“En la puerta de la cueva”

Official opening of MÁLAGA EN FLAMENCO

Saturday, July 7th, 2007, 12 midnight. Antequera (Málaga)

Text: Estela Zatania

Twenty rows of twenty plastic chairs, twenty degrees centigrade when I reach the Dolmen of Menga in Antequiera where five thousand years ago people like you and me felt the irresistible urge to pile stone upon stone to invoke who knows what demigods and demons to express the magic they felt within their own being.The seventh day of the seventh month of the year 2007, our very own Andalusian Spielberg, José Luis Ortiz Nuevo, once again turns us all into small children that we may experience the same magic that hasn’t changed over the milleniums, and the mystery of flamenco that at one time enthralled each one of us (of those reading this).“Dolmen of Menga”…even the name seems to resonate with mystery and antiquity, like syllables pronounced by a prehistoric witch-doctor.

“We’re having flamenco for breakfast!”, and the sky begins to lighten so as not to disappoint

From the oppressive 45 degrees centigrade (113º Farenheit) the thermometer was showing outside the station when I caught the 6 o’clock train from Seville, to the relative nip of Antequera’s outdoors at a quarter past eleven at night, was a brusque but welcome change.

Borom Tamba (foto Estela Zatania)	Inma la Bruja (foto: MEF)

12 midnight: The voice of that primitive man called Manolo Caracol rings out with tonás, martinetes and deblas as people are taking their seats, and the mystery of cante jondo saturates the air around the dolmen. Then, siguiriyas, and the breeze becomes more aggressive.The voice of Ortiz Nuevo, like the off-stage voice of God in a biblical movie: “Let the rites of the seven sevens begin now!” Then, dealing with more quotidian issues, he explains that due to wind on the promontory, it was not possible to put up the screen for projection of the documentary of folkloric verdiales which would be shown on the wall of the snack area. “And let the party begin!”You can’t help but love this guy, his sincere quest for the innocence of the human spirit is contagious, and without a doubt, salubrious.

12:10 AM: The sound of distant tribal drums draws closer and takes form...wow! seven Africans dressed in traditional robes come down the ramp through the audience heading for the stage. The collective cultural ignorance is total, and all anyone knows is this is somehow “primitive” and evokes rites and rituals. What’s a group like this doing at the opening of an important flamenco festival? Beats me, but it was a stroke of genius, a school-boy’s prank by Ortiz Nuevo, who, with his boundless poet’s wisdom, knows that everyone enjoys the sound of drums, of a “compás” that imitates the beat of the human heart, and thus paid tribute to the architects of the dolmen.

A minimalist “My Favorites”, within the extravagance of the concept

12:30 AM: The surprising Inma la Bruja takes the stage to stir things up just enough, to entertain us and to set the mood for the seven-hour spectacle we are about to receive. This extraordinarily versatile woman comes on dressed like a 1930’s cabaret man and begins by exclaiming: “I’m a jester!” Briefly, one’s heart trembles: “this is not only going to be a crashing bore, but may even trigger moments of extreme embarrassment”. Once again the ignorance of limited vision rears its ugly heard, and right here, publicly, I retract the previous thought: Inma la Bruja talks, sings, acts, recites and flamencos with absolute credibility, knowledge and cultural integrity, she is an authentic minstrel in the medieval sense, translated to flamenco. She dialogues with el Negro del Puerto to transform herself, by mutual agreement, into the old singer from El Puerto so famous for his romances. She then relates the Romance of Bernardo el Carpio in an appropriately histrionic Andalusian style.She goes through “on-the-spot metamorphosis”, letting down her hair and peeling away one layer of clothing to reveal a lovely woman dressed in an evening-gown, and leaving behind “the diagphragmatic part”, she continues to relate wondrous things.She sings the tangos of la Repompa, talks about la Perrata, Einstein, Pericón, Da Vinci... all seamlessly, no “anecdotes”. Fandango por soleá, tanguillos, anda jaleo, everything is mental ingenuity.One woman, for one hour, one absolutely original piece of work, sincere, spontaneous and very, very flamenco. Boom dagaboom daboom... The Senegalese group Borom Tamba returns, and like schoolchildren we clap wildly...

Marcos Vargas y Cloe Brulé (photo MEF)	Fernando Terremoto (photo: MEF)

An authentic minstrel in the medieval sense, translated to flamenco

1:45 AM:“Cuando uno Quiere y el Otro no”, the novel, impeccably constructed work of Marcos Vargas and Cloe Brulé Dauphin, with Juan José Amador singing and giving coherence with his compás and his personality. Let’s dust off some words that have become hackneyed in recent years due to the stigma acquired by all euphemisms: “flamenco puro”, “works”, “fresh”. This young couple of dancers offers a fresh work of pure flamenco. Pure in concept, fresh in execution, and a work which is carefully conceived and interpreted. As occurred with Inma la Bruja, they put in high relief the pomposity and superficiality of so many extravagant works we’re obliged to sit through in modern times. No matter how much public funding you throw at a project, in the end, only great artists create great art, and it’s free, because the bill has been paid beforehand by the hard work and sacrifice of the artist who brings everything consumer-ready.

A torrent of beautiful music

3:05 AM: After another invigorating session with Caracol and Borom Tamba, guitarist José Luis Montón and violinist Ara Malikian come on with their “Humilde Poderío” (humble power). The atmosphere turns congenial with the espontaneity of the hour and the freedom of the outdoors, people begin to circulate, a few dance here and there, Montón chats easily with the audience: “I’m ‘Humble’, and he’s the ‘Power’”. Laughter. The duo then launches into a torrent of exquisitely beautiful music: siguiriya, zorongo, colombiana, tanguillo, bulerías. It would be hard to look less like a flamenco guitarist than Montón, but can he ever play the instrument! The majesty of Malikian’s violin leaves many jaws agape, and the combination of both is perfect.

Tomasito (photo MEF)	Tomasito (photo: Estela Zatania)

4:00 AM: The most conventional offering of the event, a cante recital with Fernando Terremoto and Gema Caballero, with guitarists Antonio Higuero and Pedro Barragán respectively. The four seated in a row, the singers take turns: malagueña and abandolao by Gema; bulería por soleá by Terremoto; mining cante by Gema; siguiriyas by Terremoto. The implicit intent is obvious and admirable: the juxtaposition of delicate Andalusian cante and the power of gypsy cante, two halves of a single indivisible whole, the yin and the yang of flamenco.When they finish, they leave the stage, and there’s no “fin de fiesta” because the fiesta continues...

More Caracol, more drums, the same country chill that made prehistoric men and women build fires is winning the night and there are many empty seats.

Delicate Andalusian cante and the power of gypsy cante, two halves of a single indivisible whole, the yin and the yang of flamenco

5:05 AM: Tomasito and his group, with Juan Diego on guitar, “Al Compás de la Ciencia de la Burla”. Those of us who remain, gather round the stage, the atmosphere is red hot despite the cold, no one is tired, everyone dances to the playful music of Tomasito, the forty-ish adolescent everyone wants to wrap up and take home. José Luis Montón is right up front, shouting and dancing.

5:55 AM. After an intermission, we suddenly hear verdiales in the distance. It’s the group of Santo Pitar... but... but where are they? “Look, they’re atop the hill, right at the door to the dolmen!” They come slowly down, singing and playing their folkloric tunes with the typically acrid sound. When they reach bottom, suddenly, from the darkness of the stage, we hear the tinny sound of a Cuban tres – it can be none other than Son de la Frontera to close out the lengthy event and lead us to the dawn. Five men five, at five fifty-five in the morning – maybe it’s sleep deprivation, you start believing in the magic. Son de la Frontera gets on with their business, which is that of playing bulerías and other things in an updated Morón style. Pepe Torres dances causing his habitual impact, the people go wild, Raúl Rodríguez, the group’s leader, announces “We’re having flamenco for breakfast!”, and the sky begins to lighten so as not to disappoint. The verdiales group joins them on stage for the mother of all fiestas at barely seven in the morning.

Panda de Verdiales de Santo Pitar (photo MEF)	Son de la Frontera (photo: Estela Zatania)

And thus concludes the happening of José Luis Ortiz Nuevo who managed to concoct a show from his flamenco wish-list, a minimalist “My Favorites” within the extravagance of the concept, offered with absolute candor, and no checking over the shoulder to see if anyone might disapprove. If this is any indication of what we can expect from Málaga en Flamenco, the extended festival that begins in a few weeks, this is excellent news; taxpayer money must be dispensed with only the best-informed of criteria.