ENRIQUE MORENTE
The cante of Apollo
Candela Olivo. Córdoba, July 11th, 2002
Enrique Morente: cante. Manuel Parrilla: guitar. Bandolero: percussion.
Gran Teatro. Córdoba, July 11th, 2002. 10:00 p.m.
Enrique Morente (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)
The general wisdom is that if a show based
on dance is hard to sell, a guitar concert is even harder, and almost impossible
if it's based on cante. As happens, the exception prooves the rule. Neither Javier
Latorre nor Cristina Hoyos managed to fill the Gran Teatro days ago with their
new presentations at Córdoba's 22nd Festival de la Guitarra. But Enrique
Morente was sold out. And without gimmicks: cante and only cante. The singer from
Granada divided his recital in two parts, each of which was marked by the character
of his clothing. Wearing a proper suit and white shirt, Enrique Morente offered
a recital of traditional cante, with no more accompaniment that the guitar of
Manuel Parrilla. With a black shirt, and Bandolero to complete the trio, the other
Enrique Morente showed his forward-looking side.
With the suit and white shirt, he started
out with mountain cante. Then he displayed his expansive melodic personality,
but why so whispered? Singing softly, almost effortlessly, the man from Granada
sketched his tirititrá for cantiñas hitting the high notes and closing
out with the titirimundis verse. The malagueñas, "del convento
las campanas", brought with it a certain vocal opening-up, though still with
a light touch and getting the most out of it. And in the same line, he drew arabesques
for a solea that was ended brusquely, surprising even the guitarist. The seguiriya
which closed the first part contained some of his characteristic clean ascents,
but without hitting the heights...brushing lightly by, caressing, sketching.
Enrique Morente (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)
With the black shirt, he opened recalling
the Lorca's baleful sound of the guitar. Now he was more dynamic, more together,
but leveling. And in this way he sought out Alberti, through alegrías:
"Si mi voz muriera en tierra". And then it submerged into the malagueña
with self references which he looked for in "Negra, si tú supieras",
mustering enough courage to waken the night watchman: "Yo poeta decadente
y español viviendo su mejor noche y, en un arrebato de honradez, dio las
gracias y pidió disculpas por nuestros errores, nuestras caídas,
nuestras levantás" ['I was the decadent Spanish poet living his
best night, who in an attack of honesty gave thanks and asked forgiveness for
our mistakes, our falls, our high points"]. Having said that, and with
barely any guitar accompaniment, he went into tangos dotted with personal touches:
the "vendiendo flores" from 'Omega', "como el amargo en la corteza
verde" de 'Lorca'... Announcing the finale, he went into bulerías.
His throat was warmed up and, with a bow to Machin, based the theme on his personal
interpretation of the least explored traditional repertoire. And that in itself
is a virtue. The audience got to its feet, as much fans as connoisseurs, drawing
out that Apollonian way of singing which is content to seek beauty without allowing
the emotional cry of Dionysius.
revista@flamenco-world.com
