The night I sang at the Vitreaux Zitarrosa Bar
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Vote Of Thanks By Best Man
| Text: Luis Lemes Illustration: Fernando Irecio Lemes. The night was cold and mist. "A London closure," a dear friend used to say. I went into the bar like every Friday. It was night of rock and the place was teeming with people. As a bit of Montevideo or Buenos Aires because almost by mistake in a city unaccustomed to a place almost no windows facing the street-the only one who had Varela gave, where at that time did not pass anyone. A short corridor, a kind and beautiful girl at the door in anticipation of climate that characterized the place. A central room and a section for those who wanted a more privada.Todo talk pretty tight, but cozy and warm. At the counter, Paul served drinks. At his side, managed the situation, was the Head. A guy, or he was always happy, or was a consummate actor. Because the painted smile on his face, at that point seemed indelible. As soon as I entered, was quick to comment: - Did you see who came today? Today we dedicate themselves! pointed to a back table near the kitchen door. And there it was. Elegant, strict black suit and tie fine tone. And behind the counter, next to the fridge, on the rack that musicians shared with the staff stable, gabardine. Time stopped. Then he stepped back up to the moment when a young singer was photographed with a big cigar in his mouth, or turning on another, or watching a cage with uncanario. The guy was Zitarrosa. The scene was as real as possible. Was theyear 2002. Alfredo lived more than ever in his songs but physically no longer walked these roads .. But that night I was there, accompanied by a beautiful young woman. On stage, Caco tuned guitar and would point the nose around the magical scene that was given. After that impact, and after the presentations, we learned that a man named Julio, who was, I believe, of Cologne, and that defined itself as a modest but passionate singer. We share your table for a while. After Caco accompanied with some singers. And we enjoy, admittedly, the game of hitting a person knowledgeable of Alfredo to enter the site. But the suspicion that something strange estab apasando me volvió a invadir cuando el hombre subió al escenario y -pulsando la guitarra, rodeado de los arpegios con los que Caco Pauletti inauguraba la ceremonia-, cantó "Milonga de ojos dorados" ,"Chacarera del 55","El violín de Becho". Bastante antes de que el sol empezara su tarea de clarear la cosa, el hombre enfundó la guitarra y se enfundó en la gabardina.Tomó a su hermosa dama del brazo, agradeció formal y cortésmente a la casa por el trato dispensado y a los músicos por su generosidad, atravesó el pasillo y se internó en la niebla. Le juro que salí un segundo después para ver hacia donde se headed. But you know what the fog. Since that day, can you believe me or not, I started to see the magic that the edges and corners of this ciudad.Duendes and ghosts who play confuse us and keep us from knowing what the real boundary between history and legend. And do not know how, but I am asking that we realize Agrita. Text published in the weekly El Sanducero. August 2010 |
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