Francisco de Palma
Francisco de Palma (b. Valencia, Venezuela, 1948) Pianist, composer and singer.
His hands, stuck to a piano as the piano was stuck to them, searching for the keys to continue their melody. They breath life into each other, searching, needing and finding each other. One does it to keep wandering the world to the rhythm of jazz and the other is trying to regain the joy, because it almost looks like some pianos in the city are expecting him, they peep out the windows, from their forgotten corners, waiting for the arrival of Master Francisco to get back the old feelings, wanting to be desired. The Master doesn’t pick and choose, they don’t need to dress up or put their broken smiles back together; his fingers know perfectly the physiognomy of this instrumental race.
He walks towards one of them sketching a dance move, with the joy and playfulness of a child who has just turned 68 that same day.
The miracle occurs then, the strings and him rejoice and Francisco de Palma smiles, it is his now, it’s falling into his hands and it is offering us an aperitif, an improvised melody. They both get younger together and promise us more music. We ask for an encore and Francisco gives us a preview of the summer.
We will meet him again before that, around the streets of his quarter, inviting friends and strangers to join his concert, this time with the piano from Café d´Espacio. We’ll be there.
«Sei que desafino às vezes. Mas eu também desafino na vida”. Maria Bethânia
(I know I’m out of tune sometimes. But I’m also out of tune in life)