"I am an uncomfortable type for the modern world ---the composer and musician Pedro Burruezo takes the floor, before continuing---: I am an anti-academic singer of atypical music, I am a composer of impossible melodies, an agitator of deep ecology, an aspiring Sufi mourid. I love being a father and being a grandfather. Being a grandfather today is almost revolutionary."
He arrived early in the morning, "I am more of a diurnal bird. The myths of the night and its follies are not for me and, after 11 at night, I'm not worth a dime". He asked for a green tea and that Lole y Manuel, Robert Wyatt, Om Kalsoum, Arvo Pärt or Nusrat Fateh Alí Khan could play, at a reasonable volume, as long as advertising does not interrupt the notes.
"I would tell you that I have traced an artistic-vital path that will be neither better nor worse, but it is mine. Singularity is an endangered species," reasons the one who, already in 1984, when he led the unrepeatable Claustrofobia, was defined by Francisco Casavella as one of the great Pop authors of his time, while sipping his drink. Only what Pedro has been doing has never been exactly Pop and he has sought, found and given a transcendence that continues to accompany him musically and, as it could not be otherwise, personally.
"I don't make music to please, but because I have to lament, since I will never reach a state of enlightenment and clairvoyance. Singing makes the wait more bearable. I have performed in Turkey, Sudan, Algeria, Morocco, France, Egypt… Throughout Spain. Throughout Catalonia. I just want to make exciting music. It is the only way to survive the filth and find a little light. It is to await the moment of death with illusion," reasons the parishioner, in love with going to a place where no one knows him and going out to defend his repertoire "without tricks, without slogans, without speeches. To sing as if you were dying." In this sense, he identifies with the image "of a 21st century troubadour who goes through the towns and those worlds of God remembering the Beloved with his melodies and songs. Nobody knows me, but everyone recognizes the message: The messenger is not what is important."
Determined to "make music that is capable of making hearts tremble and attracting angels," Pedro assures that he is finalizing an album leading Burruezo & Nur Camerata, with Berna Jones, Teo Larrosa, Jordi Ortega, Jordi Rallo and Robert Santamaría, "which will be titled al-Majnún, the madman. I think that says it all."
The Andalusian footprint
A born storyteller, Pedro narrates how, in Cairo, he and his band were at the tomb of al-Sustary: "He was a well-to-do Andalusian. He left everything to go through the markets to sing to the Beloved, the Lover, and Love. It was a scandal in the society of the time. Here, practically no one knows him. What a shame. Catalonia and Spain have erased their Andalusian past. For me, al-Sustary is an example, an inspiration."
--- And how do you manage to live with that spirit in these times of flimsy postmodernity?
"Current society is heading towards collective suicide, in the macro and in the micro, in the singular and in the plural, and I am starting to stop contributing to the disaster and choose to contribute to regeneration and compensation," he replies, stroking his jet-black mane. "And I decide to abandon ship. I still live here, of course, because my family is here. I wouldn't know where else to go either. I don't think the East is different. The essence of the materialistic world has permeated everywhere, even in the most secluded places. Inside, I am no longer of this world. I accept Islam and the essence of tradition. There is no god but God. Since then, far from making me conservative, I am more rebellious than ever. I accept no idols or nonsense. I am an untamed heart and, at the same time, I am rigorous with myself, but totally understanding with others," and he cites the life and work of mystics like Ibn Arabi, Rumi, or Rabi'a al Addawiyya, as existential roadmaps.
An institutionally deaf Barcelona
"According to some critics, I am one of the musicians of recent decades who has a more clearly Barcelonian sound, between the Mediterranean and the urban, between the past and the future, between the avant-garde and tradition. But the city, its institutions, its media, its promoters ignore me and only certain critics and a select minority appreciate my work. Perhaps it's better that way. I am difficult: too Castilian for Barcelona, too Catalan for Madrid. Too spiritual for modern people, too free for religious institutions and guru apprentices; too ecological for the industrial world, too religious for ecological atheism. I am always in no man's land," reflects Pedro, who remembers with affection and without nostalgia places like Bodega Bohemia, Pastís or Cangrejo: "Those spaces that post-Olympic Barcelona destroyed. A city that will never return. I am more from that Barcelona than from the current one. At least, it was more real. Digital Barcelona doesn't interest me."
--- You are not, by far, the only artist whom this city, incomprehensibly, does not embrace.
--- It's that I resist culture being in public hands, because it means that political puppets are the most rewarded and art, culture, and legitimate artists suffer and have far fewer opportunities.
The musician finishes his tea and, when asked if he would like to eat something, he directs his coffee-colored eyes over the bar and warns: "I am for traditional menu in a lifelong restaurant. I am not for fancy restaurants or culinary frivolities. What I ask for, whenever possible, is that it be organic and, if possible, ovo-lacto-vegetarian. In fact, I try to eat everything I can at home, with everything produced by my organic garden and my well-treated poultry coop."
--- Very well treated?
--- Very much so. I sing to them and give them massages.