Llach and Alizzz: the crybaby from Verges distributes cards, by Albert Soler

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My father, with good judgment, called Lluís Llach “the crybaby from Verges”. singing or talking, always gives the impression of being on the verge of tearsit was written that when a sufficiently victimist and weeping movement arose, They would adopt him as a pet. Lluís Llach is to lacism what Naranjito is to the 82 World Cup. His thing is to give and take: he receives positions and perks, and makes a noise. Now it also gives certificates of catalanity. Not to everyone, since the requirements are set by him. The last one he has denied it to is Alizzz, explaining that His thing is not Catalan culture, because he sings in Spanish. It doesn’t matter if Alizzz is Catalan, it doesn’t matter if he works in Catalonia, it doesn’t matter if his lyrics portray Catalonia: Llach, imbued with his role as leader of Catalan culture, he has closed the door in his face. Let Estopa and Rosalía find out.

That a former singer allows himself to classify the work of a singer in this way should already indicate that something is not going quite right in Catalonia. The worst thing that can happen to Catalan culture is that all the mummies that we have forgotten begin to act as high priests of Catalanity: we will have nothing left but trash.

One day Lluís Llach was a musician. Good musician, too. I myself performed some of his pieces on the flute at the Maristas, to achieve an approved grade in Music. It is true that more than for its quality, I chose it because his songs are so slow that they were easy to interpret even for me. One could admire Lluís Llach’s music -or the slowness of his music- his, but once removed there is nothing left to admire. Excelling in music, boxing or plumbing does not mean more than that, and Llach’s opinions outside his business are as expendable as those of Dum Dum Pacheco or those of the worker who yesterday repaired a pipe in my house. She has gone from being a singer and a crybaby to just being a crybaby. Once the piano is hung, you should just enjoy Senegal and leave us alone, you have nothing to say or do here.

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Beneath his eternal hat there is nothing, and I do not mean the absence of hair. Linking culture to language amounts to arguing that Joyce and Becquet are not part of Irish culture. because they wrote in English and not Gaelic. That ‘The Brothers Karamazov’ is Russian culture only when it is in Russian, thanks to the translations it becomes Catalan, Danish, Italian or Congolese culture, depending on what it gives us. That Julio Iglesias is Japanese culture when he sings in Japanese. What a mess. Better to become a sculptor or a painter, so that the only conflict is the name of the work. If one titles his painting ‘Self-portrait’ it is Spanish culture, but the same work becomes Catalan culture if the name is changed to ‘Self-portrait’. Easier impossible. A curious case is that of the Catalan rumba which, despite its misleading name, turns out not to be Catalan culture because it is sung in Spanish, and that Peret was as Catalan as his name suggests and he probably had Llach in mind -a pure-bred Catalan- when he composed «Borriquito como tú».

It’s not that Llach is a bad person, I am sure you are acting in good faith. That’s the worst. Ricardo Moreno Castillo wrote for a reason that «if we could suppress evil, the world would be a little better; but if we could do away with stupidity, the world would be a much better place.”



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