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19 years without La Lupe

Very consistent with the character that enveloped the person, remember even the death of La Lupe is a thorny issue, as it should be leap years only. A fan would say, a bouquet of flowers in hand and way of Saint Raymond Cemetery Bronx, where he now resides that only Lupe Yoli Raymond imprecision could happen to die on February 29, the road to hammer event on the calendar when they realized that the years were six times more and had to be grouped and put them somewhere so that the shed is not out of position. The result, last but not least, appears to be another layer to the myth made frantic by the hosts, even without fully understanding the follow up idolizing the madness: she was so different, that even had a strange day to die and the street a decade later bear his name.

remember vividly how I felt when I received the news of his death. I did not cry, as if I cried when Celia Cruz died, 11 years later, but it was a sizable blow. First, because I was not expecting, the woman did not come yet at 60 -, then, because I realized with regret that no longer come to see her perform live, even in those churches where he sang loudly, or any sidewalk in New York with his cassettes of evangelical hymns now I flatly refuse to listen.
that day I realized that life can be a charade, a chain of absurdities that take you to the sudden fame, fill bullrings like Madison Square Garden or Carnegie Hall, to release three records a year on year 60 and get stuffed with fur coats on Tico Records offices to claim your little check daily $ 40 000 for royalties, and 10 years later to be reviled by the record label owner your contract, which only wanted a queen of music, and the queen was Celia, feeling apart from the music scene,
receiving just a few dollars for the rights to your recordings, see how you burn that was in New Jersey, the same that belonged to Rudolph Valentino, fall and be confined for many years to a wheelchair and live up to the death in practice poverty, spending days and nights in a small apartment in government the 575 East 140 Street Bronx. La Lupe was dying and to find out the hard life he lived in the 80's. One imagined that pleasure and enjoy that well deserved fame.
But ... How could he not be living a charade huge if you take it with an intensity of regular use? A La Lupe is remembered-and one often falls into this practice-by carajazos which gave the pianist while performing in the bar La Red de La Habana ... or the carajazos that gave their husbands. Or shoes barefoot childish gesture while acting in television . Or because he clapped his hands in the back, or gestures that was in the middle of singing or the clothes she was dismembered while facing the Montuno. Or the fabric that was put to combat sweat in the middle of the presentation and made him look like a candy. Or the way he squandered all the money he earned with his art. It was another
world.
La Lupe ended up being a show of herself. A show and a laugh for his crazy, or off-key comments when interviewed. Even Fidel Castro decided that his actions were inconsistent with the new Cuba that he wanted to implement and that is why I said in 1962 that best he left the island. He is remembered and known in Spain as it closes with a Puro Teatro of the films of Almodóvar. But few people know that an album recorded in Madrid in 1971, whose cover out the Plaza de Oriente. See you.
If one straw away all that keeps important, concludes that it was a misunderstood genius, that the best version of Fever is yours-sorry, Madonna and Peggy Lee, but it is well- that Celia could not afford a bolero like her, but she could face a guaracha itself as Celia, that his record was as broad as his claim to sing with soul, to make his voice vibrate your being each time you threw the stage. That falls into that special category where only access Billie Holiday, Elis Regina, Judy Garland and Edith Piaf.
Fortunately, in some sectors and modes her song came transparent and direct. There he died in obscurity because some people took care to remember, besides being a school for many drag queens, lost souls, like her, for wanting to be different.
And why not a day that does not sound any of their songs. Adding

six and evening peak (+1 GMT):
much of blah de La Lupe, but nothing I said what my favorite songs.
Here I released a small selection of my way course: Fever (version 1968), I asked, I'll tell you my life (So do not complain after) , the bad guy, how good boogaloo (groovy men) , and the Virgin wept East (temazo as few) , Any, Besito pa 'ti (two versions, 63 and 77, are great) , The save full (one of my favorites) , the bird (and live Venezuela, there ama!) , Once We Loved (ended in Inglés Means it's over, baby!) , Guajiro Cunagua, Menu goat (I can not help but smile when I hear it) , Pure Theatre, The tyrant, and Laughter final (in my opinion, his best bolero) .