Concerto No. 1: "Escucha"

Like all Latin-Americans, Uruguayans love music. Montevideo's melodic beat follows time by the honks of horns, the whistles of construction workers, or--even more melancholy--the Sunday morning sound of the knife-man, waltzing his machine--a contraption that is part bicycle and part sharpening wheel--past your open window, playing a unique tune on a wooden pan flute, searching for needy folks with dull blades. Or perhaps you're on a bus, and a struggling artist climbs aboard, playing his guitar, singing some soft Spanish words, while passengers smile as they stare out at the passing scenery. Sometimes, it's just the familiar sound of a one-hit wonder coming from the nasally transistor radio speaker at the newspaper stand--the vendor lip-syncing the words between sips of mate. It's note-worthy that with ancestry that bridges Europe from Spain to Italy, accompanied by African and American influences, listeners here are free to enjoy every harmonic form: from Tango to Reggae, Mozart to Rock-n-Roll, or Opera to Hip-Hop. You can be serenaded by wandering market minstrels, find classic cover bands rocking outdoor restaurants in the old city, head-bang to heavy metal at massive concerts, or dance until dawn at a disco, tripping the light fantastic with tireless twenty-somethings. Or, just sit on the Rambla listening to the combination of waves, birds, people passing, and kids and lovers laughing.

Although our iPods are now filled with Uruguayan favorites like Oscar winning artist Jorge Drexler and No Te Va Gustar, we've had the pleasure of several live performances in Montevideo--some planned, some not, some historic, some hilarious--but they all have something in common: they were equally enjoyed by our friends and fellow citizens in Uruguay!



Justo made sure one of our first musical experiences was purely cultural; he took us to the most famous tango club in the country, Bar FunFun. Founded in 1895 and still as popular, this living piece of history is packed with autographed memorabilia and excited patrons. Reservations--or patience and luck--are a must in this cozy lounge where there's barely enough room to tilt your top-secret cocktail, "La Uvita". Created by Bar FunFun founder, Augusto López, the recipe is as secret as the venue is not. Two co-ed crooners shared the same tango-trained guitarist, swooning the crowd with songs of love, life, and liberty. The backdrop to the small stage, soaked in the cigar smoke of yesterdays, displays the history of a century of song.






A few weeks later, Lourdes invited us, along with her sons, Marcel and Alejandro, as well as Justo, to an outdoor concert of Joan Manuel Serrat. Among Spanish speakers, Serrat's acoustic guitar, poetic lyrics, and longevity has global renown. As an unknown to us, his fame and following seemed worthy of Frank Sinatra fans. Gently swaying, the crowds murmured every soft word that originated onstage. What's more impressive, they sang his songs regardless of language--Serrat comes from Catalonia, a northeastern province of Spain who's dialect and culture is so distinct that it is an autonomous community. In the 1960's Serrat openly defied dictator Francisco Franco via performances in the forbidden Catalan tongue. Although his songs and records were publicly banned and burned, he took first place at the World Music Festival in Rio de Janiero after singing "Penélope"--before returning to more tumultuous years in Spain. After decrying Franco's arbitrary executions, Serrat was exiled to Mexico in 1974 but returned after Franco's death. He was subsequently praised with awards and medals for his contributions to Hispanic culture and music. In addition to more than 30 albums and a recent return to touring after conquering cancer, Serrat's song "Mediterráneo" was named Spain's most important song of the 20th century.




In early April, just as the misty fall rains began to arrive, Jong Ah invited us to go see "murga"--a form of musical satirical performances unique to Montevideo. Outdoors, on a stage lined with dangling microphones, multiple groups of men (mostly), in outrageously colorful and bizarre costumes, sing sensational verses that pontificate on topics both political and preposterous, between exquisitely orchestrated choruses. Three drummers accompany the vocals. Popular hit tunes are often employed to provide fundamental familiarity to their parodies where subjects range from "the trouble with teenagers", "Mr. Bush and Sr. Vázquez", to "what's wrong with Argentnians?" In the 1970's, murga was a viable means of popular resistance and criticism of Uruguay's dictatorship. Coinciding with the festival season of Carnival, dozens of groups compete for hours each night over several days. Ultimately, one group is crowned champion, but the real winners are the people who enjoy some song, dance, comedy, friends, family and fresh air.




Around mid-April, Javier emailed me saying he had tickets to the Bryan Adams concert! Now, normally, Bryan Adams--one of Canada's most famous performers, with several solid gold hits on his resumé: "Cuts Like A Knife", "Summer of '69", and "Run To You" (dare we deem them classics?)--would garner a disrespectful laugh and "yeah right!" if we were in the United States. But, between seeing a concert in Centenario and being able to claim "We saw Bryan Adams in Uruguay, eh!", we had to go. Not surprisingly--knowing the local love for nostalgic rock--about 15,000 fans filled the stadium. And, you know what? It was awesome. The crowd went crazy for every song, especially his greatest hits, and they sang along with every lyric, waving arms, flashing cell phones and flicking lighters. There was a strange mutual appreciation--Montevideo doesn't attract many stops from musicians on world tours, so people were thrilled to see the live version. On the other hand, Bryan stopped himself between encores--and the people clapped him into about five follow-ups until he finally said, "Don't you people go to bed?!" which only got greater applause and required him to exhaust his entire repertoire of songs, known or new--and, dumbfounded and regretful, he remarked, "I never knew Montevideo and Uruguay was so nice, and I really wish I had come here sooner." Which, in a way, is how we feel. How could this wonderful place be so unknown? But there wasn't much time to ponder--there was a concert going on and, under a full moon, the stands were filled with happy people, rocking and rolling!




Then, one day, we were at home--probably working on a blog entry or emailing family. It was afternoon on a Saturday. It was getting cooler with the impending autumn, but the sky was still blue with the cotton ball clouds floating past. We noticed that the staff of our favorite establishment, the never quiet Tranquilo Bar, was blocking off the road and setting up tables in the street. Soon, people began sitting for a leisurely lunch between the trees under open skies. Next thing we know, an eighteen wheeler truck converted into a rolling stage and studio pulls up, parks, and a pair of performers replace the momentary master of ceremonies. Then, a live tango show breaks out. While patrons and pedestrians alike enjoy every high-speed twirl, penetrating stare, and whip of the leg, we opened our windows for a front row sky-box seat...


After about an hour, there's was a flash followed by a rumble. Then, the skies opened up in a deluge. People scrambled to the sidewalks for shelter and seemingly disappeared. Meanwhile, waiters broke the record for bussing and breaking down tables. Meanwhile, as if following some suave tango tradition for inclement weather, the lead dancer wiped the water from his fedora's brim and gave his girl a final rain sprinkling spin. They disappeared into the now unplugged black semi, which chugged to life and coughed into first gear, and rolled away.

All that was left was us, standing in an open window, with the music of the torrential downpour changing the street into a river.