If I had the chance to be supporting band for La Oreja de Van Gogh, I wouldn’t accept. Because it doesn’t matter how well you do it: they would exceed you. They’ve been on stages for eleven years, and you can see it. Tecnically the display is perfect; the themes loose the studio postproduction, but decibels are multiplied. The band is comfortable, they have everything under control, they’re an old hand and have the audience on their hands. La Oreja de Van Gogh doesn’t leave no one indifferent: you either hate or love it. The bad thing about this is that, unlike Amaral, their songs can’t be universal: fans know all of them, a few are easily recognizable, but none of them is a hymn. The good part is that, in front of the stage, everyone is on band’s side. It’s easier this way.
Since some time ago, talking about LODVG necessarily implies answering the great question of our time: Amaia or Leire? Amaia’s voice might be a little more characteristic, different and recognizable. But Leire has nothing to envy about physical presence and strength under the limelights. And she has no complex: Muñeca de trapo, París or Cuídate sound different, but as well as before, on her hands. They don’t deny their past and the proof comes at the end: the last song, La playa, the one which closed every concert they gave with Amaia, also closed this concert with Leire.
The answer is obvious: Amaia was not La Oreja de Van Gogh, neither is Leire. La Oreja de Van Gogh are the four musketeers flanking them: guitarrist Pablo Benegas, keyboardist Xavi San Martín, Álvaro Fuentes playing the bass and drummer Haritz Garde. They were the founders, songs come from their heads, they’re the band souls and, as long as they are together, there’ll be Oreja de Van Gogh for a while.