The first time I heard about The Beatles was when living in Lieres, Asturies. I was thirteen years old and I remembered reading in the paper about those four guys from Liverpool, England, who made the girls hysterical and crazy in their concerts. I was aware of rock music since living in Madrid in the late fifties, because the American influence was becoming stronger and whenever we passed by the bar "Convair" in Avenida García Noblejas the jukebox was playing some Pop-Tops or Elvis Presley or Buddy Holiday's music. It was our way of experiencing what was modern, outlandish, out of the gray normalcy of that time.
The Beatles came up as a bold attempt to shake the boredom
of the old ways with a twist and shout mood and that defying long hair that
most of our elders defined as a "maricón style you never dare to
wear". One of my classmates from The Solvay Academy told me, "Have
you heard about those four English lads from Liverpool? They're great! I love
their music" But for a while I forgot about them when moving to Xixón to
start working and studying at night in the Technical school. That year 1965, it
just happened that a cousin of mine who'd been in New York for a while came to
visit us for a couple of weeks at Pumarín. He brought "A Hard Day's
Night", the blue cover. He couldn't stop playing that record in our cheap
record player, in such a way that all those soft songs modulated by the
Beatles' hoarse voices stuck in my mind forever.
Around the year 67 I've just happened to roam about the
city's flea market and suddenly I saw a bunch of 45 rpm second price records of
The Beatles. Having a little spare money to spend I bought three records that
used to belong to someone who signed his records as Josmay.
When I arrived home I started playing Beatles’ songs all the afternoon and that was great. I felt as if a current of fresh air was cleaning up the drudgery and routines of a sixteen years old working class boy making little money and ready to explore the freedom of a wider world beyond the prejudices and traditions of my narrow provincial landscape.
After that I was able to travel to Paris by myself by bus
eager to check on the hippie life and the counter-culture that was going in
those years. That's when I bought Sargent Peppers’ Lonely Hearts Club Band in
the Quartier Latin and once in Xixón it was played as a ritual regardless how I
felt, either when feeling down or moody, or when feeling happy and elated. The
Beatles become a symbol of a new era, a new world of hopes and possibilities in
which we could make our dreams come true.
In 1980 when John Lennon was shot I was ready to fly to
Madrid the next day from Austin, Texas. I remember people of all ages heading
to Zilker Park on the banks of the Colorado River to pay due respect to one of
our symbols through music and a different way of painting life: "Picture
yourself on a boat on a river with tangerine trees and marmalade skies".
Hundreds of people held hands around bonfires singing many of The Beatles's
songs. Next day I flew to Madrid and then to Xixón just for a short visit.
