Do not ask me

I was late to Pablo's discography, although, of course, I already knew by heart dozens of his songs before that. There are people from whom one cannot escape. The truth is that I don't know what landscapes my adolescent binary head was when he decided: Silvio yes, Pablo no.

It wasn't that I didn't like his songs, it was that a lot of people I didn't like liked them too. I thought maybe Pablo was Yolanda, and maybe that's why I didn't rush to look for his discography and review it, as I did with Silvio's. She is the guilty one. Yolanda, say. What happened to that song is very sad. It is a dry bush. The Gentiles fleeced us. A tune that you already heard when you listen to it, that's why it is incapable of moving. This is a bit of what David Gilmour was referring to when he lamented being one of the most unfortunate people on the planet because he was never going to be able to enjoy the Dark Side of the Moon for the first time, as we all did a beautiful day; he'd already handled it too much for it to catch him off guard. But let's pick up the thread.

Time is not such a son of a bitch na'. I say this because if I had heard this album by Pablo as a pre-university kid, it probably wouldn't move me today like it does. There is too much beret and star optimism there, too much militia epic, more than I would have allowed myself to tolerate at that time, when the failure of that common dream still hurt me. I probably would have doomed it to the drawer and mold. However, today that real socialist aesthetic shakes my shoe.

There was a partner from the university, surprisingly Catholic to be 20 years old and live in Cuba in the 21st century, supporter of old cement institutions like the Church or marriage, who could be seen getting excited talking about Contigo — Sabina's song - and how he liked it despite the fact that all of her went from a vision of the relationship totally opposite to his. And this is quite what happens to me with the Pablo who was still using espendrú.

A lot is taken out of this album. The Pablo who says on Three Kings Day: "Without magic and without legends, / and with struggle and with love, / the revolution will come, / without star-filled saints. / Save your laughter for tomorrow / and dry your tears today, / while / freedom comes ”is a beautiful Pablo, very deep, moving. Here we speak of man and dream. Only that. And it is a beautiful conversation; although, from the advantage that the future gives, it is known that man is no longer that man and the dream is not the same dream.

You get a lot out of this album. The Paul who says in Kings Day: “Without magic and without legends, / and with struggle and with love,/ the revolution will come,/ without saints full of stars./ Save your laughter for tomorrow/ and dry your tears today,/ while/ freedom arrives” is a beautiful, profound, moving Pablo. We speak here of man and dream. That's all. And it's a beautiful conversation; although, from the advantage that the future gives, it is known that the man is no longer that man and the dream is not the same dream either.