There isn't as much glitter here. There is some, mind you: there's even a stand where you can get it stuck on your face, as is the fashion and trend, but we are no longer at the great Eurovision aesthetic festival exhibited by the audience of Primavera: the people who come to Cruïlla are more down-to-earth, more as-is, more natural. Everyone seeks their own identity, of course, but the truth requires few accessories.
The Cruïlla audience tends to be more like the festival itself, which is a festival we could define as authentic. Oh, what do you mean? That the rest are fake? No, I mean genuine. Oh, so then what, Sónar or Primavera are not genuine? No, I mean this one is more from here. But explain yourself, explain yourself: what do you mean, more from here? You're not going to be an exclusionary identitarian, are you? And, since we wouldn't finish this inner dialogue, I'll appeal to those who have already understood me from the first word: authentic. The Cruïlla audience is authentic, like Cruïlla. And they've understood me for a long time now.
In that case, the name makes the thing. Oh, but what are you saying. That the name of the festival makes the thing. But almost never does the name make the thing, right? On the contrary: the name always makes the thing. Don't exaggerate, always, it can't always be. Well, yes: always. The choice of a name can be used as a mask, yes, but even people who baptize themselves with masks betray themselves by choosing one mask and not another. There's no escape. The name makes the thing, always, and Cruïlla is exactly what its name says (and its logo, perfect, simple, resounding): here cultures cross paths, and we do so, according to its director Jordi Herreruela, at a historical crossroads.
Now we can save the world, but we can also save cultures, and these should not be incompatible struggles. Quite the opposite: to create an identitarian festival, proudly identitarian, proudly localist, not aimed at the mainstream market but at the backroom of authenticities, and at the same time an internationally resonant festival, is one of the only ways we have to protect culture and creativity. As Dalí said: there is no better way to be universal than to be ultralocal. We are at an authentic, ultralocal, and universal festival. We are at the true Forum of Cultures, but in a successful version. And we are also, physically and spiritually, at a crossroads. Here, the glitters, generally, are on the inside.
So local is its audience, here you find everyone. We came to see Rigoberta Bandini and arrived late for Duran Duran, because we suspected that the latter would be too static a concert. When we arrived, they told us that they had been very good, and that the originality of the idea had worked in nostalgic terms and cinematic evocations, but almost everyone came today to see Rigoberta.
Since Barcelona is a village, when we talk about an ultra-local festival, it turns out to be like walking through Barcelona in September without tourists: we almost all know each other or, rather, in every corner of the audience you find someone from the great Catalan family. And obviously Lluís Danés is a genius, but we already knew that: the use of paper cones in the shape of a windmill is an absolute stroke of genius, dynamic and simple scenography, almost eclipsing the logo as an icon. A success, like everything Lluís does: a luxury, an aesthetic milestone, a miracle of imagination. I do have to say, as a complaint not about the festival but about the crowd, that the use of bushes for peeing is absolutely excessive and too visible. I don't know if there are not enough toilets, but I would be surprised. Shame on you, people. It may be a local festival, but the world is watching us.
Rigoberta's concert is, and pardon the pun, a festival. She said a few days ago that she was retiring, and in truth, this is just an expression, also, of authenticity: listen, I only came to make a few songs and in the end, the matter got a bit too complicated for me. Many lights, many white costumes, much desire to dance. Apart from the expected repertoire, Rigoberta Bandini has given us a corrected version of the "TV clowns" song that talked about women who ironed and scrubbed every day of the week: together with Amaia, they have updated the theme and explained to us how girls danced like that. All the boomers who came from Duran Duran have had their psychotherapeutic shower and smiled to see how the story has changed: they can educate us in many ways, but the truth is that neither have they ever stopped dancing nor do we ever quite believe the clowns. Rigoberta also gives us a Eurovision lalalá, Massiel version (not Serrat version), and the refreshing Estrella ad songs (omnipresent sponsor of the festival and the bars), bilingual version.
We are at an authentic, ultra-local, and universal festival. We are at the true Forum of Cultures, but in a successful version.It's very hot, the corporate fans clash with the pitreresand precisely now is when Rigoberta's Eurovision moment arrives, with aMomthat puts intop lessboth the stage and the audience and, in this case, the music. I don't think I've ever seen so much cleavage together and bouncing to the beat. Certainly, it's been many years since your breasts scared us, but we will admit that they command our respect. We men look at each other with our eyes as if to say "oh, look, see?" and we compete for the grimace ofMr. Beanmore temporizing. A pregnancy, a twerking session and then admitting that her repertoire is limited and with desire. I am this, I am what there is, I haven't come to make a career but to sing my songs, which are these.Playlistbrief ofgreatest hits, because Rigoberta has only wanted to makehits
And yes, it ends up causing big blows: whether you like it or not, his ideas are big punches and the solutions for the arrangements would liven up any disco. A beautiful star, I suppose a shooting star, that has elegantly crossed our lives and has given pride to foolishness. They have come to dance, but deep down we have all come into the world to dance. But it's just... No, no buts. Man, you won't deny me that... I said no. We are this. Period.
Barcelona, in case urban speculators or culture usurpers didn't realize, is a villageWhen we left the festival, already more refreshed by the arrival of night, people still pee in the bushes, but the low overcrowding is appreciated. Barcelona is a village, and this festival has a point of an enormous town fair in the square. You can walk, you can breathe, you can sit down to eat or go into a place with a DJ or go to the next concert without having to worry about whether you will find the group or if you will lose coverage.
Barcelona, in case urban speculators or culture usurpers didn't realize, is a village. We all know each other more or less and, if we don't know each other, we know what the story is about. It's about surviving, but it's also about living. About dancing. The planet will be saved by dancing and cultures are saved by having a good time. In case it hasn't been clear enough, I'll tell you another way: the world, that globalized world that they so much want to turn into a department store, is a village. The sooner they understand it, the sooner they will make the right decisions. Cruïlla has already made them a long time ago.
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