Joan Manuel Serrat announced a step away from the stage, a move that feels more symbolic than promotional. Some may exaggerate the idea of an era ending, yet this withdrawal invites a collective reflection—through song, a popular and intimate art form—on conscience, life, and the way we understand it, all conveyed in lines that lift the spirit.
It was a year ago when Serrat began the farewell tour, titled El vicio de cantar 1965-2022, with a final stop at Palau Sant Jordi on a Friday night in December. There was no act or gimmick to extend the moment. The tour also included a visit to Calle Poeta Cabanyes, the birthplace in Poble Sec, where he was born nearly 79 years ago. The tour has become a generous, expansive journey, revisiting old venues and audiences across Spain and the Americas, presenting a repertoire that spans roughly 70 songs per night, with selections that reach 22 to 24 pieces. He surrounds his music with the poetry of his own making and the work of others, blending personal reflection with universal questions, and guiding listeners through a landscape that can feel both challenging and hopeful.
the voice among the ruins
Earlier in his career, Serrat’s artistry grew from a deep love of craftsmanship and nature. He imagined a future where he might be seen as an agricultural-minded thinker, and he produced works that reveal a tenderness toward the natural world. In those early seasons, the songbook carried a robust appetite for life, with pieces about landscapes and the daily life of workers. He introduced characters from the margins, including la figura del drapaire and other tales, all treated with warmth and honesty, as he breathed life into a past while facing wounds with youthful energy. His language expanded to include French-speaking influences from artists like Jacques Brel, Georges Brassens, and Charles Aznavour, and later incorporated rhythms from other traditions—tangos, folk, and overseas popular songs—into a broader tapestry. The memory of hardship also lingered, rooted in family history, with a father connected to the CNT and a mother from Belchite who bore witness to difficult times.
Thus Serrat answered Lluís Serrahima’s call in the article Ens calen cançons d’ara, published in Germinabit magazine in 1959, joining Els Setze Jutges and joining the Catalan revival movement. While Francoist censorship lingered, he explored traditional songs and modern expressions alike. On the 1968 album Cançons tradicionals, he appeared as a curious, restless talent, ready to explore tunes from another era, even if some contemporaries faced political pressure to defend their use of Catalan at public broadcasts. Later, the self-titled album La paloma (1969) marked his official entry into a bilingual approach, highlighting a singer whose language skills became a rare international gift.
poet, melodist, performer
Today many Catalan artists blend languages, yet Serrat has kept a disciplined approach—dedicating an entire album to each language, each with its own mood and market nuance. His early records, like Cançó de matinada and Me’n vaig a peu, became iconic and helped anchor later songs that translated life into music, such as Your name tastes like grass and Penélope. The Mediterrenean project, arranged by Juan Carlos Calderón, forged a rich synthesis with poets tied to Miguel Hernández and Antonio Machado. Serrat’s talent as a singer-songwriter is marked by his ability to weave poetic cadence with musical logic, delivering melodies with a clear, earnest voice that feels almost conversational yet deeply crafted.
In broader terms, Serrat moved beyond easy labels such as bard or light song. He showed how music can transmit ideas, emotions, and high literature, and he remained acutely aware of his public impact. He once sang about love in a way that challenged romantic clichés, reminding listeners that art can be brave even when it defies expectations—especially when it questions the ideals that society holds dear.
the voice among the ruins
The singer-songwriter label carried political weight, a nuance Serrat handled with care. His broader work never stopped expanding, even during Franco’s era, when a song could be political without overt references. Songs like Fiesta celebrated popular unity across lines of ideology and class, though censorship sometimes softened sharp edges, nudging a few symbols toward more palatable imagery. By September 1975, tensions with the regime escalated, and a Mexico tour coincided with outspoken remarks about recent executions, sending the artist into a period of exile.
That Mexico sojourn sharpened his sense of exile and connected him to Latin American audiences, a bond that endured through a series of political upheavals across the Southern Cone. Memorable concerts at Luna Park in Buenos Aires, in 1983, and the National Stadium in Santiago in 1990 underscored Serrat’s international reach. His American footprint grew in albums such as El sur is also there, featuring texts by Mario Benedetti, and later in intimate explorations of boleros, tangos, milongas, rancheras, and tonadas. The Catalan language found its place across the Atlantic through his performances and recordings.
TV series Nova cançó
Even as he returned to his mother tongue, Serrat spoke to a global audience, evoking the poetic revolution associated with Salvat-Papasseit. His work in the late 20th century and beyond kept Catalan and Spanish alive in tandem, culminating in projects like Banda sonora d’un temps, d’un país and other heartfelt tributes. He offered some of his most mature songs, including Cremant núvols and Plou al cor, on albums such as Mô, a collection dedicated to the island of Menorca. Collaborations remained a staple, notably with Joaquín Sabina, and the two shared a long-standing creative alliance that enriched their catalogs.
And so, Serrat leaves the door open to future music while accepting that the stage may someday require a different pace. His long career, marked by steadfast loyalty to audiences and collaborators alike, stands as a testament to a life spent in persistent artistic pursuit. The partnership with manager José Emilio Navarro, known as Berry, highlighted a remarkable period of public trust and continuity in a world where careers often shift quickly.
Even as occasional guest appearances with artists like Maria del Mar Bonet, Sole Giménez, or Rozalén enliven his tours, Serrat remains a central figure in Barcelona and beyond. Tonight’s mood is less about mourning and more about celebration—joy and gratitude for a path well walked, with a quiet resolve to keep the music alive in memory and in future performances. The show goes on, not as a funeral, but as a vibrant chapter in a remarkable journey.