Feliu Ventura: "You can't invite someone who caused the funeral to the funeral."

BarcelonaIt's a choral cry against the management of the October 2024 flood, and also in support of the victims and neighborhood solidarity. This is how Feliu Ventura (Xàtiva, 1976) presents the song. When the sky turned black, a traditional dance in which the singer-songwriter from Xàtiva sings with Maria, Noèlia Llorens Titana, Miquel Gil, Pep Gimeno Butifarra and Vicent Torrent. The piece is a preview of the album that Feliu Ventura will release next year, his first studio album since Call (2019).

Do you remember what you were doing on October 29, 2024?

— We were at home, knowing that we couldn't go anywhere on that long weekend because it was raining so much, but we didn't expect things to actually turn out like this.

Did you immediately realize that things were very serious?

— It seems that we, unlike Mazón, did watch TV. Because we were seeing all that news live. Furthermore, Valencian public media are accustomed to intensively covering inclement weather, because there are so many people glued to their TVs at these times, and Valencian television's meteorological services have always worked very well. We saw then that things were going very badly. In my case, because as a child we had already experienced the Tous flood of 1982 firsthand, which had been a trauma for us. For a long time in high school, classmates would come in who still had mud-stained notebooks from stationery stores that still sold school supplies with those brands.

There's the memory of clay, which is something you obviously address in this song.

— Yeah.

How was the song creation process? When the sky turned black And how do you involve the singers?

— The interpretation was truly a choral experience, because the lyrics are all mine, and so is the music. I had worked on writing lyrics for Pep Gimeno. Butifarra, on their latest album, and in some ways I've always dipped into tradition. In fact, my song is very dance-inspired; it's music for dancing. I was asked to write an article about what happened, an article called Knowing how to rain, and I made a compilation of all the songs that talked about similar situations in the Valencian Country. There's one called The romance of Senyera, which talks about an ancient flood, and you listen to the lyrics and say, "Wow, it's the same every time." And I've always believed in songs as memory capsules, so that's what I've tried to do: take that snapshot of what happened, or what I believe happened, and translate it into a song so that it's not forgotten, and this can serve for truth, justice, and reparation, like all memory processes in the world. When I saw the result of the song, I looked for singers who were my own and new ones who were involved in traditional singing, because I was very interested in this, this traditional choral singing, and, moreover, from different origins in the Valencian Country, both those affected and those not directly affected by this ravine. And we built this with the production of Genís Ibáñez.

The choice of singers is like a genealogy of Valencian song: from Vicent Torrent to La Maria.

— Yes, I always say that we Valencians have had a generation-long catastrophe like this, and what we've experienced right now is a trauma and a mourning that hasn't quite healed because the people who caused it are still in public office. It's like a COVID lockdown: the virus is still there, and what causes the virus still exists. So we haven't fully healed the wound.

A state funeral will be held on October 29 for the victims of the attack, and family members have requested that Mazón not be present.

— You can't invite the person who caused the funeral to the funeral. It's absurd. I think they have every right to heal their wounds as they need.

How did you see the singers' mood when it came time to sing? Was there any special encouragement?

— Maybe if you've experienced other similar situations, like the flooding, etc., it won't be so new to you, but yes, it's strange. The people who lived through it, and even the people who have gone to help from outside, will take many years to forget that smell of mud. They come from areas where there are local emergency and reconstruction committees, which are the neighbors who have organized themselves from the beginning, when there was no other government than the government of the brooms. I'm not going to say that phrase that was circulating about "only the people save the people," because the people save many things, but it did help them not feel so helpless. It's abandonment, the word that explains what we hear.

What did you think of the far-right's opportunistic pursuit of prominence in those early days after the Dana?

— They always try. But I think they haven't been able to do it this time. Everyone saw it. The local committees and the Valencian social agreement committee were the ones who were there from the very beginning, and they didn't give in to that narrative. Because it was about winning a narrative. And that's why we're where we are, because Valencian society knows the narrative firsthand, and therefore, when they see a political representative saying things that aren't true, they're completely immune. At the same time, that's why I feel outraged, because things aren't moving forward.

The song contains that mixture of indignation and pride, inspired by the Latin American tradition you know so well, especially that of Víctor Jara and Violeta Parra. I suppose it's inevitable that it appears in your work.

— Yes, it is inevitable, because when I think about memory I also think about Death bells by Lluís Llach and in a lot of local tradition, but a lot of local tradition also comes from listening to Latin American tradition. And many songs in that sense are part of the bulk of my collection. Surely memory, the songs about Víctor Jara, finally led to a trial after 40 years.

And, in addition, Violeta Parra also has songs like Puerto Montt is shaking which pick up the thread of popular stories about disasters.

— There's a popular saying: "Where there's a river, don't build a nest." Popular culture already knows how to explain how urban planning should be, which ravines shouldn't be built on, or which streams should be kept clean. And it's been telling us this for years. And art and culture serve to create memories and make things better.

The song When the sky turned black It's a preview of the album you'll release next year. In what ways, both stylistically and thematically, does this song represent the album as a whole?

— Look, I'm sorry to say this, but it doesn't exactly represent the album. It's a song that's part of the album, but I wanted to release it now to support the people of the Valencian social agreement and the local committees in their October demands. Those who have looked at the lyrics and listened to the songs on the album say it's an album of maturity, that it's about time [laughs]. But above all, it's an album that speaks to that maturity that is often lost. And leaving such a large space between albums allows me to observe reality and laugh at myself and at other things.

What's your best music-related memory? And what's the musical memory you'd like to forget?

— The best record is the wooden folding chairs with my town's town hall logo. It meant that town halls organized concerts and you could listen to great singers outdoors in our Mediterranean country. I remember a Raimon and Ovidi Montllor concert in the Plaza de la Galera in Xàtiva. I was very young, but I remember sitting motionless on that wooden folding chair. This left a lasting impression on me. And what I'd like to forget...

I'm just asking what an artist who works with memory in a very intense way would want to forget.

— Yes, yes, I remember everything, even the bad things. But I don't know if I have a bad memory. Well, yes, I could say that the only time I canceled a concert was due to hoarseness, which isn't common for me, because I have quite severe hoarseness. I couldn't make a sound; I tried until the last moment, and the audience was very understanding. It was in Sabadell, where I've given some very nice concerts since. It's not that I have bad memories of Sabadell; I was also a teacher there. But wanting to sing and not being able to is the worst thing that can happen to you.

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