They called us rockers, and we were pleased. Still short identity, we felt the hip loose, displaced by the syncopated rhythm, guitar riffs and broken voices. We were more interested in rock aesthetics than fifth chords breaking the sound barrier. Sometimes a leather jacket was enough and the disheveled hair to believe blessed by the rupture of bourgeois ideals. EFE/Torben Christensen when Burning sang “What does a girl like you do in a place like this?” And Nacha Pop remembered yesterday’s girl playing with the flowers of her garden, we felt questioned. We were we! But we also endured that Lennon in Run of Life would sing who preferred to see the woman of her dead dreams than with another man. Today, on the other hand, we criticize the lyrics of the hits that our daughters listen to, from rap to the trap, through reggaeton, without remembering that misogynist rock and abuson that fascinated us so much. With him we practiced a kind of content emptying, grabbing his forms, his attitude, sexy chulería. The prestige of the rockers has been measured more by transgression than by excellence last Sunday I attended the concert of Lenny Kravitz in Madrid, and I was amazing that he greets entrusting himself to the word love, the most repeated during his performance. With his iconic look, he let a brief metallic top in the Rabanne style, Lenny began to pray to God and Belong To You. Without stupor, that great song that always sounded romantic became a prayer before a devout audience. The musician explained in The Guardian that he found refuge in spirituality after discovering in therapy that he did not want to be like his father; He would break with “the curse of family infidelity.” He has taken it so seriously that he adds nine years of celibacy. It is curious that the moral prestige of rock stars has been measured more by transgression and scandal than for excellence and commitment, tangled in the cliché of the melenudos mallets of rigorous black. Lee also Joana Bonet at Lenny’s concert, the female factor slipped along the stage among all musicians: in her clothes, in her hats, at her waist. A delighted sensuality impregnated the former Sports Palace, without naivety, with curves. In the 3.19 minute of I Belong To You, in his chorus, I felt that the second voice led me to what I still want to be in life. That deep lightness. That echo. That rock
