Joaquin Rodrigo (John Williams - Classical Guitar)
Concierto De Aranjuez

And so it was that one day death also arrived in the hereafter, making the boundary between the earthly world and the ideal world more fragile. Christ was affected by it, just as he was sitting at the right hand of the Father. God tilted His head to the right, looked at His Son, saw Him dying and grew sad. Christ was dying. Soon the news spread throughout the hereafter, and the attempts to revive the Son were in vain, Christ was weakening, suddenly aging, dying. The hereafter was no longer blessed. Then God asked Christ what could save Him, in His opinion, and Christ replied: "Some human beings believe that art is such an absolute and powerful gift that it can save and give meaning to life. I want music, the most abstract art, to be played before me so that it can save me, or at least make my death sweeter". God granted His wishes and organized a concert in His honor, calling great instrumentalists and soloists to perform a work worthy of Christ's death.

The work was the Concierto de Aranjuez by Joaquin Rodrigo, which, when he heard the news about the choice of his piece, wept as he hadn't wept at least since he had been on Earth. John Williams was called to perform it, since he now also permanently resided in the hereafter. Moreover, as the backdrop for the concert, a giant image of Goya's painting "Los Fusilados de 3 de Mayo" was created. The reason for this association is simple: both works were inspired by the same historical event: on May 3, 1806, in the city of Aranjuez, a group of insurgents in the anti-Napoleonic war was lined up and shot by French troops. Thus, Christ enjoyed the sight of the painting while listening to the music of the concerto for guitar and orchestra. All the greatest personalities attended the concert, including Miles Davis, particularly fond of the classical piece written in Paris in 1939 by the Spanish composer.

The notes of the classical guitar, clear, vaguely melancholic, stood out amidst the orchestration, truly cautious in overpowering the six strings, and in these, all abstract and not at all symbolic, emerged the melodies of Spanish folklore contextualized to Mitteleuropean classical music. Rarely does one encounter a composition so easily penetrating the mind, powerful without using volume, but with only melody. The notes of the adagio (the second movement) are destined to remain forever in the minds of those who listened to the concert, and John Williams was a mature, sensitive, and masterful interpreter. The piece is as sad as the event that inspired it, but everyone in that hereafter now enthralled by the music was convinced that sadness sometimes reaches peaks of sweetness greater than happiness can, especially when art is involved. The highest peaks of grandeur of the work were reached with the intense dialogues between guitar and orchestra, intense exchanges, mutable, played with great mastery and colored with subtle arabesques more oriental in origin than European. When the concert ended, Christ died, but on His face was painted an indescribable expression of inner joy, He had died happy. Art, and thus music, is like that, it saves no one, grants no redemption, and often musicians and artists are real assholes.

Art is an attraction from reality, and any contextualization in an excessively physical realm is just an excuse. But on the other hand, I am convinced that art can make the journey towards death better, that it can make you smile and fall in love, that it can make you feel emotions that nothing else can give you.