
| David Palomar, ‘Trimilenaria’ |
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David
Palomar makes his début Cádiz-style. The cantaor
from Barrio de la Viña draws upon the history, voices and
flavors of the neighborhood. As everyone who is starting out does
(according to the unwritten rule), he strives to demonstrate that
he knows the basics and that he has experience. And somewhat more
bashfully, he slips in some tune or another close to current times.
The album is caught up between both sides, following the trend of
self-production. That’s the only way young talents in the
genre can get a hold of a letter of presentation nowadays. Palomar’s
gives good vibes.
On the disc, tradition carries a
lot of weight. David has treated himself to recording, with his
present-day voice, seguiriyas, soleá, malagueñas,
alegrías and some fandangos with a personal touch. In order
to tackle those cantes, he alludes to references such as Manuel
Torre, Curro Durse, Enrique
el Mellizo, El Rubio el Viejo, El Niño del Mentidero
and Enrique Morente. Oh, and Macandé, whose pregón
he resumes, setting it in an afternoon of bullfighting. And for
this old-time section, he has vintage guitars. Those of Moraíto
Chico and Rafael Rodríguez.
But what opens ‘Trimilenaria’
is of a different nature. The title cut of the album goes por tangos
and it’s seasoned along the lines close to pop imposed by
Camarón de la Isla in his day. With its refrain, its choruses,
its electric basses, its percussions and its solid cante parading
in a catchy way. The bulerías by La
Paquera de Jerez are also like that, but with an interesting
rap to the compás along the lines of Diego Carrasco or Tomasito.
The silky song ‘La calle
Priego’ also goes por bulerías, with the touch of another
new talent, Santiago
Lara. ‘Miradas perdidas’, a track with Moorish airs
dedicated to the wetbacks from the Strait, goes por tangos. By the
way, nearly all of the lyrics are by Palomar himself, simple yet
personal... something which is welcome on a scene of endless repetition
of classical popular verses. And as could be expected, it all ends
with knuckle-beaten compás, with a fiesta at a key place:
Casa Manteca. Back to the essence on a record which, without clear
postures, lays down the foundation and reveals aspirations.
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