It was probably on Discos Brezo, the closest thing I've ever seen on stage in High Fidelity, Nick Hornby's novel, adapted for the cinema by Stephen Frears. It was in Carrer del Bruc (Brezo) in Cornellà. When in the neighborhoods there were record stores. When the records were played from start to finish. Face A and face B. And if you wanted to make a playlist, use the cassette and the double deck to put them in the order you want. When Migueli was a Barça midfielder, he wore a mustache and the Camp Nou was not called Spotify.
Up to two record stores came to be in Sant Ildefons: Brezo and Cadillac. None anymore. If they didn't have the record you wanted, you could wait a few days or take the metro to Barcelona and spend an afternoon of fantasy taking a look at the vinyl stacks arranged alphabetically in Discos Castelló or Revólver. But it was in Brezo where I bought my first elapé: Camino Soria de Gabinete. And I wasn't aware of the poison it was putting on my skin.
Up to two record stores came to be in Sant Ildefons: Brezo and Cadillac. None anymore. If they didn't have the record you wanted, you could wait a few days or take the metro to Barcelona and spend an afternoon of fantasy taking a look at the vinyl stacks arranged alphabetically in Discos Castelló or Revólver. But it was in Brezo where I bought my first elapé: Camino Soria de Gabinete. And I wasn't aware of the poison it was putting on my skin.
Then came the recommendations of my cousin Alberto, an influencer when there were no influencers. He gave me records that he no longer listened to. The live performance of Sabina and Viceversa, the Journey with us by the Mondragón Orchestra or the first album by Los Toreros Muertos, Los Toreros Muertos por Biafra.
At the age of 15, the first concert arrived. With my friend Fran. His father took us to a PSUC party in Sot del Migdia. Loquillo and Los Trogloditas presented the live A por ellos, which are few and cowardly, which remains one of the best live shows in Spanish rock. 120,000 people without a chic festival bracelet, but with a torn entrance at one end, with the group's photo. To frame.
And from here it was a non-stop: Total Sinister in Zeleste, Kiko Veneno in the festivities of the Rose of Sant Feliu, Miguel Bosé in September Guai de Cornellà, Sabina in the municipal football field of El Prat, or El Último de la Fila in the Plaça de Toros in Tarragona.
I tried to learn some music in the worst of ways. Aiming at solfeggio and examining myself at the Bruc Conservatory with Valencia in Barcelona. But that didn’t work: after four years and repeating three courses, I quit. Music became a taboo and I preferred to enjoy it only as a listener or as a spectator.
And I kept buying records and going to concerts. From Extremoduro to Estopa. From Luis Eduardo Aute to Ismael Serrano. From Juan Luis Guerra to Calle 13. From Antònia Font to Manel. From Rigoberta Bandini to C. Tangana.
And when I thought that I would never go on stage to try, when I thought that at 40 I had already made all the friends that a life allowed me to make, Jacob, Javi, Juan Carlos, l crossed my path. 'Oscar and Jesus, the eldest, that's why we are Los Niños Jesús. Two, professional musicians, the others, architect, graphic designer and mechanic of Renault. And we started meeting in the basement of the headquarters of the Unió Extremenya de Sant Boi, with a couple of quintos and a lot of desire to have fun. It was all a game, until our friend Victor told us if we wanted him to move some bowling. And since we had nothing to lose, we said yes. And yesterday we took to the stage that the BBK festival had staged at El Arenal in Bilbao. And we debuted in front of 400 people. And we played the songs that have been with us all our lives, from the ones we listened to in our teen room, to the ones we put in the car so that our kids would get acquainted with our favorite songs.
And we dedicated the last song to Pau Donés. Because that's what he told me before he left: dare you, don't stay to do anything you wanted to do. And here we are, Paul. Tomorrow we play in Donosti. Thank you, amic.
