September has just come to an end. For me it has been a month full of melancholy to the max. I don't know if you know this; I assume you do not. But as a child, the first name of the month I learned was September. It was due to spending a wonderful month with my mother, where she used to spend her afternoons singing at the top of her lungs the music of two bands that will stay with me until the last day of my life: The Beatles and Queen. My love of music has a very familiar genesis; part of how it began is in this story.
I began by explaining that my fascination with music is linked to the influence of, and in many ways, watching my mother being happy to sing and hold my hand as a child. A little over a year ago I lost her. That is, she became ill and passed away. Clearly, as would happen to any of you, not a day goes by that I don't miss her. There is a special and unfading connection between what happens to the music in my soul and who sparked that love.
In many ways, this post is as much a personal catharsis (and I'm sorry if you don't share it or don't like it) as it is a tribute. I think in equal proportions, what I intend is not to leave behind the memory of September and the passage of time in me. A few simple and beautiful vinyl records, beyond the beautiful and unforgettable music they hold inside, what they really generate in me is love. A feeling that I don't often dare to show....
Now, has anything similar to this ever happened to you? I mean, that certain or certain bands have a direct and special connection to you in a way that is completely difficult to overcome. In some of the photographs I present here, there are elements that I might never have known so well, had it not been for my mother's influence. She didn't have a very good command of English, which was essential to understand Queen and Beatles songs, but I "inherited" her passion for them....
To this day, I don't think there is a band or musicians that I love, respect and adore more than them (The Beatles). Queen, on the other hand, although I respect them and even to a certain extent I am fascinated by what they have done, are not comparable. I guess there is only one love in life, both on a parental level and in music. I mean, I've tried to be as broad, varied and balanced as possible in my assessment of music and its massification, but some things never change, and that makes me smile deeply.
In the same vein, some of the best vinyl I have ever heard originated one September, more than 25 years ago. The sound the needle makes on the gramophone, the texture of the music playing and above all the aura; oh, the aura. That atmosphere, not only is it vintage, for me, it is simply precious. Maybe I shouldn't confess this, but I would give anything to spend even one minute in that moment I am describing. Obviously, it won't happen, but as The Smiths say, "I'm human after all..."
So, like "Lucy in the sky with diamonds", I'd like to think that my mother was that woman with the kaleidoscope eye who hypnotised me. This is a brief story of love, of recognition and above all of deep admiration. Perhaps, without admitting it openly before, today I discover that everything has an origin, a beginning, a genesis; mine is obvious... It all stems from seeing my mother immensely happy. That feeling was transmitted through music, and here, perhaps poorly, I try to extend it to all of you. Love, enjoy and feel with music; it is the most beautiful thing humans have ever created.
