17th FESTIVAL FLAMENCO POR TARANTOS ‘A ALMERÍA’ 2006
JOSÉ MERCÉ/ CARMEN LINARES/ FUENSANTA LA MONETA...

And as an excuse, the taranto

Silvia Calado. Madrid, April 2006

17th Festival Flamenco por Tarantos ‘A Almería’ 2006. Friday, April 21st. José Mercé (cante) with Moraíto Chico (guitar)/ Antonia Contreras (cante) with Chaparro de Málaga (guitar)/ Sonia Miranda (cante) with Miguel Ángel Cortés (guitar). Saturday, April 22nd. Carmen Linares (cante) with José Manuel León and Eduardo Pacheco (guitars)/ Fuensanta la Moneta (baile) and company. Colegio Mayor San Juan Evangelista. Madrid, April 21st and 22nd, 2006.

“There’ve been glorious nights of flamenco here”. Carmen Linares’s memory has become present. The seventeenth edition of the Flamenco por Tarantos Festival, organized by the San Juan Evangelista Music and Jazz Club, added another two nights of glory to the curriculum of this stage where the legendary Camarón sang for the last time. Though flanked by two firm pillars such as Carmen Linares and José Mercé, the bill also made room for new voices like that of Sonia Miranda and for voices hereto inaccessible such as that of Antonia Contreras, and rounded off the edition with Fuensanta la Moneta’s furiously flamenco baile. The taranto ends up as a mere excuse to give rise to a festival of the kind which have to marked on the calendar in red.

Carmen Linares and José Manuel León (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)

José Mercé (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)

The first night belonged to José Mercé. He came to this outstanding stage, “which has given me so much joy”, with the clear conviction of singing flamenco. And not even in the encore, despite the requests, did he scrap the script. Accompanied by the firm strings of Moraíto Chico, he reeled off a typically Jerez repertoire, which he adorned with the style giving the festival its name, the taranto. The cante minero took on uncommon intensity out of Mercé’s mouth, as did the soleá, which his voice provided with firmness and grandeur. He reached that thrilling point after warming up through malagueñas, with Antonio Chacón on the horizon. Nor did he forget the seguiriyas or the cantiñas, the heads and tails of cante, nor of course the bulerías de Jerez, which Moraíto led to a gallop with brimming naturalness. He sang without a microphone, he danced... He spared no effort before the Madrid crowd, which he considers “marvelous, since it’s serious, sober and knows how to listen, which is more important than singing, playing and everything”.

	Sonia Miranda (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)

The whirlwind cantaor had two female voices as ‘openers’. Sonia Miranda was in charge of getting things started. And she did so, as was appropriate, through tarantos. With her eyes closed, the cantaora sang in a double tessitura: from an intimate, thin voice to a broad throat. The guitar of Miguel Ángel Cortés contributed security and warmth to the Sevillian artist, with crystal-clear cante that seeks, that becomes interesting to listen to. Granaína, soleá, alegrías, mirabrás... completed the repertoire of the cantaora, who is premiering her début album, ‘Garabato’. The guitarist, also with a new album out, ‘Bordón de trapo’, left nobody indifferent at any time, acting vehement, brilliant, mellow, creative. Next, taking over was Málaga-born Antonia Contreras, in her first performance in the capital, accompanied by Chaparro de Málaga. She kicked off with malagueñas by La Peñaranda and La Trini, continuing with the soleá, taranto and tientos tangos in a performance with a dull finish.

And the second night...

Carmen Linares reigned on the second night. Not in vain has she been dubbed the lady of cante. And the thing is that the elegance with which she upholds flamenco’s legacy is worthy of special mention. The Linares-born artist offered the audience, which again filled up the auditorium of the student residence hall, a flawless performance in which she sang both songs from her latest album, ‘Un ramito de locura’, and many of the historical cantes she included on her marvelous ‘Antología. La mujer en el cante’. She began the evening with brilliant cantiñas, accompanied by the guitars of José Manuel León and Eduardo Pacheco, plus two clappers. Carmen Linares, a cantaora who always gets high marks, attributed the origins to the cantes afandangados, a family from which she chose fandangos de Lucena and rondeña. The guitars provide music, not just company. A really long applause for beautiful stages. She turned the tables and looked to Borges and Argentina. ‘Milonga del forastero’. Note José Manuel León’s guitar. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? The guitarist from Algeciras, who was already discovered by Gerardo Núñez in ‘La nueva escuela de la guitarra flamenca’ (‘The New School of Flamenco Guitar’), is an exceptional musician.

Fuensanta la Moneta (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)

Cantes through soleá. The soleá apolá. Classicistic risk. Alone with León, it’s time for the taranto. And not just any taranto. She takes advantage to pay tribute to Fosforito, recently awarded the Llave de Oro del Cante (Cante’s Golden Key). Serious, serene, orthodox. The guitar takes advantage of the seguiriya’s freedom to fly to its planet. And the cantaora approves, letting herself be inspired. Seguiriya by El Nitri. Oh, eternal infinity. And the end, through fiesta. A full string of bulerías uttered mischievously and seasoned with the high-energy sounds of the Algeciras guitar. The theater rose to its feet in unison. And Carmen, who was in her element, even danced. Though hers was nothing more than a gracious touch of what would come a few minutes later. Following the break, bursting onto the stage was Fuensanta la Moneta. The bailaora endorses Granada as a cradle of important bailaores. In her early twenties, she’s taking shape as the next in the line of succession. She dances with astounding fury. She dances from head to toe. Complete. Eclectic. With cantaores José Valencia, Antonio Campos and Antonio el Pulga, and guitarists Juan Requena and Daniel Méndez shaping up a powerful rearguard, she danced through taranto, coherent with the festival and with the prize which confirmed her; the ‘Desplante’ of the 2003 La Unión Festival. The second piece was a rondeña, preceded by cantes with airs of Málaga. And she concluded through seguiriyas. She gave each style just what it needed, from gestures to the choreography, in which there are flashes of Jean Cocteau’s maxim: repeat three times. One to show. Another to recognize. The third, to hold. It’s enough to see Fuensanta la Moneta just once...

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