By Juan Miguel Lopez – Sep 4, 2026Few singer/songwriters have penned verses as beautifully revolutionary or stanzas as subversively tender as Silvio Rodríguez. This Tuesday, the timeless Cuban troubadour, back in Barcelona a decade after his last concert in the Catalan capital, demonstrated at the Liceu why he is one of the icons of song.Thus, without a word, the performance began with “Historia de las sillas,” a piece followed by the lines that the Cuban revolutionary José Martí wrote in his essay “Maestros ambulantes”—a sweet prelude to “Ala de colibrí,” an opening track in a songbook where the longing for freedom always converges with delicacy.Within that same framework are “Noches sin fin y mar”—improvised due to an imperceptible technical glitch—and “Sueño con serpientes,” the evening’s opening number, sung as a duet with the nearly 2,300 devoted fans who packed the Liceu.The audience, somewhat removed from the bourgeois demographic that typically frequents the theater, did not hesitate to use the silences to shout slogans such as “Cuba si, Yankees no!” or “Long live Cuba, long live Fidel!”, in contrast to the slogans with which half a dozen anti-Castro protesters greeted attendees on La Rambla.This came as no surprise to anyone, as Silvio Rodríguez’s (born in San Antonio de los Baños, Cuba, in 1946) revolutionary activism is yet another facet of a personality that is as affable as it is politically determined.In fact, the musician made headlines last March when he received, from Cuba’s Minister of the Armed Forces, Álvaro López Miera, the Kalashnikov rifle he had requested, in his blog, to defend the island if it were attacked by the United States.In contrast, at the Liceu, wielding his guitar and flanked by a Cuban tres, a piano, a guitar, a keyboard—played by his daughter Malva—a clarinet, a drum set, and a double bass, Rodríguez performed “Virgen de occidente,” which will appear on his upcoming album; “Viene la cosa,” from his recent Quería saber (2024), and “La bondad y su reverso,” all with the jazz-infused sound provided by the band.In a segment marked by his more recent works, “En cuál de esos planetas” and “Más porvenir”—dedicated to his friend Pepe Mujica, former president of Uruguay—also found their place.But not everything was going to be about new material. “Me acosa el Carapálida” transported Barcelona back to 1984, when Tríptico (Volumen tres) was released; and “¿A dónde van?,” performed in solemn solitude, drew from the 1978 album Mujeres; while in a separate segment, accompanied only by Niurka González’s flute and Malva Rodríguez’s piano, the Cuban artist paid homage to Luís Eduardo Aute with “La belleza,” which sparked shouts of revolution in the stalls and boxes of the theatre.Cuba’s Silvio Rodríguez: Determination to Resist Stems From History and Patriotic SentimentWith the trio of Eva, Quién fuera, and Escaramujo, the Liceu came alive, with choruses and cheers, on a slope that now felt like a plain across which Pequeña serenata diurna and Canción de elegido flowed without resistance, before the troubadour paid tribute to the Palestinian people by reciting Luis Rogelio Nogueras’s poem Halt! and sang La era está pariendo un corazón and El necio wrapped in a keffiyeh.Without being asked twice, the encore took off from the very first song, because “Ojalá” began with a sigh worthy of the song itself, its legend, and that “snowball”—or “Nievi,” whichever version you prefer— before closing the Gran Teatre del Liceu with “Por quien merece amor,” the final pang in Barcelona—the first stop on a Spanish tour that will take the Cuban artist to Zaragoza, Bilbao, Valencia, A Coruña, Seville, Murcia, and Madrid.Leaving out anthems like “Unicornio,” “Rabo de nube,” “Te doy una canción,” or “Óleo de mujer con sombrero”—the latter three were sung in Catalan by Joan Isaac and Sílvia Comes as an appetizer—Silvio Rodríguez bid farewell to the theater amid a very long ovation, while he watched, hidden beneath a cap bearing the word “Aprendiz,” as Cuban flags, Esteladas, and portraits of Che waved. (Resumen Latinoamericano – English)