Three cantaoras, of that nearly extinct breed that has a unique way with cante… Each one with her own distinct style. Without touching upon that sacred institution known as Pastora Pavón, there are three names that come to mind: Perla de Cádiz, Tía Anica la Piriñaca, Fernanda de Utrera.
Perla
is personality and grace focused mainly on upbeat forms as her birthplace
would indicate. Her voice doesn’t have the mystery of the
other two, it’s ‘cleaner’ somehow, but no less
flamenco. There’s been a lot of hype about flamenco voices
having to be rough and hoarse, the famous “afillá”
sound (which, by the way, was a term rarely heard among flamencos
years ago; after Antonio Mairena’s book “Mundo y Formas
del Cante Flamenco” you began to hear fans and academics using
it). By any chance does Tomás Pavón not have a “flamenco”
voice? Personally, I wouldn’t trade it for all the Caracols
in the world.
That quality of “flamenconess” doesn’t just depend
on the voice, and Perla is the best example. One thing is for sure,
certain voices are better suited to certain cantes, and Perla was
noted for her alegrías and bulerías, although she
most definitely knew other forms. And she died at the age of fifty.
What would this gypsy woman from Cádiz have sounded like
at seventy or eighty?
La Perla de Cádiz
Fernanda de Utrera
Perla is personality and grace… Piriñaca’s
“ay” does physical damage… Fernanda de Utrera is her
Highness, the Queen of Cante
Piriñaca’s
“ay” does physical damage. All her singing is painful,
never gay. Ana Blanca Soto’s cante is a lament that cuts through
to the core. She had little technical prowess…fortunately. Sometimes
it seems that the quality of flamenco singing bears an inverse relation
to a singer’s virtuosity. Piriñaca “tells”
the song, as if in her voice the poetry somehow had greater meaning.
There is a splendid photograph of this woman that must have been
taken in her last years…centuries of inherited culture and sensitivity
are reflected in her gaze. It’s so much more than merely selecting
a verse and singing it – she really wants us to know just
what she’s saying. La Niña de los Peinas also transmitted
that feeling which is not at all common.
Fernanda de Utrera is her Highness, the Queen of Cante. That permanent
hoarseness, the broken voice which towards the end of her career
kept her from singing at all, apart from the severe illness she
is suffering, made every cante a struggle with unequaled drama.
A normal person sets limits in accordance with his or her physical
capacity. Fernanda always set those limits one click beyond. And
she managed it. And she brought shivers and tears to listeners…
With singers of this category compás is a given, an absolute
which is not even up for discussion…but there’s compás
and compás. Fernanda’s command of it is extraordinary.
She starts, stops, holds, repeats, does a turn, comes back…and
it’s always perfect. This is NOT an acquired ability but a
natural gift. Great flamenco singers have always had it.
To have or not to have, that is the question…and readers must
have the indulgence to understand that all of the above is nothing
more than a very personal perspective.
