Anyone who devotes themselves to observing the folds of reality knows that even the most dazzling phenomenon is, at its core, flesh and blood. And this weekend, the south of Gran Canaria, with its relentless sun and luxurious hotels, was the setting for the arrival of one such phenomenon: Will Smith. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, the man in black who saved the planet, the rapper with a way with words and cadence. But here, in San Agustín, at the old Tamarindos Hotel, now Paradisus by Meliá Gran Canaria, he has revealed himself for what he is: a man subjected to the grueling ritual of touring, a show-business pilgrim seeking refuge between jet lag and the promise of a stage.
He stepped off the plane and, with the sincerity of someone who has already dealt with a thousand airports and thousands of fans, posted on social media: "It's windy, but we made it." That seemingly trivial phrase encapsulates the artist's epic journey on tour: the struggle against the elements, fatigue, and a decalibrated biological clock. He's coming from "Morocco, a total madness," and now he's heading to Gran Canaria, the third stop on this particular procession. His new album, "Based on a True Story," is the excuse, but people, and he knows it, expect the classics, the ones that anchor him in the collective memory.
The Granca Live Fest 2025, which will be held at the Gran Canaria Stadium from July 3 to 6, is the altar where Will Smith will offer his sacrifice, his voice, his energy. You don't have to be a genius to notice the fatigue he's suffering from. "I'm recovering... my voice," he confesses in a video, with the frankness of someone who no longer has anything to prove except his professionalism. But the smile, the joke, the "I'm excited, show number three is about to begin," are the necessary makeup for the performance.
On Thursday night, at 22:15 p.m., the former "Prince" was one of the main attractions. He'll share the bill with other names resonating in the caverns of fame, such as Jason Derulo and Dei V, and, of course, with the local accent of Efecto Pasillo. The Festival is no minor event. It has become a classic tax-saving product of international renown, a meeting point for tens of thousands of urban music fans who gather in Siete Palmas. The list of stars is long: Enrique Iglesias, Ozuna, Feid, Nathy Peluso. A constellation that makes Gran Canaria the focal point of the music scene.
But let's return to Smith, who's staying in San Agustín. It's curious how these global figures, accustomed to the grandest stages, seek out that oasis of apparent normality in the south of Gran Canaria. A hotel in San Agustín, in the discretion that precedes the roar of a massive concert. It's the dichotomy of the modern artist: total exposure on stage and the fleeting and necessary retreat to a place that offers the stillness to recharge their batteries. In the end, they're not just stars, but men of flesh and blood who, like anyone else, need a corner where the wind is a breeze and not a storm.
