You know by the smoke…

...where the fire is, of course. And I hope you read it singing, trying to emulate as much as possible the great Alfredo Kraus , who sang this once popular romance from the zarzuela "Doña Francisquista." Based on a sonnet by Lope de Vega with lyrics by Federico Romero Sarachaga and Guillermo Fernández-Shaw , and music by Amadeo Vives . You'll tell me if the Senior Spy is going to skip musicals now or something. Which I wouldn't mind, because I think my parents passed it on to me when the very potrudes saw Jesus Christ Superstar in London in 1973, and their memories made me go crazy enjoying, over time, The Phantom of the Opera, My Fair Lady, Man of La Mancha and, my favorite, Les Misérables . I've seen many of them, both in the English capital and others in Madrid, when a mayor who wanted to be mayor, like José María Álvarez del Manzano , wanted all the cinemas on Gran Vía to be converted into musical theaters, not to create a new Broadway , but what they were and could have been, because that's what Madrid's main thoroughfare already meant. But then the pharaonic Gallardón came along and destroyed everything so that now we have cheap clothing stores and foreign franchises, destroying cafes and the cultural life that could have been and once was.

The Gran Vía was, in fact, the name of one of the most popular and exciting zarzuelas, a true exponent of the so-called "género chico" ( small genre). Such a misunderstood term doesn't apply to zarzuela, since this Spanish lyrical genre was divided into "grande" and "chico" (small), but according to the number of acts, with those with two or more being of the first class, and those with only one, obviously of the second. A theme of duration, not of quality, that even a man as apparently serious as the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche really liked some of its numbers when he heard it in Turin, one of the best-known headquarters of bel canto . In other words, "chico" in the sense of something minor and unimportant, no way. Not at all. We Spaniards really like the hair shirt, and we flog ourselves with everything that belongs to us! That's why we must vindicate our zarzuela, which was simultaneously opera (like Marina or the precursor El jardín de Falerina ), musical (like La Corte de Faraón ), and entertaining musical revues (like Las leandras ). A Spanish and Hispanic musical style that crossed the ocean with great success.

And now you'll ask me what's the point of these musical tirades. Well, nothing. Since we've had a summer of fires, with which we've fanned each other's horns, at the expense of those who put them out better or worse, the ballad came to mind, and singing the title of this note, I continued with that "from the smoke of affection jealousy is born," and I've come to the conclusion that in this our homeland, which is being left behind by so many incendiary henchmen and so many rascals eager for barbecue, jealousy is rather being turned into Saracen hatred, and that at least in the zarzuelas, the entanglements, love affairs, and dramas ended so well that those in attendance came out singing like those in Cuba. Because they came back alive! But now it seems we prefer to leave each other blind so that the other goes blind. This is where we are in our Spain. And now, through the smoke, you can see where the fire is, but I doubt there are any embers left to rekindle any affection. That's how sad our current situation is, and the cast of singers... tomorrows that govern us and oppose us.