Memoirs of a Damned (31)

The composer years (24)

That blessed bandurria: De vuelta a casa (Back home) 2022

Much of the blame for not being better known is paradoxically due to not making myself widely known. This, which could be understood as a stupid contradiction, has an explanation that will remain in my biography.

The snail began to tire of always carrying around and, for the second time, made the mistake of acquiring a property, the result of which ended in a cerebral thrombosis, caught in time. No one can imagine what I went through with the damn house, nor finding myself alone in a hospital for a week on doctor's orders.

Upon leaving such a huge undertaking, weakened like a Cervantes greyhound, I tried my best to recover, knowing that I was dependent on medication for life. Perhaps my life passed like a movie, as I reconnected with the instrument that had first introduced me to music: my original bandurria, the one my parents bought, thrilled to see their sickly son clutching a rudder, trying to find his way.

That's how De vuelta a casa (Back Home) was born. A symbolic return to my musical origins.

I deliberately and maliciously intended the album to be released on December 31, 2022, one of the many experiences I've lived alone, a heartbreaking experience that is evident in Mi querida soledad (My Dear Solitude).

Bandurria  bought by my parents</p>

The bandurria (replaced by a digital donra for the recording) is the instrument of reference.

Perhaps that dream awakened in me or facilitated the journey into the past.

Of course, all hopes of recognition were lost at this point in the film.

The album contained original pieces from a very Cádiz tradition: the Cádiz Carnival.

"Piñata Sunday" or "The Millionaire" are some examples. I recommend the teaching guide.

Others are less cohesive and were only recovered for the occasion, such as "Bandurria, no chore" (A Memoriam of Rocío Hermida) or the humorous "Con Fina miento" (a clear allusion to the pandemic).

I will never understand why I had the audacity to give the tribute piece to Rocío's relatives, nor why I was ignored for such a humble act. It wasn't meant to be traded, because it's well known that I don't make a living from it. Guardanapos madeirense is a reminder of such a beautiful island and my time there, while Asas de criança (Child's Hands) is a heartfelt tribute to Meninos de Peixinhos, by Lúcio Sócrates. Unfortunately, one sees friends where there are none.