Goodbye to Javier Martínez, pioneer of Argentine rock and leader of Manal: being blues

Javier Martínez, drummer, singer and fundamental composer of Spanish rock in general and Argentine rock in particular, died this Saturday at the age of 78 after a brief hospitalization.

The musician already had a place in eternity assured, so he recorded, published and performed live as the apex of Manal, the rock & blues trio that he formed towards the end of the ’60s with guitarist Claudio Gabis and bassist Alejandro Medina.

The news of his death was given almost simultaneously by Antonio Birabent (son of Moris, a fellow legend of Martínez and partner in Los Beatniks) and his sister Dora Alicia Martínez Suárez, who closed a publication on networks quoting him: “When one has no more nothing to say, the journey of silence begins.”

Javier Martínez was one of the founding heroes of our rock, whose greatest contribution was having brought street and elevated philosophical contemplation to the assimilation of British blues. Because although Manal emerged as a result of the power trio Cream, his work imposes porteñismo, arrabalism, and deep reflections triggered by the fact of having been born on this soil.

“Javier Martínez left. One of the founders of blues and rock in Spanish. Classic and modern. “He opened himself with machetes in a corseted city and was the protagonist of one of the most audacious moves in American culture,” Fito Páez fired him, accurately.

“I salute your mastery of the drums, the soul in your unique voice, the real and beautiful poetry that gave the blues an Argentine passport,” was the way Pedro Aznar found to say goodbye.

“A fan of yours always and forever, in every beat and every note, you will be. A tear of burden is inclined to bless you from the south, a piece of this century,” completed the bassist of Serú Girán.

Among other things, from the pen and spirited voice of Martínez, Manal’s work speaks of anti-care and anti-consumerism, while opposing love to the inexorable decline of the world.

The letter of No kid serves to approximate the first two items: “You don’t have to have a car/or half a million watches… It’s very sad to deny where you come from/the important thing is where you’re going”). The one of I need a love He does the same to explain the third (“Life on the street is gone/ I need a love/ Every minute is a minute less/ I need a love”).

Despite having documented with his colleagues Manal (1970) and The lion (1971), irreplaceable records of music in our language, Javier Martínez always had a tense relationship with them, so the life of the group not only could not be matched with longevity but was only recreated after operational returns always mediated by long negotiations.

The last of them was pivoted by the producer “Corcho” Rodríguez, who brought together Martínez, Gabis and Medina in a Buenos Aires room he owned, in order to record them live in audio and audiovisual. From there came the publication of the CD plus DVD Manal live at Red House (2016)

Perhaps it was with the impulse that this work gave him that Javier Martínez arrived at the 2017 edition of Cosquín Rock.

Javier Martínez and his close bond with Córdoba

It was precisely before that presentation that this legend spoke with The voice. “Thanks for calling. I love hearing the Córdoba accent,” Martínez said when answering the call.

And then he expanded the reasons for his connection with our province: “I spent my entire childhood and adolescence in La Cumbre. “My grandfather, a Spaniard who came in 1934, went to live there after he retired because those mountains of Punilla seemed similar to those of Asturias.”

“It was lucky for me and the whole family, because we spent every summer in that paradise. So I became a recontracordobé. I loved the pepperine tea, the thyme tea and you can break the ortho…”, concluded with a laugh, the musician who, in the ’60s, was also very receptive to the hectic Mediterranean rock scene.

“Not to mention when Los Bichos came here, at the beginning of national rock _he specifies_. My relationship with Jimmy Arce, hell of a drummer, all that hand… I have a great connection with Córdoba, I love them very much. And there are those songs by Chango Rodríguez… What was this one that I like? ‘Just calm down, calm down’ (sing that passage from Chacarera of Cordoba) What good music”.

Of course, at that moment it was unavoidable to talk about the Manal meeting at the request of Rodríguez.

“Everyone is concerned about this issue; I understand perfectly, it is the myth, the founding thing, the eternal return… And what do I know, it was a meeting that took place for the first time with a great producer like ‘Corcho’ Rodríguez. “He put a lot of respect, a lot of strength and, of course, the financial means…” he said about it.

And he immediately expanded: “It is not just the money, as the stupid paradigm of this time suggests. It’s the good vibes. Because if a fool comes with good money, it’s no use. ‘Corcho’ loves the blues, he was a friend of Pappo. He proposed it to me and I said no, because my history with the boys was very worn out. For reasons that did not exhaust the friendship but did exhaust the enthusiasm. The women got involved in the ’81 reunion, they yokoonized (sic) the band and I had a bitter taste left.”

“And how did that not become a yes?” was the question that followed in that exchange.

“At that moment, he insisted with a ‘think about it’. And since I had seen what he did with Pappo (Rodríguez produced Looking for love, the guitarist’s last studio album), I said to myself ‘I’m going to give this man a chance.’ Afterwards we made a gentlemen’s agreement, which he strictly fulfilled: ‘We are going to work for a month, October 2014, at the inauguration of the new La Rocka.’ Because ‘Corcho’ has a place that was changing headquarters at that time and wanted to reopen it with our meeting. And we worked on it well and there was good money, good production, a great vibe…” he explained.

Asked if having composed capital pages of Argentine rock does not guarantee perpetual sustenance, Javier Martínez said yes, although he later left an amplified analysis with deep reflections, like his work.

“Observing the world with my intellectual obsessions, I realized that Spain and its children were left out of the industrial revolution, something for which we paid dearly,” he said.

“So, I acquired a value for the fact of earning a living in a timely manner,” he said at the time. It’s not that I need money, I live well, I always work. I’m not Rockefeller but I’m not missing anything. I don’t have too much either. But I have a Protestant ethic. Although I am Catholic, I am not Catholic in practical terms. I became Anglo-Saxon, or German, in the sense of ‘old, work, money.'”

“That Argentinian thing of ‘what do you do?’, that thing of being a musician and having them take you away or not giving you the status of a worker, I don’t take it anymore. I developed a complete hatred of the arts not being considered a job. It is a retrograde thing, Catholic, Spanish and very idiotic. That’s why I say, and not because I need it: ‘Do you want the historic Manal? Let him produce ‘Corcho’ and I want money, brother,’” he concluded.

Just yesterday, and within the framework of large-scale musical events, both Spinetta and Indio Solari played songs composed by Javier Martínez for Manal: I need a love and cold tomato juicerespectively.

“They didn’t call me, huh. I’m a beast of a stage. Now I’m going to stop being modest: I’m a beast on stage and when I appear, everything disappears. (laughs)”, he answered when asked if those interpretations had activated his vanity.

“Of course I was flattered. I always had a beautiful relationship with ‘Flaco’. They wanted to make a River – Boca in those years, when Pelo wanted to confront us with the Almendra. But we told Ripoll (Daniel, director of that publication) ‘this is a nonsense, we cannot allow it’, and then he published an issue in which the seven of us appeared together,” he revealed.

“Already at that time they wanted to play football with us _he recalled_. That fan thing, stop screwing around. I am angry with football because it impoverished a genuine feeling… That process disgusted me. Tomato Juice was recorded for me by Lerner and Charly… Iorio, with the three bands he had, made my songs. Pappo, of course… I must be one of the most covered artists. It is an honor. Thank God, it’s been half a century since I entered a Buddhist area and I don’t let myself get caught up in my ego, I don’t believe it because, if you do, you end up being an idiot.”

Of all those listed, Pappo was the only one to whom Javier Martínez has dedicated a song. Is called Pappo’s Blues and it’s in think positive (2015).

“I was his older brother. We lived 15 blocks away, I taught him blues when there were almost no records of the genre. When I tell it, a lot of people can’t believe it and they say ‘Really?’ and ‘Yes, really, idiot, what’s so strange about it?’ I was a bit of his mentor. We saw each other in Spain, we played together at La Pesada, we wrote a song together that I’m going to recycle: I’m going to see a friend“, complete.

Finally, in that interview with The voice, Javier Martínez set out what a rock encyclopedia should say about him: “My solo name is Manal Javier Martínez; that I composed the repertoire of that group in words and music; that I am the creator of blues in Spanish and that I developed the blues and soulera line in this country. That’s enough. Afterwards, I could say that I really admire some of Polo Giménez’s songs, such as Of the time ‘i mama and Catamarca Landscape. Now I will begin to include folklore songs and I will cover them in rock time.”