OTRA MÚSICA ES POSIBLE
Adventures will turn into stories. Founding a record label and pretend to make a living might not be the most sane decision one can make these days. In this blog we want to tell you why we have decided to turn our lives upside down. Why music can deal with all when all seems lost. Why we want to change the world before the world changes us. Why another music is possible.
We chose this song because it was the first song by Punch Brothers that we discovered and for us this was turning point on a technical level as a band. Once we saw how these musicians play, tune and perform, we decided that we wanted to go one step further in terms of performance. Also, three of its main instruments are the banjo, the acoustic guitar and the violin, so we felt very identified with that acoustic sound.
Some people remember exactly what they were doing when a famous celebrity died. Others can easily recite capital cities and link dates to important historical events all over the world. The only thing my memory chooses to save is where I was and what I was drinking when I heard a good song for the very first time. It does not get me far in quizzes or job interviews. Actually, I guess this is the first time that it turns out to be useful. Thanks, Son Canciones.
My cousin Jude was the first person who thought I could sing. I must have been eight or nine years old when I learned all the words to “You Were Meant For Me” by Jewel, and Jude had me sing it for my entire family in shifts. For my parents, then my aunts and uncles, my brother and the rest of my cousins, her friends. Then, she made me a cassette tape recording from one of her cds (90’s pirating). It was Tidal by Fiona Apple.
There are thousands of songs that I like more and that even ended up having a greater impact on me; but listening to this song when I was a kid brought out this hidden musical part of me.
When you are young, you are tumbling from one discovery into another. Your first Leonard Cohen record! The first time you hear Tom Waits! As you are getting older, it tends to be more difficult to be surprised. Discoveries are getting scarce. For that reason, I developed a strange habit that I kept strictly for myself until now. I deprived myself of potential gems. I bought the new Tom Waits record, but I did not listen to it.
It’s hard to pick just one song by songwriter Kath Bloom, but here is one to get you started “It’s Just a Dream”. Lucky for us she has countless songs, many are still unrecorded, while her first album was released in 1981 with guitarist Loren Connors, she is just as prolific and vibrant today!
There are songs that make you want to move. Others that make you want to drive fast, to sit quiet near a window in bad weather, to try to be a better person. Maybe the thing I love the most about songwriting is the way it can instantly transport you to an alternate world, one where you’re allowed to feel the things you struggle with, celebrate them, shake them off, understand them. It just seems like such a holy thing to my godless mind. The closest thing I can relate to what praying might feel like to a deep believer.
The first time I heard this song, I was driving. I was talking to my partner, Carolina, about the greatest songs from adverts and she mentioned to me there was once a really cool ad for the beer ’Superbock’ across Portugal.
So, back in the early 00s, I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was in a bit of a pickle. I’d just dropped
In the summer of 1998 I took a trip to Poland and back to Portugal, by bus, that lasted two weeks. Six months before that, I met a girl named Joana who became my girlfriend (and later, bandmate) until today.
Are there any sweeter words about life and place and living and loving than, “Into each life must fall some rain / now that is true / where I come from / you love the rain or move away / which I didn’t do / I love the rain where I am from”?
A farm in the middle of nowhere in northern Catalonia. two singer-songwriters from opposite sides from the world who just met. Seven days. Sixty horses grazing on the hills. A room full of old microphones.