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Oye cómo va Illustration: Nelson Ponce

This is a direct for Featherweight

We Generation Xers listened to Miles Davis play the tails of angels on his kind of blueWe saw Tina Turner with those infinite legs and Sinead O'Connor steal that hit song from Prince. We saw Luis Miguel sweep us off our feet with boleros, while Celia Cruz kept on laying down the sugar. We danced with Van Van, and Kool & The Gang asked us to get off the wall.

We got to see Muhammad Ali beat Frazier, Tyson take down the world while Dolly Parton denied Presley that "I'm not a man of the world," and we got to see Muhammad Ali beat Frazier. I will allways love youwho, thanks to Clive Davis, came to Kevin Costner, or rather, to Whitney Houston.

We went from Sugarhill to Snoop Dogg on a roll with Eminem, and Tupac got killed and MC Hammer lost the money. On some scary cassettes, Vico C built a slow and steady reputation. Irakere won a Grammy while Stevie Wonder fattened his body and filled stadiums. Macho, do you know who Kurt Cobain was? In the eyes of that suicidal blond, Freddie Mercury said to go on with the show, but the blond was gone by the time he was 27. Jimmy Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, ring a bell?

The old geezers that we are had a material girl, you should listen to the masters of that girl, tuned like few others, (by the way, in 1998 we were surprised to hear Cher use the autotune which is now used even by bad rabbits, with respect).

We, those of that time, read in Cortázar about Charlie Parker climbing on his saxophone because he was playing tomorrow, heard Charles Mingus very bravely hitting the bass against the ceiling, and talked about Benny Moré smoking in the afternoon. Oh, life!He has said, because Miguel Matamoros leaves him in Mexico and Benny perhaps suspects that he will achieve his definitive jazz band.

And Bob Dylan cannot sing surrounded by 46 stars, poor thing; Pink Floyd finished his wall; Spinetta and Charly sing together a verse in which life is seen; Silvio Rodríguez lost a sacred animal; Milanés makes us know time; Sabina gives us a stolen April; Serrat told us that there is no more time than the one that has touched us, and we believed him because, besides, stubborn boy, we, the old people who, like all of us, lived the final minutes, had Police, Duran Duran, Steve Perry, Elton John and even Little Richard.

And we listen to them on vinyl, on cassettes, on Spotify and again on vinyl. Time goes by, that must be why we prefer those guys with wide tessituras and rigorous texts, like the one in which Bob Dylan warns you: "Watch out, doll! You're bound to fall!".

Macho, I have written you only these words that I suppose you will read in a happy trance. We, the old people, what can we do if life is that thing that happens when you do something else, that is, while you happen, we old people feel again the emotion of living on Harry Belafonte's or Jamaican Marley's records or we simply remember that before the machines arrived, everything had been a magical and mysterious trip.

The new times matter too, we are not here to judge them, we just wanted to say that it's true, it's hard for us to go see them play if Sinatra, Coles or Fania are playing; besides, as if that wasn't enough, The Beatles just won a Grammy.

P.S: At the end of this note imagine Michael Jackson doing the moon walk.

Rogelio Ramos Domínguez Writer of verses and songs. Full-time journalist and especially father of Claudia Ramos. More posts

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  1. Rafael Eugenio Leyva says:

    Thank you. at last Somebody spoke and I went into the dream. One also reads those new,oh featherweight boy. And wonders if we really are those such geezers? If the music ended up only among them; those who can never ever have a Lucia to confirm if one day after loving one can be wise in love or with a Keith Richards riff sing eternally in an eternal way. Times keep changing but facts are very stubborn.thanks bro.

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