SEVILLE’S 2008 FLAMENCO THURSDAYS.
TONI EL PELAO & LA UCHI
Life and work of Los Pelaos
Silvia Calado. Seville, March 13th, 2008
‘Puro flamenco’. Toni
el Pelao: baile, choreography, directing. La
Uchi: baile, choreography. Roberto Lorente, Pepe
Jiménez: cante. Juan Serrano, Luis Miguel Manzano:
guitars. 2008 Flamenco Thursdays. Centro Cultural Cajasol,
Sala Joaquín Turina. Seville (Spain), March 13th,
2008. 9 p.m.
Toni el Pelao on 'Puro
Flamenco' at Seville (Photo Daniel Muñoz)
Some photograph or another, with a bit
of luck some video, perhaps some romantic chronicle and
above all, a lot of people passing the word around helps
one sense how those mythical bailaores in flamenco history
used to dance. That’s why you need to rub your eyes
when you are lucky enough to see Toni
el Pelao raise his arms, stopping the air and
time itself. The Madrilenian bailaor, a direct heir to
El Gato, Faíco, Fati and Juan el Pelao, is part
of the only hundred-year-old family of jondo baile, the
one which laid down the bases of styles such as the farruca
and of classical male forms later performed by artists
such as Antonio Gades, Manolete, El Güito... and
a generation later, by followers like Javier Barón
and Joaquín Cortés. Los
Pelaos are pure history.
So it is incomprehensible that, despite
being active daily at tablaos in Madrid as well as sporadically
at theaters in other countries, it had been nearly a quarter
of a century since Toni el Pelao and his partner and significant
other La
Uchi had danced in Seville. To be more specific, since
the 1984 Bienal de Flamenco, sharing a show with Rosa
Durán, Serranito and El Gallina, among others.
But his story with the city began well before that. Toni
el Pelao is a prodigious storyteller and listening to
him is a master class...
La Uchi on 'Puro Flamenco'
at Seville (Photo Daniel Muñoz)
And that happened the evening before
his performance at the Centro Cultural Cajasol, during
a round-table shared with journalists, organizers and
some spontaneous attendant or another. There, he recalled
his first visit to the city of La Giralda, at the age
of fourteen, to take part in the shooting of the film
‘Un caballero andaluz’. “We stayed at
the Hotel Madrid, which was at Plaza de la Magdalena,
and at night we dropped in at La Alameda, Las Maravillas,
Los Majarones and Siete Puertas, where I tried to sneak
in because it was a place...”. You know, with women
and such. Another of the times he came here was forty
years ago, already married to La Uchi, for the rehearsals
of a tour by Manuela
Vargas in the United States. They had just had their
first child “and since he was still in quarantine,
we brought my mother-in-law to take care of him”.
To which La Uchi adds that “I breast-fed him at
Pepe
Pinto’s bar in La Campana, where we spent a
whole day partying”. And then El Pelao remembers
how he convinced Pastora to sing a little bit... Of course,
he managed to. How his uncle Fati was able to pick up
all the dollar bills that came out of his boot while dancing
in New York. He even made up a new step, sweeping them
with his feet as he went off stage. “I know how
much there is!”, El Pelao says he shouted when the
lights went out.
Toni el Pelao (Photo
Daniel Muñoz) |
|
| |
|
But all the memories he has is nothing
compared to the art he possesses, bequeathed, protected
and shared on stages halfway around the world for generations.
The couple’s caña, his farruca, her alegrías,
his romera and the bulerías by both of them were
the bailes for their dreamed-of return to Seville. They
aren’t the kind of people to ask for anything but
like everyone, they dream. And they even get nervous...
even at this point in time... well on the way to seven
decades of age. They admitted that wrapped up in their
kimonos - souvenirs from their long stays in Japan - after
the show in the dressing room.
More than one journalist and some enthusiast
or another dropped in there not just to congratulate them,
but to see with their own eyes that what is said about
Toni el Pelao’s wardrobe ritual is true. Faithful
to classical attire -high-waist trousers, a vest embroidered
in gold or silver by his accomplice Uchi and frilled shirts
-, he methodically hangs up his entire trunk and goes
out on stage dressed according to the moment’s inspiration.
Here in the flamenco capital he came out in black, gold
and a white shirt for the caña, deep blue for the
farruca and pearl gray for the romera. The bailaora chose
colorful dresses made with embroidered
shawls... black and red, aquamarine green, brown and
black. All of it is also part of the show: the art of
dressing, the exquisite placement, the inspiration, the
improvisation (there’s a whole lot here, as the
cantaores and guitarists well know), the honesty, the
humility... and that immense dignity released from the
baile and centennial life of Los Pelaos; a treasure to
protect, a jewel to admire in these times of haste, of
novelties, of fast-flamenco.
