The red recording button is always intimidating, even though the person who activates it can boast of many three years in the contribution history. Josele Santiago does not seem at this point susceptible to be impressed with anything, but facing the recording of his first live solo album he adopted some precautionary measures. The album will be born of two consecutive nights of recording, that of Tuesday and last night, which implies having room for maneuver in the event of unforeseen events, pájaras or imperfections. And the choice of space was unusual, maybe very rare, because Conde Duque's audience lacks all pedigree, both for rock and for live works.
Santiago may not feel at this point a mere rock artist, perhaps because he is going through a more imaginative moment than any cataloging. And perhaps he is more interested in acoustic warmth, very pronounced in this municipal space, than mythology. What we hear in phonographic support from February will not be so much a compendium of collective euphoria, which was hardly registered, as a manual of vitriol and disbelief. A direct one for the deep review and the slow combustion: neither in that fits to the normative logic also the singer of the Enemies.
This Cordovan with demystified leaves malasañero always prefers surrealism to gracieta (attention to that allegation pro boina encases Cachorrilla) and it has moved many blocks away from both the classical harmony of three chords (those intricacies of The forest) as usual stylistic patterns; hence the unusual evocation of Charleston that distills Dance of the fish. The mockery, sometimes driven, is also a sign (Guzzler). In general, and beyond vocal tics such as those acute notes at the end of sentence, Josele has reserved for the first person his richer, complex creations and far from the predictive algorithms. Good news, by definition.
Put to good hand in the game, Santiago wanted to flank four of the best instrumentalists of the circuit: the ubiquitous Héctor Rojo (bass) and Loza (drums) are a fabulous rhythmic base on which the fine arabesque is easier for the guitarist Nico Nieto and the delicate organ of Santi Comet. But the protagonist himself proved to be no comparsa of the six strings with the solo of Prestao. And he remembered (a respect!) His electric pedigree with the demolisher Arrow, a lukewarm denunciation against the pedophilia of cassock. "The church has to pay for all this. Amen, "he bellowed before firing the most furious of his artillery.
Santiago ends up delivering 25 pieces without a single unreleased candy, against the convention on these dates, but he does agree to the ritual of illustrious guests. Leonor Watling plays the role of a strange but very involved couple with Black magic. And Niño de Elche ("another one who does not care about orthodoxy a fuck, and we agree on that") made A civil guard an impeccable reading but something joselizada more, as if he did not want to apply both his own seasoning and fidelity to the original recipe.
The regulatory limitation of the capacity to only 250 spectators, in a space that would seem enough to duplicate it, was another reason for strangeness for this Josele almost redefined, with the voice increasingly present in the mix and a variety of records (attention to the acoustic section , a duet with guitarist David Krahe) that does not pretend to disguise. There were pages of great height here, from the cruel humor of Let me suffer to the dim air of american (more Mediterranean than Californian) in Let the sun speak, the almost soulful warmth in The wolf and the excellent Fractals, which is already very close to the condition of classic.
The topical ardor of the records for posterity was missing, perhaps with the exception of My cousin and the scale in territory enemy of From my pallet. But the artist of Josele in Conde Duque, provisional title of the album, does not look for both the anthem and the free verse. And getting away from the fold was always risky, but also uplifting.