Silvio Rodríguez, the Eternal Revolutionary Troubadour, Charms Barcelona’s Liceu

Silvio Rodríguez needed no opening speech at Barcelona’s Liceu. He began with “Historia de las sillas,” then followed it with verses by Cuban revolutionary José Martí, setting the tone for an evening where longing for freedom met lyrical tenderness.

The Cuban troubadour, back in the Catalan capital for the first time in a decade, performed for almost 2,300 devoted fans. “Sueño con serpientes” became the first song of the night sung as a duet with the crowd, while “Noches sin fin y mar” emerged from an almost imperceptible technical problem that prompted an improvised performance.

The audience, noticeably different from the bourgeois demographic that usually fills the theater, used pauses between songs to shout “Cuba sí, yankees no!” and “¡Viva Cuba, viva Fidel!” A half-dozen anti-Castro protesters greeted concertgoers on La Rambla. The contrast did little to surprise anyone familiar with Rodríguez, whose gentle manner sits alongside an openly revolutionary political commitment.

That commitment drew attention in March, when Cuban Armed Forces Minister Álvaro López Miera handed Rodríguez the Kalashnikov rifle he had requested on his blog to defend the island if the United States attacked it.

On stage, however, the focus remained on the music. Rodríguez played guitar alongside Cuban tres, piano, keyboard handled by his daughter Malva, clarinet, drums and double bass. The jazz-tinged band moved through “Virgen de occidente,” from his forthcoming album, “Viene la cosa” from 2024’s “Quería saber,” and “La bondad y su reverso.” He also performed “Más porvenir,” dedicated to his friend and former Uruguayan President Pepe Mujica.

Older songs brought Barcelona back to different chapters of Rodríguez’s career. “Me acosa el Carapálida” recalled 1984’s “Tríptico (Volumen tres),” while “¿A dónde van?” revisited “Mujeres,” released in 1978. Accompanied only by Niurka González’s flute and Malva Rodríguez’s piano, he invoked Luís Eduardo Aute with “La belleza,” prompting revolutionary cries from the stalls and boxes. The closing run of “Eva,” “Quién fuera” and “Escaramujo” lifted the room into choruses, cheers and the familiar warmth of “Pequeña serenata diurna” and “Canción de elegido.”