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Wasting time with Spanish Customs Manolo García

I was wandering by the Spains, living my personal sambenito to adapt to the customs Iberian, including ham and baguette. Olive oil and cat devoured me before when I was a kid, pure tin small, think Borges brand, much like a can of condensed milk. And of course, learning new words like that fabulous and overwhelming ' slot' (read: games). Between top and skewer (poor substitute Argentine barbecue) acclimated my throat wine Rioja-rough but good-no longer 'between San Juan and Mendoza' as we say here when we are toned. That for the body. But food for the spirit was more difficult to find. So, bouncing between the TV and radio and asking some natives, I discovered that Julio Iglesias was relieved repertoire and grannies and Enriquito and goofy 'religious experience' only some quinceañeras grieved. Think that in Miami and Latin America, father and son, still up dust.

Excuse me beating about the bush, but films such as football matches slow to start or not? ... Ah music, feast for the spirit, divine treasure as youth, do not go never to return! ("My good friend Rubén Darío). There, locked in the apartment measured out the tedium and harshness of winter with some records of my saints: Soda Stereo, Eric Clapton, The Smiths and more. But monotheism can tire the better believer, so I took the duties and little by little I was unlocking the English musical spectrum.

Amen to remember old acquaintances and catch new artists, at least in the category of rock, discovered that, the 'Heroes' had fallen silent, but were legend, 'Celts' were no longer Short, the 'Social Security' had already retired and wondering cogitabundo because I knew so little about them . I know, I had become accustomed-the nefarious programmers FM-to Mecano, Duncan Dhu, La Union and their accomplices Movida Madrilena, which, moreover, are not bad but in essence little or no rock . Forgive my poor knowledge of English music, but I want to justify, as a Latino I am fiercely invaded by American rock, rock boring by mercenary Maná, nostalgic for the once good Argentine rock and stop counting. In Spain I came the echoes of the Bose, the Alejandro Sanz, the Bisbal, the Ear of Van Gogh and other canned sparkling, but odds as my musical culture.

Zambulléndome among other genres for me, something unknown, I found pleasantly old legends like 'The Secret' (and there will be opportunity to talk about them), innovators' Fito y Fitipaldis' a trova singer, Ismael Serrano forget-perhaps some others, I quote from memory, and how not to air pop rock flamenco ' The last in line' and better even of their leader, and as a soloist, Manolo García.

Sometimes we meet friends in a sort of night of drinking, which is reduced to a comfortable passenger compartment of a van, we have the old habit of listening to music that always brings back memories, which we commonly call classics. One of these colleagues have a habit of 'torture' over and over again his favorite subject Sting. Going to the case, I have a trio of songs that I like 'torture' but not explained, nor do I remember anything, perhaps something I evoke their atmospheres. These songs are: 'Dance me' of Leonard Cohen, ' Wonderful Tonight' Eric Clapton and Manolo García.

Although I discovered later, what is so special, this troubadour style of manners with an air of flamenco, very characteristic of the English people, with my reality, social and culturally distinct. Perhaps it is his lyrics, while daily as unexplained or surreal. This guy sings with a voice of a lone traveler known defeat, in a tone at once nostalgic and abandonment, with a tone as if exhausted drawl, with the feeling of a body reduced to a pile of bones , aware that they have been the soul. Accordion and guitar are (painfully) hand while listening to the chorus 'now the wind when the sea was a long time away' , beautiful metaphor that sometimes luck is smiling on us when you no longer need or it is too later.

is no coincidence that the great artists as they experience weighs on the shoulders, leaving the style and often cheerful surface of more years boys. Although many do not like, I prefer the darkness and sadness of some letters lyrics chords cheerful but empty of youth. I say this because I do not like very much 'The last of the row', but I love the style of Manolo slow as an old wolf of the sea.

The day I bought my first car, go to any machine anywhere, enjoying ' clay birds' galore ... yes until exhaustion. I can not think of a better place or better time to listen to driving alone on a lonely road. And to hell with everything else! (Pardon me).

Ah, if this were not enough, this guy also paints and does not do badly, since childhood, they say. You see! ... In the end I lost time because I have not talked about Manolo Garcia, but this good man with a sad, to have written a song just earned my respect.