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The songs were what the less ... (I)

The songs were not important. But less, much less of everything we threw up the night. Not to disparage, much less her awesome vocals. For nothing, not even think were good or were not up to it. What up? ... these people are well above the letters that sing and their voices with those who interpret them. Simply because they sing with soul in a fist, and the other the heart. For permeate every corner of where they operate, salt and the breeze of Cadiz. For the pulse-pounding to the beat of a three by four, crazy, crazy, makes you "Majara" and takes you to the port, without any Vaporcito catch. Because they are just art and tronío Cadiz.

left evidence in Granada last night that their songs are much more than counter and potholes. Are much more than a steady drumbeat of the realm of the cold metal knuckles or knotted wood. They are much more, because they think of the living, makes for prayers for the faithful to the cup, and laughing at the same strip are the tears. And the music and love for Cadiz then when you least expect it and will touch your back, and puts you under the jersey, removing his shirt and patting his back and bristling skin. And you get to the heart directly ... is well what I mean ... so direct you to clouds mind ...

night we touched their voices, they started small square black and Antonio Martín, away from slavery and made us forget the pain. And left us eager to caress and embrace poderte to say I love you, Cádiz ... well I love you and well you know. But even after it experienced last night, we all know that Rembrandt was not the fault, much less then nothing is, nothing equals it. Well, yes. The street ... street to reach the blessed typical and popular party ... but last night I was in paradise ...

But if it was a carnival party and family, accompanied by good friends and acquaintances, Alejandro Garcia, Rafael Rodríguez Moya, Javier Olid, Maria del Mar Pena, Felipe Reyes, Ana Ortega, Carolina Morales Viedma (the girl from Murcia, hahahaha) . And there were moments where you can listen, dream, excited, laugh, mourn, wail, sing, levitate, feel and all with the ability to interact with them at all times. Talk, ask, applaud, hug them, feel them, love them, and not without reason. Their voices carried to us that we are "puertatierra capita pa" to the nights of radio and headphones in the middle of the night. For the times we spent in the car listening to songs of carnival. In the shower, trying to make flyers reach for the rest of humanity. Or in the living room of our homes, while leaving the imagination to see us in a lavaero or on a roof, put some finishing point, or the beat of some music that will not fit.

Jose Antonio Lords, we cracked the chest with the Golden Andalusia, comparsa de Don Enrique Villegas and the immortal pasodoble mothers ... you notice when you sing with heart and feeling that at that time interpreted. My oles I missed one after the other, because this powerful voice touched me when mixed with honey and the sense of lyrics so sweet and pretty, to tell a mother who only know how to say these people singing.

The moon, last night explendida, huge and round, gave us good night, was reflected in the waves of a creek that jealous by bathing the shores of my hometown alhambreña, twisted nerve in the distance. And their money is reflected in my skin, to become a werewolf and get my nails against the poor "Paguate and nonsense" that were in the rear the pub and at first had not realized that we those who were there. But you, you ... you who are human humans only see what's inside of me ... and I went last night werewolf and pleasure. Of course I'm with you, Cádiz ... and your moon is the same as the one here, but is reflected in different and distant ways.

And not everything was going to be serious. So with the banter that characterizes the people of this part of our Andalusia were put to work to sing about cuplecitos, with which people are integrated into the action. Manolo trash Baja ... that good time ...

But I do not want to extend a lot of input, and thus always leave something in the room from my memory, for future blog entries. Because there will be. And because even now I am so, so excited and so happy with his experiences on the morning of day 21, add 3, and for me is odd, not right now because I can keep writing to tell you, as my feet up soil, so many times yesterday, I sincerely believe that I lost count. Until the chilly water of the bay's mojo pinrreles me and pulled me out of my lethargy Cadiz ... it was time to go home ... and tomorrow ... tomorrow is another day, but not forget what I experienced that night ... because anyone can have a photo with these artists who do not give the extras, even taking the huge background these people have, treasures and has so far behind the scenes ... but just as I kept snapshots of their faces, kind and good natured, and somewhat surprised that a Granaino them of coba carnival, they take a grin, and finish by giving you a sincere hug and a "prick, let's go pa Cai" .. .

Thanks Cadiz, thanks Jose Antonio "Lords" Thank you Grand Vizier, and Ramoni Thanks ... and these latest pictures and I spent some time talking to them, both at rest and at the end of the performance, I promise another entry, because they always remain in my memory, his words close, and yet terrible and so awful good feeling that we knew we all life, and that we could spend whole nights and days, talking and singing things from Cadiz, and its carnival ... but that, it will be and the next day ... Cadiz sleep ... my heart misses you ...

And the art of this card that José Ramón de Castro Gonzalez, "Ramoni" I gave out, and I signed with love all of them, the three odd .. . hmmm ... odd, a piece of the trio. Jose Antonio Lords, I signed with a big hug. Ramoni, La Voz de Cádiz dedicate me another big hug. Then came the Grand Vizier and said, "prick, I will sign na ma and I give you a hug "... delighted to have seen and known in Granada. Here is my house, which is yours, and we'll see in Cadiz ... and I say I, not Like I promised last night ... because the songs were not important ... because they "were what most" ...

PS: some photos and videos are Ana Ortega. Thank you, blond ...

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Let us not forget ...

Let us not forget ... this blog started with the clear idea of \u200b\u200brecording one of my "Passion", one of my daily winks to the cup for which under the stairs my house humming or whistling choruses sung by all, which made themselves immortal, because immortal did others. "What would Mardi Gras without the fan ??... "What would the party if you do not follow anyone, whether puertatierra PA within or outside Pá puertatierra ??... "What would become of the letters if they were not sung by the rest of us ??... "What would the music if they were not whistled, hummed or just mumbled through his teeth, for which probably never will tread the boards of the Gran Teatro Falla ??... "Where would the letters are heartbreaking, and we take a generous smile and sound and open a laugh ??... "Where is lost then the chills and the annealing of the bodies hooked on radio at night and early morning contest ??... "For who would throw down his throat hearts ??... "For whom would be devoted tanguillos ??... And ¿comparsa pasodobles ??... "Jokes" and the jokes to mumble lyrics better than no ??... "What about the parodies of good quartets ??...

Let us not forget anybody, that the Carnival is for the people. And the people of Cadiz, as someone said before me, but I sign it where and when ... where he was born wants ... although this site has to be ... Jerez ...

Listen to what I think Cadiz

of the rivalry that never ends,

I can not deny, I am Jerez

and understand that my soul is spoken.

life confronts us every day,

blurs the feeling of the people.

If you're the queen at bay,

I'ma Cadiz by law.

If you do not have a fishing rod,

not I have a horse in my field.

If you enjoy your songs of carnival,

me is that I'm dying at a carnival when I sing.

If I presume that my inner compass,

Cádiz always be the birthplace of rhythm,

if I bulerías glory I have,

with your joys you have heaven.

If our songs are across the bay,

are marking our lives

bring warmth to thousands of foreboding.

If our ties kill gossip

of people who go through life

trampling feelings.

Jerez and Cadiz, people who neither look

for things in life that I can not explain.

If living in Cádiz Jerez,

many sleep in Jerez Cadiz.

And enough of stories

we took him inside,

dreams of Cadiz, Jerez dreams .

For Santiago and Santa Maria

to end the sad and cold envy

between Cadiz and Jerez.

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The haunt is the haunt ...

Since childhood, the haunt is the lair. And finally, coming sooner or later. What we see, what we hear, what we feel, what we sense, the images we hold ... we hide behind the doors and steal the moments, and then try to imitate adults. They are our little god. And we look to haunt them. Here I bring you the story of a slide in morning while listening to a parent pasodobles shaved and grabbed the door when the child is dressed with the types stored in a closet for your little gods, which will make many times the roads ... and yes it's true that things are carried in the blood, because I not be of Cadiz, without being born among you, I have felt and seen my children humming the songs I usually sing badly. And I have been told that not only do at home, but they do on the street and at school, with friends and colleagues. I have been enjoying a good pasodoble. I've seen them laugh with a good joke. I've seen mourn the laughter with the grace and ingenuity of the odd quartet. And se, that it transmitted to their children tomorrow. Because the lair lair ...

you cherish an image
was a day ago while I was shaving



sang a paso doble I hid behind the door

stealing every moment to sing on the patio in the courtyard


school I wore your dress to imitate

you were an artist
pa mi
One day of the framers of the senators
another man of the sea
fabulist

Since that night I wanted to be blessed
comparsa! I wanted to be comparsa
!

Today I ask pardon for being a carnival

spend half my life by giving her poems to
the girl I love most!

Today I ask pardon
to fight with my troupe to bring the banner

that my father is not any
that came with Paco Alba!

This letter is for all those old men whose lives
those
dressed up and gave us a present, future and past
I said that it's in our blood

Well, I've been told my child at school
sing song as his father sang sang
like his grandfather!

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Look ... "... Anyway, there is a small nuance in which I have not repaired parents. Since I was nine years, I have not done anything but write and music for my poems. I said that this gift will help me become something in life. For now it is the carnival, but do not rule out the possibility of singing around with my guitar. Singing with my guitar! ... I had forgotten that I have to have surgery and I got these three strange singers that live inside my body. Tomorrow will bring another pasodoble I just finished, one that speaks of Cadiz from the photographs that a father teaches his daughter. Tomorrow, when you open your mouth, cachondeito be secured in a row because I do the tenor, contralto and the second at a time. And is that up to fatigue that I am a carnival and a precursor ..."... Antonio Martínez Ares - Pumpkins

We

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deal? ... Shipwreck

women treatment ... I with thee and thou with me, I'll give you whatever you want, oh, oh, if you give me what I ask ... If you give me your mouth, give you a thousand kisses ... Lend me your lips and put a I love you, is a good start, and then we'll see. If you put the doubts, I'll jealousy. If you give me your body ... in return I promise I'll give my life. And if you give me your life, then I swear I do not know what would. If you put skin, I put the touch, ... if you leave me your nights will be yours forever my days.

Put the passion, I will win. You put the flesh, I the soul, I am fuel, you are fire. Open your heaven I'll be your guardian angel. Your thirst will be the source as you are the blazing sun shade quiet. Put your tears if you have that I will be comforted. Do not hesitate to bring your fears that I will be your warrior. But do not tell me no, you're bread and I hunger, I wound and your my band. You dream bed, laughing at my pain. Women give me freedom to love you ... I want to stay imprisoned along with your side.

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There's nothing like the loneliness of being shipwrecked in the middle of nowhere. But everything bad is getting some good finishes. Feeling lost in the island where acacias are gently swaying in the sun day after day, should not be so bad. It is even advisable. I, one day I got to sea, intending to feel safe. Lifted anchor, probably wrongly believing that by leaving behind so much and such varied experiences, I feel better. Perhaps released. Sailed every ocean possible and fought against impossible. My neck, one that held the sails of my intrepid ship broke in half leaving me adrift. The nights were then closed, long and dangerous. And while believing to be a sea lion that seemed to have them all with him, I beat the wreck ...

Resale hull of my boat from the breakwaters, and when I wanted to agree, I awoke to the smell of the sea. The secluded beach and the remains of my wreck, did not encourage much. My soul, lost in the immensity of the coral reef, he felt sad and helpless. And even do not know why I was saved, perhaps it was because of God ... and then I got to thinking ... "The reason I'm alive, are the battles that I still have to win ... the buried treasures and to find and enjoy ... the wonders to see and experience it again ... people to know and with whom to share a thousand and one chorus ,"...

So, I looked from that perspective, and convinced me, that's very nice to be a castaway with you, even in the

distance ...

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Loquito to see you ...

Sorry. I can not help. In January, I kills me ... but I finished off in February and revive me again. And you have not I can remedy ... I'm already crazy to see you. Crazy, but the auction. Crazy, so much that I can not find another way to February, passing the other eleven. Crazy for feeling, to hold you, for fuck you, and dream of you, and sleep with you, leave me in my dreams with the beat of your music. Crazy about getting wet in your waters, to stain the skin of salt, take your sand in my pockets and your chorus in the drawer of the eternal bars ... do you ??... if I'm crazy to see you another year ??...

If there is no dream of you night or tomorrow dawns not humming or whistling. Downstairs way home from work, remembering letrilla of that, of that knuckle-bar, or this or that guy ... madness of my memory. And yet, no matter the month in which you are, I'm crazy to see you at my side, my darling. Looking for heaven sigh ... ainsss ... your mother, Rosarillo, and your Father the Nazarene ... I have jealousy ... because I have a girlfriend, gentlemen, that is just by looking at stealing hearts ... and I, while ... continue forever, crazy to see you ... and undressed with his eyes and love with the soul, and no other month to love that which comes after this you just start ... January, which pretty you are, with to your caste ...

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January has arrived ... and with it, February ...

Well, this is already here. Finally came in January, and the always comes hand in hand in February, also called "febrerillo the crazy." Today we are just a month to start the COAC 2011. Just a month before finally opens and velvety red curtain of the Temple of bricks coloraos. That refine the throats and hearts burst into a thousand pieces to the beat of the chorus. The nights are more nights and early mornings awake, regain their sense and their whys. Laughter that flooded the halls of our homes or dormitories with the verses of good jokes, or parodies of the best quartets. That bristle is the beautiful with the lyrics of the extras. That will flood the soul with the strains of a tanguillo. And to live and feel the atmosphere of the stalls, the boxes and not the chicken coop as the Grand Theatre of Dreams ...

And this January, we will long for many of us. But it will, as they pass the cold and rain. And again we'll be back with you, Cádiz. One more year. At the bottom of the barrel. And while this magical night of January 5, more than a kick us out carbon Magi, I know that I will use ... to throw it to the boiler ... to burn the lies ... and to target, as always, did your carnival ...

Right now we Cádiz ... only one month left ... It is here !!....

1997 - El Vapor - Presentation

Author: Antonio Martinez Ares

We're here again, darling soldiering

With shovels and with hammers and with a face like a firebrand.

Oh yes, yes, no, no,

That is, to be steam.

Each year is worse thing of the carnival,

Virgin, by your mare help me not to derail.

That trocotrón that tracatrán,

That steam, the steam is gone.

Whichever way that I do not know who has your life

That and I swear it's clavaita rejuro, key to mine.

alas, does not live!, Now the saying goes:

who sings frightens his evil

Vamos "compare" to work.

The rail, is pulling me towards you,

The car, inside my heart is.

Again the choruses train

just come girl at the station.

freedom Steam, vapor, one more year,

Vapor heaven will give you kisses pa fireman.

Steam, sea foam, steam which is pretty

spite of your iron oxide.

Pa reach the cup, there is only one way

If you want to go to glory come with me, come with me.

Slowly, slowly, is regarded as steam,

girl clears the way we have to throw coal

Slowly, slowly, co go to nougat,

A Cai Cai do not call, they call it shrine

Because

employers is the poets of miracles.

Thinking of your face I spend hours toit,

ground There's doors

sounding the locomotive.