Ivo Martí Menzel: A Modern Classic

"I have always been crazy about the Rat Pack, and even more so with age, Frank, Dino... Delighted if we could listen in the background to Sammy Davis Jr.'s album hand in hand with guitarist Laurindo Almeida, a true filigree," asks Ivo Martí, leaning on the bar, savoring some portions with his indispensable beer "preferably, bottled." The first bars of Here's that rainy day begin, filling the air of the Bar and the parishioner's face with a knowing smile.

Elegantly dressed in a classic and modern style, Ivy League, this "son of a Catalan-Almerian and a German-Silesian" grew up in Sant Gervasi, in an environment of reverential love for cinema and literature. From his earliest childhood, he enjoyed a varied musical diet that planted the seed of a unique, broad criterion that would bring so much satisfaction to the Barcelona music scene. "In my parents' house, in addition to books and movies, music was very present. On weekends the record player was smoking, each family member contributed their grain of sand: from the Dead Kennedys to Bach, passing through Los Sírex, Scott Joplin or Hildegard Knef," he recalls.

—And you didn't feel like studying an instrument?

—At fourteen I signed up for sax classes. I lasted next to nothing, I wanted to play James Brown's I got you, not 18th-century Provençal little songs with sheet music— he laughs.

He would train in film directing, "although my professional life has gone in other directions." The artistic one, too. "As a young man I started singing in some groups, until in the autumn of '96 I became the vocalist of Los Soberanos." Ivo officiated for more than two decades as frontman and vocalist of this mythical group dedicated to rescuing songs "by Spanish, Italian and South American performers and groups from the 60s, as well as some of their own songs." They toured the entire country and released several albums, supported by a solid and militant fan base and friends, among whom the parishioner highlights, "with my eternal gratitude," Radio3 announcer Juan de Pablos.

But, in addition to Los Soberanos, the singer ventured into other territories such as The Waldorf Astorias, a cover band of classic punk rock songs filtered through an elegant swing sound. "The motto was: God save the swing, the punk is dead and I also have very good memories of that journey." Another adventure he highlights is Dom Martin, "a duo of standards with a brief trajectory, but one I am very proud of due to the daring nature of the proposal. Two suited guys performing songs like Spooky or Nature boy with guitar and voice."

Stopping, but to gain momentum

Fatherhood meant for the regular "a profound change for the better" which he defines as a goodbye to ego and a hello "to complete and total surrender to another person with all that it entails," despite tough moments "like putting up with other kids, I'm not at all fond of children and the world of childhood causes me a certain unease, or as atrocious as waking up daily to the little voice of Dora the Explorer and that monkey, highly strangulable."

In addition to returning to the sound arena, Ivo Martí is engrossed in the production and direction of a documentary about Los Soberanos

"We have taken off like a rocket, tremendous pride and satisfaction to start with such travel companions," he smiles. "What I am most proud of is being able to give new life and visibility to songs that had fallen into oblivion, and for the audience to enjoy them." Modern classics of the 20th century, in times of postmodernity. But one must deliver to the public. "When you decide to go on stage, you have the duty to try to make everyone have the best possible time."

In addition to returning to the sound arena, drawing on his film background, the local is engrossed in the production and direction of a documentary about Los Soberanos.

Barcelonity in the process of dissolution

"My Barcelonity, almost militant, has been diluting," explains the local, in love with that city where, in 1966, another modern classic was recorded at the Calderón theater, "what is supposed to be the first live R&R album in our country. With the Valencian Bruno Lomas, dressed in a sharp white suit, performing a magnificent version of his admired Ray Charles's What'd I say, with the audience in a frenzy. What I would have given to be there."

But things have changed. For the worse. "I've lived in the city center for twenty years, and the weariness of having to dodge daily stampedes of Scandinavians on bicycles is more than evident. Add to that the character of the Barcelonian, naturally dry to compensate for the environmental humidity, has turned sour, tense, people are in a very bad mood. Normal, seeing how the idiosyncrasy of this city has gone to hell, something that started when they saddled us with the Olympics."

"We have become the watering hole for the most shabby tourism. When you barely recognize the neighborhood where your childhood took place, I'm afraid we have a problem, and a big one. It is devastating that locals are forced to leave because they cannot afford the extremely high cost of living here. All this causes me to feel, day after day, more distant from a city I adored," he laments, pushing the last bite of the last portion with the last sip of beer.

—Perhaps it's time to sweeten the conversation a bit. For that, we have a selection of delicious homemade desserts.

Ivo Martí Menzel laughs, shaking his head.

—I'm afraid I'm strictly a savory person —he replies—. If desserts, chocolate, and pastries disappeared from the face of the Earth, I wouldn't miss them too much.

And he asks for another beer, while Sammy and Laurindo's version of Speak low sets the pace for the moment.