2003 FLAMENCO PA'TOS FESTIVAL

On the Road to the Sublime

Silvia Calado Olivo. Madrid, June 24th, 2003

Niño Josele with Piraña on percussion and Alain Pérez on bass. José Menese with Antonio Carrión on toque. Eva Yerbabuena with Paco Jarana and Salvador Gutiérrez on guitar, Segundo Falcón and Enrique Soto on cante, and Antonio Coronel on percussion. College of Doctors. Madrid, June 24th, 2003. 9 p.m.

With an illustrated mini-lecture on flamenco lyrics, Gomaespuma prefaced the second day of the 4th Flamenco Pa'tos Festival. "Flamenco has precious lyrics, most of which are composed when the author has his balls caught in his zipper: ay, ay, ay, ay. They're sometimes inspired by poets like Lorca... Lorca... Lorca... and Lorca. Those beautiful lyrics come to mind which say tirititrán tran tran, tirititrán tran tran... which rhyme besides and everything". Juan Luis Cano and Guillermo Fesser also gave the audience instructions so that they would not get lost: "When a tedious guy complains it's cante, when someone moves their feet it's baile and when they're on the guitar going on and on, it's toque". And there was a bit of all of that.

Niño Josele

Niño Josele brought the guitar... and really felt like playing. The Almería-born guitarist brought part of the repertoire included on his début album. He began introspectively as if through soleá, though freeing his strings from schemes at every moment, making them fly. At the same time as he gathered things back up, caressing delicately below the mouth, velvety but firm in the neck. He plays unbound, playing with the rests (which are also music), in some corner of fandangos from Levante. Semi-liquid sonanta. Deep sonanta. Modern very flamenco sonanta. Alain Pérez redirects him towards territories with rhythm, remaining in a songlike dialogue in which the electric bass acts as a trickster, more guitar than bass. Piraña comes in on the head of his box drum with low jondo notes... and the trio swings on the fading sound until it practically disappears only to reappear through the fandangos 'Llanto de Sal'. The cantaora guitar remembers a recent past before and after the 'hummable' leit motiv. Back to the bulería, the flow of the music, perhaps subconsciously, causes playing to emerge which sounds like Paco de Lucía, Tomatito and even Vicente Amigo. Homage to the first two is blatantly paid in the following two songs: the tangos 'Madera negra', completely à la Paco; and - giving thanks on behalf of Diego el Cigala, missing on the bill - the "slow bulería" 'Miel, canela y yerbagüena', quite in the line of the sounds of 'Spain'. And the music entertains without losing an ounce of reliability.

	José Menese

The ovation to Niño Josele melts into the applause received by José Menese. Predictably, between his larynx and lungs he brought "the pure, the authentic, the usual", as the hosts had already pointed out. "The cause deserves everything, but they should also put the guitarists on the posters". He came with Antonio Carrión, indisputably the best current backing for classical cante. He prompted him with the taranto and received an initial cheering and clapping from the crowd praising his "toque with jondura". He from La Puebla de Cazalla was getting warmed up, fighting against the consequences of time aging his faculties. Even so, he made an effort, aiming far and achieving touches of grandeur in return. The wisdom of the bajañí was again shown forcefully and beautifully in the preparation of the farruca, upon which Menese shaped lyrics of the kind with a message that make the cante interesting on all sides. The half quejío, the whole lungs. The petenera requires concentration. "I punish cowardly instinct mercilessly, and upon your return you'll find the one unafraid of anyone, who doesn't have to forgive you". And he gives his absolute utmost with the petenera. The soleá and the seguiriya are now a decrescendo upon which are highlighted the so-called "purity", the value of a school, the effort, and of course, the guitar of Antonio Carrión.

Eva Yerbabuena

The break was to be thanked for. The future required a certain preparation of body and mind. Eva Yerbabuena. If only one didn't have to try to describe the dancing of this genius. If only one could stick with what she perceived and felt, bearing in mind that she was seated on the same floor that she was stepping on (a surplus of journalists, apparently). In an effort to be objective, it could be said that with the Granada-born dancer the soleá reaches the degree of the sublime (of course, without underrating Manuela Carrasco... but that's another story) and vice versa. She came dressed in black, with long sleeves, a shawl and closed shoes, and backed by the perfect support consisting of Paco Jarana, Salvador Gutiérrez, Segundo Falcón, Enrique Soto and Antonio Coronel. The only thing not done was to move the picture, caress the air, halt it, knot it into impossible whirls. The only thing not done was to materialize the music, each note of music, measuring the way that her feet like talking to the stage. The only thing not done was to make the audience shake, one more time, one more soleá. Soleá. Alone. Her. Everyone.

magazine@flamenco-world.com