Agujetas, El Pele, Juana Amaya
Miércoles, 4 de octubre, 2006. 2100h. Teatro Lope de Vega

Special 14th Bienal de Flamenco de Sevilla. Reviews, programa, photos...

Cante: Agujetas, El Pele. Guitarra: Antonio Soto, Manuel Silveria. Percusión: José Moreno, El Güito.
Grupo de Juana Amaya: Cante: El Galli, Enrique el Extremeño, Luis Moneo. Guitarra: El Bola, Rafael Rodríguez. Percusión: Tete Peña.

Cante: Agujetas, El Pele. Guitar: Antonio Soto, Manuel Silveria. Percussion: José Moreno, El Güito.
Juana Amaya’s group: Cante: El Galli, Enrique el Extremeño, Luis Moneo. Guitar: El Bola, Rafael Rodríguez. Percussion: Tete Peña.

This year’s Bienal has proclaimed its desire to be a showcase for the newest tendencies, however staged flamenco “works” are not a style but rather the refuge of those artists who have more economic resources than artistic ones. If the lighting, scenery and script are great, if every movement of the dance in meticulously choreographed with a numerous group of top-flight musicians in countless hours of rehearsal, success may not be guaranteed, but the margin of failure is seriously reduced and less responsibility falls upon the star. In fact it’s fully possible to have a successful work with a mediocre main performer, while we’re always prepared to forgive a good performance within a mediocre work: it’s a win-win situation.

And so it was with the greatest pleasure and admiration we atttended the shared recital of Agujetas, El Pele and Juana Amaya, three anachronisms who do nothing more than take over the stage and lay out the fragile goods which are their respective souls. No stage director, no scenery. Nothing but the individual, time and space, and flamenco forms to bring it all together in a meaningful way.

Agujetas came, sang and left. This singer’s performances tend to be like this, the man isn’t exactly a people person, nor anything remotely similar. And frankly, the rough edges are part of his attraction. We know that Agujetas, the last classic singer of the last generation of classic singers, doesn’t lie to us. “Good evening, I’m going to sing soleá!” he barks. He takes it at a clip with traditional styles tinged with his usual anarchy, and cheers himself on. Tight and rancid. “I’m going to sing siguiriyas!” he exclaims, now almost shouting. Antonio Soto on the guitar plays with surprising and ill-advised reserve, Agujetas’ big personality looms and intimidates. “Some fandanguitos!”, and he launches three verses with healthy anger. “Bulería pa’escuchar!...that means ‘soleá a golpe’, what they call ‘bulería pa’escuchar in Jerez” explains the singer, who’s in a teacherly mood within his spontaneity. Strangely, Soto accompanies these cantes on 6 or 7 (it’s hard to be precise from the seventh row) “arriba”, E-F, when he could have played at 1 or 2 “por medio”, A-Bb, the regular position for these cantes. “I’m going to sing some very old siguiriyas, older than me!” Although his faculties are diminished, the fight to crank out the verses adds a depth missing in younger singers. “A little martinete and I’m outta here!” And he kept his word.

Three anachronisms who do nothing more than take over the stage and lay out the fragile goods which are their respective souls

Manuel Moreno Maya “El Pele”, Córdoba, 1954, Caracol style with a strong personality of his own, is a good contrast to the previous singer. With the magnificent guitar of Manuel Silveria, also from Córdoba, he opens with soleá incorporating fascinating, sensitive elements and a personal delivery that adds dimension. He’s a singer you have to develop a taste for. Malagueña with abandolao ending, and you can tell he’s anxious to please. Siguiriyas “dedicated to all the people from abroad, and everyone who is working to make this art-form the best in the world”, and he dives head-first into the cante, practically entering into a trance with his whole body trembling when he finally closes out with the famous “Se lo pío a las estrellas”. He changes the pace with “alegrías” that we have to call “cantiñas” since it’s mostly original styles while alegrías are specific cantes. This inland man is one of the few singers able to be convincing with original material, as demonstrated with his brilliant interpretation of “Sobre la playa llueve...” which has been copied and recorded by other singers over the years, and actually become a classic. He still feels like singing, and takes on bulerías, remembering Caracol, romance and Extremadura. Silveria, wise and respectful, is barely noticed, subtleties abound, Jerez is far away and these are “jondo” bulerías.

All this and the temperamental dancing of Moron native Juana Amaya yet to come. She appears on stage, powerful and determined, beautiful at 38, dark and dangerous with no superficial stereotypes. She is deeply expressive in alegrías, no small achievement, and this isn’t her usual dance. It’s hard to say what makes it so obvious that this is not a choreographed dance, but there’s no mistaking it. Her movements and silences all arrive when voice, music, the moment and her own need to communicate demand them. The singers fill in with bulerías while the lady takes a breather: David el Galli, Enrique el Extremeño and the surprise of Luis Moneo, all three singing well, maintain the interest. Juana returns for soleá with a compás more like soleá por bulería. There are comments that she’s not entirely “on” tonight, but those of us who know her repertoire well, notice the dancer is trying out a new menu of movements, some inspired in the Farrucos, others, completely original. So despite a few rough edges, there’s new-found energy, the rush that comes from exploring new territory, admirable in a mature artist.

When traditional flamenco is practically being drowned out by the noise of superficiality, these three artists, each in their own way, are demonstrating you can still achieve high emotion without scripts or staging.

More information:

Special 14th Bienal de Flamenco. Program, reviews, photos