The scratched disc: Alma de Diamante
My little girl was in Mexico when, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the last airline that was flying from there to Havana stopped doing so. She was stranded for a month. The first thing we saw together when he returned home was the Spinetta chapter from the National Geographic Bios series. That show is nothing out of this world. I have seen several installments and it is more or less the same as always.
Mi jevita estaba en México cuando, por causa de la pandemia de la COVID-19, la última aerolínea que estaba volando desde allí a La Habana dejó de hacerlo. Estuvo varada por un mes. Lo primero que vimos juntos cuando regresó a casa fue el capítulo dedicado a Spinetta de la serie Bios de National Geographic. Ese show no es nada del otro mundo. He visto varias entregas y es más o menos lo mismo de siempre.
The one dedicated to Skinny has two parts and towards the end of the second it is time to talk about death. Her youngest daughter, Vera, tells us - or tries to do as much as the lump in her throat allows - of the last words her father said to her, already dry from lung cancer that took him in six months. As Vera speaks, as if what she says is not enough, as if the yellowish motherfucker reducing Luis was not enough, the production adds a squeezing hearts melody in the background to ensure the tear of the audience and the final applause. I, who cry with Beauty and the Beast, of course, I broke myself.
The current cry was surely sustained by the time of uncertainty that my little girl and I had spent, waiting for a flight to appear that would bring her back. However, I think I wept over Spinetta's death eight years later, as if he had just died and we were watching him in the living room of the house. Very strong. The relationship I have with El Flaco is not with any other artist; neither with Silvio, nor with Lezama, and, those two hit me hard! I love him as good people are loved. A love similar to that felt for Martí, or Don Quixote, as good people.
Goodness moves, more than good. Good is fixed, goodness adapts, it is transformed. Good is a structure, goodness an agency. One dictates, the other tolerates. Goodness is, following Gilberto Gil, "from the order of the mysteries", good is "from the order of the ministries". Goodness, unlike good, belongs to men.
But I'm going to talk about the album, which amuses me.
If you Google, you will know that he was influenced by the readings of Carlos Castaneda that Luis had done a few years before; that a second keyboard is added to the assembly, and that is why we can enjoy a solo by Juan del Barrio without sacrificing the atmosphere of the theme; that almost all tracks were recorded on first take. Things like that. What does not appear in the network are the elbows to the air that one gives when the blocks of Amenábar arrive; the restless foot and the closed eyes produced by the bass sound in With the shadow of your ally; nor the two seconds of silence that elapse in Alma de diamond, between the false fadeout of keyboards of the intro and the irruption of the battery of "Pomo" Lorenzo. You have to look it up on disk.
I share two images that I love. The first arrives on the fourth track. The narrator speaks to a character who is in the desert: "only with roots will you nourish yourself, with the shadow of your ally." To be collected! The other is on the third track: “Open your old things. Gather your makeup. Someone is coming, close your eyes, sit down. Thank him for being there. Thank him for being close to you. "
I'm going to kiss my little girl on the mouth.
Carlos M. Mérida
Oidor. Coleccionista sin espacio. Leguleyo. Temeroso de las abejas y de los vientos huracanados.