To the very high emotional appointments, you have to present yourself well cried at home, since on these truly marked occasions or the Putin itself would have the possibility of melting the leads. But with Sabina it is impossible to exhaust all the tears in advance, so some will end up emerging throughout the two hours of that scenic testament in which its Hello and goodbyethe tour with which, except for perching in the opposite direction, has decided that of Úbeda to get off the tables.
It is recorded that there are also categories in goodbye, because not all loves are equally intense. And this Monday, the first of his eight concerts in Madrid’s Movistar Arena was sung occasion – without even encouraging words of words – so that the bleacher was used thoroughly with the hugs that cut their breath, the felled strokes and the lacrimales that drip up. 12,000 souls will dawn on Tuesday in Madrid with the beginning of aphonia, in case anyone is encouraged to act as sagaz detective among the fellow of the office.
There are some conventions that we must assume in advance in the appointments with the once Count Cápula, today a manly and sentimental man to the marrows, willing to confess from the first song to his Matritense parish the infinite debt that has contracted with the town and cut. “This is the city to which I owe absolutely everything I am, including my songs,” he proclaimed after opening Boca with I got off at Atochafrom afar the most exceptional of its capital odes and the only novelty regarding the previous concerts, in which it started with those Marble tears relegated this time to the second position. By then we must already accommodate the ear to that rough bell that the many quotation trienniums have bequeathed, that confluence of sandpaper, tar and absence that challenges any auditory convention and appeals to a magnanimity otherwise inexcusable. But although there is not enough lizipaine in the apothecies to alleviate such a carraspera, Don Joaquin loves him so much that poetry always comes victorious against worldly limitations. And Sabina has helped us so many times to understand life, or at least to digest it, that we will continue to experience under its tutelage how many chills are precise.
How to choose repertoire when the last songs are faced after almost half a century ex officio? Sabina will have undoubtedly given that dilemma, but the resolution of such a devilish Sudoku is somewhat disappointing: there is no unexpected choice among the 21 titles designated for the curtain to fall, and that effort to tie the result, that cercerism So little mattress, it is not what we would expect from a musical institution with its good two hundred and peak songs to get out of the hat, or the bombin. It is ugly to compare, because we will mention line often to two other authors of superlative curriculum, but both Serrat and Perales were curtaled more when it comes to searching melodies in their last appearances in front of the foci. And then there is that strange thing – almost incomprehensible – to deliver an unprecedented song to commemorate this last tour, the dignified One last waltzand endorse it in the form of a video clip before the concert itself begins. Really? Really.
There is another argument for the discrepancy, and it is that new “arrangement” (the qualifier is Sabinian) with which the Bard of Tiro de Molina tries to breathe new breath to him Melancholy street. 45 years contemplate those old cobblestones, witnesses of the surely first example of sublime poetics in the dozen and a half of albums that constitute the Joaquinist legacy. But nothing improves in such a famous sidewalks, adorned or smeared now, as the main novelty, with redundant flute brushstrokes that would only deserve accommodation in the playlist of the collection of dentists.
Formulated the objections, we have to exercise as feeders of the enormities. We will have heard many more than 500 nights those Wedding nights with ranchera soul or that expanded and inaprensible ballad that responds to the title of And yetbut there is no way to blur the astonishment before a writing that consecrates the quadrature of the circle. And we will have to agree, as Sabina himself ratified without azoming, that those those City fish They continue to glorify the highest of their repertoire, which forces us to place that gift to Ana Belén among the best that has happened to popular music in Spanish throughout its history.
The band, qualified and very quickly, works for Sabina as a Swiss watch, so the rows chief takes advantage of when the excellences of the team to rest between bambalins while assuming the singing voice Jaime Asúa (Pact between gentlemen), Mara Barros (Empty beds) and Antonio García de Diego, venerable institution of our pop and vocalist better than good for The most beautiful song in the world. The boss takes up the bártulos with So young and so oldthat self -portrait soaked in infinite nostalgia with which it addresses a final stretch before which, now, we only have room for claudication. Joaquin does not even get up from his stool, but he musively “thank you, thank you” very veryy while those who do not want to sit are their 12,000 parishioners.
We will have to look for another dog that brings us, as in the final fiestón of Princesa. And although the resignation is a very Christian virtue, there is an agnostic and written constancy here that no one will rebuke the poet in the hypothetical case that within a little time, so it is, the body asks for a Miguelríos.