SEVILLE'S BIENAL DE FLAMENCO 2002. 'TERRITORIO CAMARÓN'

Ten years later

Silvia Calado Olivo. Seville, September 14th, 2002.
Photos: Javier Hurtado

Territorio Camarón. Duquende (cante), with guitarists Alfredo Lagos. Montse Cortés (cante), with guitarist Eduardo Corté, bass, José Juan, piano, Juan Cortés, Güito and Salva Cortés on the cajón. Remedios Amaya (cante), with guitarist Juan Diego, chorus, Peligro, percussion, Alejandro Amaya. Hotel Triana. Seville,
September 14th, 2002. 12 a.m.

"This is dedicated to the greatest person ever in cante flamenco". Thus Remedios Amaya offered her work to Camarón de la Isla, of whose territory she is as much a native as Duquende and Montse Cortés. And many others who weren't there but who passed the torch to defend the school which, by force of logic, of the sounds and the memory, is still alive ten years afterwards.

In light of the tribute, and taking advantage of the opportunity to play in her own backyard, Remedios Amaya closed by opening…and her bravery and knowledge were cheered from beginning to end. She began serenely, seated and wrapped in a large shawl. But since she's from Triana - "how could you be from anywhere else girl?" - she was drawn to the fiesta, passing through Extremadura, saving some shots for the end. On the road to the Zafra fair. Without the least intention to defend 'Sonsonete' (EMI 2002), the singer took her shoes off, stood up, stepped away from the mike and got into tangos. Juan Diego in the backup, adorning the minimum. And the wise beautiful woman from Triana, finished off the verses bravely. Until she called on her 'cousin' Duquende and Montse Cortés for the bulerías fiesta in purest Camarón style.

They both came from Catalonia to defend, not only the school, but the universality of the territory. Duquende got warmed up with mining cante - "you couldn't be more Levante" - bringing the unavoidable memory of his sound. With Alfredo Lagos on the guitar with his picados, contrapicados and cuts, Juan Cortés went into bulerías….and brought memories of that boy of only nine who was put up on stage to accompany on the guitar. From within and for within. And, paraphrasing Chocolate, he ended with 'fangangazos'. The clean ascent, the broken tremolo, the slow-burning fire…."qué llores por mi querer" ['crying for my love'].

Neighbor Montse Cortés, enveloped in taffeta, brought her company…not appreciated by everyone. Laúd, piano, cajón, bass and a table for beating out soleá, all the while teaching everyone what the vocal chords are for. She sang smoothly, cautiously, pungently, intelligently…letting herself be carried by the group to finish off. Remembering Manolo Caracol's zambra 'Salvaora' on the way, she bristled with silences and breaks, going on with tangos, a nod to Lole Montoya, she was in her territory after all. And between one thing and another of course - also in the ending bulerías - making that virtuoso and peculiar Camarón territory where she has a visa, her own.

And speaking of territories… The Camarón flame continues to burn brightly - and nothing could be further from the tribute commemorative recordings which border on criminal - as demonstrated in Seville, and in the Bienal, for some time now. The Lope de Vega theater had squeezed nearly fifty musicians on stage to carry out 'Ritmo Jondo, de la raíz al siglo XXI', a concert in which Camarón overshadowed a poet: Lorca, a painter: Goya, a composer: Surinach, and subjected the orchestra - despite admirable efforts to the contrary - in his classical facet as well as his flirtation with the big band format, and the flamenco group supported in the singing duet of Rafael de Utrera and Mercedes Cortés with the guitar of Juan Carlos Romero. Redoing 'Nana del caballo grande', 'La Tarara' and 'La Leyenda del Tiempo' covering one's ears is an impossible task.

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