Arturo Pareja-Obregon must be found among the sand and salt of Huelva, as if shredded in odors from the depths of the sea. I find him in a pool of sanity that we are losing as he speaks. It’s what an artist has, take your feet off the ground while his hands enter the black and white paths of the piano, while his voice suspends the air at the whim of art. The inseparable art of Arturo, for better and for worse, for joy and for misfortune, since it was not in vain that art became congenital to him growing up together with the secrets and musical intimacies of the piano of his father, Manuel -as legend as history. of a poppy-creator without measures or metronomes, as if he were composing with the Genesis, taking everything out of nothing.
The intuition of a young Arthur already knew that someone had to continue something so unique. As unique as having been the first to conceive and give birth to sevillanas to listen to, create an Ole anthem or speak to the Triana Bridge, the current and the river. Crazy. What is genius if not one of the most moving and beautiful forms of madness
And Arturo learned… to now pay the tribute that most honors deserve, the most beautiful epitaph ever sung. “As you taught me”, so Arturo sings. An album that he is going to present with the collaboration of enormous, enormous friends. Jose Manuel Soto, Rafa Serna, Los Morancos, Cristina Hoyos, Los del Rio, Siempre Asi, Pepe de Lucia, Pepe El Marismeno… Those who are always by his side. When friends do not leave, it is that one has done something well.
His last name, loaded with art even in the script that separates it, accompanies a bohemian, nostalgic, sincere man. A cool guy who doesn’t care where he sings. A man raised among artists who walked through his house. Picasso, Quiroga, Leon, Rocio Jurado, Lola Flores, Juana Reina or Alejandro Sanz. A house that makes it hard for me to leave after listening to his grand piano over the background sound of the Atlantico when he passes through El Rompido. A delight of gods.
Arturo’s great moment is coming to him; like so many great ones that time raises to altars reserved for a few, very few. In time, gentlemen. That we have been waiting years for the canonization of an exceptional artist.
You have to see how long it takes for the best to reach sainthood!
