Monthly Archives: April 2012

May 1

(It is still the night before, but): “joder Pete saludos y viva la revolución carajo.”

Axé.

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Straight outta Richmond

I posted this yesterday, but here it is slightly enlarged and easier to see.

There is also a brilliant picture of the washboard player.

Axé.

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André Thierry, Corey Ledet

So after the work of the festival was done I ended up at this after event almost nobody seemed to know about, involving the family of the late great Clifton Chenier, where I met his niece who was magical. The bands were channelling Clifton and it was amazing. I have not seen anything like this in a city venue in several years, and I am blown away, as they say, and entirely satisfied.

Axé.

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Líneas

I was doing some work last night involving the musician in question (F. J.) and it was very interesting. I do not have time to describe the whole event and all of its aspects, which were many and deep. I do want to note one small perception so I do not forget: as a performer, Flaco Jiménez seemed like Louis Armstrong, actually shy but knowing that certain gestures please.

There are certain facial expressions he has which may just be his, but I have seen him do them exactly the same way when he was much younger and had an entirely different face. Is that just what he does, I wondered, or does he now feel he absolutely must – the way Armstrong had to flash that smile?

The other interesting thing was seeing what it was like to be really inside the rock and roll world. It is its own planet and they are in mode all the time. For example, F. J.´s first question to me was: «Are you based here?»

Axé.

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Estado de Texas

Claro que sí, flaquito.

Axé.

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Last day of class

Ello es que el lugar donde me pongo
el pantalón, es una casa donde
me quito la camisa en alta voz
y donde tengo un suelo, un alma, un mapa de mi España.
Ahora mismo hablaba
de mí conmigo, y ponía
sobre un pequeño libro un pan tremendo
y he, luego, hecho el traslado, he trasladado,
queriendo canturrear un poco, el lado
derecho de la vida al lado izquierdo;
más tarde, me he lavado todo, el vientre,
briosa, dignamente;
he dado vuelta a ver lo que se ensucia,
he raspado lo que me lleva tan cerca
y he ordenado bien el mapa que
cabeceaba o lloraba, no lo sé.

Mi casa, por desgracia, es una casa,
un suelo por ventura, donde vive
con su inscripción mi cucharita amada,
mi querido esqueleto ya sin letras,
la navaja, un cigarro permanente.
De veras, cuando pienso
en lo que es la vida,
no puedo evitar de decírselo a Georgette,
a fin de comer algo agradable y salir,
por la tarde, comprar un buen periódico,
guardar un día para cuando no haya,
una noche también, para cuando haya
(así se dice en el Perú — me excuso);
del mismo modo, sufro con gran cuidado,
a fin de no gritar o de llorar, ya que los ojos
poseen, independientemente de uno, sus pobrezas,
quiero decir, su oficio, algo
que resbala del alma y cae al alma.

Habiendo atravesado
quince años; después, quince, y, antes, quince,
uno se siente, en realidad, tontillo,
es natural, por lo demás ¡qué hacer!
¿Y qué dejar de hacer, que es lo peor?
Sino vivir, sino llegar
a ser lo que es uno entre millones
de panes, entre miles de vinos, entre cientos de bocas,
entre el sol y su rayo que es de luna
y entre la misa, el pan, el vino y mi alma.

Hoy es domingo y, por eso,
me viene a la cabeza la idea, al pecho el llanto
y a la garganta, así como un gran bulto.
Hoy es domingo, y esto
tiene muchos siglos; de otra manera,
sería, quizá, lunes, y vendríame al corazón la idea,
al seso, el llanto
y a la garganta, una gana espantosa de ahogar
lo que ahora siento,
como un hombre que soy y que he sufrido.

–C.V.

Axé.

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On, Wisconsin, too.

Axé.

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Fuck Bobby Jindal and everything about the state of Louisiana, including food, except zydeco, Mardi Gras Indians, blues, mestizaje and jazz (and fuck those free people of color, that is to say nostalgic slavocrats, too).

The time has come to get real.

Axé.

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Germaine Montero

Germaine Montero, immortelle; my first singer and the best.

Eres como la rosa
de Alexandria, morena salada
Colorada de noche, blanca de día;
Toda la noche estoy,
Niña, pernsando en ti;
Que yo de amores me muero,
desde que te vi, morena salada;
desde que te vi.

Axé.

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California forever.

Dear Administration,

Everything you have heard about me, namely that I am a devil from the University of California, is true. That sturdy Golden Bear, whose football games I disdained back in the day, watches me from the sky even now.

If you give me the faculty I want from this campus, I can recruit students from anywhere, including Columbia and Harvard, without shame. If you do not, then I cannot, and I will lose interest in your proposed program which is marked for failure anyway, at least if it remains in the larval form you have assigned it.

I will cultivate my garden which has more potential than your garden could dream of having, anyway.

Axé.

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