Rather than speculate solely on where flamenco is going in the new millenium, it might be first worthwhile to look at where Spain itself is headed:
Standing looking out to sea, the view (ignoring the jet-ski invasion)
is still as timeless as when the sentinels stood in their circular
watch towers, beacons built and ready to ignite rapidly at the first
panic-stricken view of Moorish corsairs on the horizon. The watch
towers still dot the length of the coastline, though the ancient
watchers are long demised, ramparted castles, some now in major
states of disrepair, still stand stubbornly defiant facing the east,
the sea washes languidly and endlessly inwards and, to quote Hemingway,
“the sun also rises”.
Mount one of the endless rows of “se alquila” pedal boats,
pédalos, travel two hundred metres out to sea and turn around.
The view is not that of the Moorish invaders with low beaches rising
gently into wooded slopes and guarded by pastel grey and brown,
sun-baked mountain ranges, but a skyline of multi windowed high-rise
hotels and holiday complexes. Cranes, of the mechanical variety
that is, rise above the few areas of untouched space and dot every
port and harbour. Go inshore and wander up those same slopes and
the one-time fishermen’s huts are now lost in a sea of cement
building-blocks, plant machinery and the crazy wooden Spanish variety
of scaffolding that inspires less than total confidence in the minds
of the critical observer.
Massive oil tankers crowd the ports from Gibraltar through Málaga,
Almería, Valencia and up to Barcelona and replace the wooden-hulled
galleons of history books. Processing plants and oil refineries
are in full production to process whatever the land can produce,
be it fish, vegetables, fruit, wine, petroleum or strawberries.
The white-walled hill villages still dot the skyline, now competing
with electric pylons and satellite dishes, but the one-time mule
paths are now hard-surfaced highways to facilitate the convoys of
tourist coaches that invade them daily. Along the coast, the village
shops have jewelery, expensive leather and high quality ceramics
for sale, the taxis are Mercedes make and Islam's influence can
be readiy seen in the gold-topped mosques and banks. Oh yes, elements
of the village life and the stereotype Spain are still there if
you seek them, but even they are rapidly becoming lost in the modern
invasion of foreign villa owners who bring gold, frankinsence and
myrrh to the world of stone baking ovens and huts that once ruled
the slopes and valleys.
Wild regions, such as the Alpujarras, are still a large part of
the Spanish landscape, the terrain a defiant challenge to the land-leveling
mechanical monsters of the developers, but technology will not be
defeated. “If you cannot go over it, go through it” seems
to be the motto of the wrecking crews, from the amount of tunneled
roadways that are in evidence. So, what are we to deduce from all
this?
The lure of stereotype Spain worked, that is evident. Sunny days,
velvet nights, the tinkle and splash of waterfalls, aromatic wines,
the hypnotic sound of the guitar and the fiery dark-eyed flamenco
populace, the bullfights, the historic architecture and the benevolent
slow pace of ‘paseo’ to enjoy it all. That was the magnet
and, in the not-too-distant past, the reality of Iberia. Today,
that image is becoming as improbable to maintain as the tolling
of church bells that is now an irritation to so many where once
it was a welcome sound. The world has gone into overdrive and Spain
is up for the ride. “Africa begins at the Pyrennees” no
longer applies, and Spain is a force no longer to be ignored.
Drift gently in from the tranquil timeless sea, as the Moors did
centuries ago, then get out your credit cards and invade the land
of plenty. The sea still washes the shores, the sierras still frown
broodingly over all and Hemingway's sun still also rises. After
that, you might well now be anywhere in the world. Spain has arrived
on the European scene with a millennium flourish.
And what of flamenco in this new millennium? 'Quo Vadis” (whither
goest thou?) might well be the question on the lips of puzzled foreign
aficionados of an art they thought they knew enough to appreciate
based on standards learned over a basically unchanged period of
half a century or so. We have seen the gradual emergence of the
rumbas, alongside of the ever popular sevillanas, weave their pleasant
and unobtrusive ways around the parent art, vibrant and alive yet
seemingly content to be at the party whilst seeing their roles as
decoration on the whirling skirts of the traditional arts of cante,
dance and guitar that have adopted an ever more “alegrias”
mood compared to the deeply hondo art that emerged in the mid-nineteenth
century. Now we are suddenly thrust into an emerging wave of musical
and instrumental counter-cultures and styles that are as disturbing
as they are unfamiliar.
Piano, violin, electric bass and a profusion of Arabic percussion
instruments now join, and indeed seemingly overpower the solo flamenco
guitar, an instrument that was a flamenco orchestra in itself not
very long ago. The raucous, hoarse voice of the cantaor is emerging
as a lighter, sweeter sound that has assumed a polished alternative
to the gravel-toned maestros of yesteryear. Compás is less
clearly defined amidst a seemingly freer and less regimented art
where the art of solo guitar is now all-important as a stage spectacle.
Dance has assumed a theatrical quality based on works of classical
Spanish literature and poetry. Dance troupe shows, with ever more
modern themes, replace the brightly-costumed tablaos, and the small,
intimate atmosphere of the traditional art is now losing ground
rapidly to productions that require amphitheatres.
Many musical styles now come under flamenco's once uniquely defined
umbrella, as the art undergoes a period of mass experimentation
that makes Camarón's mild deviations appear almost as conformity.
The nuevo generation cling tenaciously to flamenco's name, yet appear
to want complete severance with the traditional art as they compete
fiercely for recognition on the world stage, merging jazz, rap,
hip-hop and punk styles with vaguely recognizable echoes of accepted
standard flamenco. Like their parent homeland, today's flamencos
are a new breed of Spaniards; a breed that, whilst modern, fresh
and undeniably progressive need to remember their flamenco roots,
and an art that has made its mark in world music in a way none has
ever done before. Flamenco is unique, and as much a part of the
Spanish heritage as the architecture, wild and beautiful scenery
and its temperate climate. Spain is a land of proud tradition and
history. Flamenco is a part of both. Long may it stay that way.
