The transcendent moment happened halfway through the show, after he again proclaimed himself ‘a nomad, a madman, a night owl, and a dreamer… a vagabond.’

The shrill cries died down, and then came a pause that greatly differed from the others that had been caused by pesky technical faults all through the night.

He had skillfully dodged the other silences with funny or daring remarks. But this silence was different: words had abandoned him.

He looked at the audience and then at his musicians, and the only sign he could give of what he was feeling was to bring his hands to his eyes to hold back the tears.

Perhaps at that moment his heart finally felt victorious. That may have been what he needed to feel he had actually come back to life after one of his darkest moments.

He had already held an ‘encounter’ in 2012, but it had seemed more of an eulogy than a celebration. And then he had friends open their arms to help him walk. But something was still missing. The dragon still had to rise in all his majesty, extending his black, scaly wings, spitting out fire and brimstone, to prove that the most brilliant creations can be borne from the most brutal destruction.

The ‘pretty’ songs that are usually played at weddings were left behind. Tonight, he was meant to return to the brink of that captivating abyss, swaying in defiance between life and death. To meet again with the ‘white woman’, look at her, sing praises to her beauty, and to hear that she will yet again postpone his departure because it is not yet his time.

He arrived at this meeting strictly in black, like the cowboy in The Dark Tower, wearing a leather jacket to symbolize the 21 years that have passed since he unleashed his subterranean laments, deliriums, vertigo, and the fiery poetry of his witchcraft. Twenty-one years since he got drunk in misery to forget Penelope, who still drags him through the ruins of his life.

The previous night was meant for romance, the earth, family, the joy of living. Saturday night was meant for outbreaks of derangement and pugilistic spasms, like a salsa-loving Iggy Pop.

On Saturday night, the poet warrior built again a seductively unaccessible mental asylum, a home to his musical creatures that cannot live in the light… the renegades… the accursed.

Draco Rosa, the most audacious rock composer that Puerto Rico has borne, finally returned.

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Setlist:

Mama

Pasión/Lifeless Clown

Lie Without a Lover

Es la guerra

Te Fumare

María María

Que se joda el dolor

No me preguntes

Hablando del amor

Madre Tierra

Llanto subterráneo

Vagabundo

Penelope

Delirios

Para no olvidar

Blanca Mujer

Vertigo

Vivir

Brujería

La Flor del Frío

Amantes hasta el fin

Mientras Camino

Tu Cuerpo

Mad Love

Robi Draco Rosa’s band for the ‘Lo Maldito’ concert, in celebration of the 21 years of ‘Vagabundo’:

Toss Panos and Andrea Alvarez – Drums

Rene Camacho and Lonnie Hillier – Bass

Josh Sonntag and Robb Torres – Electric guitar

Habish Rosario – Acoustic guitar

Alexandra Rivera Santiago – Mellotron / Chamberlains

Egui Santiago – Keyboards / Programming

Cheito Quiñones and Javier Hiram – Backing vocalists

Jan Duclerc – Trumpet

Víctor Vázquez – Trombone