 |
When
music reveals our innermost feelings, when it reminds
us of our desires and anxieties, when it manages to
put a name to what we previously thought could not be
named, it is then that it becomes a revelation and moves
us. Mikel Urdangarin's latest work, Zubia,
has the power to illuminate, through its music, this
misty, personal space that makes up our desires, sighs,
glances, nostalgia and dreams, and becomes a mirror
in which we look at ourselves and recognise ourselves.
|
|
Zubia is a bridge that stretches out looking for
contact, a call from the other side, an open hand that
beckons you. Bridges change the lives of villages and
people. Bridges are for crossing, although sometimes
we lack the necessary courage. Zubia speaks of
bridges that are never crossed or will never be crossed
again, of forbidden glances thrown from one side to
the other, of hands that do not entwine even though
they have each other out, of missed opportunities, of
worlds that might have been but never were... He speaks
of the pain of loss, the malaise created by forgetting,
of the bitterness and indifference, the open wounds
that sting, of everything said by words not spoken,
of hearts that bear the burden, declarations of love
lost, fears, silences and voids, absences.
But despite the unease that is felt in the texts, the
Zubia compositions are not complaining moans
but shared sighs that make us feel less alone. The music
works like a balm, eases the pain and promises hope.
The notes pulsate with life, sweet little pinpricks
that inject us with optimism. Indeed, Mikel Urdangarin's
compositions invite us to watch the white clouds move
across the sky, to lift our arms and sing while the
south wind entangles our hair. The harmony achieved
by Zubia musicians, together with Mikel's
voice, which seems to whisper every song in our ear,
produce a diaphanous effect, a sort of sfumato which
smoothes edges, an atmospheric feeling that calms us,
comforts us, that even seems to want to cradle us.
Mikel Urdangarin's music falls upon the listener
like a blanket over a sleeping body. And it lets sweet
dreams enter, in spite of the world outside.
|
