David Summers, though aging visibly, still carries the same youthful spark that defined Hombres G. At sixty, he moves, speaks, and performs with the energy of a kid, a testament to a career that began decades ago. On Saturday, Summers and his band will celebrate their timeless appeal at the Murcia Artillery Barracks, inviting fans to witness a performance that feels less like nostalgia and more like living history.
They say what’s trendy goes out of style, but forty years later Hombres G is still there.
The band has always refused to follow trends. They chose not to chase the Madrid Movida, or flashy keyboards and eccentric hairstyles. They did not want to become an eighties act for its own sake and stood by a stubborn, stubborn stance. They resisted belonging to any single movement or set. They have continually challenged themselves and continued the test of time. They won’t step away because reggaeton is popular now.
I do not see.
Neither do I.
They were full in the eighties, and they are full now.
The reason escapes explanation, yet gratitude to the audience remains undeniable. The journey of four friends who have shared their lives since the beginning has produced over four thousand shows. They have aged in front of a devoted crowd that spans generations, with new young fans discovering them through a film that reintroduces their music to fresh ears.
Forty years is a long time at the foot of the canyon.
Many moments passed unnoticed by time. Yet forty years can feel fleeting, almost insubstantial, when the work remains vibrant and alive.
Who ages better, your songs or you?
The songs endure because they were never meant to cause harm or fade away. They persist in the air and on stage, surviving the weathering of the years, exactly as the performers hoped.
Did I think we were going to talk about G Men at this point?
Not at all. The candid truth is that singing Sufre mamon at fifty would have felt strange, even ridiculous, if the moment hadn’t arrived. Yet the day came, the microphone found its mark, and the chorus followed. A decade later, the same song returns at sixty, and there is little sign of a ceiling. The audience keeps them going; it is the crowd’s energy that holds the stage together.
Has this phenomenon been given the value it deserves?
From the public’s perspective, yes, certainly. Critics and award committees may view it differently, but the fans’ warmth is undeniable and powerful.
Do you think they treated you unfairly?
Independence came at a cost, yet it remains the prize. The freedom to create without conforming to a guild was worth every challenge. If asked to start again, the answer would be the same. Independence and a loyal audience were the fuel, turning millions of records and countless sold-out concerts into the richest reward an artist can imagine. Now that time has passed, some recognition has followed, but the core truth endures: the audience keeps the flame alive. It’s bittersweet, yet true.
Looking back, what do you think of the David of the eighties or the G Men of the beginning?
They were bright, confident in ways that felt almost accidental. They created music with a sense of effortless perfection, songs that have endured for forty years without losing their edge. There are melodies written when Summers was eighteen or twenty that still move him when performed today, revealing a depth he hadn’t fully understood at the outset.
Do you feel less professionally free than before?
Freedom remains, even if the path has grown more intricate. Summers continues to write with honesty, never aiming to wound, always hoping to uplift. He doesn’t censor himself or alter his voice just for the sake of others; the songs stay true to his creative impulse, and that authenticity matters more than any market pressure.
Are you more resentful now than before?
The public’s noise can be exhausting, but it’s part of a broader reality. The fearsome, loud voices do not define the whole story. There are more people seeking joy and meaning than those who seek to drag others down, and that balance keeps a hopeful spine in the music and the life around it.
Lack of a sense of humor?
A sense of humor is essential, especially when the world wants to stereotype or condemn. Laughing at life, even when it’s tough, was a vital survival tool. It helped keep the journey light and human, and it’s still a big part of the band’s approach to performance and life on the road.
How can forty years fit into a single year of concerts?
The show stretches to two and a half hours, typically around thirty songs. Picking from a catalog of more than 140 pieces is a delightful challenge. The audience shapes the experience from the first chord to the last note, and the band responds with energy, aiming to satisfy those who came to hear their legacy live.
Did you feel nostalgic while making your choice?
Nostalgia isn’t the engine, but memories are a sweet byproduct. Summers looks ahead, appreciating the privileged life of a musician who has never stopped loving what he does. Nearly four thousand concerts have shaped a lifetime, and this year promises more—forty-eight big-venue performances that continue the story. The journey will likely endure for another era if the audience keeps showing up.
Which song are you uncomfortable singing when you are 60?
There isn’t one. If a line feels wrong, it won’t be performed. The choice rests with the moment and the feeling it evokes.
We rotate, which one is your favourite?
Choosing one favorite is near impossible. Sufre mamon remains a cornerstone, a song that defined a turning point in Summers’ career. It’s the track that opened doors, letting him stand on stages where he once imagined the possibility of singing to thousands. The memory of those moments—singing before ninety thousand people in Los Angeles—still resonates, fueling the present with a sense of ascent and gratitude.