Live music in Las Palmas, October 2020

In October, things perked up here. (Postponed from August) TEMUDAS fest, MASDANZA, concerts rescheduled from spring — some days we were really spoiled for choice. And the tickets were flying!

• 16 October: Flor de Canela @ Alameda de Colón, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria

  By now, we’ve got used to cancellations: festivals, concerts, anything really. So imagine my surprise to discover that the second edition of the Rock & Books festival, organised by Biblioteca Insular de Gran Canaria was taking place bang in the heart of the city, from 15 to 25 of October! And for free entrance and even without customary pre-inscription — how cool is that?

  So I couldn’t miss the chance to see my favourite Canarian band, this time with the artist Miss Mensi (Laura Castilla) who was painting “live” while Flor de Canela were playing. The programme was familiar — I watched streaming of their concert in Edificio Miller on 26 September — but you cannot compare that with live music. I liked their new(er), harder, funkier sound even more.

  

• 22 October: «Tributo al maestro: Paco de Lucía» @ Teatro Guiniguada, Plaza F. Mesa de León

  Gautama del Campo (saxophones), Ezequiel Reina (guitar and vocal) and our very own Germán López (timple), with bailaora Rocío Pozo, paid their musical tribute to Paco de Lucía. Fantastic rendition of such themes as Canción de Amor, Zyryab, Gitanos Andaluces (bulerías), Río Ancho, Buana Buana King Kong and, of course, Entre dos aguas; plus Camaron’s La Leyenda del Tiempo — wish you were there.

  

• 24 October: Hirahi Afonso «Memento» @ Auditorio José Antonio Ramos, Parque Doramas

  The new Musicando season was opened by Hirahi Afonso (timple) presenting his debut album Memento, with the band featuring Pau Figueres (guitars), Arnau Figueres (percussion), Darío Barroso (guitars), Ismael Alcina (bass) and Rita Payés (voice, trombone), plus guest musicians Belén Álvarez Doreste aka LAJALADA (voice), Claudio Marrero (sax) and Iván Quintana (voice).

  

With more events coming in November, it’s a shame that I won’t see them. I’m off from Las Palmas for a couple of months to the gloomy mainland.

ارواح صغيرة

a film by Dina Naser

Children who fled Syria war growing up in a refugee camp.

What I was fearing to be yet another depressing documentary turned out one of the most optimistic films I saw this year. Kids like Marwa and her sister fill me with hope. Thank you, Filmoteca Canaria!

The Human Voice

a film by Pedro Almodóvar

Today I went to Monopol, to pay my respects to this iconic picturehouse. For it’s closing down, and probably for good. One can (and one does) blame the ongoing pandemic for death of culture but I think the problem runs deeper. The theatre never did particularly well, which is understandable given that it specialises in “non-commercial” cinema. Even so, it could have been managed better — as its potentially last day demonstrated.

I arrived well in advance, only to join an enormous slowly-moving queue. The box office was closed; instead, the tickets were sold by the popcorn girl. My plan was to see the 17:00 screening; when my turn came, it was already 17:08. So I bought the ticket for 18:00 and went for a stroll around Triana, fuming to myself indignantly. And was the theatre full, in the end? It didn’t look it. Come to think of it, I don’t remember Monopol ever being full.

But how symbolic it was to see today The Human Voice, the ultimate goodbye exquisitely delivered by Tilda Swinton — and Dash the dog. (I didn’t realise until today that Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown was also inspired by Cocteau’s play.)

This is both the first English-language film and the first short by Almodóvar, and I hope it’s not the last one. How much better Dolor y gloria could have been if it lasted 30 minutes instead of two hours!

우리집

a film by Yoon Ga-eun

I was hoping that the last film of the Korean cinema cycle won’t be as depressing as the first four, and The House of Us did not disappoint.

Three young actresses, Kim Na-yeon, Kim Si-ah and Joo Ye-rim, star in this heartwarming movie which reminded me very much of Studio Ghibli films, especially Only Yesterday.

La persona incorrecta

by Sara Herranz

In her interview to La Vanguardia, the author says that the protagonist of this book is 60% real Sara Herranz and 40% fantasy. It must be a big change then compared to Todo lo que nunca te dije lo guardo aquí, which featured a 100% Sara, undiluted by fantasy.

Our heroine, whoever she is, hits her thirties and gives up on finding a love of her life “correct person”. Darker, wiser and probably more sincere — fantasy does not prevent you from being sincere and realistic — than her first book, La persona incorrecta is a bittersweet pleasure to read or simply leaf through. It does not lead us to happy ever after or, indeed, any kind of future, thank goodness for that. The evolution from bold black ink to more subtle pencil is telling... what?

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La gente solo cambia de amante, de talla de pantalón y de película favorita. Lo ecencial se mantiene.

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— ¿Qué tal es vivir allí? — Es igual que esto, solo que llueve continuamente. — Nos gustaba la lluvia. ¿Recuerdas aquella noche en tu casa...? — La gente idealiza la lluvia. — No es verdad. La lluvia está bien para mirar por la ventana con una taza de café caliente o para hacer el amor en una buhardilla. — Para todo lo demás la lluvia es un coñazo. Lo oxida todo.

♥ ♡ ♥

El setenta por cieto del mundo lo hace con la persona incorrecta.

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— Deberías volver a escribir. Te ayudaría a estar ocupada. — Ya estoy ocupada. — Estar triste no cuenta como ocupación.

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Los Gritos del Pasado

by Léonie Bischoff and Olivier Bocquet
translated by Marta Armengol Royo
based on a novel by Camilla Läckberg

This graphic adaptation of the second Fjällbacka crime novel is a decent follow-up to La princesa de hielo. The mystery lovers will appreciate its twists and turns, while the fans of the first book may feel disappointed as the heavily pregnant Erica becomes a bit sidelined. It’s a shame really because I was expecting her to kick ass like The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo with which Los Gritos have certain parallels.

The events take place in Fjällbacka during the summer of 2003, although in reality the story begins some 24 years earlier...

As it happens way too often, the Spanish title has nothing to do with the original. The French book is called Le Prédicateur which is a literal translation of Swedish Predikanten, “The Preacher”.

한공주

a film by Lee Su-jin

It’s not the easiest of films to watch, and I’m telling this after seeing the first three films of the Korean cinema cycle. Maybe not exactly “based on” but certainly inspired by a “true story”, the movie develops slowly and non-linearly, oscillating between delicate and brutal. The topic is universal: it could have happened in Europe, America or Africa. And as much as I dislike the expression “must-see”, I think Han Gong-ju truly is a must-see, in the post-manada Spain and everywhere.

Why the Spanish version is called Princesa? In the house of her friend, Gong-ju (Chun Woo-hee) sees a photo of a dog who was called Princess. As I just found out, Gong-ju (공주) means “princess”.

택시운전사

a film by Jang Hoon

A Taxi Driver — not to be confused with that Taxi Driver, or a few more films of the same name — is, like The Battle of Jangsari, “based on true events”, viz. those of Gwangju Uprising in 1980.

The story of the reporter Jürgen Hinzpeter (Thomas Kretschmann) made me think of Another Day of Life. The real hero of the movie though, as you may have guessed from the title, is a titular taxi driver, Kim Man-seob (Song Kang-ho). A powerful film, slightly spoiled by the spectacular but palpably fictional car chase scene during the pair’s escape from Gwangju.

Русские песни

by Alexander Gradsky

Русские песни were recorded in 1976—1979 and released on LP in 1980. I can’t find more precise date, so why not 5 October.

I remember how it appeared in our house. One of my mum’s former students worked at the Aprelevka record factory and was procuring the vinyls before they hit the stores. As for Русские песни, I never saw it in the stores. Some of those vinyls came in faceless paper sleeves or just in plastic “inner” bags, but this one came in a proper cardboard sleeve, with the title and song names in both Russian and English. Wow.

Till then, I only knew Gradsky thanks to Как молоды мы были and his work in the animated film Голубой щенок. (Mind you, “only” this would be enough to secure him a place in the music pantheon.) I never imagined him to be a rock musician. The title, Russian songs, was not particularly promising. I was not a big fan of Russian folk songs because what we heard on the radio or TV back then were of the official (castrated) variety — Alexandrov Ensemble, Lyudmila Zykina, Pyatnitsky Choir. Surely Gradsky wouldn’t sing any of those, I thought. So, when nobody was home, I gave it a listen. And then another one. And another one.

This album was a revelation. Of course, now I can’t think of any other version of any of these songs, nor any other sequence. And it is recommended (by me) to make a pause between “side A” and “side B” even if you listen to the CD. They were recorded three years apart (side A in 1976, side B in 1979) and each has its own beginning and end.

One detail that I haven’t known until now is that it was Yuri Fokin (Skomorokhi, Tsvety, Mashina Vremeni) who played drums on 1976 sessions. As he emigrated to the USA in 1978, his name didn’t appear in the album credits — typical in the Soviet times, but this omission was not corrected on the 1995 CD either.

Русские песни / Russian Songs Сюита на темы народных песен / Folk song suite

Ничто в полюшке Дарю платок (страдания) Таня белая (хоровод-танок) Плач На Ивана Купала Не одна во поле дороженька Солдатская Вы жертвою пали

Александр Градский: вокал, гитара, клавишные, колокола, ударные Юрий Иванов: бас-гитара, гармоника Сергей Зенько: флейта, дудка, саксофон Юрий Фокин: барабаны (1, 2, 5) Владимир Васильков: барабаны (7) Alexander Gradsky: vocals, guitar, keyboards, bells, percussion Yuri Ivanov: bass guitar, accordion Sergey Zenko: flute, pipe, saxophone Yuri Fokin: drums (1, 2, 5) Vladimir Vasilkov: drums (7)

El juego de las golondrinas

by Zeina Abirached
translated by Lucía Bermúdez Carballo

Beirut, 1984. Zeina’s parents went to visit her grandma. And they are still not back. The neighbours come to stay with the kids.

This beautiful book — yes, war is ugly, but books about war can be beautiful — introduces the characters that also appear in Me acuerdo: Beirut.

More images of the English-language edition of this book.