MIGUEL POVEDA. ‘RAFAEL ALBERTI. POEMS FROM EXILE’.
SEVILLE'S 13th BIENAL DE FLAMENCO 2004

The winged cantaor

Silvia Calado. Seville, September 12th, 2004
Photos: Daniel Muñoz

‘Rafael Alberti. Poemas del exilio (Poems from Exile)’. Miguel Poveda: cante. Directing and music: Enric Palomar. Big Ensemble Taller de Musics / ‘Recital’. Miguel Poveda: cante. Chicuelo: guitar. Luis Cantarote, Macano, Londro: clapping. Nacho López: box drum. Maestranza Theater. Seville, September 12th, 2004.
9 p.m. Seville's 13th Bienal de Flamenco 2004.

Miguel Poveda

Until last night, Miguel Poveda was one of those unquestionable values systematically left out by the Bienal of Seville. The Catalan cantaor makes his entrance in grand fashion at the festival of festivals, bringing the Maestranza Theater to its feet. He will come to this venue two more times in the upcoming weeks, as the guest of Eva Yerbabuena and Israel Galván, respectively. Miguel Poveda divided his performance into two acts. First, a traditional cante flamenco recital. Second, a suite for orchestra and flamenco voice by Enric Palomar entitled ‘Rafael Alberti. Poemas del exilio’, like the album he has released recently.

As a warm-up, Miguel Poveda offered the usual repertoire of his participation at festivals. He began with cantiñas, winking at the bullring: “Maestranza of Seville, the light yellow one, which smells like manzanilla and a bullfighter's cape”. Classic lyrics, popular cantes and a wink at the Alberti of ‘Marinero en tierra’ in these Cádiz sounds. With his mouth nearly closed, a fine stroke of voice sketches the phases of the malagueña. He was making the cante linger; he was savoring it before letting it go. Olés and compliments for him, before he finished off with Lucena fandangos. He remained alone with Chicuelo, but was first alone all by himself fighting the martinete, letting his throat all hang out. He stuck in ‘Canto de la resignación’ by Carmen Linares (included in ‘Un ramito de locura’) sweetly, brilliantly, effectively. His squire's guitar was ready for the seguiriya, which he flew over by using the harmony. Again he used the trio clapping and the box drum to finish off the job. And he did so through bulerías, but those of verse, those of song... as if he were foretelling the future.

Hardly catching his breath, Miguel Poveda reappeared on stage. He would now remain standing close to the director and author of this suite inspired by the verses which Rafael Alberti wrote while exiled in Argentina following the Spanish Civil War. ‘Dejadme llorar’ (‘Let Me Cry’), ‘Se ha roto el río’ (‘The River Has Broken’), ‘A la soledad me vine’ (‘I Came to Solitude’)... are some of the selected poems. Nostalgia, pain, prison, death and also hope lay down the norm of this music which is neither flamenco nor tries to be. The only flamenco thing in this show is in Miguel Poveda himself; in the way he places his voice, in his groan, in his feeling. And perhaps in some rhythms; those of soleá through bulerías, martinete or tanguillos, upon which this elegant composition delicately sails. It therefore turns out to be one more style to cross with those of native Argentinean music, classical music and contemporary music.

	Miguel Poveda y Chicuelo

The conjunction appearing in this show, with utmost attention to detail, enables the cantaor to display registers which flamenco schemes don't allow to be heard. Even so, there is no room for the ostentation of either the cantaor, or of any of the orchestra members (among whom was someone well-known from flamenco; contrabass player Pablo Martín, part of the Gerardo Núñez Trio). The merit, in the vocalist's case, is more in the contention, in the wisdom of the performance and in the feeling, an aspect reaching its extreme in ‘Nana de la cigüeña’ (‘Stork Lullaby’) which, as an encore, was offered by Miguel Poveda and Enric Palomar seated at the piano. While the cantaor was wiping the tears off his face, the crowd was rising to give him an ovation, wiped out by the hypersensitivity of the music that had just been offered to them. It is true that the venue was barely at half capacity, for the same reason as Tomatito; because this week's performances at the Maestranza Theater are a last-minute patch on the general program. Apparently, the show which was being offered at the same time at the Lope de Vega Theater by Chocolate and Bernarda de Utrera, among others, was entirely sold out. And it was too much to ask this city's audience to fill two theaters at the same time with flamenco.

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