Yet despite the many ups and downs, the good fortune and challenges, the truth is I have followed only one path: music.
And while I am fluent in Spanish and English, I express myself best when strumming a 6- or 12-string acoustic or electric guitar, or the cuatro (Venezuelan and Puerto Rican), tres (Cuban), charango (Bolivian), mandolin, cavaquinho (Brazilian) or tiple (Colombian). Or the Ukelele from the beautiful Hawaiian Isles.
Or the bouzouki (Greek). Most recently I’ve learned to play the zhong ruan, liu qin, pi pa and yue qin, which I brought back from China. You see, I belong to a UNITED NATIONS of musical instruments.
Oh, I sing, too. Mostly for my supper.
Born in Venezuela, as a young man I learned to play the four-stringed cuatro. What a blessing. It sparked my passion for live music. In 1971, barely twenty years old, I flew to London to be with my sister and study. I departed from the tropical shores of the Caribbean Sea and arrived in the dank, cold of winter—without a coat or sweater.
I laugh now. I was not laughing then.
It was not easy trying to become a resident of England. And it was difficult reaching out to my family in Venezuela for help. Back then there were no cell phones or the Internet. And the public phones were not rigged to make international calls. I would have to make an appointment at the local post office so that I could have a three-minute conversation with my father.
I was only supposed to be in England a year, but I stayed longer after finding a job in a Spanish restaurant. To survive, you do what you have to do.
I had one friend. He was a musician from Venezuela. He loved Cuban music. Eventually he led me to a group of musicians who let me sit in and jam with them.
This was the beginning of a career in music that led to recording sessions for the BBC Radio, Capitol Radio and World Service. And I played in lots of concerts, special performances and music festivals across Europe and the United Kingdom. Imagine, I even played in The Royal Albert Hall and The National Theatre. That led to many performances at The Barbican Centre, The British Museum, Bolivar Hall and the Victoria & Albert Museum for a Cuba Lives! concert. In 2001 I was invited to play at the Beijing Music Festival.
Some days I had nothing. Some days I believed I had everything a man who loved stringed instruments could ever want.
Music gave me a beautiful daughter. And yet, ironically, my love for her and responsibility demanded that I give up music for a steady job at a printing company. During a five-year stretch, music was only a weekend diversion and lifeline.
But as I have said, music was really the only path that I’ve followed. And silence is an important element of music. Holding back, allowing other voices to sing and shout, waiting for something fresh and rhythmic to evolve. After a time, I kept my day job while I played music six nights a week. But that was too much for me, so I left the printing company and tried to make the music work. It didn’t. Nothing clicked. I was homeless for a year, sleeping in the homes of friends.
My musical path was not the Yellow Brick Road, but things turned around. I began to play at Trader Vic’s at The Hilton Park Lane in London, where I jammed with many of the greats. I enjoyed a prestigious 10-year residency there.
Then a woman came into my life. Regina Rubino. And what a journey we began together.
~ Roberto Blandin
