Marina Rossell: "I've been more interested in love, flirting, and sex than in drugs."

BarcelonaAfter crossing the threshold of 70 years, suffering from cancer and a breakup, Marina Rossell (Castellet i la Gornal, 1954) proposed to her friend Albert Om (Taradell, 1966) that he write her a short biography, but one that went straight to the core. The result is I won't make another book. (Universe), a book that is many: an intimate portrait of the singer, her particular look from a time of a country, the soundtrack of our lives and the testimony of a friendship. Om—Albertillu, as she calls him—knows how to guide the singer through memories she'd never shared, through comical situations, and through lessons learned that are life lessons. Fun and exciting, the book's release coincides with Marina Rossell's concert this Thursday night at Luz de Gas, at the Barnasants Festival, in honor of the album. 300 screams (Satellite K).

Which Navy did you want to appear in this book?

— Marina Rossell: I wanted to tell the reality of things, not sugarcoat them, but tell them as they were.

— Albert Om: One of the things I've learned from her is that happiness, in the sense of placidity, is kind of boring, that it's okay for both good and bad things to happen to you. You can't ignore the bad things, but you can't just sit there and live them either.

— MR: I feel that permanent happiness is for fools, because it's not real. It's also okay not to be happy. We like sweet tastes, because we also appreciate salty ones. Life is a contrast. And it's natural to go through a health crisis.

How did you decide on the style of the book? Because it's written from a personal perspective and in a very authentic language.

— AO: Marina Rossell isn't like anyone else; she has that singular, unique quality. And the desire was to try to write a book that didn't resemble a canonical, chronological biography. Marina's memoir isn't based on dates; it works on emotions, on images, and it has a chaotic quality, which is what I wanted the book to be. Trying to portray Marina's essence is also about that. The idea was to alternate between my voice and hers in a kind of conversation about how she lived.

— MR: About emotions, the excitement of living and the sadness you sometimes go through and that leads you to the same emotion.

— AO: You wanted the book to serve people.

— MR: Yes, a life experience that can be useful to you. Because I read a lot of biographies, of Yourcenar, of people I'm interested in, and I learn a lot. How did they do this? How's it going? go through with, that? I've learned a lot from conversations, and I've learned a lot from reading biographies.

It all begins with the arrival of a young Marina at Plaza Catalunya, 16 years old, with 100 pesetas—50 each way—a guitar, and a bag. Today, it seems impossible. I don't know if there's a certain pride in saying, "I made it, I'm from here."

— MR: I had no pride, I had sorrow, because I had to make a living from nothing. I wouldn't do that now [laughs]. I wouldn't be so foolish. At 16, with no money, nothing, no higher education, I don't know, it could have made me a heroin addict or a prostitute or whatever. There was everything in Barcelona, ​​compared to a small town of 300 inhabitants like Gornal. I wouldn't do it now.

Then we wouldn't have Marina Rossell.

— MR: So everything went well.

How did you get started in music? You cite Josep Maria Espinàs and Laura Almerich as two key friends in launching your career, playing in concerts by Llach and Ovidi…

— MR: It was very smooth, very slow, but very safe. There weren't the means that there are now, nor were there the Twitter usersThere was nothing instantaneous. You had to go sing in the villages; there was no TV3; you went to Miramar, on the Catalan state television circuit. Everything was very different, slower, but perhaps also more solid. Now everything is very fast, but then you also see many people disappear, both groups and singers.

Do you think you were lucky or were enabled to get along with those people?

— MR: I believe in chance, I believe in the guardian angel. And I believe that nothing is spontaneous, that there's an energy you transmit. And then there's the strength, when you're very young, of being able to do what you love, of not settling only for what others think you can do, but for what you can do. And I had an innate talent, a natural thing for music, dirty, without working, and it got me on a solid path. I could already hear my mother singing while washing clothes by hand in the garden with a Lagarto tablet: she sang very well.

— AO: Then, when you arrived in Barcelona, ​​you wanted to surround yourself with people who knew more than you. This sometimes also creates insecurity, but I think it's a constant in your life, trying to learn, constantly relying on people who know more.

In the book, she cites four key figures: Salvador Espriu, Maria Aurèlia Capmany, Neus Català, and Montserrat Roig. She celebrates having encountered that extraordinary preceding generation.

— MR: They were the fathers and mothers of a culture that I was just beginning to know, because I had gone to a school national and they made us raise the flag and sing the Facing the sunWe did it very naturally because we didn't even know what it meant. Then I discovered another reality. And I was interested. I interacted with people who knew more than me, yes. But all this is instinctive; I have no merit; it's a matter of survival, like a cat that searches for food and finds it.

— AO: There's a lot of gratitude in the book for all these people. And another thing: there's no false modesty in the book. You say, "I'm a great singer." You can say that now. A few years ago, you wouldn't have said that.

— MR: Because, in addition, now I have perspective on everything, I'm older, I'm saying goodbye to the earth, so to speak, and I must begin to value myself as well.

You acknowledge having a gift: more than just your voice, it's the ability to evoke emotions with your voice.

— MR: Because I've seen it. People are moved, I've seen it many times. It impresses me when I see someone cry while I sing. And now that I'm older, they cry for many reasons: because we said goodbye to Mom with this song, when this happened we played this song, when I was already little... I mean, since I'm so old now, there's a generation that's tied to new memories. This is very beautiful.

Ovidi Montllor told her that a singer should identify with a song. Hers is The seagull?

— MR: Yes, I just have to whisper it and people sing it. And sometimes I don't sing it and people sing it, and then I come out and sing it. Let's play.

He contributed to putting the Virolai "in its place." Were you aware that it had to be done, in the same way that you consciously sang in Catalan to recover and normalize the language?

— MR: When I arrived I was already normalized.

— AO: Yeah, man!

— MR: It will never be normalized, but it was not prohibited.

Then he did sing in Spanish.

— MR: I had concerts in Chile, Buenos Aires, and Ecuador, and I thought I had to do three or four songs in Spanish to make the hour and a half I sang more enjoyable. And I did it with great pleasure. I don't regret it, okay? As the song says: "Nothing at all, I don't regret anything." Every moment I did what I heard. I think the audience understood and followed me; nothing held me against them. I don't want to regret anything; I'd rather do it and have made a mistake than not do it at all. I did what I thought I felt and what was consistent with me at the time, for better or worse.

— AO: You've been through a lot. You used to tell me, "If I have to swallow a pill to go to sleep, I'll take it so I can sleep peacefully, but I've already been through that," that love or that heartbreak...

— MR: Or travel. I've taken risks. I went to sing in Ciudad Juárez, and they advised us not to go, as they might kidnap us. We went, we sang, and I experienced a reality with my own eyes.

Which concerts do you remember most?

— MR: You know what happens? When you reach this point, you don't appreciate it, because you've taken so many steps to achieve it, and it's been a wonderful thing to take them. Then, it's simply as if you've eaten well, and at the end, they bring you dessert and you say, "Look how good it is!"

— AO: There is a concert that I am very sorry I didn't go to, which is the one by the Catalan classics from the Liceu in 2008. And, however, I did go to the post-operation concert at Palol de Revardit (Pla de l'Estany). In 50 years, I'd never gone eight months without singing. Before we started, when she saw me approach a small square, a castle, an olive tree, she said to me: "Kid, that's what I am, a village singer." She sang the same whether there were 3,000 people at the Liceu or 300 at Palol de Revardit.

— MR: But this is not a value, Albert, this is in me.

— AO: But Marina, not everyone sees it the same way. It's your "a little bit of everything" philosophy.

— MR: [Sings Virgin of the world] "May life give me a little, a little of everything. May it make me better..."

— AO: "May it cleanse our hearts."

— MR: It's textual.

— AO: She's had a little bit of everything: money, love, success...

— MR: I think I've been doing well, and this is the summary. Even this health episode, which affected my mood more than my health, I've also been able to overcome. And I'm happy. Happy means... contained inI feel like I have things inside.

— AO: You say that so quickly, but what more do you want in life than to be able to say this? There are people who have done more things than you and won't be able to say, "It went well."

— MR: But I have it worked A lot, Albert. I've worked really hard on things, it just doesn't seem like it. Because I love my job, because I think I should be grateful to the people who paid for a ticket: you can't show up and not know the songs. I always give it my all as if it were the next-to-last time.

He says that with Maria del Mar Bonet he knew how to change a certain envy for admiration.

— MR: This has been a constant in my life: for many years, I've aspired above all to have peace of mind. Not to get into battles, fights, enmities... It seems very burdensome to me; I keep it inside and can't stop thinking about it. That's why whenever I've had a problem with someone, I've cleared it up, because I can't live with this. You have to keep your head clear. It's my way of being on Earth.

— AO: You came with your country girl complexes, with thick glasses, chubby... And, of course, María del Mar was older and very pretty, she had a voice... You thought you could never be like her, right?

— MR: That I could never be a singer because I didn't have the talent. But suddenly, I realized my voice was moving.

To write the book, Marina has taught you unusual things…

— AO: Can we say it?

— MR: Now what will you say?

— AO: That you showed me your tits one day.

— MR: Let them read it, but that happened.

— AO: Because there was a reason, of course.

— MR: But in return I didn't ask you to teach me anything, you!

— AO: It was your book! Something I really like about Marina is her unpredictability: when you're with her, you don't know what's going to happen, you don't know what she's going to say, because she thinks on her own. I appreciate that more and more, because her thinking is increasingly mimetic. Marina goes it alone and has disconcerting things. She's a leftist; we know all this commitment to memory, to the country, to so many things, but she also has a very important spirituality. She captivates you because she has her own way of speaking, her own religiosity, and her freedom. This means that suddenly you're there, and she's showing you her breasts. This also portrays Marina, not just her words.

Sometimes they've told you that your different gaze was due to drugs, but you attribute it to myopia. Drugs haven't worked for you.

— No, they didn't work for me. I've tried, right? Cocaine really hurt my kidneys, I had a hard time digesting it. Leeks left my throat really dry and made me dizzy. I took half of one and it felt really big, like you couldn't walk, like you'd fall into a void. And I thought, "Wow, there won't be a second time, I wonder if I'm going to be stuck here." I did it all once; I wanted to know what would happen, but I was more interested in love, flirting, sex, other things that are also stimulating and pleasurable. You hallucinate, too, with love.

The perspective of age means that small problems no longer exist in memoirs, but larger themes, like love, are present. In the book, she makes it explicit that she is bisexual.

— MR: I don't make it public now, nor have I ever hidden it. It seems natural to me. I know a lot of people, and bisexuality seems ideal. You fall in love with people, not with genders. During Franco's time, it was prohibited, and you were put in prison, so there's a curse about it. Ocaña, who was a friend of mine, was imprisoned at the end of Franco's regime for being gay, not for stripping. We come from this, right?

Alberto, I don't know if you've advised him as a friend on how far to go in explaining passages like the one about his first sexual experiences, which are shocking, or about his relationship with Moustaki.

— AO: Carles Xuriguera has the thesis that when he hears Marina talking about Moustaki, which is the only relationship she's explained until now, it seems to him that it might be a way of belittling Marina, because Marina is very Marina with or without Moustaki. He seemed very lucid to me. Not me. I've played the role of writer here, I've listened to her, I've observed her, and I've suggested topics, but basically we had very open sessions. Because Marina is very strong, even if she seems fragile at first glance. I shouldn't have given her any advice.

— MR: How handsome you are, Albert.

You divide the world into those who think "everything could be better" and those who think "everything could be worse." You're one of the latter. What do you think these final years will be like?

— MR: Even better. More experience, more understanding, more desire to sing because I'll have fewer days to live, therefore, I'll become more alert, I'll sing even better. My voice is fine, right, Albert? The concerts I give are good. I'll sing until time stops, until I die. Or until I no longer have the desire to sing, which is also dying, in a way. I don't think about the future, I think about the present. The present is always stronger and more powerful than the future; tomorrow will come, I'll find it.