As I look back, I am so glad I stuck to my guns, because knowing how I am, forcing myself to read The Fountainhead would have surely ruined the book for me. The timing just wasn’t right, nor was the reason for reading it. But when I moved to New York City exactly one year ago, something compelled me to go to the bookstore and buy it, and after reading a mere few pages, I was completely spellbound. I limited myself to one chapter a night. I savored every morsel.

I realized I had never read a book that challenged my political beliefs, my morals, my ethics, my philosophies, my views on humans and humanity, so completely. I realized we normally read books we know we’ll enjoy, we know we’ll agree with, we know will inspire us. This was different. Before I read The Fountainhead, I was dismissive of any policy or any philosophy that didn’t have the well-being of the masses in mind, and although I remain a social liberal and a critic of free-market capitalism, Ayn Rand’s arguments were the first that allowed me to truly see the dark side of my belief system, as well as the bright side of hers. It was truly terrifying, to be honest, to see embodied in characters like Ellsworth Toohey, the inherent corruption and ulterior motives behind socialism and sacrifice, and to find myself cheering for the self-interested and steadfast Howard Roark, who never dreamed of sacrificing himself for others and knew achieving his own happiness was the highest of moral virtures.

It is an interesting and titillating book, indeed, and as we all know, extremely controversial. Ever since I finished The Fountainhead, I’ve wanted to engage in discussion with both critics and proponents of Ayn Rand’s philosophy of objectivism, as well as the broader issues of capitalism vs. socialism, and individualism vs. collectivism. I feel newcritics may be the appropriate avenue to do just that. If you feel so inclined to post your thoughts on the philosophy, the politics, or simply the book and characters themselves… Let the conversation begin.

Jorge Drexler successfully turned the usually impersonal, dim and cold Town Hall in midtown into a cheerful and cozy living room as he enchanted the audience with tracks from his most recent album, “12 segundos de oscuridad” (12 seconds of darkness). Opening up with the title song, Drexler’s sweetly sensual voice flowed over the intently-listening audience like a tide of warm seawater as he sang of the importance of the twelve seconds of darkness that ensue as a lighthouse lamp turns to alert ships of the approaching shore.

What followed was an intimate performance by a humble former doctor who clearly knows his audience and is comfortable baring his soul in his intensely personal lyrics, from religion, identity and love, to technology, politics and our increasingly globalized world.

Each song is a three-and-a-half moment of introspection and analysis, miraculously avoiding falling off the cliff of cliché. In the lovely “Soledad” (Loneliness, a duet on the album with Brazilian Maria Rita), Drexler croons: “Aqui estoy/te traigo mis cicatrices/palabras en papel pentagramado/no te fijes mucho en lo que dicen/me encontras/en cada cosa que he callado” (Here I am/I bring you my scars/words on staff paper/don’t pay much attention to what they say/you will find me/in each thing that I have kept to myself).

Perhaps Drexler’s most poignant and emotional lyrics, however, are a nod to Polish Holocaust survivor and author Wladyslaw Szpilman in the song “El pianista del gueto de Varsovia” from his album ”Sea”. Born to a German Jew father who migrated to Uruguay and an Uruguayan mother, in the song he contemplates the history of his people’s suffering, and recognizes that only generations, only mere dates, were the stroke of luck that kept him just far enough from a fate of persecution and pain. He comes to a realization: “Si fueras tu nieto y yo fuera mi abuelo/quizas, tu contarias mi historia/yo tengo tus mismas manos/yo tengo tu misma historia/yo pude haber sido el pianista del gueto de Varsovia” (If you were your gradson and I was mi grandfather/perhaps, you would tell my story/I have your same hands/I have your same story/I could have been the pianist of the Warsaw ghetto).

Drexler’s voice fell like raindrops on a still pond, and as he lightly and deliberately invoked the notes from his guitar strings, most of the time his voice and his guitar tone were inseparable and indiscernible. They blended together, they complimented one another, they became one delicate voice. During his performance, he incorporated silences, murmurs, soft percussion and barely-there bass in each tune, and often called upon the aid of electronics to loop echoes, chants, his voice, and even that of his nine-year-old son, Pablo.

His interaction with the audience was delightful: Drexler, 42, encouraged the quiet but receptive listeners to participate by snapping to the beat, a more pleasant sound than the harshness of clapping, and singing along to the choruses. At first the audience wasn’t confident of what role it should play, as they were literally hanging on every note that came from Drexler’s lips and guitar, but Drexler guided us as though he was teaching us how to kiss. Soon the audience was comfortable singing with him, and the result was an audience that actually contributed to the performer’s music in a complimentary and pleasing way. Fans young and old, Hispanic, Anglo and beyond, cheered adoringly after each song, and begged Drexler to play two encores, which he did obligingly.

Drexler played around eighteen songs, and the impression was that he could have played fifteen or twenty more and the audience would have listened with bated breath the entire time. Absent was the touchingly idealistic “Al otro lado del rio” from the Walter Salles film “The Motorcycle Diaries”, for which he won an Academy Award for Best Song in 2005, but it was understandable. Being the unique and profoundly talented composer that he is, it is clear that Jorge Drexler wants the world to know that his cup runneth over with music, and we can only hope he’ll continue to make it for the forseeable future and far beyond.

Cross-posted at una voce juveni. and NY Remezcla. Photograph by Jennifer Jo Janisch.