Monday, October 25

I see, I see … I suck

Nacho Cano is a good musician, there is no doubt about that. What happens is that he is a good musician who makes terrible songs, unlike Rosendo, the guitarist from Carabanchel, who is more limited as a musician, but whose songs are infinitely better than those composed by Nacho Cano.

This appreciation is not subjective, but organic. Because the qualitative criterion of an artistic piece is given by the intensity of it when it is necessary to transfer a heart from end to end. Examples of the latter can be the paintings of Goya, a bad painter who painted very good pictures or the novels of Pío Baroja, a bad writer who wrote unsurpassed novels.

So we could continue with several examples, but it is not convenient to get lost. Because today I came here to talk about Nacho Cano, a good boy who has always had everything in his favor, because he was born in the Spain of privileges, unlike Rosendo, whose humble origin led him to suffer fatigue and fight his life with force of your chords.

The comparisons are unfair, you know, and we would not enter them if a councilor from the Madrid district of Hortaleza had not brought up Rosendo’s name when, in a plenary session, the issue of the transfer of land to Nacho Cano was discussed so that he could build an Aztec pyramid. “I am more of Rosendo, but what am I going to do to him,” said the councilor, implying that where there is a boss, no sailor sends. I say it like this, like a bareto joke, so as not to clash with the tone of the councilor of yore.

As Spain is a country of sainete, a fat woman got messed up, and Nacho Cano was pointed out for what he is, a profiteer of the policies of Ayuso and the Pepera family. The dimes and diretes began remembering Nacho Cano at Puerta del Sol, during the last night of the year. Then he continued with the staging of the Madrid medal where Nacho Cano lowered his neck to the authority, and the thing continued when last summer the president of the Community of Madrid spent a few days in the house that the musician has in Ibiza. With the latter, the evil tongues became entangled, assuming that Nacho Cano taught Ayuso the 26 positions of Bikram Yoga, a discipline in which the musician is very dedicated. We will not go into details.

What is striking is that the project is not going to stay in an Aztec pyramid, or in a tent, or you know, because there is also going to be a parking lot that is going to be spread out on said neighborhood lands. But since they take us for idiots, a few days ago Nacho Cano came out to clarify the matter and released the magic word: “Work.” With your project you will create employment, assured the musician. And that is the argument that has managed to curdle in most of the people who do not know what happens when a capitalist talks about work. Because when a capitalist talks about work, he is not talking about another damn thing that of benefit for Capital.

We must not forget that Nacho Cano is a capitalist, and not precisely because he has money, but because he invests the money in the spiral that values ​​it at every turn. We must be careful, and qualify a lot, so that capitalism does not take us to its ground with the word “work” as the effect of a greater cause such as economic interest.

Rosendo, the Rosen, knows these things well. It must be remembered that he refused to have a statue made for him because of the public expense it would cause and, instead, asked that the money be invested in schools or hospitals. That is the moral difference between one musician and another.

Because what Rosendo gives us are lessons in dignity and honor, attributes that Ayuso, Nacho Cano, and others lack. For this reason, a song by Rosendo will always reach deeper than all the bow compositions of a son of the Spain of privileges, no matter how much Bikram Yoga he practices.



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