Walking out from the train station, under the bridge, there was plastered a poster. There is nothing new here. They always place posters here - everything from men's health campaigns to the latest movies to up and coming concerts.
I remember this day. It was early in the Summer 2014. The sky was just thinking about darkening. It was a warm night.
And there it was.
Sixto Diaz Rodriguez. Playing at the Palais here in Melbourne.
The first show sold out quickly. I'm sure it did. Every South African and their dog living in Melbourne would have got a ticket.
A second show was added.
Did I get a ticket? No. Should have got a ticket. Wanted to see if him in Sydney wanted to come down for it. He was partly responsible for finding this angelic poet of a man and his music.
But no, missed out on hearing this phenomenal voice.
He was supposed to be touring in around 2018, but his health was declining.
And he died this week, aged 81.
A humble man, a kind of Latino Bob Dylan or Leonard Cohen, he was wise and humble.
And an incredible talent. Now gone. I managed to hear a snippet on the morning news. He didn't rate a mention in The Age.
If you haven't watched the documentary Searching for Sugarman, seek it out. It's on Prime, Stan and can be found in full on YouTube.
The world has lost somebody very special. There may be a national day of mourning in South Africa. I wouldn't be surprised.
Vale.
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