"I would tell you that, right now, Jaume Sisa is a galactic singer-songwriter retired from public and social life. Now what I do is write, waiting for the spontaneous arrival of messages to give them shape." The flow of his words stops for an instant, to sip some Vichy water and let the evening atmosphere of the Bar accompany the moment. "In fact, that has always been my way of working ---he continues---: things came to me and I gave them my shape, with the guitar, the melodies, the harmonies, and the lyrics."
Jaume Sisa remembers the day in 1963 when, at 15, he went with two friends to the Musical Emporium in Canaletes to buy his first guitar, with the savings from his work in a scale factory. "After the purchase, we went down Las Ramblas and the three of us went, for the first time, to the Cosmos to have a drink and celebrate the acquisition. And we suddenly found ourselves in that dive surrounded by thugs, sailors, and prostitutes." He smiles remembering that moment of personal prehistory in music and the heart of Barcelona.
A few years later, already seasoned in the catacombs of Barcelona's bohemia, he formed a special friendship with the musician Enric Herrera, with whom he traveled to France and Tunisia playing Dylan songs and soaking up marginal streets and literatures. Pete Seeger, Kerouac, Ginsberg, Ian & Sylvia, Camus. A background with which he returned to the city in 1967, in time to meet another of his great friends forever: Pau Riba.
Sisa had to die
He debuted with the single L'home dibuixat, today a true anthem of the Catalan underground of his time, then he formed the ephemeral and brilliant Música Dispersa, which after one album gave way to his first solo album Orgia. But time passed, Jaume Sisa continued to live from his work in the office of an insurance company and was about to throw in the towel.
But before that, enough messages had arrived to fill a new album. "In 1975, the only thing I was aware of was my failure. I had been trying to make a living from music since I was 18, but there was no way. And one day, Rafael Moll, from Edigsa, calls me and tells me that my second album, Qualsevol nit pot sortir el sol, is a success, that it's selling like hotcakes. I couldn't believe it!"
That album marked a before and after, not only in the artistic and vital trajectory of the artist ---who is still not very sure if this is his best album---, but for the panorama of Catalan Pop culture. Be that as it may, to celebrate half a century of such a transcendental work, Satélite K now reissues it along with the LPs Orgia, Malalts del cel and Sisa i Melodrama. A new life for songs as timeless as they are galactic.
The foam grew, because there were more messages, more magic that the parishioner took it upon himself to manipulate in the form of songs. And so for nine years, until, one night in 1984, Jaume had what he defines as the most exciting experience of his life. "It was a night when I had a revelation. I hadn't taken anything. I walked aimlessly all night, without going into bars, without talking to anyone, just walking and configuring an idea: that of being someone else. Sisa had to die. Shortly after, I announced my retirement, made the album Transcantautor última notícia, the book Lletres galàctiques and an exhibition at the Palau Macaya". And that was all.
"A year later, a certain Ricardo Solfa appeared in Madrid," laughs the musician, speaking of one of his numerous alter egos, perhaps the one that had the greatest transcendence, because until the second half of the 90s he established himself as a notable copla artist, with several albums and countless concerts to his credit, before returning to the arena as Sisa in a second incarnation, as galactic as the first.
No one goes to see the old lady
"I see Barcelona now as an old lady, well-preserved, possibly a widow, who lives in a large apartment where she rents rooms because she no longer enjoys the comfort of yesteryear and because her children are no longer there, they have left and the house feels immense to her. And she has to occupy it because she, yes, does not move. If they want to see her, they should come. She is a lady who remembers times that were better for her and who no longer recognizes the world she lives in well, so she looks back with nostalgia".
The same with which, perhaps, the artist looks back when suddenly a song from his childhood, Mustapha by Bob Azzam, plays on the radio. And before him, past moments illuminated by small Christmas lights, like those he saw shine ---"how much magic!"--- when he accompanied his father, a traveling salesman, to sell them in hardware stores and lamp shops.
"Now Barcelona is so full of tourists that, like so many others, the city is no longer seen," says the man who, in distant 1982, a decade before the Olympic fervor, already made an album with artist Miralda, Barcelona postal, for whose cover both dressed up as tourists and staged a memorable happening on Las Ramblas. "Anyway, it's the nest where I was born and where I will probably die," he determines.
--- But before that happens, you have to try something from our Bar's offerings. We have tapas, à la carte, menu, sandwiches… If you want to take a look at what we have.
Jaume Sisa gives a wry smile. "I'm a classic, traditional menu kind of guy," he warns. The sparkling water runs out and he takes the floor again. "While I think about it, I will have a whisky," he announces. And, before being asked, he clarifies: "if possible, a Macallan."
--- Coming right up.