Nueva Canción: The Lost Recordings
By: Luis Alberto González Arenas, Diego Morales De Murga / Narrated By: Robb Moreira, Thom Rivera, Ozzie Rodriguez, Gabriel Romero, Pietro Gonzalez, Julia Vera Andrews, Frankie Corzo, Rene Veron
Length: 6 hrs and 18 mins
Intricate, Inspiring, Very Well-Done
Usually, over the weekends, m’ husband who sees me but occasionally will ask: How are the reviews going? He asked me this morning, and I was pleased to say that I’d finished two reviews that were difficult cuz I hadn’t liked the audiobooks, and sometimes I can make my loathing humorous, and sometimes I just can’t. Boooo, me. This fine morning, I’d said that I’d one review where I’d reeeally like to do it justice, but there was one review that I was going to find difficult. That review?
Nueva Canción by Luis Alberto González Arenas. It was NOT that I disliked it and was going to have to do some literary juggling; rather, it was cuz oh my freaking GOSH, it goes Everywhere and Then Some.
You see, it begins with Luis and a recording made over protests in Chile in 2019, where singing can be heard, but where handkerchiefs treated with baking soda to ward off the worst effects of tear gas are offered, where cries to bug out, the police were coming are heard as well.
The singing? The Nueva Canción Movement? Well, that starts Luis on a journey where once hope to write an article turns into a fully-fledged effort to make a documentary. Because that music begetting music just inspires him to go back in time to find the roots of such songs as they were paired with historical discontent, paired with social justice movements. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that the Universe just keeeeps throwing out snippets and tiny gifts that lead him further and further into his journey.
It all becomes verrrry involved, hence m’ difficulties in writing this review. The Universe chucks an Uncle of a friend who’s been caring for a library of music, over 600 recordings that provide historical context for the Nueva Canción Movement. Recordings of musicians and singer-songwriters whose contributions were vastly important in their own times, but whose works are found again and are celebrated in more contemporary times of unrest and protest.
Then too? Whilst perusing this Library, a tape is found that has an intimate concert played before a receptive audience. The musician? Victor Jara, a man who was beYONd important to the unrest of his time; a man who was tortured, murdered by Pinochet during a coup. The discovery of this tape sends all into raptures, but throughout the 6-hours 18-minutes of this documentary we go along with Luis as we wait to see if the recording is salvageable or if it’s not been able to withstand time.
Also a part of this documentary is the artists of México where protest songs are initially met with attempts at bribery for a cessation of music, songs that decry policy. Famed songwriters are told they’d be given their own shows, their children can go to the best schools; ANYthing, just STOP speaking out. Luis kinda sorta posits that justice movements didn’t really take off there because of U.S. policy at the time which intervened most mightily to prop up dictatorships in a fight against Socialism and Communism. Further, what better way to numb a populace to sleep than by promoting consumerism, want need want need want want want.
This is all vastly engaging, and I very much appreciated the intimate narration that Robb Moreira provides. My only quibble is that if you view the background vid on Audible, you see Moreira in the recording booth, and he doesn’t just convey words… noooo, he’s CONstantly gesturing wildly with his hands. If you watch this prior to Listening, there’s a good chance that when you do indeed get to the audio, you’ll see in your mind not the even keel and engaging performance, but a guy in a booth gesticulating all over the place. Minor quibble, I admit, but do your darnedest to rein in stray visual imagery, and applaud the immediacy, the warmth, the intimacy of his delivery instead.
Now here at the close is where I HAVE to add that my Abuelita’s nickname for me was Gringita. Cuz, you see, I may be Hispanic, but lo and behold: I’m totally lost when it comes to speaking Spanish, listening to Spanish. I KNOW! Tsk freaking tsk. I offer it here cuz that tape of Victor Jara had indeed withstood the years and the last hour is the tape, his performance. I was lost… Whereas, throughout the documentary, the individuals interviewed spoke in Spanish, there was gentle overdubbing so the English-speaking audience could follow. This gives the gist of their personalities even while being accessible and understandable once the overdubs came in. The tape, however? Nope, it’s left pure for the listener, and this listener (And I’m NOT proud of the fact…!) was confused and all out to sea. So while I did indeed listen to the whole thing, I can’t review it other than to say I found the lightness of his banter with his audience pleasant and even surprising: Such serious songs, but what kinda sorta good-natured jocularity of the man. Awesome.
This is a fine addition to our Hispanic Heritage Month; and it was just a plain grand all-around Listen. The only thing was it left me feeling a trifle bummed about m’ own country, where coups are attempted, where social justice marches are tear-gassed, where we spew venom at each other… all without dreaming… all without songs of our own.
So if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to listen to CCR’s “Fortunate Son” as it hearkens back to days where Music could express what many were feeling. I don’t miss the unrest, but I do miss people caring…
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