Liam Gallagher, KO for tenderness in Cala Mijas

• Nick Cave Festival wants love in Cala Mijas

Going to a

concert in 2022 is like running into that school friend you've lost track of for the last 25 years.

It may or may not be cool to see him, but there is something indisputable: he is rare.

Liam Gallagher came out to the sand in

-wearing his typical capuchin anorak and looking like a grumpy old scally-, he started

with brio and the danger in the area became evident: tenderness or cruelty.

For the perhaps 30,000 people gathered, the option was clear, especially for the 'guiri' sector, perhaps 50% of the total, many of them wearing Oasis retro-t-shirts.

Although Gallagher is a chump proud of being one, his voice does not stop crowning a couple of essential pop albums from almost 30 years ago, with his soul brother

providing the meninges.

For an impartial observer, things could be less funny.

Touched by the wand of an excellent Lennonian voice, Gallagher has never been the smartest in the class, although he has been the smartest.

The maracas with which he left in his hand were another so-so omen: the last idol who carried them in his hand, his adored

of the Stone Roses, ended up worse off than themselves.

Manchester City had just drawn 1-1 with Aston Villa, and Haaland had had his tenth goal in ten rounds disallowed (that is: all wrong), but when the Gallagher boy released

, the sky signs began.

And it was seen that everything was going to be the same.

It wouldn't matter if some hit had been toned down (a little sadly on

, for example) so that that throat, already well macerated in 'lagers', could tread on the chorus -apart from the chorus of backing vocals behind it-.

It wouldn't matter if his solo songs, C-sides of

at best, generated less excitement than a public reading of the phone book.

It wouldn't matter if old Liam let the populace sing the

of '

, did the whole show hidden in his Canadian lumberjack hood, continued with that suburban pimp thing that in maturity gives a little thing.

That the whole show reeked of 90s old-cock rock, which in reality we already saw in the 90s as boring and conservative -because of a debtor to Slade-type veneer rock-.

Liam was going to sing (worthily)

and the rest didn't matter.

Liam was going to sing

, pretty badly, but he was going to do it.

Liam was going to do a

that sounded like he had eaten three packs of Ducats for dinner.

Yeah, but when a melody gets into the dough's little heart, he goes to tear it out, try it.

So you had to surrender.

To the communion with the fans, to the dignity of continuing in the gap when the voice has lost its magical shine, to the refusal to beat something much older and AOR (in case

was not , with which closed this Saturday in Cala Mijas).

To the past times that were always better, as these will be the day after tomorrow.

You had to surrender to tenderness.

Nathy Peluso

, for her part, appeared as a boxer, with a white bodysuit, black tights and muscular muscles, but in reality her thing is cooking: the Argentine woman, who put the festival into orbit hours before, had a minipimer under her arm, at sunset, with its powerful gazpacho, at times 'hardcore', salsa, hip hop, bachata, dance and in general a Latin as wild as herself.

Nathy Peluso during her performance.ÓSCAR L. TEJADA

Joyfully crazy, Peluso just as well moved her ass like a polygon 'hiphopera' queen who sounded at times like the most canonical

, always very sharp and supported by a production and a directly Anglo-cut band.

With a loud voice as a flag, the 27-year-old Argentine woman with the neighborhood painted on her face covered a thousand and one styles and the same thing happened with her "I was an atheist" with

, which marked a crazy and soulful version of the immortal 'To live like this is to die of love' by the no less eternal

.

Shortly after, to provide the counterpoint, a languid

had fed his modern soul and his long laments bathed in electronics to the British public, essential in the event (10% of the surrounding population is 'tourist'), showing another of the faces of Cala Mijas, an initiative that has resulted in its first edition with a notable high in infrastructure and comfort, a certain stylistic dispersion in the poster, a little too tutifruti, and with good figures in this first attempt: 107,000 people in these three days, depending on the organization.

A festival, like any company, is a living organism.

And, like anyone at birth, it leaves clues of what is to come.

Cala Mijas, which arises from a contest opened by the town council to promote its brand internationally and attract people and investment, is currently targeting a relatively adult audience -those who initially have some money in their pockets-, and have another four years to develop a personality still to be done, with the organizational guarantee of the Basque promoter

, responsible for the well-established

in Bilbao.

At the moment, with success in its first edition: good sound, zero organizational problems (and zero queues), exquisite punctuality on stage and only a wind that sometimes raised annoying dust that ended up getting

, who commented to his parishioners from the stage: "What a wind it is."

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