experience, "a show that will never be repeated," where they will perform new versions of their most beloved songs, feature special guests, and a stage set designed to thank their audience for two decades of loyalty.

“It's our way of reconnecting with everyone who's been with us on this journey. It's going to be very exciting,” says Bako. Tickets will be available for pre-sale soon, and their fans—who have grown up with them—are already preparing for a memorable night.

ANGELA MARÍA PÁEZ RODRÍGUEZ - SCHOOL OF MULTIMEDIA JOURNALISM EL TIEMPO.