SPECIAL FEATURE. MARINA HEREDIA. LIVE PREMIERE OF ‘MARINA’
Water and fire
Silvia Calado. Granada, May 7th, 2010
‘Marina’. Marina
Heredia: artistic director, cante. José
Quevedo ‘Bolita’, Luis Mariano: guitars. Anabel
Rivera, Toñi Nogaredo, Jara Heredia: clapping, choruses.
Paquito González: percussion. Parrita (cante), Farruquito
(baile), Diego del Morao (guitar): guest artists. Palacio
de Exposiciones y Congresos de Granada. Granada, May 7th,
2010. 9:30 p.m.

Marina Heredia premieres
'Marina' in Granada (Photo Daniel
Muñoz) |
|
The voice of water is now also that of
fire. The change in temperature seems to mark the new step
which Marina
Heredia has taken in her offer as a cantaora.
In spite of the fact that ‘Marina’ is an album
and a concert which are based on the complex simplicity
of traditional cante. It can only be explained thus that
a stage as icy as the Palacio de Exposiciones y Congresos
de Granada is a priori became warm and close during a premiere
in which both the cantaora and her cante raised the mercury
to the max. And the audience, with half of its two thousand
seats full, knew how to return it with olés, jaleos,
friendly presences such as those of Manolete, Esperanza
Fernández and Fuensanta la Moneta, and with that
gauge of our times which is the amount of cameras and cell
phones which, evading the powerless hostesses, were raised
to record the highlights of a concert... which had a great
many.

Marina Heredia premieres
'Marina' in Granada
(Photo Daniel
Muñoz) |
|
Right from the spectacular opening, Marina
made it clear that it wasn’t going to be a night of
crystal-clear waters, but rather one of blazing flames.
With an extremely beautiful and impressive presence, dressed
in white, alone and standing, she cried out and showed off
her voice. She grasped the tangos de Graná with her
back turned and doing arm movements, giving a breather to
the group in order to get some swing and to the three girls
in order to chorus “de mayo y abril”. Shortly
thereafter, she was clenching her fists and with her voice
up in the heavens, seated on a providential chair which
was situated in the center of the stage. She remained there,
accompanied by elaborate double guitar accompaniment, to
deliver a vibrant bunch of fandangos del Albaycín.
After a brief fade-out, guitarist Luis Mariano took over
the foreground and gave his followers what they like just
long enough for the cantaora to reappear dressed in short
attire tipped off with a wide-brimmed hat. She sweetly sang
to ‘Encarnación’ por Levante and she
did the malagueña of “que te quise y que te
quiero” Caracol-style. The scene continued with a
tribute to her father, Jaime el Parrón, por soleá.
It was certainly a miracle that the mirror didn’t
end up breaking… And she ended with some tremendous
seguiriyas, backed by the privileged sound of Diego
del Morao and necessarily shedding live her hat, jacket
and letting down her hair. What a shower of olés!

Marina
Heredia premieres 'Marina' in Granada
(Photo Daniel
Muñoz) |
A dynamic face-off between guitarist José
Quevedo - the album’s producer - and percussionist
Paquito González was used as a hinge with the third
part. The scene reddened, sensing something. And then the
first guest star appeared: Parrita. Marina had a dream come
true, partly included in the lyrics of the song ‘No
me lo creo’ opening her album, of sharing a stage
with the Valencia-born cantaor and composer, creator of
the flamenco ballad and the silent reference of many. Feeling,
olés and a mighty picture. Then with the looseness
of having the night half worked-out and without the spike
heels bothering the train of her red dress for the touches
of baile, the cantaora enjoyed the freshness of the bulería
‘Entre Chinos’, a step prior to alegrías
with a surprise. And the thing is that the very composer
of ‘Sed’ himself burst out dancing to them.
With the voice of the granaína in his very ear, Farruquito
exploded in stances, turns and syncopation, driving the
crowd mad. When he left, Marina had no choice but to ask
herself: “And now what?”. But she still had
more stuff up her sleeve and surprised with a previously
unseen register: doing a rumba por Bambino. And proof that
she did it perfectly was the cry from the audience: “Bambina!”.
Then all that was left was to return to the beginning, remaining
alone amidst the faint light, releasing the last cry and
closing the circle of water and fire. And of course, it
had to be celebrated. Everyone por bulerías. Pure
fire.