{"id":19116,"date":"2023-10-11T00:07:43","date_gmt":"2023-10-11T04:07:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/?p=19116"},"modified":"2023-10-11T08:57:54","modified_gmt":"2023-10-11T12:57:54","slug":"frank-delgado-trovatur-en-madrid","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/frank-delgado-trovatur-en-madrid\/","title":{"rendered":"Frank Delgado: trovatur in Madrid"},"content":{"rendered":"

For those of us who grew up listening to, singing and, above all, living the songs of Frank Delgado in the 90's, it is very likely that the figure of the artist takes us directly to that shore, where we dreamed, loved, suffered and from which, it seems, many of us have moved away.<\/p>\n

The curious thing is that Frank, that tireless young man who is now in his sixties, and who in certain periods has settled in my past as a reminder of my student days, never stopped writing songs and never lost direct contact with his audience, which was renewed decade after decade. The trovatur<\/i> He thus became a charismatic host of different spaces for unloading and encounters of the author's song; remember his pe\u00f1a at the Amphitheater of Almendares Park, La M\u00e1quina de la Melancol\u00eda at El Sauce or the most recent presentations at La Casa de la Bombilla Verde, a must-visit spot for Havana's bohemians.<\/p>\n

I must admit that unlike those who, like me, still practice in Cuba the not very recommendable exercise of pedaling the hills of Santos Suarez, the main difficulty to attend regularly to Frank's presentations, or to other spaces, has been the increasingly irregular or casuistic frequency of the patriotic public transportation.<\/p>\n

You can imagine the excitement I felt when I learned that the singer-songwriter was touring several cities in Spain under the coordination of Gillen Garcia, the driving force behind the project of La Bombilla Verde and Frank Delgado's partner on this occasion; and that they would also make a stop on October 4 in Madrid, the capital where I temporarily reside and which has, among other things, a powerful network of trains, subways and city buses.<\/p>\n

The Madrid event would take place in a mythical bar located at number 8 Libertad Street, one of the most renowned centers for Ibero-American singer-songwriters in recent times. Mythological figures such as Juan Antonio Canta, Javier Krahe, Jorge Drexler, Ismael Serrano, Lichis, or younger exponents of the local movement, as is the case of Marwan (who was present in the audience, by the way). Numerous Cuban artists have also left their mark in this place, people like Gema and Pavel, the Habana Abierta troupe, and Frank himself, who later told me that he performed there for the first time in 1993; although it seems that due to transportation difficulties (in this case by air, ha) he had not performed in this venue since then.<\/p>\n

Moments before the beginning of my reunion with one of my idols, the people in charge of the venue assured me that all the tickets had already been sold in previous days and that it was impossible to access the venue, which was completely full (a situation that in the end turned out to be very true). At that moment I realized that many of those of us who were beginning to anguish aloud were Cubans and that, of course, it was not the first time we had lived similar experiences in concerts of Frank, Pablo Milan\u00e9s, Carlos Varela, or as the closest presentation at the National Museum of Fine Arts Theater of Pedro Luis Ferrer. It seems that these names inevitably carry Cuba with them, wherever they go, and I must admit that we all felt a little bit at home, fraternizing in front of a now familiar closed door.<\/p>\n

\"\"

Photo: Larry Mart\u00ednez<\/p><\/div>\n

Caf\u00e9 Libertad 8 has a bar at the front that, it seems, fulfills the double function of livening up the preconcerts and serving as a consolation for those who do not manage to cross the door at the back that gives access to the small auditorium, where Frank was already wielding the initial chords of his show, between applause and greetings.<\/p>\n

It was at the threshold of that door and after the strange promise to keep it half-closed that I could begin to enjoy the concert. It was from there that I felt the melody of My map<\/i>I could even be sure that it crossed the whole of Madrid at that moment. Given the circumstances, I considered it too risky to leave my post and go out into the street to check it out.<\/p>\n

Then, as is Frank's custom, the songs were accompanied by anecdotes, or vice versa, and in this way he presented more recent songs from his catalog, such as Formell Education<\/i>or the never aging Yuneisi<\/i> (although the author preferred to call it When I saw you<\/i>) and then burst Harry Potter<\/i>. I believe that by that time, the owner of the place had decided to open wide the location, courtesy -in part- of the scorching heat that prevailed in the crowded room, or perhaps bewitched by the contagious metaphors fired by the host of the night.<\/p>\n

Then came the turn of the very well received Cuba\u00f1olito<\/i>to which the artist dedicated some explanatory comments for the nationals by birth who were present.<\/p>\n

It was after performing this song, or after we all shouted without the least respect for the eardrum of others, \"es-pa-\u00f1o-lito, asere qu\u00e9 bol\u00e1\", when Frank returned to immerse us in complicity, to comment on some details of the process of creating and recording his album project. El Feliciano<\/i>conceived during the pandemic.<\/p>\n

From this last work, he presented two titles, the homonym El Feliciano and Carrito loco<\/i>The author's heartbreaking farewell to his old Lada car.<\/p>\n

Later on, it mattered little or not at all that Trovatur<\/i> had been written three decades ago and that in order to travel now over the high notes it would require the spontaneous support of all those present. Together we sang this hymn in a feverish exercise of collective karaoke.<\/p>\n

Nor did he offer any emotional respite by presenting us without anesthetic The other side<\/i>. Let no one be surprised or embarrassed if, in tune with the euphoria of these songs to the many shores of our island, more than one tear sprang up. Or if, sheltered by the darkness of the hall, some of us did not know, or did not want, to stop the silent weeping after detecting the first bars of Utopia<\/i>undoubtedly one of the most subtle works in his repertoire.<\/p>\n

\"\"

Photo: Larry Mart\u00ednez<\/p><\/div>\n

For the finals, it rang out with renewed force. When the light goes out, my black woman <\/i>(either Blackout Blues<\/i>), a theme that has become unquestionably relevant in recent years. It is more than likely that Frank wanted to interpret this piece as an archeological work, illustrative of a distant era that the younger ones did not get to know, but we already know that the blackout, now renamed as affectation, is back to stay, who knows until when.<\/p>\n

Then it was time to remember Pablo Milan\u00e9s, who lent his voice to the recording of the song Boleros de vitrola<\/i>, of the album Plus<\/i>. And after a request for a present, Frank gave a version of the idol with the title Love<\/i>in one of the most memorable and emotional moments of the evening.<\/p>\n

To end on a high note, it was the turn of Agenda, <\/i>closing at full speed the musical part of a night that, to my amazement, did not end. Everyone wanted to greet and hug the artist, who did not leave any attendee without a photo, a smile, or a handshake. I also enjoyed the benefit of his time, and I could see the good vibes that are accompanying him on this tour, and even got to know firsthand what streets were those where he pedaled so much in Santos Su\u00e1rez and also in my native Luyan\u00f3.<\/p>\n

On leaving the site, two or three hours later than I would have predicted and with the metro and train stations already closed, I went in search of the last bus that runs to the outskirts of Madrid at night, equivalent in some ways to our nearly extinct confronts<\/i>which is referred to here as the owl<\/i>. At the stop, a girl assured me that one had just left and the next one would take most of the morning to come. I burst out laughing, much to her astonishment. She couldn't imagine the amount of restraints and benches that a certain Frank Delgado had already subjected me to, in long nights of waiting, after his concerts. Only this time I wasn't going to my house, I was coming from it.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

For those of us who grew up listening to, singing and, above all, living the songs of Frank Delgado in the 90's, it is very likely that the figure of the artist takes us directly to that shore, where we dreamed, loved, suffered and from which, it seems, many of us have moved away.<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1609,"featured_media":19117,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[10415],"tags":[303,10417,10416,1350,10309,7876,10418],"coauthors":[9874],"class_list":["post-19116","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-cronica","tag-frank-delgado","tag-generacion-de-los-topos","tag-gira-por-espana","tag-la-casa-de-la-bombilla-verde","tag-musicos-cubanos-en-madrid","tag-trova-cubana","tag-trovatour"],"acf":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/magazineampm.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/10\/frank-1.png?fit=1816%2C830&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19116","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1609"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=19116"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19116\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":19122,"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19116\/revisions\/19122"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/19117"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=19116"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=19116"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=19116"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/magazineampm.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=19116"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}