30 Years of Santa Sabina

30 Years of Santa Sabina

Pablo Valero picks up his guitar and walks calmly towards the center of the stage. He carries a portable recorder that he places on a chair near a microphone stand lined with flowers. When the device is activated, Rita Guerrero’s voice escapes from her tiny horn, which she plays “After Dead”, accompanied by a guitar. An amplified whisper attended by thousands while Poncho Figueroa, Alejandro Otaola, Juan Sebastian Lach, Jacobo Lieberman, Aldo Max, Patricio Iglesias, Leonel Pérez and Belén Ruiz follow Valero’s steps towards the dressing rooms. No one is left on the scene, except that voice who knows where, thanks to electricity, is present revealing a desire: “I would ask life that lives with death to accompany my poem.”

   

Just turn around to discover that, among the seats that fill the Metropolitan Theater, several cry. How not to cimbra. Santa Sabina celebrates 30 years of history, according to the band itself, “saying goodbye to a cycle” from this side of life. There is sadness in the environment, because the songbook of the group was characterized by resorting to dark cloths, mourning and melancholy; however, from the very beginning of the concert it was possible to discover that profile that the darksAztecs at the time so fascinated, never really defined the work of “Mirrota”. True: on some occasions minor tones and oppressive atmospheres predominated, but that discourse used to use the luminosity in the same way and often found hope in the future, just as it happened when the evening was inaugurated with “At the edge of the sun ”, Full of references to the star king, to the protective heat.

The union of the Choir Rita Guerrero and the Choir Délicieux added more than thirty throats that harmonized the fog that María Sabina’s mouth gave off between mountains. Herbs and yedras vaporizing the atmosphere to the sound of “Smoke song”. Love and aroma in thread and vilo until the arrival of Iraida Noriega, who made public the illusion that everyone kept behind the ribs, thinking of Rita: “I wish it was your voice”. From there, the microphone was changing hands, passed by Carmina Escobar, Ximena Mor, Salvador Moreno, Dafne and Sandra (Descartes a Kant), Renee Mooi, Alfonso André and Jessy Bulbo. In that role, he surprised the similarity of Carmina’s vocal style with that of Guerrero (especially in the crazy soliloquy of “Wet Lips”); by his side, Ximena Mor squeezed several hearts with a very heartfelt version of “Lament”.

In another lane, Renee Mooi took the devil by the horns and came forward with “Fear”, while, behind her, on a screen, an anonymous hand traced the silhouettes of a handful of hikers peeking out of the void. André was the surprise factor, because he sang with rototoms in front of “Rhinoceros”, an unpublished song that could find space in the debut album of Santa Sabina, that blue dish with a tendency to purple that houses “Chewing gum”, a composition that raised dust in the days when the Zapatista movement occupied the front pages of the newspapers and that tonight, unfortunately, Jessy Bulbo commanded on a vocal level. Regarding the commitment that the band held for life with the EZLN.

And although it was revealing the moment when Aldo and Leonel replaced with their instruments the voice of Guerrero in “La daga” (with saxophone and cello, respectively), as well as discovering that Valero and Otaola’s guitars went beyond a stylistic encounter for generate at times a dialogue that followed its own dramatic parable (and not to mention the already known excellent foundation forged by Figueroa e Iglesias at the rhythmic base); It was when Rita’s voice rang out that the sound arteries dilated so that the songs flowed to her trot. If images of the singer adhered to this – at some point living with videos starring Julio Díaz -, of course, the feeling was over, especially on songs like “We want to die” and “A song for Louis (vampire)”; moments where joy and sorrow shook hands.

After almost three hours of music, with the public demanding more and more, as if the goodbyes were banished, the act takes place in which the tape of a cassette turns in the dim light, letting that of Guadalajara permeate with its song every corner of the enclosure. From the ceiling a white light falls on that lectern with petals, a luminous halo that comes right from the place where Figueroa looked at when announcing “The Angel”. “Rita, listen to this,” he managed to say. This is how thirty years of music and words go away. There are records, memories, stories told by word of mouth, click by click. Perhaps never in the history of national rock was an image as impressive as that of that flowery lectern, alone, on stage. “I would ask life that lives with death to accompany my poem,” Rita sang from somewhere.