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2003 FESTIVAL DE JEREZ
Farruquito / Diego Carrasco (Villamarta Theater)
Energy
Silvia Calado Olivo. Jerez, March 10th, 2003
Photos: Daniel Muñoz
Translation: Joseph Kopec
It's neither created nor destroyed. Energy is transformed. From María
del Mar Moreno to Farruquito, from Farruquito to Diego Carrasco... The words that
the Jerez-born bailaora uttered about the dancing in her land came out charged.
It was at the San Ginés Winery in the late morning, when she sat down to
say that the Jerez style of dancing, not so much a school, depends on cante; therefore
its take-off is slow in coming. With the same spirit, she confirmed that Jerez
has too much weight over those seeking to evolve: "I'll die here with my
people in Jerez, but that doesn't mean I don't see that the world is bigger".
And then another guest, Angelita Gómez, the first bailaora who set up an
academy in the city, burst in. And she added other keys: "Jerez's dancing
is from within; you dance with the heart, with the soul, with guts, because you
don't need a lot of technique, but rather rhythm". Now then, "the artist
is born an artist, but he has to be made and if he falls into hands that don't
know how to mold him, he'll come out faulty". The energy flowed from one
end of the winery to the other in what became one of the most bustling discussions
of those convened...
Farruquito
And it quickly sought someone who could keep transforming it. The energy tried
to flow from Farruquito, who presented himself at the Villamarta Theater with
a concentrated version of his usual show, accompanied by his brother Farruco,
his aunt Pilar and the youngest one in the family. The Sevillian bailaor, awaited
by an unusually noisy crowd, appeared a quarter of an hour late. He came in with
Farruco, both as if having shot out of a bullpen, standing firm in the middle
of the stage por seguiriyas. Wisdom concentrated in a few years. The energy that
knows how to be contained in raising an arm, that which knows how to be given
in the dizzying finishing touch. They challenge each other, respond to each other,
let each other do their thing. And the crowd sends them shouts, whistles, applause...
José Valencia (who nearly has to be proclaimed the festival's official
cantaor), Antonio Villar and Jorge el Canastero sang, with Román Vicenti
and Raúl el Perla on the guitar, por bulerías. And coming to dance
them was Pilar, the daughter of maestro Farruco, savory in her awkward plumpness.
(By the way, a background behaving in a friendly style is no favor to a figure:
that unnecessary coming and going, those liters of water...). Juan Fernández,
Farruquito, returned por soleá, the style which is leaving a mark on that
theater. He comes along walking calmly, his hands behind his back, snapping his
fingers. His breathing, contained. When will it break? When the cante lets it,
since it's a listener and a musical being. And how he walks, how he stands firm,
how he poses, his jacket grasped, his fist clenched, how he stretches out touching
the sky! Now he takes off his jacket, now he pulls out his shirt. The impulse,
the rage, the energy. The soleá becomes a bulería uninterruptedly
to give those children a voice, all of them keepers of a non-endangered dynasty.
The ones that are now more than cute kids. Clamor.
And if anyone could energetically take over, it was undoubtedly, Diego Carrasco,
the only exception in this festival to dance. Cantaor, singer, guitarist, composer,
rhythm in essence, completely Jerez. With an attitude between a neighborhood rocker
and a street flamenco artist, he opened the curtain with the "black light
crystals", allowing the band to take shape from the very beginning: Diego
de Morao, on flamenco guitar; Jorge Vidal, on electric guitar; Ignacio Cintado,
on bass; Nono, on drums; Luis Carrasco and Juan Grande, on percussion; and Joaquina
and Carmen Amaya, Ana María González and Lucía Montoya, on
choruses and clapping. Guitar all set and enough space for the half pataíta,
for the paseo, for the roneo, for the (charming) chaos... Who said that energy
is tidy? And with that fragmented cante por bulerías he remembered, on
this day of fishermen, Fernanda and very much his mother Luisa. "No lo
va a saber si momá"... sung by him I don't know how many times
throughout the night and even by Moraíto, whom he invited to the microphone.
And the 'Nana de colores' ('Color Lullaby') sung by all Las Peligro and Diego's
son, whom his father encourages to sing 'Mariposilla verde' ('Little Green Butterfly').
The decisive moment of the night was 'Libertad' ('Freedom'), tangos which, besides
providing an advance of the upcoming album, cried out against the war. "How
many deaths, my God, will there have to be, for man to stand up some day and shout
to the wind, asking for his freedom". Diego Carrasco went on taking a stab
at the rhythm, inviting his accompanists to solear, speaking to his mother, to
Jerez... and to all the "tenants" there gathered, many of whom felt
- despite the recommendations - uncomfortable in such a condition and deserted,
it must be said, quite a bit indignant. And more so, the more things loosened
up. 'Yo, marinero'. 'Química'. The version por bulerías of the international
'Aserejé' horrified everyone reticent who remained there to take part in
the burst of energy and to oblige their pals who understood the winks. Energy...
appeared free, natural, generous. "Who am I? Yours".
Diego Carrasco and Moraíto
magazine@flamenco-world.com
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