You rarely come across such succulent bites: the book
Toma
de tierra
(Libros del KO), by Bruno Galindo, offers a cross-sectional view of the last 30-odd years of the music business.
Around 1987, Bruno entered the record industry and rose until he decided to become a music journalist;
later, he recycles himself into an artist, as a
dj
and a
spoken
word
interpreter
.
They will understand the clarity with which it explains some of the secrets of so many different trades.
The wealth of Bruno's experience stems from the fact that at WEA (now Warner Music) he started out as a private, bringing promotional discs to radio stations and the press, before ascending to the more delicate task of accompanying artists to television. He ends up fired, but a week later he becomes head of international product at EMI, then housed in the mythical Hispavox building on Torrelaguna street (if you don't know what the Torrelaguna Sound was, come back in September). There the bureaucratic and industrial logistics of putting new releases into circulation must dominate, but there is the compensation of fraternizing with foreign artists. And although Bruno defines himself as “serious and cerebral”, he masters the art of empathizing with visitors and there are slight suggestions that occasionally this leads to, well, moments of intimacy.The perpetual party of promoters and artists does not stop: it provides a list of 23 rogue venues in postmoved Madrid (and a few are missing).
He believes he has reached a peak when he is commissioned to run the international repertoire at the leading company, CBS, then part of Sony. It has free access to the Olympus of rock. A guess: the backstage of the four Rolling Stones concerts in Spain in 1990. There he sees the cash register that is housed in Mick Jagger's brain work. At each stop, the
group's
crushers
tell the local press the technical data of the assembly. Since journalists flock eagerly, Jagger suggests, they should be tempted with a thousand and one
official
merchandise
items
. No gifts: let them pay.
Galindo soon discovers that the position eats up all of his time. It also implies exporting the Spanish product, which can be translated into a month of Spanish-American tour with Azúcar Moreno (it could be worse, imagine escorting Remedios Amaya). But he loves dealing with the world stars of the moment: protocol requires that he accompany the Spanish press when important interviews are set up in London, Paris or New York. In one of these, caught in a bream dialogue between Joaquín Luqui and George Michael, he begins to ruminate that —with his gift of people — it would be much more gratifying to work as a music journalist.
Powered by the proverbial flower on the butt, it lands on the radiant days of music journalism. It is feasible that a medium decides to pay two people (pen, photo) to go and capture something as dangerous as "the environment" of Jamaica, where
reggae is
losing ground to
dancehall
. In the case of great figures, a category in which the venerable John Lee Hooker is briefly counted, the multinational on duty is willing to take on a 10,000-kilometer flight, and not precisely on a
low-cost
airline
.
Stays at the destination are long, whether you want to make an audience with Prince or you want to know the deep Mali of Ali Farka Touré.
And you don't always find nice things: in the jail in the town of Touré, he discovers a girl who - surrounded by bronchists who are serving light sentences - is waiting to be executed for a “
crime passionel
”.
Grounding
It is conceived as a fruit salad, where in each chapter different times, anecdotes and reflections, arguments and prolonged adventures are mixed. Some (few!) Of the usual shenanigans at record labels and stations are revealed, as if in passing. The author demands such freedom for the sake of going through stages, but reserves - strange modesty - the name of the executive obsessed with controlling the use of toilet paper in his offices, just as the industry awakens to the years of maximum prosperity. Nor does it reveal the identity of the magazine director who is uploading a laborious report on Palestine when he verifies that, contrary to what was announced, the Llanos sisters (Dover) did not participate in the Spanish musical embassy to the land of conflict and cannot be on the cover. . Mysteriously,The enigma of the cancellation of Galindo's book on the adventures of Manu Chao, which was already mock-up, has not been solved. What if it turns out that the
Is
clandestine
as controlling of his image as Prince?
Hmmm.
The last stretch of Galindo's musical career is missing, when he is reborn as a
spoken word
magician
.
He is welcomed by avant-garde festivals with a generous budget, he tours the world and comes to the fore: allied with Carlos Ann from Barcelona, with whom he coincides in the tribute to Leopoldo María Panero led by Enrique Bunbury, he sends a proposal to Julio Iglesias to produce Rick-style Rubin.
Iglesias responds kindly that he is too busy to face new projects;
he fails to learn that the plan consists of having him record compositions by notorious drug users and baptize the result with the resounding title of
Farlopa.
Cover of 'Toma de tierra', by Bruno Galindo. KO books
A joke that suggests that Galindo may also fall into the well of
hipsterization
that he so deplores on other pages. And that, from the beginning of the book, is especially lucid in reading reality. He warns that, as the 21st century progresses, the whole shebang is going to hell. It even puts a date on when the Government of the nation gives culture to
telecos
: July 8, 2006. Little by little, the music disappears after the choreographies, the festivals essentially repeat the same poster, the radios are programmed by companies external,
streaming
money
flows directly into the coffers of multinationals,
underground
guerrillas
they can no longer live off their art. And when you feel like you've hit rock bottom, the curse of the pandemic falls.