This Spanish singer/songwriter made his name in the 1970s belting out romantic declarations that mixed sincerity with elegance and a trace of world-weariness that belied his age. Through the years he has aged gracefully into the embodiment of his songs. The cleverness you hear in his lyrics is at the same level of, say
Rod Stewart, around the same time period, but this is miles above the normally cringe-worthy corporate zombie music that the Latin pop industry normally produces.
José Luis Perales' backing arrangements have, sadly, always been a little on the schlocky side, although again, his earlier material boasted some failed experiments (like strangely prominent and out of place Moog synthesizer lines) as well moments of plain good craftsmanship. The later albums are largely a descent into homogeneity, and this one is no exception. Still a couple of tracks stand out and allow
Perales to communicate