Carlos Herrero (2)

The soul of transhumant music is singing. The song that slept children in their cribs. The round song at the foot of the windows. The singing of tasks and works. The song to life and crops. That song that was a testimony of joys and fatigue, of what we were, of who we are. Rabeles, pitchers, flutes and tambourines, echoes of a world that disappears. Archaic, pagan and wild transhumant rhythms. A tribute to the natives of Iberia and a song to the diversity of our roots.