BladeWorkWeather

there for myself

This story, it's something else, heavy and real painful. It's about Tío Juan, "Juan Sabas Torres Monterola" you can find his Facebook, it's still up, even though he's gone. This narrative, it's deep, straight from the gut, about the realest man I knew.

It starts mad sad. You picture sad strings, a soft piano like a ghost, crickets and sirens in the distance, like in Caricuao. My voice is almost a whisper, telling him, "From the soul, from the pain that won't shut up." Then, out of nowhere, screams, "Tío Juan!" It's intense.

Then you get a picture of Juan Sabás, from Barlovento, from Sarría. King of stories, with his pipe and mad style. More women than a castle, body of Adonis, angel smile, mad sex appeal, no fear, no limits. A 300% man, no filter. A father to many, a friend to have fun with.

He was Julia Monterola's oldest, my mother's brother. Always giving wisdom with flavor and love. Brother to Mayíta and all his sisters, always laughing at every BBQ. He had the biggest car, the funniest jokes, the soul of the party, a divine godfather. But life, it doesn't play favorites. It killed two of his sons, Máikel and Harold. What a grievance. He was hurting.

Then it's just silence, distant gunshots, an echo. My voice cracks, asking, "Who gives a father his kids back? Who takes away the pain of seeing your sons die?" And then his brother, Tío Humberto, cries out "Níche!" that's what they called him "and now what?" It's heavy.

That's where the rage kicks in. You feel the aggression in my voice. It was his own daughter, with her dirty boyfriend, for a few measly dollars. They choked him out in his sleep, no chance to scream. The most handsome Black man, gone, couldn't even get up. You hear the choking sounds, the muffled screams, then silence, his heartbeat fading. I'm asking, "Who has the balls to talk about this shit? Where's the justice for this sinister tragedy?" I'm Javier, saying it because nobody else dares. They're scared, but my soul isn't backing down.

This part, it's my weak spot. Sad piano, rain falling. I'm telling you, "Forgive me, Tío Juan, I didn't call you that time." I thought there was time. His last call, his voice tired, and me, like an idiot, thinking about my workday. The pain doesn't fit in my chest. I failed him, my godfather. The family knows there's nothing to be done, revenge doesn't bring back yesterday.

Then the mood gets dark, grave, street echoes, and you hear Afro-Venezuelan drums. My voice is firm, nostalgic, reflective. He was the most handsome Black man in Sarría, dancing salsa with joy. Had kids everywhere, gave love without conditions. But they snuffed him out like a candle, like a betrayal hidden behind a smile. Yeniré, enough, tell the truth, no fear. The family knows, the soul's on fire. No justice for such a big soul, no forgiveness for killing the one who uplifted you most. But we're here, telling his story, so the world knows he lived with glory.

It ends with drums, distant laughs, and the sound of a pipe being lit. My voice is soft again, "Rest in peace, Tío Juan... Your story isn't erased... Your soul lives on in the rumba..." And then that last scream, "Juan Sabáás!", fading in pain. It's truly heavy.

Juan Sabás

Black Juan

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Naarm Based Singer-Songwriter / Producer 

2025. 
this was no accident. there was no freudian slip. 
jk. 

though,
as the shadows surfaced, i placed them on some beats, or strums, freeing them of this world, of this mind. Illuminating the parts of myself that i never fully understood or acknowledged properly. 

:( although, unfortunately and justifiably i have lost alot of close people, relationships, time and opportunities on my personal quest for belonging & self-assurance during this sporadic time period due to this, AND i nevertheless, have lifetimes of intense internal work to do, if i choose to do it, 
this year, i emerge with a creative output and capability previously unknown, unmet, and unmeasured by myself, for myself… 
regardless of technical/sonic/storytelling quality/distrobution. 
these segments are to be tackled in potential future chapters. )-:

im unwilling to say its been my best year or best work given the circumstances and current final products (i mean i cannot tolerate the mixing of most of the vocals!!!) however within my journey it’s painfully marked yet another pivotal point. 

anyways,
as of present - all tunes (2017-2025) are up on soundcloud, not for profit. 
this is subject to change, as i sit-with, analyze, edit/mix, lease/buy and/or re-mix things… if possible, or not
(certain tunes i dont have the session files to, 
most are too emotionally draining, 
others are musically irreplicable, 
and some idgaf about).

however if/when i do finish/release these, they’ll become available on other Music Platforms. 

If you have a favorite, don’t be shy, lmk and maybe it’ll take priority. 

If you would like to work with me… know someone who knows me and have them vouch for you. 

Otherwise, try the email/links listed below.

yehhee ♥️🤌🏾

relevant mentions;
@ciqalajohnson 
@universaldreamland 
@pablopaceband
@ivamahoni
@imarabuchanan
@samkerr
@kalewilson
@youngcobba
@grinnathepoet
@kreestabapebeats
@adamreaperbreats
@jaygbeats
@strewbeats
@qciqabeats
@whoonthetrack
@fredirie / @prodkavin

there for myself

CIQALA

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