Leiva immortalizes her most sweeping postcard live | Culture
For many flight hours that can be credited, and in faith that Leiva Add a few, the perspective of a live album should cause a mixture of responsibility, adrenaline and tremble. It's his good eight months that this tour of Nuclear It has been circling on one side and another of the ocean sea, but it was the spectacle of Monday, and not another, with its 15,000 fervent witnesses at the WiZink Center in Madrid, the call to go to posterity. With its magic and slips, with the vertigo buzzing in the ears and the fluttering butterflies, frantic, in the same mouth of the stomach. No silence: it is recorded.
We imagine that our man of the skeletal figure would suffer this 30-D, like any other mortal, his share of uncertainties, doubts and revelations. But he left in a trumpet, boasting of pose and pose, sure of what was in his hands and of those who accompanied him in the trance. More aligned with Guardiola than with Cholo Simeone, he who likes football metaphors so much.
He had flirted a record back José Miguel Conejo (Madrid, 39 years old) with the idea of the live album, even in the crowd of Las Ventas, but he was not legitimized to tackle such a classic rock ritual. The leaders and the winners, you see, also know the tremor in the lines of their own biographies. But in the process of concluding the decade, at least in appearance (the RAE is already in charge of reminding us that such a thing, in purity, will not happen until the transit from 20 to 21), the Madrid has been left with plenty of reasons, for Respect the terminology of his teacher and protected Sabina. There is even a sense of humor. “In two days the twenties will return, and I hope with all the strength of my heart that the swing”, He formulated with guasa, between the perplexity of the cavalry, just open the evening.
It does not seem that it will be precisely he who propitiates that return. He has been showing his unwavering fidelity to his own writing for a lifetime, which sometimes seems to be lit by tracing papers. Those who, if only for a generational issue and the current propensity for stylistic contamination and impurities, should not appear so tenaciously in their luggage.
Never mind. Leiva is doing well, rather than well, writing songs that look like versions of Leiva. Stretching the leivadura so that donuts end up coming out of the oven with an unequivocally familiar flavor. The formula is thus easier to process by the different swallowing bodies, and in the palates of the parishioners do not seem to register cases of celiac disease that advise modifying the composition.
The night, predictable and impeccable, anointed with heat and glory, of that voluntarist positivism with which human beings celebrate the transit of the calendar, was enriched with some flavor enhancer. Leiva knows the rock caton very well and can place her good lures here and there: that World War for one more time beatle what stone, that riff chanted in the manner of the Black Keys in Wolves (the author's favorite), some note altered in a Godzilla which then leads to a nanana final, so that no one takes him as convoluted. There is even a trumpet that seems suggested by McCartney himself in Nuclear, but we talk about a theme built with a kind of double ascending refrain. That is: leivism in vein
But within that neat excellence, of the elegant sonority of rock with metals that the Leiband exhibits from its origins, something truly magical happened when the good Rabbit approached in complete solitude Vis a vis, recreating in the acoustic blues of his splendid guitar, exhibiting the holy guts of staying singing in a capela before 15,000 souls the stanza that of "This voice there is no one who the street". Hopefully the audiovisual testimony is eloquent enough, because that served as a turning point. Even to face the absolute premiere of a piece, the self-complacent My little Chernobyl, in which the signer preserves its authenticity against the envy of fame. And he even boasts: "I am not excited by the applause of the toughest critics." Caramba.
Only the final avalanche remained, with the audiovisual (excellent) propping up the atmosphere of joyful hell, and with the artillery of Pereza (repeated)How do you have it?, Polar Star, the inescapable dessert of Lady Madrid) dueling with the major titles of Leiva: Terribly cruel, Lost look, Sincericide. He is not looking for Leiva, player of the castling, fishing in new fishing grounds. But in its segment, and there will be a sound record of it, it was dispatched with a sweeping postcard of its figure.
