Últimas canciones


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It invites us to multiple listenings (…) ROCKDELUX Juan Manuel Freire

Occasionally we come across talent that shines as much as it resists revelation. It seems to go against its very nature and challenges our expectations. Casadelava is one such case. Ramón Ayala has walked through the music scene for years but always on his tiptoes (first as Färo-Dokument, and later under the moniker of Casadelava). A few gigs and a few demos here and there, though not really going any further than the search for personal catharsis and to set free stories that had stuck in his imagination over time. Now, to our delight and despite his recognized contempt for the imperishableness of sound recordings, Ayala’s songs are being released. Finally.

‘Últimas canciones’ is the product of Ayala’s fascination with the mystical poetry of the Golden Age in Spain, with its blending of spirituality and eroticism. The songs run the gamut from sleazy whispers to a explosion of laughter, from a nostalgic glow to the sexiness of a brown-eyed provincial gaze… Because the facts and the confessional backdrop of these pieces are anecdotal, the important thing is the verb. This is Ayala’s commitment to truth. ln ‘Últimas canciones’ this filmmaker and musician from Barcelona pokes his finger in the wounds of a diverse array of inspiration: Saint Teresa of Ávila’s transverberation, Saint John of the Cross’s ‘The Obscure Might of the Soul’, Spanish magazines such as El Caso and Cambio 16, but above all Frederick Wiseman’s observational mode (Paul Eluard’s poetry, Georges Bataille’s eroticism). All with both disparagement and longing. All the while stringing together the diary covers his own adolescence. But Ayala is able to do so without falling into obscenities or pretentiousness. Unhindered by the need for rhyming schemes, the sobriety of the lyrics reflect his own contemporary condition. Hence, the structure of the songs, their meter, cadence, and harmony are constrained only by the needs of the story that Ayala wants to convey. Casadelava is Ayala’s vehicle for someone to tell something to a camera. It is a murmur .

No band, no next album or presentation, or concert. All there is are these six songs. The last of his career, the first for the general public. Six kaleidoscopic portraits that fall somewhere between fiction and documentary, full of life and exhilaration, with which to capture deflected light before one’s beloved (La conquista de las Galias), and to live, scene by scene, the both prosaic and transcendental memory of a trip (Roma) or to float directly between confetti (La fe).


It invites us to multiple listenings not to try and solve the mistery, but to enjoy it
Juan Manuel Freire, Rockdelux