A Venezuelan sexagenarian cries and sings, he deft everything but he sings with the heart from the audience, connected to 85 young compatriots who grew up in one of the best musical hotbeds in the world and, far from their country, they put a soundtrack to Buenos Aires, be it in auditoriums, streets or the subway.
Its meeting point is the Latin Vox Machine Symphony Orchestra, "the house of the Venezuelan musician in Argentina", as several members say, and the recital that marks its first anniversary is developed a few meters from the emblematic Teatro Colón, where, for quality, Many of them could touch.
At the end, cellist Verónica Rodríguez, 22, passes by the Buenos Aires Coliseum while walking with her companions to a downtown bar to carry out the sacred ritual of any musician in the world: the beer after the concert.
"At the beginning it meant an escape, but we have become a family, playing with them reminds me of my house," Rodriguez tells Efe about Latin Vox after a special evening, as it is the first time his mother and sister , arrived a month ago to Argentina, they see her play live since she left Maracay, her land.
Rodriguez landed in Buenos Aires of rebound; her initial plan was to continue her studies at a Parisian conservatory and she got a Venezuelan private foundation to grant her the plane ticket, the most difficult part, since she was shortlisted.
The dream stopped: "in the end, they decided to give that support to a basketball player". Then, Argentina appeared to change his life.
"Before, my intention was to go to Europe, graduate in a great conservatory and play in a good orchestra, maybe that does not fill me so much now, I do not want it to be the only thing I want to start studying music therapy," reveals Rodríguez, who gives classes with children and with friends of the orchestra formed Cellofilia, quartet with which they transport rock songs to their instrument.
Cellofilia and Latin Vox Machine do not give stable income, so, like many colleagues, decided to get into the wagons of the "subway", which leads to Saint-Saëns and Rachmaninov along with flavor of their country.
One day, two women thanked him for his music and, noticing that they were Venezuelan, he dedicated one last song to them, the popular "Venezuela", for which he closed his eyes.
"Halfway through the subject, I raised my face, opened my eyes and saw them crying, I exploded and I started crying too," he recalls.
The young woman also plays tango and pop while other classmates are inclined to reggaeton and salsa but, in addition to the subway, each story of Latin Vox is accompanied by works parallel to music.
The clarinetist Luis Matamoros (21 years old) arranged to attend a kiosk with acting even for the Argentine National Symphony Orchestra.
For him, who came with his brother, Argentina is an intermediate step with which to "help" his family, "a duty", and then jump to Europe, where in March he has a test in Zurich (Switzerland). "Everything will come with perseverance and discipline", ditch.
Matamoros, like all, emerged from the National System of Orchestras and Choirs, whose banners are the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra, the director Gustavo Dudamel and the late José Antonio Abreu, who in 1975 began the idea that turned Venezuela into a power of classical music .
"Maestro Abreu always dreamed that in every corner of Venezuela there would be an orchestra and chorus that young people and children could feel as theirs," the system is creator of musicians and the seedbed of citizenship ", values Jesús Parra.
He plays the viola but near the end of the anniversary concert relieves the South Korean director Jooyong Ahn to grab the orchestra with an energy reminiscent of Dudamel's style and that presages a future with a baton: "Directing is feeling adrenaline and calm at the same time".
At 24 years old, he has been in Buenos Aires for six months, he is "delighted" with the country that allows him to study and teach in music schools to be able to direct more and contribute his granite to the diaspora.
"In any country in the world there is a Venezuelan musician making music of the highest level and leaving our Venezuela on high," says Parra.
Before achieving their dreams, they comfort the hearts of their compatriots in each presentation, because as Rodríguez underlines, neither the concert man nor the underground women cry of sorrow: "Those tears were not of sadness, but of joy. beautiful of our country ".