Triquell: "I tolerate precariousness when it comes from projects that have a minimum of artistic merit."

Singer Cesc Fuentes (Barcelona, ​​2000), known artistically as Triquell, was born into a working-class family. His mother works in real estate, and his father has dedicated his entire life to the small family business: "He wasn't a high-powered businessman; it was three brothers who made the business work through communication, empathy, patience, and a survival instinct," he explained in an interview.Companies.

Triquell entered the workforce at 17, washing cars: "I wanted my own money to go out, and I felt terrible asking for cash; it was a difficult time financially for my parents." He balanced his studies with work. He tutored English while studying at university and combined it with his passion, music: "I'd leave work and go straight to the studio; it was a social hub, a place for discussion." With the band Alter Soma, they played gigs: "We did small, poorly paid shows, like 95% of small and medium-sized gigs." They rehearsed in an industrial warehouse in Sant Quirze del Vallès: "We were very collectivist; we did everything as a group."

In 2022 he left everything to enter the first edition ofEuphoriaThe TV3 music competition didn't pay contestants: "People who want certain rights should express them to those in power. I said so, and thanks to that, we're getting paid now." The television exposure opened doors for him: "It was a turning point because after my time on TV, I started to capitalize on my art, but not regularly, and I never made a fortune; it was always within a framework of precariousness and survival."

Since then he has been self-employed: "I am one loser Regarding tax pressure and responsibility." Triquell has always tried to involve his inner circle in the musical project: "All my people were on board, and that has sometimes made me feel a bit like an NGO." "I have an artistic project as a singer-songwriter, and one of the sources of income is a live performance where you're hired as an individual," he explains. "Having so many people involved means wanting to do things right, wanting to respect live music and not just go around with a pre-recorded track." The problem is that this approach doesn't always translate into higher income: "Promoters don't book based on the scale of the live show, but rather on its reach and audience size."

Triquell isn't sure he can always make a living from art: "What I am sure of is that I'm going to keep doing it regardless of how profitable it is and how rich I might become, which I doubt, because I won't get rich," he states frankly. For him, creating isn't an economic strategy but a vital necessity: "And to do things well, I need to live. I need the pain, the abysses, the disappointments, to see what the world I live in is like." That's where the songs come from. The artist admits that he lives in a constant contradiction: "Between the absolute beauty of creation and the misery of the political and economic context that surrounds artists."

However, he continues to accept small or emerging projects, without major production companies behind them: "You do it with that romantic spirit of betting on something you know has artistic value, but that perhaps doesn't have the support it deserves. And sometimes you get involved, and in the end you don't get paid for the hours of work you dedicate to it." "I tolerate precariousness when it comes from projects that have a minimum of artistic merit," he concludes.

Regarding personal finances, the artist has a short-term relationship with money: "I don't like long-term planning or savings plans. They're concepts that make my boss work in a way I don't enjoy." Thus, the artist has an impulsive and emotional relationship with money: "You want to go to the movies, so you go to the movies; you want to smash a speaker in his car, so you do it; and then suddenly you get revenge."

Currently, she is working on the musical Blood brothers At the Teatre Condal: "Being part of a machine of people rowing in the same direction is wonderful," he says. However, when he thinks about the long-term future, he's clear about it: returning to the studio, producing, and continuing to create without rushing: "I would spend every hour of my life inside a studio."