Txarly Brown: A lot of almost everything

"Seeing Skatalà live, at 18, made me fully immerse myself in Jamaican music, a sound that captivated me, that I completely liked, above what I had been listening to until then." The gaze of designer and agitator Carles Closa, better known as Txarly Brown, shines through his Cazal glasses. That concert by the mythical ska band captained by Kike Gallart was the beginning of a sonic and aesthetic journey that has led him, since that 1986, to delve into different atmospheres, contributing to define them: from Jamaican to rumba, passing through electronic, soul or hip hop. "I enjoy listening, observing, documenting myself, seeing other realities that are within reality. Creation in any of its forms is the fruit of knowledge."

Terry Callier's voice sweetens the atmosphere with his classic Ordinary Joe, and the parishioner sips a craft beer, with an absent air, thinking about all the messes he has had the pleasure of getting into. He has been editor of the influential fanzine (and later magazine) FBI, has organized concerts, has compiled and produced records, has been at the head of labels such as Novophonic or Business Class. He has defined the graphic identity of countless projects: Dr. Calypso, Upshitters, So Dens, Rude Cat, Producciones Animadas, Moskito Byte… And he has also been the factotum of the Achilifunk setup, with which he has highlighted, through books, compilations, DJ sets, talks and a Numantine activism, the heritage of Catalan rumba and its infinite evolutionary possibilities. "I've done a bit of everything and a lot of nothing," he jokes. Although it's not true: restless, tafaner, Carlos has done a lot of almost everything.

"After thirteen years very involved in the rumba scene, I ended up fed up, especially with those who accused me of profiting from it, when in reality I was losing money. So since 2020 I have re-engaged in the field of Jamaican music, which is a bit of my roots. Furthermore, here we have exceptional musicians who are the future of these styles," he explains. The point is to keep getting into the messes he likes ---"I've always done what I wanted, thoroughly, without leaving things halfway"--- like DJing with the Skazal collective, producing records, or his recently published book, Grandes fracasos (Verso), which compiles and explains his graphic and artistic production linked to ska, reggae and derivatives over these last almost forty years. A visual feast.

Knowing what you don't want to be

At 19, Txarly Brown knew exactly what he didn't want to be: "an imbecile deceived by life." He learned it the hard way, entering the Trinitat juvenile prison for associating with the wrong crowd. "I was lucky, if it had happened three months later I would have been old enough to end up in La Modelo," he recalls about that month spent behind bars, "where, since I knew how to draw, I ended up tattooing other prisoners as they used to tattoo in prisons back then: with a pen tied to a needle that I would percuss with a Scalextric motor and a battery." And he laughs, remembering those monstrous "Che Guevaras, Tinkerbells, and Christs" he depicted on other people's skin.

Shortly after, he entered the Celma Durán graphic studio and there he learned the rudiments of a profession, that of designer, which he has continued to approach from an artisanal perspective ---"although I use a tablet, I use it as if it were paper and pencil"---, aware that success in this field is not determined by the quality of the work, but by the projection of the brands for which one works. And that, to him, matters not a jot.

"Life is the present, I have never considered getting rich with this. I prefer to be able to do what I like and remain rooted in the musical and aesthetic worlds I have come to know. I keep going to concerts, to DJ sets, I keep letting things surprise me." And there's another thing he knows he doesn't want: to grow old spiritually.

Between Europe and the Third World

The parishioner has lived in Burgos, Donosti, and Madrid, but for him, Barcelona is the best city in the world, "which he wouldn't change for any other." In love with its urban development ---"grid-like, like me"---, with the cadmium yellow light that illuminates the nocturnal streets, and with its "borderline soul between European and third world," he considers himself a Barcelonian above any other spirit of belonging.

"Unfortunately," he adds, frowning, "we are in the hands of politicians who have a short-term vision, they don't see beyond four years, and of a bourgeoisie that, unlike that of yesteryear, no longer gets as involved in supporting local culture beyond the Liceu." And for him, that can be a key to understanding "the amount of dirty people, who litter, who don't love their city," he reasons, finishing his beer. The pressure is enormous, rents are sky-high, tourist overcrowding is excessive while local cultural spaces are lost; all these can be keys to understanding why so many people stop feeling Barcelona as their own.

--- What can easily restore love for the city is the gastronomic offer of this Bar, it's almost dinner time and maybe you might fancy eating something…

Txarly Brown smiles. The notes of Baby take your time by Terry Callier play in the air. "There are two things I particularly like, because I can never eat them at home since neither my wife nor my son like them: peas and liver," he explains, and before waiting to see if there's any of that, he orders another beer. "Craft, of course."