Her face on the cover of the record is strangely
reminiscent of Isabelita de Jerez, a singer born in 1895, at the same
time that it projects an absolutely contemporary image. The portrait is
a canny reflection of the singing of Argentina María López
(Huelva, 1984) who combines unabashed flamenco pop with classic cante.
01. El Árbol
02. Las Palabras
03. Se lleva el aire
04. Cositas del pasado
05. Comparable a tu hermosura
06. Jirones de Tela
07. Guajira Marchenera
08. Se me perdió en Sevilla
09. Siguiriyas de Jerez
10. El Poeta, el músico y el pintor
We need to assimilate the fact that times are a’changin’
and actual “cante” as known to man has been radically altered,
at least the way it’s registered on new recordings. In the first
place, pop songs have now taken center-stage. Instead of seeing on a record
for example “bulerías (Se Rompió el Amor)”,
which would have been some conventional short styles of bulerías
followed by extracts of the famous song, we now see “El Árbol
(bulerías)”. In the lovely song thus titled which opens the
first recording of the young singer from Huelva, the contemporary accompaniment
partially conceals the compás, and the casual listener might think
it’s a relaxed tango-rumba that’s sounding. In fact, the concept
of “relaxed” is an accurate depiction of the most contemporary
flamenco as heard on this recording. The urgency of traditional flamenco
is absent and the mental landscape is that of a lazy sunset enjoyed from
a hot-tub. Whether we like it or not, the globalization of flamenco requires
that any given product accommodate the sensibility of a much wider audience
than is found in grandmother’s kitchen. Suave choruses of harmonized
voices, an outdated sound that doesn’t quite go away, finally neutralizes
any remaining trace of anxiety, and the appropriate drink is a martini,
shaken, not stirred.
In “Las Palabras”, a sort of tango-rumba song, the flamenco
singer almost triumphs over the pop singer, but the chorus continues to
annul flamenco-ness. Argentina’s voice is clean, sweet, flexible
and swift, with a strong influence of Mayte Martín and the unmistakeable
mark of the Cristina Heeren school in Seville where the young woman has
studied cante with José de la Tomasa.
Thick gravelly voices are no longer fashionable in flamenco singing.
This is the era, not of “new flamenco” (a fishy story if there
ever was one), but of “new ópera flamenca”, when sweet,
melodic sounds are more highly prized than those which are harsh and rancid.
These are two different approaches that needn’t be mutually exclusive,
and there are moments for either one, just as thirty years ago when flamenco
fans alternated between LPs of Las Grecas and Talega or Mairena.
An extremely beautiful voice anxious to offer
something for everyone
“Se Lleva el Aire” is a song set to alegrías, in the
sense that it has the compás and musical key of alegrías
without being alegrías, and once again the chorus sets an ambience
of times past. It’s ironic that younger flamenco artists complain
about what they see as a certain stodginess in traditional cante while
continuing to resort to tired formulas.
The singer enters the world of soleá with “Cositas del Pasado”.
Threads of classic styles such as Serneta, Joaquín de la Paula
and Frijones, basted together with violins, percussion and original melodies
are woven into song. She then interprets fandangos de Huelva starting
out with an uncommon but traditional style, followed by original melodies,
but fails to exploit being from Huelva and misses that special flavor
only natives of the area get right. It’s one of the dangers of over-globalization,
everything ends up sounding similar, although here the chorus sounds far
more appropriate. In the tangos “Jirones de Tela” with lyrics
by singer David Lagos, the guitar and cante follow in a more conventional
line and you begin to wish this technically polished, perfectly tuned
voice would explore more traditional cante.
A “Guajira Marchenera”, again with lyrics supplied by David
Lagos, recreates the baroque melismatic guajiras that flamenco embraces
under the banner of “cante de ida y vuelta”, a type of cante
especially apt for this young woman’s sweet delivery. “Se
Me Perdió en Sevilla” is a clippy rumba in flamenco key which
recalls the best songs of Susi and Laventa, but once again the chorus
mars the product.
And suddenly…the most conventional old-style siguiriya imaginable,
with no percussion or intruments, and the guitar of Manuel Parrilla emits
not one post-Paco chord. It seems opportunistic and yet you have to admire
the love and sheer effort Argentina invests in her search for the “soníos
negros” [black sounds], even though she never quite makes it beyond
pale grey in a series of cantes by Tomás Pavón, Paco la
Luz and a seldom-heard style attributed to Juan Junquera.
The recording signs off just as it started out, with a bulerías
song, “El Poeta, el Músico y el Pintor”, this time
with a more accessible compás, musical modulation between major
and flamenco keys, the first-class guitar of Diego del Morao and so as
not to break the routine, the chorus. If like Dorothy in the Wizard of
Oz you click your heels three times and repeat over and over “I’m
really in Jerez, I’m really in Jerez…” it’s possible
to get in the bulería groove.
It’s not clear whether throwing traditional cante and purely pop
songs in the same sack manages to please everyone or irritate everyone.
The important thing is the flamenco fan has to know what he or she is
getting into when the cellophane comes off and the CD is inserted into
the player. With Argentina we have before us an extremely beautiful voice
anxious to offer something for all audiences.
