Luis Angel Munoz Zuniga
Western Daily Special
The public is pleased only when their favorite singer records new albums or appears in concerts. He is satisfied with listening to her songs, he does not demand anything more of her, like someone who says “shoemaker to your shoes”.
But, there are some who sing and rehearse in writing, not because they write their songs, but in a more demanding literature: memoirs, short stories, novels, philosophical treatises, and travel literature.
That facet is held by Hispanic, Argentine and Colombian figures: Raphael, Víctor Manuel, Facundo Cabral, Alberto Cortez, Bobby Cruz, Rafael Escalona and Jairo Varela. Vallenato lovers are unaware that Rafael Escalona, in addition to his minstrelsy in the Sierra Nevada and La Provincia, as his legacy also left “Nicolás Lagartija”, a children’s book.
Lovers of the protest song have not read “This is a new day”, a philosophical essay by Facundo Cabral. They ignore that Alberto Cortez, before singing “Callejero”, wrote the story about a stray dog. Salsa lovers need to read “When he was a child”, a novel by Bobby Cruz.
To the fans of Grupo Niche, also, “The Dawn of the Birds”, a posthumous novel by Jairo Varela. We can’t stay behind in the disco, we must go to the library.
literary anniversary
Raphael, celebrated his thirty-fifth anniversary of artistic life, in 1998, with the publication of his book “RAPHAEL, what tomorrow? Memories”, Editorial Plaza Janés.
“Memories of a personal life, from his humble origins, in the years that he asked to be trusted in stores to eat for him and his family, his struggle and his tenacity and the ins and outs of show business –reviewed his editor-.
Narrated in the first person with moving sincerity and an Andalusian wit, always in his own way, he reveals for the first time his life, his philosophy, his friends, his love affairs, in short, a piece of the history of Spain and the artistic world”.
Raphael dedicated his memories to all the people from any country in the world who took a minute of their time to listen to one of his records or who have attended one of his concerts, that is, they allowed him to continue doing the only thing he likes: sing.
“And tomorrow what? Anyone who knows my song by that title, word plus word minus, will know I don’t. Although now, here and in the following pages, I try with my best will and as long as I can remember”.
route diary
Víctor Manuel with “Diario de ruta”, Ediciones BSA España 1996, ventured into travel literature. In his notebook, he narrated a tour that he did together with Joan Manuel Serrat, Ana Belén and Miguel Ríos around the world.
“The tour is already a dream come true, of which only his music would remain if it were not for the fact that Víctor Manuel, a farsighted person, kept a travel notebook – his editor reviewed -, in which he noted down the laughter and bad moods of the rehearsals, memories of other times when they fought a dying dictator with their songs, the ways of enjoying free time, last-minute failures already on stage and the passion of the fans. This book, with which Víctor debuts as an author, is the portrait of these artists on and off stage”.
Street map
“He was a big white-haired dog… His tail had the shape of a furry question mark… We met when, due to these things, we found a place to live in the building where he was born… Convinced of our friendship, one fine day we met he granted the honor of his and demonstrated it by going up to our apartment with us… The doormen and some friends celebrated what they considered our authentic victory… When he was around the neighborhood he lived in our home and we enjoyed his company for two or three weeks at the most… When after a while we gave him up for lost, he would suddenly appear as if he had left… His absolute freedom invited us to defend it at all costs… I think that was what cost him his life… A construction worker called us under construction near where his “favorite” lived: He has no injuries –he told us-, it must have been a car”. Alberto Cortez (Very short version, mine).
when i was a kid
“Summer of ’42. To be precise, Monday the 6th of July. Roberto, who would have been about four years old at the time, ran around the house as if he were the exclusive owner of all that immensity. Don Julio and Doña Teresita, his parents, were always country people and they loved both that land and the lifestyle that generous nature offered them. I still remember the old house painted in mustard yellow and military green contrasting with flamboyant red, whose repairing shade, more than being an ornament, a gift from the earth, gave the house a touch of personality. It could not be determined if Roberto was submerged in nostalgia or the memories decided to come out of that trunk in which they remained locked up for many years. Bobby Cruz
The dawn of the birds
“Today, September 6, 2008, what fate has baptized with the name of The Dawn of the Birds is born in my imagination. An unsuspecting person may think that this product of my imagination is a whim that borders on stubbornness, or perhaps a way of approaching a problem from a very particular point of view. It is very good, however, that these words have a life of their own, and that despite the fact that there are comings and goings that give the sensation of being like ink that, despite being indelible, will inexorably dilute over the years, there is and will not be anything that takes away their identity”. Jairo Varela.
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