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Andrés Marín
“Vanguardia Jonda”
Sábado, 7 de octubre, 2006. 20.00.
Teatro Central
Special 14th Bienal de Flamenco de
Sevilla. Reviews, programa, photos...
Text: Estela Zatania
Dance: Andrés
Marín. Guest singers: Segundo
Falcón, José Valencia. Guitar: Salvador
Gutiérrez. Piano: Pablo Suárez. Percussion:
Antonio Coronel.
Artistic director: Andrés Marín. Music director:
Andrés Marín, Salvador Gutiérrez. Script
and staging: Andrés Marín, Salud López.
Choreography: Andrés Marín. Film clips: Iván
Schreck.
For once, not even an overdose of intellectual pretension,
nor film-clips that made no sense, nor a contrived plot
that bordered on the comical could cast a shadow on the
brilliant performance of Andrés Marín last
night at the Teatro Central.
The strange title “The dawn of the last day: Profound
Avant-Garde”, could just as easily have been “Mad
Max in Andalusia”. With sentences in the program
notes like “The dancer (Itur) is destined to exorcize
the plague of idealism, that old monster of the inherited
impotence of romanticism of the absolute”, it
seems to suggest that the younger generation’s lengthy
tantrum against traditional flamenco is still going strong.
The antithesis of dance
as circus act, and the angst is all on the inside.
There is an austere aesthetic vaguely reminiscent of the
1927 film Metrópolis, and if we make the mistake
of continuing to read the program notes, we discover the
work is about three historic café cantantes: the
Kursaal, Café de Chinitas and the Café Suizo.
Lorca and Falla are also alluded to, as is the coincidence,
in 1936, of the last café cantante closing shop the
same year as the beginning of Spain’s civil war. All
very interesting, but the sheer power of the music, the
human voice and Marín’s dancing make words
hopelessly inadequate, and all philosophical questions melt
away. If one image is worth a thousand words, the hour and
three quarters Marín uses to lay out his vision,
is the most eloquent declaration of the timelessness of
flamenco and its permanent relevance.
Ten minutes before show-time, you hear music from the nineteen-thirties,
just in case someone neglected to read the program notes,
but Marín’s dancing seems to be the central
inspiration and raison d’être of the work. His
clean lines, the designer stubble, placid gaze and close
haircut, the spandex pants, the precise moves and neck thrust
forward is a futuristic visual unit that proclaims the need
to be “modern”, even in the knowledge that,
by definition, the newest of anything ceases to be new the
moment it appears.
The canny ability to not
look like a “flamenco dancer”, but rather “a
guy who dances”
Other dancers, wanting to be modern, reduce or even eliminate
the messy business of cante, but Marín knows its
importance, and his shows always include good voices and
an abundance of cante. José Valencia and Segundo
Falcón do an amazing job with the difficult task
of interpreting classic cante – trilla y martinete,
soleá de Triana, siguiriya, fandango abandolao, caña,
malagueña, cartagenera, soleá por bulería,
tangos de Triana – adapting themselves to the avant-garde
nature of the work, offering a dignified route to the future
of flamenco which is now.
Many compare Marín to Israel Galván, but
the two men share only the most superficial characteristics:
neither is content to conform to established norms, and
both explore the frontiers of flamenco dance with intelligence
and respect. Andrés has the canny ability to not
look like a “flamenco dancer”, but rather “a
guy who dances”. His style is sober and serious, but
subtle humor is not lacking. It’s not a sort of dancing
that relies on physical strength nor technical prowess in
the conventional sense. The power is cerebral, far more
potent and less limited than the physical kind, and the
result, more interesting – it’s the antithesis
of dance as circus act, and the angst is all on the inside.
On a technical level, the over-miked stage that made the
slightest brush of a shoe sound “important”,
was annoying. The treatment of free-form mining cante which
Marín danced credibly, managing to avoid the histrionics
usually triggered by the absence of compás, was admirable.
A charming facing-off with malagueñas between Falcón
and Valencia where they alternated and superimposed lines,
was a stroke of genius. Percussionalist Antonio Coronel
is a true artist and creator who works miracles with bottles
and water, plays a discreet ‘pandero’ for siguiriyas
and funky drums for tangos de Triana.
In the end, no trace of any café cantante, and halfway
through you’ve given up looking for references mentioned
in the program. What you’re left with is the strong
impression of Andrés Marín’s timeless
dancing, and the “Profound Avant-Garde” which
is precisely that.
SON DE LA FRONTERA
"Cal" world premiere
October 7th, 2006. 11:30pm. Hotel Triana
In
search of pure emotion
Son
de la Frontera. Cuban tres and guitar: Raúl Rodríguez.
Guitar: Paco de Amparo. Dance and compás: Pepe Torres.
Cante and compás: Moi de Morón. Compás
and dance: Manuel Flores.
JUAN VERGILLOS
Son de la Frontera is a flamenco group firmly rooted in
the musical aesthetic of Morón de la Frontera (Seville).
This is the explanation for the title of their newest work
presented Saturday night at the Hotel Triana within the
program of the 14th Bienal de Flamenco. “Cal”,
or whitewash, is one of the characteristic elements of the
urban landscape of small towns in the province of Seville
where the great Diego del Gastor exerted his influence in
the nineteen-sixties and seventies with a playing style
that was in stark contrast to that of the era. Diego rejected
virtuosity and harmony, relying on naked melodies and pure
emotion. The young musicians of Son de la Frontera have
updated this repertoire which mostly exists in homemade
recordings . If the first record highlighted bulerías,
siguiriyas and soleares, on this new one “Cal”,
there are other sounds such as alegrías and malagueñas.
The extremely simple arrangements follow the same emotional
line, always marked by the sensual, metallic, Caribbean
sound of the Cuban tres played by Raúl Rodríguez.
This new record has a somewhat more serious and solemn tone.
All the members of the group do a fine job. The musicians
fill the night air with their notes, and there's some extremely
interesting duet work. The powerful sound of Moi de Morón
– sounds of the inland. And the rough voice of El
Galli. Pepe Torres had a great night, with a sober, concentrated
dance por soleá. His is the most virile style of
flamenco dance to be seen on any stage today. And Manuel
Flores, the compás mainstay, who did his little dance
in the fiesta finale without cante. A new step forward in
the career of this young group from Seville and Morón.
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