»
Archives
»
Open Poetry #1
»
The Buena Vista Social Club, Rewrite w tx for crits
| Open Poetry #1 |
|
The Buena Vista Social Club, Rewrite w tx for crits |
|
|
H. Arlequin Member
since 1999-08-23
Posts 210 |
The Buena Vista Social Club Smiling, seraphic Havana seniors still musicians, are next to play Carnegie Hall. Monuments to music that impresarios bill for, ecstatically, standing room wall to wall. Compay Segundo, lead guitar, ninety-two, "seductive flowers, women love romance, I never forget what one night can do... soft lights, sweet music, and tangos to dance." Eliades Ochoa Bustamente, campesino guitar, their youngest a mere fifty-four, from the red light district's casino, he played for money tossed on the floor. Found shining shoes in Havana, the man with the golden voice, "Like finding Nat Cole in the streets," Ibrahim Ferrer can bolero or purr blues with the coolest cat. Popular in the forties, Reuben Gonzales, not dead as thought, arthritic hands ten years away from a keyboard, in the moment as hot as ever, sounds soaring, sad eyes shining tears. Homera Portugando, walking her Havana street, is like Ella doing Harlem, known to everyone. They greet her, sing with her, the dancing feet, her throaty songs, in love with love at sixty one. Seven seniors of The Buena Vista Social Club took Carnegie Hall by storm, disarming sound, style and ambiance, part sophisticated Latin pub, part magic music scene on hallowed ground. In the city, children staring at tourist sights, on stage, their transformation electrifies; ancients from Cuba, to wild applause three nights, supernatural music making stars we immortalize. --H. Arlequin |
||
| © Copyright 1999 H. Arlequin - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla |
H. arlequin, As far as I'm concerned you have joined the masters. Let then be nameless. |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||