It could have been any city, yet the arrangements aligned so that the concert opened this Wednesday beside the Mediterranean, a sea he cherishes deeply. The sea’s ports and its people once celebrated him as a master storyteller, and this stop renewed that bond with a crowd that gathered to honor his art near the shore.
Though his voice carries the weight of memory, his presence remains very much alive. The lines on his forehead tell stories of years on stage, and his stance shows a performer who has aged with grace. In a simple, intimate setting that stretched beyond two hours and offered around two dozen songs, the artist drew on memories that once felt frozen in time, letting them breathe again on a stage that welcomed both old friends and new listeners. The idea of a return to what might have been is replaced by a celebration of what is still possible, and the mood feels like a quiet triumph.
“I came here to say goodbye in person,” he remarked, adding that if results were ever elusive, the truth would still be plain: he had witnessed the moment, and others could only imagine the effort behind it. The statement landed with a blend of sarcasm and warmth as about 6,000 attendees filled Murcia’s bullfighting arena for this opening leg of a Spanish farewell tour.
Health rumors had circulated when the news first broke, and his withdrawal from scripts surprised many about six months earlier. In 2020, a close friend’s serious fall during a performance and the ensuing pandemic had kept him apart from his audience far longer than anyone wished.
Initially, he contemplated an artistic ending determined by his own terms, not external pressures, which led to a tour that began in April with a mission to visit audiences far and wide in the Americas. The journey would span more than 50 dates across Spain, many selling out, before anchoring in his beloved Barcelona in December for a final bow.
One guiding message emerged for the evening: nostalgia has no jurisdiction here, because everything moves forward. He ventured into song in Catalan with Ara que tinc vint anys from 1967, returned to La Paloma from 1969, and offered new readings of Miguel Hernández and Antonio Machado, mapping a timeless arc that traced his Catalan roots. The set also included early-80s recordings, showing the thread from past to present that weaves through his career.
“Dale que dale que dale”—the moment when José Más took the stage at 10:10 p.m.—introduced a blend of Hernández’s poetry with the live energy of six musicians, among them Ricard Miralles on piano, his longtime collaborator and arranger. The artist glided onto the stage in a plain gray suit and began to shape voices and stories that stride across Spain, balancing fantasy and reality with pieces like My Childhood, El Carousel del Furo, Romance de Curro el Palmo, Señora, and the milestones Lucía and Todo lo que piensas de ti.
The stage design remained spare: a red curtain, a table, and a lone chair forming an intimate room where Serrat wandered, sharing memories and thoughts that grew clearer as the evening progressed. The first wave of applause rose quickly, and the audience leaned into Onion Lullabies by Miguel Hernández, moments barely whispered that grew into a deeply emotional connection, echoing calls for freedom that artists in other times have interpreted through bold works and banners of protest.
The repertoire carried a touch of imagination, with Canço de Bressol and Noi de Poble Sec recast as lullabies and lull of memory. The evening wandered through songs like Es capricious hand danger, Los memorias, and Aquellassmall Things, weaving a gentle current that made the crowd feel every note as a shared history. From there, the chorus swelled with Today may be a great day, Your name tastes like grass, and, of course, Mediterranean, which brought the sea into the room and reminded everyone of the artist’s cradle and the stories that still feel alive today.
Those early chords awakened a town born under a sky of blue, the imagery of which echoed in the songbook that travels from Algeciras to Istanbul while never letting go of the stark realities of hardship, barriers, and small boats. The audience responded with a clear, heartfelt gratitude for the moment, a spontaneous cheer of thanks that seemed to seal the night’s intention.
Composed decades ago, the song Pare carried a new weight by condemning environmental harm and political inaction, a message that resonated in a region facing environmental threats. He spoke of solidarity with conviction, noting a shared concern across land, sea, and air, and pledged absolute support for the region’s environmental struggles.
Finally, the performance reached a celebratory apex with Fiesta and a Penélope that still feels poised at a station in a Sunday dress. The show carried a hopeful undertone, as a mother and daughter stood with a banner that read simply: Thank you, Serrat. The moment underscored the connection between the artist and his audience—a conversation that continues to remind everyone why his songs endure and why his live shows remain powerful, intimate, and unforgettable. The night closed with a sense that the journey is far from over and that the sea, like his music, will keep carrying the stories forward for years to come. [citation: press note]