#4 A Wedding, Seven Pianos and One Chilean

Here's to magical musical moments that last but a second. Listening to: The genius that was Sebastián Santa María & of course, Paul Buchanan

Jun 07, 2025

I was a witness at my friends’ wedding today. The affair was simple.

Four people: the bride, groom and us, their two witnesses.

I already wrote a little about mature love versus the dopamine hit and love as service, so I’ll spare the readers (whenever I ask myself if anyone actually reads this Substack, I smile; I must have one, if any, readers) -I will however say this, the ceremony was beautiful. My female friend’s family wasn’t in attendance as they live in Chile and this ceremony was more of an “errand” thing. My friends had wed in Chile last year, but the need to marry in Argentina became pressing (health insurance reasons). Also, it is so much less expensive and less of a hassle to wed over here than actually validate a Chilean marriage on Argentinian soil.

The judge was a wonderful woman, kind and gracious.

Before my friends stepped into the courtroom, she had married two tourists.

Because you don’t even have to be an Argentinian resident to wed over here. Amazing.

Marriage is a right given to every person on Argentinian soil. All you need, if you’re a tourist, is to go to a notary and validate your identity.

I actually googled it.

And yes, tourists of the world, the Government of Buenos Aires will grant you your marriage desires.

So, and despite the wedding being a type of “we need to get this done” situation, it was incredibly special. I don’t think any one of us could have anticipated the goings-on and the beauty of the event. It caught us all by surprise.

From the lady at the counter, who in true Argentinian style, looked like something out of an Argentinian television show… a Susana Jiménez look-alike, the actress, with her beach blond hair, long fingernails, leopard top and eyeliner… and who thought my female friend and I were the ones getting married. “Civil union?” she asked - and then laughed when she realized her mistake.

“Oh my gosh you look like a diva!” I exclaimed. To which she replied, “And I’ve just made a new friend!”

From this excellent lady to the brilliant judge, who asked the bride and groom to tell her about their love story and then asked us, the witnesses, to say something to the bride and groom. What an emotionally intelligent, kind woman.

I love Argentinians.

The youth of my friends is something I love.

I am fortunate to learn about Anime (my only incursion into Anime being Akira, Ghost in the Shell and Lady Oscar… unless you count Robotech which was a life-changing event for me as a child) -gaming and other pursuits that young millennials thrive on.

I believe one should have friends of all ages.

In Argentina this is part of the culture. You’ll see twenty year-olds at the same venue with fifty year-olds, sixty year-olds, folks in their seventies and eighties. Same table, same laughter. In Chile however, folks don’t usually wander outside their age range.

In my life, I’ve been very fortunate to have friends of all age ranges and backgrounds. My youngest friend is 25. My eldest friend is 80 (and she looks gorgeous).

And I’m turning 49 tomorrow.

There is such joy in exchanging life experiences. The way my younger friends see the world fills me with curiosity. And the older ones have stories about different times, and different sensibilities.

But, in the grand scheme of things, I’m just grateful folks want to spend time with me and let me into their lives. It’s so profoundly honoring to have friends and to be loved and liked. It is one of the blessings of being alive that we don’t usually acknowledge or express gratitude for. Our friends.

The fact that we’re loved.

A roof over our head, people that love us, work that gives us dignity (and hopefully, a semblance of joy) and health - this is the stuff of millionaires.

I’m blessed that in the almost four years I have been in Buenos Aires, I’ve made many friends and several close friends. Friends for life.

Because as I’ve said before: The good Lord can surprise you at any age. And love, friendship, inspiration, music, art and experiences will be provided to walk along the path He’s set out for us.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

Basic theology, folks.

All good things come from above.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

Currently Listening to:

Alright, so besides being on a Paul Buchanan - Mid Air and The Blue Nile musical frenzy (the best kind); I’ve been listening to Sebastián Santa María.

Sebastián was a Chilean piano virtuoso who moved to Switzerland to pursue his dreams of music. He created the Piano 7 concerts (seven Steinways having a musical chat) alongside the Swiss composer, percussionist and jazz pianist, François Lindemann. They toured Europe to great reviews.

Sebastián was also a pop/rock artist. He composed a superb track called Keep on Singing which hit European charts in 1987. It was the first of only two singles he released. And here goes the live version, the only one that exists, when Chile used to host Miss Chile pageants. Musicians, that were the flavor of the day, were summoned to perform (it used to be a great honor back in the day).

Thank goodness Sebastián said yes. It might be playback - not quite sure- but we get a hint of his life force. And we can smile as we watch.

When Sebastían sings “the front of your Embassy” (1:26), notice the rolling “R”…

My heart skips a beat of musical happiness every time I hear it.

Gosh, I love that track.

And I wonder why some bits and pieces of a tune: a movement, a bridge, a riff, a piano chord resounding in our ear, a vocal exclamation, an ooohhh, an ahhhh -will produce such unadulterated contentment.

(The same thing joy happens to me when Paul Buchanan sings “Come on, girl” on Tomorrow Morning -Peace at Last, 1996- and then exclaims “Hep!”, and finally, he claps.

A moment of musical pleasure of the purest and most excellent kind. It makes me grin and elevates my mood. And the pavement feels a bit like fluff and clouds.

Happiness that just comes naturally, one cannot explain it, but I know it happens to all of us.

“I love this part!” you will hear someone say.

This is precisely what I’m talking about.

Folks, where would we be without music?

The reviews for Sebastián, with Keep on Singing, were also positive and he received the moniker of “The Walkman Mozart”.

The only LP released while he was still among us, Latino (1994), is an introspective look at being Latin, a dive into his heart, this well-crafted mix of different genres. Adventurous in its melodies, elegant in its execution, Sebastián takes us from pop to Tango, to Latin rhythms.

But the album that captures my heart is the posthumous release of Corpus (there goes my favorite track). An creation where you can feel the influence of his song heroes: The Beatles. It was recorded before Latino (Latino being his Opera Magna, where he unleashed the musical landscapes he carried within).

While not as daring as Latino, leaning more towards Anglo pop, Corpus has so so many moments of brilliance (true brilliance) and one can only wonder where his talent would have led him and what we, as listeners, would have been gifted with.

Susan and Pearl is bittersweet musicalized poetry to the beat of Rhythm and Blues, a ballad that will linger. And like it, there are many more nuggets of gold on this album.

Mister Altman sounds like a Requiem with an industrial background. Truly something to be inspired by, musically.

And I could go on, but you go. Go forth and have a listen.

Sebastián was diagnosed with a rare hereditary disease called adrenoleukodystrophy in 1993, a progressive paralysis of the nervous system. He died in 1996, in the arms of his partner, Manuela, in Luasanne.

He was only 37 years old.

Manuela never stopped supporting Sebastián. She’s behind his website, behind the release of Corpus, and to this day, she is the motor of all things Sebastián.

Vision, my favorite superhero, asks this: “What is Grief, if not Love persevering?”

I think of Manuela. Of holding your loved one as they pass. Of the void left behind, a space once occupied by this person: presence, touch, smell, love.

Of the refashioning of the self in the face of this kind of absence.

I know a bit about that. Which is why I think of her.