Santana
Europa (Earth's Cry Heaven's Smile)

Y Volverè, by the Chilean group Los Angeles Negros. Year 1969.

Uhm. Those chords sound familiar, all too familiar...

And many have formed their own opinion, after listening to Europa. Year 1976.

Not me, for instance. As I was still unaware of the Black Angels’ existence, and when I heard Europa, I instead recalled - taking a deep breath... - none other than Abrazame, a song that was made famous by Julio Iglesias in '75. Or rather, the refrain of that song. Sure, the resemblance with Y Volverè... that remains striking. But again, that combination of chords all too familiar.

Oh: I won't ask you to try singing the refrain of Abrazame in the key of Europa. That would be asking too much, I realize. I understand.

But in return, you... refrain from asking me how I know Julio Iglesias' Abrazame. Let's not go there, let's avoid delving into certain personal details. Thanks.

And then there's also Autumn Leaves, of course. The standard played by Miles and someone else, there's also that one - if we wanted to really persist on that combination all too familiar. But anyhow, the point is: it's a widely tested formula, it's a style all too familiar (seems I’m short on terms right now, bear with me) to Latin music and beyond. It's likely that Carlos also had that formula in mind when he started sketching out the first embryo of Europa. Realizing that, from a simple combination, much more could be derived.

“(Musing)” I never imagined I could have when the Amigos LP slipped past me (it’s truly the case). What a record. And I don’t mean that in a good sense. It continued to spin for almost the entire duration, and in truth - yes, apart from a few moments here and there, but come on... - I was still waiting for the jolt that would snap me out of an increasing stupor.

It arrived, at some point. It had the Voice of a guitar that took the floor and began to sing, as if it had waited for that silent moment to do so. It began to sing, and there was no room for any other voice.

The 5 minutes that followed were also the last, 1) because after something like that I could just skip finishing the record - especially since what came next was a trifling piece like Let It Shine and... yeah, as if; 2) because when certain pieces end there’s this unconscious urge for silence, almost a wish for those notes to extend into an endless echo.

From that moment Europa (which shouldn’t make you think of Strasbourg, Hollande, or Merkel, but of Greek mythology) remained an unforgettable mark. And to be honest, as I write these lines, I’m not even thinking about the Amigos version, the one that roused me from indifference like a half-drowsy theater spectator. I’m thinking about the Moonflower version, Santana's last beautiful record. The last flash of true class, the last jolt that behind an almost perfect setup already hid the first cracks, the signals of an inexorable artistic decline.

But when (during the solo) the guitar starts to run wild - and it’s not a matter of sheer virtuosity, no - the rapture is total, and I almost forget that Santana never was and never will be my favorite artist, that his golden age had passed quite a while back, that in the end without The Supernatural by Peter Green we might not even be here talking about Santana, and instead of being a Legend remembering the days of Woodstock, we might find him in a tourist village in Acapulco, playing in a mariachi band after an animator’s act.

While from a nearby hotel the notes of Abrazame by Julio Iglesias start to play.