SPECIAL FEATURE. FLAMENCO X 2. JESÚS TORRES & CANO,
GUITARISTS
Two philosophers. Two planets
Silvia Calado. Seville, February 5th, 2009
Translation: Joseph Kopec
About the concert at Seville’s
Flamenco Thursdays
At the end of the round-table on
the eve of the dual performance, the director of Seville’s
Flamenco Thursdays Series, Manuel Herrera, said he was touched.
And it wasn’t because of that sentimental something
which sometimes surrounds art, but because - in his own
words - “Jesús
Torres and Cano
speak about music as if they were philosophers”. The
two guitarists moreover surprised those present with an
unusual demonstration of mutual respect and admiration.
In fact, they were there after gladly (and humbly) agreeing
to share the night to present their respective début
albums, ‘Viento del Norte’ and ‘Son de
ayer’, respectively, in the Fundación Cajasol
Series.
When at the round-table, in which they
spoke at length about their respective albums and careers,
they were asked to give their vision of one another …
they were moving once again. Jesús Torres said the
following about Cano: “With music in general and flamenco
guitar in particular, what used to happen to me when I didn’t
know much is that I would get moved easily. In time, something
hardened inside of me and I got less and less moved. With
Cano, however, when we work together I always stay and listen
to him on the sidelines … and I always cry. With him,
I relive that early sensation flamenco used to arouse in
me and I love it”. Then specifying about his work,
he remarked that “he’s one of the most personal
guitarists”. In his view, “we all inevitably
sound like Paco; and for there to be a guitarist who you
can recognize in ten seconds, which happens with Cano, is
enviable nowadays; he has an identity of his own”.
He added that he feels “a lot of affinity with what
his music tells; I think I always know where he’s
at”.
When Cano took the floor he recalled how
much they’ve lived and above all, “how much
we’ve grown together”. And he admitted admiring
“his technique and his ease; it’s impressive
how natural his hands are”. But moreover, he pointed
out that “the important thing about Jesús Torres
is that he tells things, which happens to me with very few
people; I understand him”. In his view, “besides
all his knowledge, I love his wonderful way of laying it
all out, as something well-rounded; as well as his ability
to get things across and how much care he handles everything
with”.
That is why it isn’t hard to believe
them when they say that there isn’t any resentment
at all between them about sharing a bill. Torres affirmed
that for him, the greatest pleasure of the night “will
be to sit down and listen to him when I’ve finished
playing”. And the thing is he admitted that in their
face-offs with the audience, he - who is used to accompanying
bailaores - feels “as much happiness as suffering,
and the ideal thing is to bridge that gap of scarcely half
a meter which separates both feelings”. Although he
admitted that “suffering gives you a capacity of expression
which happiness doesn’t give you”.
But in the relationship between the two
of them, the latter feeling is the one which undoubtedly
prevails. “We met each other years ago getting a bailaor’s
show ready for Japan, in an attic Jesús used to have
in Madrid. And we realized the connection there was between
us when we burst out laughing during a rest … both
of us were imagining the bailaor levitating”, Cano
relates. Although they consider each other very different,
especially in their way of focusing their relationship with
the instrument. “For Jesús, everything has
to be the way it must be and back then I was somewhat wilder”,
Juan Antonio says. To which his colleague responds that
“he makes me see the hole I’m sunk in, since
my position is one of anguish; while he has a different
position, as if he were sunbathing … and he helps
me a lot”.
That’s
how two planets sound
About the concert at Seville’s
Flamenco Thursdays
That they are
different musicians and planets was then proven
on the night of the double concert. With the
Sala Joaquín Turina full and looking
forward to finally (and so deservedly) seeing
those from the back coming up into the foreground,
Jesús Torres opened. And he did so with
bits and pieces off his album ‘Viento
del Norte’, the first installment
of his music in which he combines some very
complex forms with fluent communication in a
balanced way. And that’s impressive. The
listener’s ear brims over with really
sophisticated elements, at the same time as
he leads him by the hand to places which are
never strange to him. And the thing is that
some of his compositions turn out to have the
well-roundedness of those unusual songs which
become emblematic for a genre, as is the case
of the bulería ‘Calle Espada’
and the zapateado ‘Pasaje de Valvanera’.
To display them, he had Antonio Coronel on percussion,
José Torres on second guitar and Miguel
Ortega on cante. As (really sweet) icing on
the cake, he presented a newly-created farruca
danced by his colleague Isabel
Bayón. A piece made of tense rests,
contained emotionality, shared intimacy and
original sound landscapes which made the audience
shout (out of pleasure, of course). She’s
a different bailaora here. And he might be a
different guitarist … for what he tells,
how he tells it and who he tells it for.
But as
far as being a different guitarist goes, Juan
Antonio Suárez ‘Cano’ is
one-of-a-kind. As he’d already done in
the album’s
presentation in the small hall of Madrid’s
Teatro Español, the Barcelona-born guitarist
got rid of his chair and choreographed his stay
on stage. And then that way of positioning himself,
whether seated on a high stool or standing with
his instrument over his shoulder, said a lot
about his musical position. Both in what sounded
and in the way of displaying it, he showed his
personal innovation. So much so, that he achieved
something more and more infrequent: that part
of the crowd left the hall. That’s what
happens when you’re free, personal and
unrecognizable … you make people uncomfortable,
you scare them. With superb self-assurance,
he plotted an eminently introspective route,
which seized true listeners (those who don’t
need to recognize) and took them on an emotional,
nearly psychotropic trip. Especially the suite
‘Cuatro movimientos’. During a passage
in the recital, ‘Orestes’, pianist
Pablo Suárez came and conversed with
him. And, like Jesús, he also had one
of the bailaores who he has composed and played
for so much; in his case, Andrés
Marín. Who came to provide the esthetics
and movement for the defragmented bulería
‘Conclusión’, an exquisite
piece which is now one of his banners. But that
extroversion was momentary. And he finished
the same way he started; that is, plunging.
In fact, the final piece was the soleá
(or whatever it’s called, no matter) ‘Lágrima’,
christened by Rafael
Riqueni and dedicated to him. As one listener
uttered, “it choked me up inside”.
When the time came for applause, Cano wanted
to share it with Jesús… who, as
he said the night before, would be on the sidelines,
thrilled.
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