Víctor Manuel: "The world is infinitely better than it was 50 years ago, despite priests and religions."

He has turned 78, has a 60-year artistic career, and has been married to singer Ana Belén for over 50 years. Víctor Manuel (Mieres, 1947) returns with a new album. Just me alonewhich will take him on a tour that will include a stop at the Palau de la Música on June 16.

The first line of the album is: "I'll never be back." It seems like a declaration of intent.

— I don't want to be, and it's a decision that forces you to revisit yourself, because it's easy to let go and think you already know everything, or to lose curiosity about people and things.

In the same song you say: "The two Spains face to face, they know, but they don't understand, that neither of them will win." How do you see Spain?

— More complex than a few years ago, but that's how people wanted it, even though it sometimes seems like Pedro Sánchez invented it all. I get the impression that not enough is being done to explain that things are the way they are, that governments operate according to the votes they receive, and that we won't be voting every week until the votes align with certain intentions. But politics has become a floor full of broken glass, difficult to walk on without getting hurt. It's never been a harmonious place, but now it's less so than ever because it's so diverse and we're surprised by things we never expected.

For example?

— That there's a far-right party in Catalonia. But these people were here, they hadn't gone anywhere, and suddenly circumstances stirred them up in a certain way. And it's also true that we receive many external stimuli that encourage us to behave in ways we don't even control.

The two Spains you speak of, can't they understand each other?

— There aren't just two, there are many. Spain is very diverse and they don't necessarily have to understand each other, but it would be good if there were common areas: healthcare, education... but that doesn't seem to exist here either, because everyone fights their own battles and for a handful of votes they'll do anything.

You remember childhood in the song I was born in the shade of a cherry tree.

— It's the tree that used to be in front of our house, and the first photo I have is of it. My mother was pushing me in the stroller, my brother is next to me, and we're in the shade of the cherry tree, which is my favorite tree. The texture of its trunk is unlike any other tree, and I can recognize it even when it doesn't have fruit. It's a song from my childhood, yes, but projected into the future to speak also to those people who probably won't hear me, but who feel nostalgia for what they didn't experience.

And they say a dictatorship wouldn't be so bad...

— But I'm sure that if you spoke to them individually and explained the things that could happen to them, they'd run away. Nobody wants to be put in prison for being gay, or not be able to have an abortion, or have to ask permission to have a bank account if they're a woman. And I don't think any 7- or 8-year-old wants to go out into the playground and sing the Facing the sun and give the fascist salute.

So why do they say that?

— They're not afraid because they don't know him. I'd like to go back in time and take them there for a few days. I wasn't aware of everything that was happening. My grandfather was executed; he's in the mass grave in the Oviedo cemetery. And my father was the eldest of six siblings and had to take care of the other five. He never explained to us what had happened to the family. It was a conscious decision, and he probably made the right one.

Didn't you ask?

— When we went to the cemetery, he always told me the same thing: that he'd been killed for stealing a basket of eggs. And that's how the story stayed until I decided to play basketball.

As?

— In my town, if you wanted to play basketball, you had to be a member of the OJE, the Spanish Youth Organization. I had a knack for basketball, and the coach encouraged me to join. When I told my father, he said no, absolutely not. "They're the ones who killed your grandfather," he said. I was 12 years old and didn't fully understand what had happened. I was a child who had grown up in ignorance, who watched the news and believed it. I only started to piece things together later.

You were a victim of the far right in 1976. They planted a bomb in your house.

— And the man who did it was arrested because there was a traffic problem in Madrid; the guy in the car behind honked to get him to move, so he got out, and without saying a word, shot him. Can you imagine the guy? And then he ended up explaining how he'd planted two kilos of Goma-2 explosive in our house. Forty years later I think: damn, that was terrifying. At the time I wasn't so aware of it.

And seeing the current situation, are you afraid that that violence could be repeated?

— That won't happen again because the complicity that existed then between judges, police, and the far right can't exist, even though there might be temptations among people in the police or the judiciary. And there aren't that many weapons anymore. Back then, people were killed at demonstrations. In Argamasilla de Alba, a town in La Mancha, a guy pulled out a gun while I was singing. They arrested him, but they only took the weapon, and then he was able to go out for drinks. These things happened in '76.

In I was born in the shade of a cherry tree You talk about the priests at the school, at a time when religion seems to be back in fashion.

— I hate religions, all of them. I don't know if you've seen the movie SundaysAna [Belén] explained to me that it was the other day and that people were applauding at the end. So, they see her in a militant way. And the head of the episcopal conference was boasting the other day that religiosity was returning, but the churches are empty. And look at them, he said something that I thought was awful: that we had to listen to Silvia Orriols, because he had noticed that people in the diocese were listening to her. You see, everything is good for the establishment, they take advantage of everything.

And yet, you claim in one of the songs that "all is not lost yet."

— The world is infinitely better than it was 50 years ago, despite priests and religions. And of course, terrible things happen, and there are shortages, but we've made progress. The thing is, there are also new things, like an imbecile elected by 77 million imbeciles who rules the world's leading power. And that man is dangerous, obviously. But the world keeps turning, and people keep moving. You won't stop migration, just as you won't make women go back sixty years. These are irreversible things. It's just that they slow down progress. History moves forward like that, sometimes with two steps forward and one step back.

Do you watch protest songs today?

— Yes, what's missing is the camaraderie we had in the '70s and '80s. You could release an album, someone would listen to it, and even if it had its flaws, they'd play it on the radio. Radio formats put an end to that; everything is controlled now, with the same music for everyone.

There is also love on the album, with the song Thanks for everythingDedicated to your wife, Ana Belén. What are you thanking her for?

— She's taught me a lot, especially about caregiving. We men should be grateful to women for the progress they've made in the last fifty years. Because when society becomes more feminized, it's better for men too. And when women have had opportunities, they've seized them and made great strides. We, on the other hand, haven't. The world of men has been a patchwork of fiefdoms where they could do whatever they wanted. And now they see they can't, and that what many women kept silent about is now being denounced. And some even dare to ask: why are they speaking out now? Well, because they feel like it.

"As long as there is blood in these veins, there is no better job than singing to you"... And you say this after friends like Joaquín Sabina and Joan Manuel Serrat have retired.

— But they're different cases. Serrat likes to sing, but at a certain point he got burned out. And Joaquín likes to record and write songs; he says he hasn't enjoyed himself on stage for a long time. I, on the other hand, have never had any problems. I don't vomit or get anxious before going on stage. I might have to leave the stage if I'm sick or physically unable to handle a concert. But I'm fine, and I take care of myself. I've never smoked, I snack in moderation, and in the days before a concert I speak very little and softly.

I heard you say that Serrat would like to sing from time to time.

— Yes, but he also says it's not possible. Singing has physical demands, but I'm confident he'll return. Not at the Palau Sant Jordi, but perhaps to do something more intimate in theaters.

Friends who come down from the stage, and others who leave. Like Jorge Ilegal, from the band Ilegales.

— None of us who knew him thought he was mortal. I edited his first album, Tired of waiting for the end, with a very small record company we had in Asturias. And I said, "We can't keep this guy." Basically, he was getting too old for us. And we gave him a free contract to CBS. His death hurt me deeply, and with such dignity, so quickly, in three months. And the death of Robe from Extremoduro also hurt me deeply. A spectacular case of overcoming adversity. The early albums were quite rough, and he gradually refined them until his later, spectacular work. He was a spectacular guy and artist.

Your son has produced many of your albums, and he also sings on this latest one.

— For the first time. He doesn't want to be in the spotlight, although I've tried a couple of times to get him to make an album, but he doesn't seem very keen. It's been hard to get him to sing. And I really think he has everything: he sings well, he's a good musician, handsome, he composes... he has everything to conquer the world. He sings like his mother, it's amazing. But he's experienced fame, he knows what it is, and it repulses him. Although I think being in the public eye has more advantages than disadvantages.

In I was born in the shade of a cherry tree You're talking about a child's dreams. They've come true, haven't they?

— And more than I thought. Now I see myself reflected in the net, which is constantly projecting things at only 12 years old. It's the best, being a grandpa.

But isn't being a father the greatest thing?

— No way! Loving your children always has its challenges, because you're loving and raising them at the same time. And raising them often means saying no. And with grandchildren, you only get the good things in life, nothing more.