2007 MONT DE MARSAN FLAMENCO FESTIVAL
ROCÍO MOLINA/ PANSEQUITO & AURORA VARGAS
Pure contradiction
S.C. Mont de Marsan, July 5th, 2007
First part. Rocío
Molina: baile. Leo Triviño, Antonio Campos:
cante. Paco Cruz, Manuel Cazás: guitars. Sergio
Martínez: percussion. Ana Romero, Tacha: clapping/
Second part: Pansequito: cante. Aurora
Vargas: cante, baile. Diego Amaya: guitar. Eléctrico,
Rafael Junquera: clapping. 19th Mont de Marsan Flamenco
Festival. Place Saint Roch Singing Café. Mont de
Marsan (France), July 5th, 2007. 7:30 p.m.
Rocío Molina
| |
Rocío Molina
(Photo Daniel Muñoz) |
| |
|
Rocío
Molina comes to represent the change which Juan Manuel
Suárez Japón talked about in the lecture.
Today’s flamenco is being done in a developed, modern,
universal Andalusia. And since it’s never been impervious
to its surroundings, today’s flamenco is developed,
modern, universal. As the rector of the International
University of Andalusia said, orthodoxy and heterodoxy
coexist in this flamenco, “it’s therefore
a false controversy because there can’t be anything
new in flamenco if you don’t know the old; it isn’t
possible to create out of nothing in flamenco”.
And as proof, the taranto which the Málaga-born
bailaora opened her performance with at the Singing Café.
Donning leather, in a tight-fitting knee-length dress
with a short jacket, high boots and her hair down. Like
any city girl of her time. But it turns out that in this
piece she evokes bailaora Fernanda Romero, the way she
used to perform the taranto, with her hair down, with
the metal castanets tinkling. Et voilà. Of course,
Rocío Molina gives it a very strong personal trademark,
amazing if you bear in mind her age. The bailaora is relentless
on stage, absolutely expressive and sure of every one
of her steps, extremely neat in her performance, but overflowing
with feeling.
She moreover has the ability to develop
bailes in such a way that they evolve, they capture, they
involve the spectator. And all of it feeds on the creative,
breakaway lines of young maestros like Rafaela
Carrasco, who cheered her on from the front row. It’s
almost embarrassing to pay so many compliments, but it’s
the reality for this artist in her early twenties. And
the audience was unanimous. They didn’t just applaud...
they shouted. Not just in the taranto, but also in the
other two bailes she performed. The second one was a sort
of zapateado with guitar and a simple percussion base,
abstract and concrete at the same time, old-time and contemporary,
which she performed in shorts and see-through attire.
And the last one, a soleá. Accompanied nearly to
the pampering point by her group, she combined just the
right doses of esthetics and rhythm, whether it was classic,
canastero or hyper-technical. As she came in, with her
back arched backwards, with her eyes lost, nearly in silence...
is the way she left. And the audience on their feet...
and shouting.
Pansequito & Aurora Vargas
Aurora Vargas (Photo
Daniel Muñoz) |
|
| |
|
But the crowd would go from shouting
mode to the raging mode of the bullring. They profess
devotion here for bullfighting and for traditional cante.
And Pansequito
was treated as a star of the bullring. The Cádiz-born
cantaor came out, of course, with alegrías. And
each verse was like a bullfighting pass. “Maestranza
de Sevilla”. Oleeee. “La del amarillo albero”.
Oleeeee. “La que huele a manzanilla”. Oleeeee.
“Y a capote de torero”. Oleeee, oleeeeee,
oleeee. The cantaor just had to devote himself, search
himself thoroughly, remember, keep up the mood. The audience
went crazy, acting as fans not just with their cheering,
but also with the latest recording technologies. He uttered
the soleá old-style, cracking his voice to find
the dramatic ‘beast’. The toque by Diego Amaya,
simple and effective. He let out even his last breath
in the taranto, though the real treat was yet to come:
the bulerías. Oleeee. Oleeee. Oleeee. And of course,
there had to be an encore. Fandangos dedicated to a fan
who was marking the beat non-stop; Pepa de Benito. A pass
of the cape over here. A pass of the cape over there.
Oleeeee.
With the ambience like that, practically
red-hot, Aurora
Vargas came out to fight the second one of the night.
Blinding white dress. Firm manners, serious countenance,
a banner woman. She warmed up her polished throat, just
like her colleague, por alegrías and soleá.
A mere formality to get to what everyone was waiting for;
the half-sung, half-danced tangos and bulerías.
Nearly pretending, she drew up por tientos. With a slight
gesture, she had the clappers come in. She clenches her
fists over her bosom... and the scuffle begins. Fluttering
of black curls, frills, hands, arms and hips. The baile
is natural, abrupt, electrifying like lightning. And a
mike is no longer needed; now space is needed on stage.
Make room; she’s coming por bulerías. Sparks
start flying at the singing café. And you no longer
know in which Andalusia we’re in of the ones described
by the lecturer, whether it’s the one with deficiencies,
large estates and laborers which gave rise to flamenco,
or that one with futuristic solar energy plants, tourists
and high-speed trains.
Pansequito (Photo Daniel Muñoz)
