|
QUEEN
OF THE GYPSIES:
The life and legend of Carmen Amaya.
Excerpt
from the book "Carmen Amaya, Queen of the Gypsies". Author: Paco Sevilla.
3.
Manuel Torre.
On
July 22, 1933, just hours before Marchena was about to perform with his company
in Sevilla, Manuel Torre "El Niño de Jerez" died in the Red Cross
Hospital there. Pepe, who had attended to Manuel in his last days, would pay all
the funeral expenses and look after the family. If Antonio Chacón’s death
had ended an era, the passing of Manuel Torre put a final exclamation point to
that ending.
Chacón
and Torre shared a common beginning. Both were born in the gypsy barrio of San
Miguel in Jerez de la Frontera, within blocks of each other, although nine years
apart. Both had gone to Cádiz to learn from the cantaor of legend,
Enrique el Mellizo. After serving apprenticeships in Jerez, each had made a name
for himself in Sevilla. But that’s where the similarity ends. Manuel was an illiterate,
extravagant gypsy, an inconsistent cantaor who, when he was on, moved his
listeners with power, passion, subtlety of shading and unforgettable soulfulness
and echo. He was also an introverted man who buried his insecurity under endless
obsessions. Chacón, a payo, achieved status as an elegant and cultured
gentleman and could sing well under almost any circumstances, although, according
to many, not with the same passion as his gypsy counterpart.
Manuel
Soto Loreto was born in 1878 into a family of field workers. He acquired the nickname
"Torre" (Tower) from his father, Juan Torre, who stood over six
feet tall.
Manuel
was slightly shorter at five feet eleven, but in a time when the average height
of men was a little over five feet, he was a veritable giant. Surrounded by masters
of gypsy cante in his family and among his neighbors, and living in a barrio
of gypsy blacksmiths, Manuel could not help but absorb the important styles of
the cante jondo, the most profound gypsy songs, especially the siguiriyas
and the martinetes (songs of the blacksmiths). While serving in the military
in Cádiz he fell under the spell of Enrique el Mellizo. It is said that
he became so emotional on listening to the old man sing that he took a bite out
of a drinking glass, and another occasion tried to throw himself off a balcony.
It is also likely that he absorbed some of Enrique’s eccentricity and hypochondria.
El
Mellizo is credited with being the first to sing the normally festive tango
in a slower, more profound manner. Some believe he got the idea from Diego el
Marrurro, a professional cantaor who lived in a small room off the patio
of the Torre home in Jerez. Regarding these slow tangos, La Niña
de los Peines said that they had been sung for years in her family, and she recorded
them sometime between 1905 and 1910 with the guitar of Luis Molina. Entitled "Tangos
de la tontona", they were pure tientos as we know them today,
both in melody and the rhythm of the guitar, and included the well-known verse
that begins "Eres tontita e inocente..."When Antonio Chacón
began to sing the slow tangos, he improved them further, making them even
more profound, and after recording them as tangos in 1910 and 1913 he began
to call them tientos, possibly after a line of verse that went, "Me
tiraste unos tientos..." (You tempted me...). Another important branch
of flamenco had been created.
But
it was Manuel Torre who first brought this slow tango of El Mellizo and
El Marrurro to the public of Sevilla when he made his debut in Café Novedades
in 1901. There is no record of that performance, but the following year he appeared
in the Filarmónico-Oriente Concert Hall, where he was billed as "Manuel
Soto (el Niño de Torres) – Singer of Tangos." Sharing the program
with him was a classical Spanish dance group, a comic song and dance group from
Cádiz called "Las Ranas" (The Frogs), and a cuadro
flamenco that included the cream of flamenco artist of the late 1800s: Dancing
were Salud Rodríguez and her sister Lola, Juana la Sordita (the Deaf One),
Juana and Fernanda Antúnez, Pepa de Oro (the milonga singer), and
Josefa Molina. Interestingly, the singers were all women – unusual in that male
dominated world: La Sordita’s sister, La Serrana, one of the real giants of the
cante at that time, Rita Ortega, and María Avila. On guitar were
Salud’s brother, Joaquín Rodríguez, and Juan Habichuela.
Manuel
Torre must have made quite and impression with his height, his dark good looks,
and his very gypsy way of dressing in a dark suit of raw silk, a white shirt with
a white silk scarf tied about his neck, and a gold watch chain dangling from his
vest pocket. It is possible that he sang this early and well-known tango:
|
Amparo, por Dios, amparo!
Help me, for God’s sake, help me!
El enfermo busca el alivio;
The sick man seeks relief;
yo lo busco y no lo hallo.
I look for it, but don’t find it.
|
And
then there was the voice. Manuel’s singing has been described variously as bewitching,
black, hair-raising, spine-chilling, hypnotic... He lacked the gravelly vocal
quality known as afillá (after a gypsy named El Fillo) that is normally
desired in flamenco singing, and neither did he employ the typical nasal sound
or sing with a constricted throat. Yet he still managed to produce a very flamenco
sound, with just enough roughness to appeal to aficionados of the cante.
He was the first important cantaor to sing with an open throat and full
lungs, which gave him tremendous power. The strength and passion of hi singing
won over the gypsies, while, at the same time, his clear tones appealed to the
non-gypsy general public and contributed to hi rapid rise to celebrity. The singer
Pericón de Cádiz said that, "You got that sound of his in your
ear and it stayed with you for weeks!"
The
great singer of soleares from Alcalá de Guadaira, Joaquín
de la Paula, told Antonio Mairena about a fiesta in Sevilla around 1920, given
by Felipe Murube for some Galician friends. Although Murube considered Manuel
Torre a good friend and was crazy about his singing, he was fed up with singer’s
difficult nature and didn’t invite him. Among the guests was La Argentina’s lover,
Ignacio Sánchez Mejías, and the invited artists included Antonio
Chacón, La Niña de los Peines and her brother Arturo, Joaquín
de la Paula, Fosforito, Niño Medina, the dancers La Macarrona and La Malena,
and the guitarist Habichuela and Manolo de Huelva. In spite of these great artists,
by six o’clock in the morning the Galicians were bored and told Murube they wanted
to leave:
Murube
aid, "I have to call Majareta [The Crazy One, referring to Torre].
Manuel
Torre arrived at ten o’clock. Murube gave him a hug, and after chastising him
for his excesses, made him sit down and drink three or four large glasses of wine.
Then he went to him and said, "Sing for these gentlemen, who say they don’t
like flamenco and are going to leave."
Manuel
Torre directed himself to Habichuela, saying, "Play por siguiriyas!"
And
he began to sing. And he sang such that, after the second or third verse of siguiriyas,
one of the Galicians became so emotional that he kicked over a table. They picked
up the table and Manuel continued singing. Then It was Ignacio Sánchez
Mejías who knocked over the table and ripped his shirt to shreds. It appeared
that Manuel had electrified everybody there and most of them were crying in the
corners. After he had finished, nobody else wanted to sing. And that is when Joaquín
el de la Paula gave Manuel Torre the nickname "Acabareuniones [He
who puts an end to the fiesta]."
For
the most part, Manuel Torre did not invent cantes, but interpreted existing
cantes in such a way as to make them into something new an memorable. In
that way he established a number of cantes in flamenco repertoire, cantes
that might have disappeared without his contribution. For years he was much in
demand as a singer of farrucas and the peteneras of La Niña
de los Peines. He made the tarantas, the songs of the miners in Eastern
Andalucía, into something more gypsy and, in the process, led to the creation
of the modern tarantos that is such an important element in the dance of
today. It has been suggested that he learned the tarantos from Concha la
Cartagenera or from one of his early loves, Pepita la Murciana. His famous verse
certainly supports the idea that he learned from a woman:
|
Ay! Que dónde andará mi muchacho?
Ay! Where can my man be?
Ay! Hace tres días que yo no lo veo!
Ay! I haven’t seen him for three days!
Dime dónde andará mi muchacho
Tell me where he might be,
si estará bebiendo vino,
whether he is out drinking wine,
o andará por ahí borracho,p
or wandering around drunk,
o una mujerzuela me lo ha comprometío.
or some slut has made him betray me.
|
|