The mines with an inexhaustible supply
of fine flamenco
Silvia Calado Olivo. La Unión, August 2003
Photos:Daniel Muñoz. Translation: Gary Cook
The train hauls slowly
across the Castilian plateau. The August sun beats down
with a vengeance. Only when the river Segura begins to lap
at the scorched lands approaching Spain's East coast, do
specks of green begin to smatter the countryside. We're
entering into fertile territory now, and the tourists on
the train can already smell the sea air. Aside from crowded
beaches, mud packs for the skin, water close to boiling
point and towering beachside hotels, La Manga del Mar Menor
has one other attraction to lure holidaymakers in summer:
the Festival Internacional del Cante de Las Minas, which
has been declared an event of national importance for tourism.
And in a way the colorful crowds who squeeze through the
doors of the former market building at the mining town La
Unión testify to the attractiveness of this option.
With forty-three years of experience behind it, this is
an event sure to provide relief from the harsh midsummer
heat with late nights (carrying over into early mornings)
of first rate flamenco. Antonio Gades doesn't call it "the
most significant festival for flamenco" for nothing...
it isn't Andalusian but it certainly feels like it is. And
this is how it went...
Matilde Coral, Chano Lobato
and Juan Habichuela
"A los pies de un soberano, lloraba una
cartagenera..." (A woman from Cartagena lay weeping at the feet of a king).
At the request of Matilde
Coral, Chano Lobato sang
'mineras por bulerías'. And this little detail, a kind of tribute to Unión,
showered divine honors on the former market building dubbed the "Vatican
of cante". That Saturday evening, on August 9th 2003, the veteran trio comprising
the 'bailaora sevillana', vocalist from Cadiz and guitarist Juan Habichuela from
Granada, made history, not just in terms of the festival itself, but for the flamenco
arts in general... three legendary figures who show astounding wisdom as they
perform. Evidently they didn't go wild up on stage - as they themselves quipped
"these days we only perform when the doctor lets us." But here they
are, up on stage again, using their artistry not only to prolong their lives,
but to prolong the genre as a whole. What better way to "be able to pass
on our history to the new people?" A lesson for all of us. With plenty of
pauses, "no fussing, no crazy stuff," Chano Lobato, Matilde Coral and
Juan Habichuela wove together a repertoire featuring tangos, soleares, alegrías,
fandangos de Huelva, tanguillos and bulerías. And a sprinkling too of those
anecdotes that make the spoken word the fourth pillar of flamenco: Hannibal, their
trip, their medication, their nerves… And inspiration flowed from the stage,
with moments of dazzling brilliance that neither age nor weakness dared deny them.
Somewhere around half a century younger, and
a decade on from winning the 'Miner's Lamp' award, Miguel
Poveda took the evening from strength to strength. The Catalan
vocalist, the other side of the coin from the veterans before him, oozed attitude
and aptitude. Immaculately dressed in white and accompanied by Chicuelo on guitar,
he brought songs from Cadiz, songs from mining towns; along the way serranías
from Malaga and from Huelva, stopping off in Jerez 'por bulerías' and bringing
seguiriyas from the depths of his soul. El Londro and Encarna Anillo backing him
with 'coros' and Nacho López on percussion gave him a boost when the rhythm
demanded, and his sister Sonia de Poveda provided a splash of (green) color with
her dancing. In this, his "second home," Miguel Poveda offered a set
which leaned toward classicism, though his effortless spiraling vocals verged
on the baroque. His throat, warm-sounding, with well-controlled bursts of power.
The audience at his second home were unstinting in their praise.
Miguel Poveda
Estrella, the shining star
Without a doubt, though,
it was Estrella Morente who caused the greatest sensation
in the audience. The old market was never so full, nor so
full of expectation as it was that evening of Monday August
12th. The line to get into the impressive modernist building
snaked into the distance from sunset on. The cries of "ole"
and "guapa" were already brewing. A scene which
brought to mind Josefina Carabias's interview with Niña
de los Peines, and her astounding popularity. Now cantaor
Enrique Morente's daughter appeared, as if transported from
another era, fully aware right from the start of the auspiciousness
of the occasion. Her hair straight out of a painting by
Julio Romero de Torres, fan clasped tightly, white flamenco
dress, embroidered silk shawl… and a striking voice
which gushes forth like a fountain. She sings, she rests…
she sings, dances, sings, stands firm… she sings, sitting
for a final verse, her heels tap out the 'desplante', she
sings again, clutching her dress... fully aware of her beauty,
her powers of seduction, of enchantment. A generous measure
of classical cante, with a dash of more cutting edge style,
and perhaps a little too much traditional 'canción
española', romanticism and bullfighting creep into
her repertoire. Tracks taken from her albums, well-known
traditional songs and new material in the form of cantiñas,
cantes de levante, tangos, traditional bulerías and
'bulerías acancionadas', soleá, a lullaby,
and even a paso doble. And she performed them, in the true
sense of the word. With her on stage are Montoyita on guitar,
plucking here and there in his accompaniment, El Negri on
percussion, and Antonio Carbonell, Victoria Carbonell and
Remedios Heredia backing them with 'coros' and 'palmas'.
Not the best team she's ever put together. The cantaora
from Granada draws on the past, sketches out the future,
and uses her gifts to give a shattering performance, deserving
of the crowning glory. She not only knows how to fill a
stage with vibrancy, she brings wisdom, consciousness, gives
life to her songs, and there's that twist of transgression
which moulds her individuality. Estrella, the shining star,
cantaora and artist supreme, a delight to watch.
Estrella Morente
