Family and Music

If my mum, Mercedes, has a life motto it would be: “There’s a song for that.” Bad day? “Let’s put on A quién le importa.” Cooking dinner? “I have the perfect song of Melendi.” She has spent years trying to drill into my siblings and me that music is not just background noise; it is a way of understanding life. Born in Asturias in the 1970s, she grew up in a house where music was as essential as bread and her father’s very strong opinions on what constituted real music. I had a video call with her to unpack her musical journey. 

Me: What is music for you? 

Merce: Music is memory. It is the reason your grandfather once threw a shoe at the radio. I would never forget. It is emotion. It is how I connect to parts of myself I do not always know how to reach. When I hear Raphael’s voice, I am not just listening to a song. I’m back in my father’s house, watching him close his eyes and feel the music in a way he never could with words. 

Me: Wow. I wasn’t expecting that answer, and it honestly made me remember how much of our family anecdotes live in music. I love remembering him. 

Me: I’m guessing your dad, my grandfather, was the one that introduced you to music but, where did you get introduced, and how? 

Merce: Two places. Our living room, where my father ruled over his vinyl; and the streets of Oviedo, where my friends and I would sneak into bars to hear whatever the university kids were playing, pretending to be older than what we were. 

Me: I could picture the scene perfectly. My grandfather hovering over his vinyl like if it was a national treasure. 

Me: What are some of your other earliest memories of music?

Merce: My father was playing Paco de Lucia at full volume while my mother yelled that the neighbors would complain. This is one of the earliest memories I have but there were also fiestas de pueblo. Imagine everyone drunk in the city’s main square and some guy with a bagpipe playing like his life depended on it. It was magical. Or terrifying, honestly. 

Me: Those parties sound like a completely chaos. And I swear they are completely different from what we have now. I never thought bagpipes would be played on a party, but now I kind of get it. 

Me: Was there a particular artist that had a big impact on you as a child? 

Merce: Camaron, obviously. It made me realize music could also be fun. And I would also mention Melendi. He was such an important part of my college era. 

Me: I love this because Melendi is also one of my favorites. I could listen his song Asturias all the time. 

Merce: Same! 

Me: I already know the answer but, has music helped you through hard times? 

Merce: Definitely. When your grandfather died, I could not listen to flamenco for almost a year. Too painful. But eventually, I came back to Camaron. Now when I hear him, I never cry. I laugh. It helps me remember all he taught me. But that is the beauty of music. Just like my father could be fiercely Asturian while loving something deeply from the south, and now here I am, his daughter, keeping both alive in my own way. 

Me: I love how flamenco, which once felt too painful to bear, slowly became part of our life again. And I can’t stop smiling at the image of him playing Camaron. 

Me: Last Question! Do you ever listen to anything in another language? 

Merce: Of course! My father tolerated Portuguese because it was “serious music.” But English? “What are they saying?” I loved it. Now my playlist is as mixed as you can imagine. All languages. It is more than a playlist. It is my life soundtrack.