Tomasito
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"Barí"


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"Cositas de la realidad"

 

 

 




2003 ESPÁRRAGO FESTIVAL. 15th ANNIVERSARY IN GRANADA
Tomasito / La Mala Rodríguez / Ojos de Brujo

Latest generation

Silvia Calado Olivo. Maracena (Granada), May 10th, 2003
Translation: Joseph Kopec
Photos: Daniel Muñoz

The welcome was as warm as could be. And not precisely because of that sunshine which finally ushered in the springtime. Several patrols of the Civil Guard with their respective dogs were stopping cars right and left, obviously in search of illegal substances. It is understood that the pro's festival kit must carry them, although the numbers deny it: fifty-three reports of over three thousand people attending does not even make up two percent of the total. Incidents, zero. Well then. The thing is that with good karma as a credential, the scorching sun, the thick pollen rain from the poplar groves and a local train brushing the wall of the bar every so often, the Espárrago Festival began the traveling celebration of its fifteenth birthday in Maracena, Granada. And what happened there was...


Tomasito
 
   

The amphitheater of the town in the outskirts of metropolitan Granada, which had nearly ignored - except for the front row - the opening group, answered the call of Tomasito, no sooner had he uttered the "válgame dios" ("bless my soul") that starts off 'Mariana de Pineda'. A diverse troupe disregarded all outside stimuli to tune in without interference to the complete artist who in black jeans, a white shirt and Sunday shoes shook each and every atom of the stage. Percussion, bass and flamenco guitar seconded him... or "thirded". "What a great crowd I see here! It looks like we're at the beach!". Shirt hanging out... and the palpable inspiration of 'El fino de mi casa', from the unfortunately no longer available 'Tomasito'. And there's dancing and singing and strutting and jumping, flamencohiprocker style. And there's José el Pena, and bits of reality, and the pataíta (kick), and the robot boy, and seguiriyas, and hard, and "flaquito, flamenco soy, flaquito, flamenco voy" ("I'm a skinny flamenco, I act like a skinny flamenco"), and a mini instrumental interlude. "It's really hard for me to sing soleá, but for this really stupendous crowd". And there he goes with virtually unassisted 'Soleá punk', fighting against a lack of musical support, which is luckily worthwhile thanks to the response of a pleased, gaping crowd. He goes on with the version of 'Agradecido' by veteran Madrilenian rocker Rosendo, who was in charge of closing the day, by the way... and to whom Tomasito had already promised to sing his particular remake of the song in the dressing room.

 

Tomasito
   

Just as he goes off stage, he comes back on presenting his band doing tangos: Álvaro, on flamenco guitar; Josito, on bass; Elsa, on the drums; and Nacho, on percussion. He resorts to rapping - and a black shirt - for 'Sobreviviré' ('I Will Survive'), among other things, "a badly sung fandango". From rap to 'Cositas de la realidad' ('Bits of reality') and on to rock. He goes up, comes down, jumps, plays the bongos, connects with the "o mare, mare" from his first album, which now invades the Spanish radio formula in the Chonchi Heredia version. A pause to comment one detail: how he fits the popular Jerez lizard bulería into his particular style, that same one which Moraíto has a smattering of on the record by La Macanita. He wants to bid farewell with his now classic 'Camino del hoyo' ('Road to the pit') and he does it Mick Jagger style, throwing himself into the pit, dragging himself, ripping his T-shirt, kicking the bucket... and ending up in his underpants, "like on the album cover". And he's asked for an encore. And he does an encore with torrotrón, with the robot boy... with a Tomasito finale.


La Mala Rodríguez
 
   

People rightfully hiss the announcement that Mártires del Compás has dropped off the bill, but they are hardly given a chance to air their protests. The sequencers already lead up to La Mala Rodríguez, who comes to finish the day. Flamenco hip hop. There will be those who criticize the application of that label, but the attitude, content and modulation... provide more than enough reasons than many others. Isn't that "porque a mí me va mucho la marcha tropical" ("because I like tropical partying a lot") a homage to Camarón? Aren't the words jindama (fear), filigrana (filigree), tirititrán the stuff of flamenquitas? Isn't that boasting "me hago tirabuzones con las bombas que me tiran los mamelucos" ("sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me") an example of lifelong alegrías? And aren't they full-fledged flamenco, for their concept and rhythmic tapping, phrases like "si hay pan pa uno, hay pan pa dos" ("where there's food for one, there's food for two"); "no me digas quieres y no puedes, mucho lirili y mu poco lerele" ("don't tell me you want to and you can't, a lot of lirili and very little lerele"); "a medias, nadie se quea jarto" ("split up, nobody gets filled up")? That's it, María coughed up the repertoire from her début album, with surprising vocal defiance, sprinkling it with several advances of her next album, which seems to aim for a Mala Rodríguez who his more jondita, warmer, more wicked if possible... and as interesting as in 'Lujo Ibérico'.

 

Ojos de Brujo
   

The crowd was again annoyed, this time with the preparation by Ojos de Brujo. Specifically, they experienced the sound check live. A question of the tour's tight schedule. Thank God there's always the bar, the waffles, the shoarmas and other delights of the festival buffet, and the group made up for it. The band led by Marina la Canillas came in feisty doing rumbas. With 'Tanguillo de María', it vindicated the legalization of marijuana and sided with "the people who are on the other side of the Strait and can't come over because it's illegal like the plant". Around a dozen people on stage - vocalist, percussionists, DJ, guitarists, bass player, palmeros and bailaora- and quite a few sound problems more or less made another rumba sound, afterwards 'Naíta', "that tune which begins with tangos and ends up in the hills of Úbeda" and which, in passing, not only brings a popular Triana tango to this crowd, but also cries out "for the right to a dignified life". Take note of the didactic and research work by the heterodox, at the same time as their social conscience. The diverse band wins the crowd over in a natural way... including those who had preceded them on stage, who went around following their sampled flamenquito between their seats and the bar. 'Barí', 'Vengue' and something more. Bulería, more rumba, soleá, zambra... all of it seasoned with a pinch of that street chaos innate in the group which lightens the communication process between the seats and the stage.

The comments on Rosendo have been left out, so as not to confuse or offend (although that's always a personal choice), but the admiration for this rocker professed by the latest generation of flamenco artists appearing in this text goes on the record. "I promise to be grateful to you, buddy", friend Tomás would say. Next stop of the Espárrago 15 train to Jerez: Morón de la Frontera.

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