ADN JEREZ. 2004 FESTIVAL DE MONT DE MARSAN

Genetics

Silvia Calado. Mont de Marsan, 9th July 2004
Photos: Daniel Muñoz

‘ADN Jerez’. Cante and guitar: Diego Carrasco. Vocals: El Torta, Fernando de la Morena. Dance: Antonio el Pipa (special guest). Guitars: Moraíto Chico and Diego de Morao. Dancers and jaleos: Tía Yoya and Tía Curra. Cante and dance: Felipa del Moreno and Rosario la Melchora. Palmas: El Bo, Manuel Tañé. Percussion: Juan Grande. Concept and artistic direction: Diego Carrasco. Espace François Mitterrand. Mont de Marsan (France), 9th July 2004. 9pm.

Every day so far there's been someone from Jerez up on stage, but it wasn't until the fifth day of the festival that Jerez unraveled the genetic code of its 'Flamenco DNA'. Before an audience of more than two thousand people, thirteen artists showcased the full range of flamenco that forms the lifeblood of the city's Barrio de Santiago, taking in every type of song from the most profoundly sad to the most unashamedly joyful. And it started off plumbing the depths, twenty minutes later than scheduled, with a 'cante de trilla' performed by Fernando de la Morena, a song sung in a simple way, with no frills, about the toils of working in the fields. The stage lights dim, and all is plunged into darkness. Moraíto Chico emerges alone with his guitar, to demonstrate the nobility of the seguiriya. And this simple guitar sums up the history of 'toque flamenco' in its entirety, with strength and poise. In a dim, ashen light, Antonio el Pipa dances unaccompanied, with no music other than the sound of his palpitations, his whistles, his footsteps. Silent, meticulous. His dance is the prologue to the martinete which El Torta will perform. And he does so with incredible skill. All of the scales and registers become one in his mouth, as if joined by some kind of magic, note after note bursting forth until he had squeezed all the air from his lungs. If there was one moment of the show which deserves a special mention, there's no doubt about it: it has to be El Torta's martinete.

Antonio el Pipa in 'ADN Jerez'

A soleá gave the curious, expectant audience a chance to get their breath back. Suddenly the stage was crowded, with a star-studded line-up comprising Tía Yoya, Tía Curra, El Bo, Fernando de la Morena, El Torta, Moraíto Chico and his son Diego de Morao. Antonio el Pipa came on stage dressed in brilliant white to dance for them, with a display of his irresistible stage presence and know-how. Like a peacock showing off his feathers, he flirts with the audience, strikes poses, rounding off with his powerful stamping 'desplantes'... First one sings, then the other. The dance is art in motion. The rhythm shifts gear, and in comes the bulería like a breath of fresh air. He woos Tía Yoya out to dance with him. He gives Tía Curra a turn too. The dance smacks of a family gathering on an Andalusian patio. The performance reaches a crescendo. Both cantaores emerge from the huddle, and give a standing performance for Tía Juana's nephew to dance to. And the three leave the stage with their arms around each other's shoulders.

The second part tried to start out with a different angle: a more creative one. Diego Carrasco - the brains behind the show - is alone on stage, seated with guitar in hand. He plays a version of his peculiar ‘saeta’ - a wonderful Easter carol dedicated to El Cachorro. And he chants his trademark ‘lele’ in his deep rasping voice, drawing it out into a contained, mellow bulería. “Debajo de la hoja de la lechuga...” (Under the lettuce leaf) begins the popular song committed to the collective memory by Lorca and La Argentinita. It takes on a whole new form now as it emerges gruffly from beneath his beard. The lights fade once again to darkness. Now we find ourselves in an attic room. There are two tables, one each side of the stage. At one table, Moraíto Chico, Fernando de la Morena and Bo. At the other, El Torta, Diego de Morao and Juan Grande. They sing back and forth, from one table to the other, one throat to the other. One sings 'por soleá' with his hands raised in the air, the other 'por mineras', his voice shaking the very floor of the auditorium. And then come the fandangos, taking turns.

El Torta

After all that time cooped up in the small room came another welcome breath of fresh air from Diego Carrasco. The show had lost its rhythm and it was time to set that straight. With Diego de Morao's interjections on guitar and Juan Grande sketching out the rhythm on his cajón, he sang the lullaby “duérmete Diego mío” (go to sleep my Diego). After that, he introduced the ‘band’, thanked the organizers and open the doors of the patio where the thirteen neighbors were about to hold their fiesta. Rosario la Melchora sings 'por tangos', barefoot, dancing, reminiscent of Remedios Amaya. “Play me a few notes before I choke”, she begs the guitarist. Now Fernando de la Morena sings 'por bulerías' and Tía Yoya takes center stage, dancing with the gentle swaying characteristic of her age, a true delicacy. Felipa la del Moreno also moves forward, singing 'por tangos' with her beautiful, crystalline voice, half dancing to her own tune. El Torta takes up where she left off, moving into bulerías, slow, gentle. “El agua es un ser vivo, contempla y calla” (Water is a living creature, watch it and be silent). He sings on foot, wandering freely about the stage... so freely in fact that his microphone falls apart on him. But with a little help he manages to take it off, and continues without amplification. No need for it really – “Long live live music, Juan!”. The party goes on and on, and the cantaoras go on perhaps a little longer than is warranted. They've been on stage two and a half hours now, with peaks, troughs and imbalances characteristic of collective shows featuring so many big names. Diego Carrasco, the ‘worldly citizen' himself, comes back on to save the day, singing for El Pipa. “See if you can guess: which came first, the bull or the bullfight?” The 'Tías', the women cantaoras and the palmeros all join in the fun. And the fiesta draws to a close. The applause doesn't last too long, and there aren't too many calls for an encore. Such large measures of every style seemed to have overloaded the senses of the audience.

revista@flamenco-world.com