The songs of Unterwegs

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Images designed by Lucía Barrón.
Pictures by Julián Muro.

 
 

Rebberlah, Germany, June 2019

Rebberlah, a small town in Lower Saxony, Northwest of Germany, where two endearing people, Jan and Tine, gave me generous housing during two months in which we became good friends. We worked together in the orchard, did walks, contemplated some of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen, and they organized concerts for me. The whole idea of making an album was born there, and where I returned after just a few months to record it, joined by Pablo Méndez and Ariel Schlichter. The album would be called Unterwegs, a German word that means "On the road."

The series of pictures that ended up being the cover of Unterwegs came up in a totally random way: I was taking some pictures of the garden, when I left my cellphone on the ground to take a better look of the flowers -daisies-, and the touch of the ground activated the camera, which in this way ended up portraying a kind of slow-motion series of myself contemplating the beauty of these flowers.

Rebberlah, Germany, June 2019

“I arrived at around eleven to the train station in Eschede, Lower Saxony, Germany, where the charming Jan and Tine were waiting to take me to their place, that would be my home the following months, and to which I would say goodbye with tears in my eyes, each time, ever since. I was returning to the country after seven months of traveling, which seemed like many more. Jan laughed at me when he saw the huge suitcase that I was carrying. “Do you always travel this way, so heavy? We always carry backpacks”. Coming from a guy that is over sixty, one might be surprised, but coming from Jan and Tine, no.”

— Excerpt from my newsletter ‘Message in a bottle.’

Plateau Rosà, Italian-Swiss Alps, November 2018

This picture was taken during my days at the mountain cottage ‘Rifugio Guide del Cervino’, in late 2018 and early 2019, at 3,500 meters above sea level, in the vicinity of the imposing Monte Cervino or Matterhorn, on the border between Italy and Switzerland. 

A place where I made dear friends, wrote a series of haikus gathered under the name of ‘Haikus from Guide Del Cervino’ (unpublished) and met the incomparable beauty of the heights of snow and ice. But this was also the place where I experienced, like never before, the rawness of human indifference and disinterest. A turning point in my journey and in my life.

“Desde que o Samba é Samba”, the opening track of Unterwegs, is a song by Caetano Veloso, written in the year 1993. It may be the song that better represents the spirit of the record. Its Portuguese lyrics say: “Cantando mando a tristeza embora” (Singing I send the sorrows far away).

Reintalangerhütte, Bavarian Alps, Germany, September 2018

A picture taken the day after I left Argentina in the search of my dreams of music and poetry. It was my first day in Europe, on the way to the mountain cottage Reintalangerhütte, in the Bavarian Alps, Germany. 

And there was music also. It turns out that Bavarians love music. The Reintalangerhütte is characterized, among other things, for having had musician hut keepers for more than 20 years.”

— Excerpt from my newsletter ‘Message in a bottle’.

This time, I would not stay more than ten days at the cottage in the Reintal Valley, where I met generous people in a friendly and familiar culture. A place to which I would return many months later, and where I would find, to my pleasant surprise, Dahoam, a home. 

“The Carnavalito del Duende” is a composition by Gustavo “Cuchi” Leguizamón, with lyrics by Manuel José Castilla.

Oporto, Portugal, November 2018

Days of introspection while I waited for my departure to a new job in the Italian Alps. Traveling without money is for sure interesting. I have walked through entire cities, without a specific destination and discovering the touristic attractions by chance. I enjoyed coming up with capricious tours towards some random point, probably a cheap supermarket as far from my lodging as possible, with the intention of knowing the real city.

It was like this how I, for instance, after weeks in Barcelona, stepped by chance with the Sagrada Familia at night; until then, I had always imagined the famous Gaudi’s construction surrounded by woods and prairies on a hill, and not how I really found it, surrounded by lights and apartment towers in the middle of the city.

“Inútil Paisagem” is a song by Antonio Carlos Jobim with lyrics by Aloysio de Oliveira, that I translated into Spanish for Unterwegs.

Breuil-Cervinia, Italian Alps, December 2018

In my days in Valle D’Aosta, working at Rifugio Guide Del Cervino, I was able to go back to an activity I had not done for many years: snowboard. 

“Far from becoming a good snowboarder, I didn’t practice the sport again until eleven years after that winter, when, while working at Rifugio Guide Del Cervino mountain cottage in the surroundings of Matterhorn or Monte Cervino on the border between Italy and Switzerland, I did it again and thanked immensely the patience and love with which she had taught me this sport, an active sort of meditation that, as I realized then, would also accompany me for the rest of my life.”

— Excerpt from my newsletter ‘Message in a bottle.’

“El amor llega como tiro en el ojo” is the only song of my authorship on Unterwegs.

The Banff Centre, the Rocky Mountains, Canada, January 2018

Rundle Mountain as seen from Sleeping Buffalo, at the Banff National Park, during my first experience as Artist in Residence at The Banff Centre For Arts And Creativity. This would be so deeply transformative that it would lead me even to the decision of abandoning Argentina with an uncertain course, without a plan, and without much money, in the search of ways to further my dreams of music and poetry. 

“Regarding the recording, this is the song that best describes the feeling that predominated in the creation of Unterwegs. It is all about joy in this tune. I was meeting with my friend/colleague/ally Pablo Méndez, in Europe; we were meeting, as in the past, to do what we love, after a confusing, sometimes dark, period of my life. As I told you in another letter, these days with Pablo were the days that I called jokingly-and-not-so something like “our meeting at the exit of the circles of hell.”

— Excerpt from my newsletter ‘Message in a bottle’.

“Copo Vazio” is a song by Gilberto Gil, composed in the year 1974 for Chico Buarque, whose music had been banned by the last Military Dictatorship in Brazil.

The Banff Centre, Rocky Mountains, Canada, February 2018

The views from Sulphur Mountain, mountain bordering the town of Banff that I visited as part of the Banff Musicians in Residence program, Winter 2018.

“London, London”, is a song by Caetano Veloso, originally written in English during his exile that started in the year 1968, of which he was forced to by the last Military Dictatorship in Brazil.

I sang this song for the first time in the year 2018, on my last day as Artist in Residence at The Banff Centre, as a guest of Barnaby Benett that said there was something in me and in my music that reminded him a lot of Tropicália and Caetano Veloso. 

It is a song that describes exile with a very special sensitivity, that accompanied me at every moment during my own migration.

Rebberlah, Germany, June 2019

The astonishing daisies in the fields where I lived during two healing months in Germany, before moving on to a new job at a mountain cottage in the Bavarian Alps, the South of Germany.

I filmed two songs in a sort of sea of blooming daisies for the local channel of Eschede, the biggest town near Rebberlah. When I went to register my address, the woman that worked there told me “oh yes, I know who you are, I saw you on television”.

“Dos Gardenias” is a song by Isolina Carrillo, written in 1945 and one of the most famous songs in the Cuban repertoire. It is a song I learned after Jan’s suggestion in Rebberlah, in May 2019, and that I performed for the first time at a Hispanic films series hosted by Jan and Tine at a Cineclub in Celle.

Valtournenche, Valle D'Aosta, Italy, January 2019

A lot of days had gone by in which I practically didn’t see the sunlight, for we started to work at the cottage in the night and finished to work in the night. This pictures match the exact moment in which I thought of one of the Haikus From Guide Del Cervino:

After so many days
arrivare presto al paese e vedere
the luminous landscape.

“Lágrimas Negras” is a song by Miguel Matamoros written in 1930. Of course, I also learned this song after Jan’s suggestion for their Hispanic Film series.

Like the rest of the songs in Unterwegs, I would also have never imagined this would end up in a record.

Rifugio Guide Del Cervino, Italian-Swiss Alps, December 2018

In my life, I have had the privilege of being in front of such touching moments of the world as this sunset. The landscape of the Alps as seen from the heights, from a mountain cottage over a glacier at 3.500 meters above sea level, such a display of beauty —which I can only describe as a violent beauty— is simply unforgettable.

My version of “El día que me quieras” was recorded live in the studio. This is, perchance, one of the most challenging songs I have ever performed, not only because it was so marvellously interpreted in its original recording by his author Carlos Gardel himself, but because it is one of the most beautiful songs ever written. The lyrics belong to Alfredo Le Pera.

Musicians

Julián Muro: guitar, voice, arrangements and conduction.
Pablo Méndez: bass and percussion.

Produced by Julián Muro and Ariel Schlichter.

Recorded at Echolane Recording Studios, by Kai Schwerdtfeger, in Germany, September, 2019.
Mixed by Ariel Schlichter at Keine Zukunft Studios, Berlin, Germany.
Audio Mastering by Leonardo Checchia in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Release strategy: Rocío Heine from Estudio Invisible.
Design: Lucía Barrón.

 
 

WITH GRATITUDE AND AFFECTION:

To my family, my usual loves, my new loves. That amazing gift that the journey has given me.
Without you, people of good, my life would have no meaning.