Luciana- Soy Madre Soltera

Poco Hombre!

The internet is a mixed blessing, isn’t it? I’m enjoying having this medium for sharing my favorite music with you in this unique, immediate and multi-media employing way (although we did, and can, share home-made mix tapes and write letters or- gasp!- speak in person about the music we love). But, damn it, some of the mystery is gone now that we can go on Google and know everything about everyone! The spaces our imaginations would fill- how the performers looked; the performance; the cultural context- all are now packed with this easily-available information. There’s something really sad and spiritually impoverished about this to me. I miss the mystery behind the music, and the exercise of my own imagination, which I can literally feel atrophying.

Luciana- Soy Madre Soltera mp3

This makes me appreciate the lack of information I can offer for today’s selection. I found the song on a cheap used CD. The only online photos I can find of Luciana are the badly foreshortened photos you see here, “grabbed” from the YouTube channel of one MrFubarito (get a load of what comes up when you try a Google Image search for “Luciana”). Web information is refreshingly skint; a single badly-translated paragraph which, in the spirit of pre-‘net mystery I will not reproduce- except to pass on that Luciana died young, in 1980. An early end seems somehow appropriate to the possessor of this wildly passionate, even demented voice- pacing, pausing to glare at the audience, and then continue telling her tragic tale (“I am a Single Mother”), a three-way interaction between her, those gorgeous, soulfully harmonizing trumpets and that bulbous, colonic electronic organ.


Update (21/12, from Raglan, New Zealand)

OK. I take it all back, re: the internet killing the sense of mystery. Just found these videos of Luciana, and now the question is- how did this reality enter into my imagination prior to exposure? I’m not kidding. From the choreography of the musicians, to their Andy Kaufman-esque looks, to- my god- her, and her performance style- this is exactly what I imagined. Hoped for. Weird, wonderful.

The whole performance is fantastic, a sensory overload of perfection, but I can’t for the life of me take my eyes off her tits!



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