For starters, Lucía is Galician, which explains a lot. Besides, she is a jazz musician, surprisingly enough. And she is young, really young; so much the better for her. As a child, Lucía dreamt of becoming a jazz musician. She doesn’t merely like jazz, she loves it with passion and so she so lives it: passionately. It is a pleasure to listen to her when she talks about her music teachers, like Alexander von Schlippenbach, with whom she has played.

I remember when she gave birth to her first record offspring, “Soños e Delirios“. Many of us discovered her then, and what a surprise it was. We have been listening to her ever since, sometimes playing her own music, sometimes other people’s, such as when our protagonist played the kingdom’s main drummer in Baldo Martínez’s ‘Projecto Miño’. And then there is what she usually plays in Berlin —her place of residence—, a music we have been told about but have not yet heard. Something that, as it seems, has a lot to do with the so-called free jazz, a gender she seems to be attracted to.

The thing is, our friend here has been fighting for years against the legion of enraged free improvisers who live in the vibrant and cold capital of Germany. But Lucía doesn’t back down, not her. And so it‘s there, in Berlin, that she has created this second record of hers, of a sky-blue that floods everything along, both music —bright— and photography.

Lucía is Galician, even if she has moved to the other end of the continent. That explains why some people assure to have seen her going up to the terrace roof of her home, looking in the gray sky of the German capital for the light she left behind, a light from where this music, bathed in homesickness, saltpetre and breakfasts with mango — which is not very Galician, but truly nutritious— comes from.

Also, Lucía has surprised her fans in “Azulcielo“ with the inclusion of an unusual instrument in jazz, the accordion, even if there are some who insist in playing it frequently and with premeditation. But of course, Silke isn’t just any accordionist. Silke and Lucía, birds of a feather...

Because music cannot be explained; I refuse to explain to the reader something that can be listened to for oneself with no need for assistance. Let me just recount, in my personal view and without any intention of setting a precedent, some of the things that have caught my attention. For example, the Galician walking style —it is said one never knows whether they‘re coming or going— in “El mar y yo“; the counterpoint, a little Bachian (J. S. Bach) and really jazzy in “Luciérnagas de papel“, “Taglilien“ and its gipsy air; “X“, as freaky as its title; the trace of free jazz — well understood— in “Fogo do 23“. And the lyrical and cinematographic happy ending that begins in “Silencio“ and ends in “O pe do ceo“. What a good way to finish an album.