was more or less at thirteen when I first heard a work of Pablo Milanés. At that time Upata of those who today are childhood friends spent many hours with me shaking a ball or thrown into the arms of a tree. We agreed on the most important of our missions in search of adventure sacred day we moved to sweat blood just threw the books after the final buzzer of the class at school, then, freed at last, admitted at a half desolate site (backyard of a local old at the time called "Furniture Troy") where we were kings and lord it over. Until that day came. A day like any other but with the peculiarity that a song is stuck in the middle of football and the race on skateboards. Pablo Milanes, with all its letters that most of the time were real enigmas, real headaches, made an appearance. Do not ask me what was the song, because although I try not to remember them. "Yolanda" probably tried. But, truth be told, from that moment something new is incorporated in us, which brought about immediate consequence arrival other windy, other unimaginable far horizons. I confess that, with the discovery of individuals like Jules Verne, Herbert G. Wells or the character of the supplements before the invincible Kaliman, Pablo Milanés became ipso facto become part of the myths, the gods that one will be erected as internal in childhood or adolescence, true enough species mixed with a dose of lie necessary to come to light beings covered by a special mystique intoxicating.
I gave at that time, the laborious task of tracking and somehow get discs that Paul, who was as we affectionately call him later. La Nueva Trova Cubana slipped into our eyes, our brains and our hearts. Pablo and Silvio, Silvio and Pablo, occupied very high places in particular Olympus four or five guys who started to walk streets and soak up that side of life neglected, its intricacies expressed Tagua, bars, deserted streets and brothels. There was another side. Another bank was in front when the strange lyrics, strong, sweeping, expressed much more than a thousand speeches. In short, a form of singing to the human and divine, completely unknown, had landed at once and we filled the bags of sugar and honey. A better world was possible. I also discovered the music spirit Flammable poetry, art made ground, made the country, made homeland.
was the fashion, yes, the little word homeland, but tore out his body to acid and bitter flavor castrating chauvinism. Homeland body and soul smelled planted in a landscape of emotions. Patria was due to reasons other notions loaded such freedom. Now that you mention it, the first ideas that I got it I found not at school or in the text unbearable Moral and Civic, or in local history, or the endless tirades starched with dates of national rejoicing. I found them in certain songs, in these musical poems we broadened our horizons and opened the will to live life thoroughly.
Until my walk slowly (what else would I, sort of like the one envisioned Machado) recognized necessities, reasoning positions and different universes: more honest, more engaged, less likely to act always ready, as I found later to camera and flash. Over time, the flame became Trova apagadiza while I stumbled upon, among other disappointments, with real rudeness between words and reality located millions of light years. Mariel's Cuba at all reflected that of Silvio. The desired freedom did not seem to anchor in the streets of the island Pablo Milanes and their compositions were wandering in a theatrical space and breathless still beautiful as guarded as creation, but misleading and lying in the background story. Thus, much of the original message was changed before my eyes popping tongue, coarse talk of living and microphone, as well as screams loudly Mr. Silvio Rodríguez with the joke that "I live in a free country, which can only be free ... "
Pablo has his reasons (because it gives real win would suffice in different circumstances) to use, remarkable eye of privilege, and installed in Madrid (why not Miami, beloved singer?) leaving a copy whack Paradise Island. How about that!, I say, if at this stage would dare to hum "I love this island, I'm Caribbean, I could never solid ground, because it inhibits me ..."?
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