15 FESTIVAL FLAMENCO CIUTAT VELLA.

15 FESTIVAL FLAMENCO CIUTAT VELLA
Centre de Cultura Contemporània de Barcelona (CCCB)

Text and photos: Manuel Moraga

Cañizares – Montse Cortés – La Farruca – Ai Ai ai
May 21st, 2008

It’s truly a delight to attend events like Barcelona’s Festival Ciutat Vella and see how the CCCB, a venue given over to the cultural vanguard, and directed by Josep Ramoneda, one of the most lucid intellectuals of our time, offers a flamenco program organized by the Taller de Musics, well-known for their support of music and culture.  It’s also heart-warming to see these spaces filled with a youthful and receptive audience.  And of course, it’s always wonderful to return to Barcelona and to enjoy good flamenco.

Just to be different, let’s begin at the end.  At the Hall of the CCCB the night closed out with Ai Ai Ai, a Mediterranean rumba show.  The famous rumba catalana flirted with other genres such as the son Cubano or disco rhythms.  Very creative people, judging from the wealth of resources they manage to squeeze out of two guitars, voice, and keyboard, because the percussionists are the guitarists themselves.  You can’t do without them at a fiesta, and they don’t disappoint those looking for something original in the line of rumba Catalana.  But before Ai Ai Ai, we had been at the Pati de les Dones with the Farruco family.

Ai, ai, ai

One of the Farrucos’ greatest abilities is managing to create an extreme state of expectation.  You always have the feeling something important is going to take place.  Although the program announced, literally, “La Farruca, de Farruca a Faraona”, in actual fact, Rosario danced only one number, as did her sister Pilar, la Faraona.   But the expectation was always hanging in the air.  The magnificent guitarist Antonio Rey opened with a guitar solo.  Next up…Farruca?  No.  Antonio Moreno “El Polito” marks out some alegrías faithful to the family line.  Next, it was cante, and it was wonderful cante: El Tañé and Rubio de Pruna.  Then…Farruca?  No, la Faraona, with her charming grace, her way of dancing even while perfectly still, dancing with her eyes, with a head movement, dancing seated…  Dancing as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like eating peanuts.  Pilar’s art is personal and unmistakable.  And then, finally, Rosario, who only danced her soleá.  An earthy soleá, fistfuls of gypsy artistry.  Without stylization, drawing strength from the ground itself, with powerful emotions, that was la Farruca’s dance.

Tañe, Mara Rey, Faraona, Farruca, Rubio de Pruna	Polito

Montse Cortés preceded the Farrucos, seeding the stage with gypsyness.  It was a straightforward recital – almost too simple, the backup percussion was improvised – based on her most characteristic styles: : tientos, soleá, siguiriyas, bulerías and tangos.  Flavor, and that special Camarón aesthetic, were present in this heir to the legacy, although she wasn’t entirely at ease due to some problems with the accompaniment.  Montse Cortés got the job done and received shouts of “ole” from the grateful audience.

We also have to mention Juanma y Olé, a flamenco-actor-juggler who opened the evening disguised as an audience member, to eventually climb up on stage and turn into a dancer.  Surprising and entertaining.

And the late afternoon began where the day ended, at the Hall of the CCCB, with Cañizares, who played with second guitarist Juan Carlos Gómez, a great talent, and the percussion of Roberto Vozmediano.  The recital started with some juicy bits from his last record in which he interpreted Albéniz, and the first thing you notice is that the music sounds more like Cañizares than Albéniz, and that’s not meant to be a criticism, quite the contrary.  The guitarist from Sabadell has an open concept of music – investigating, squeezing out the expressive possibilities of each note, each tone, each melody and harmony.  Isn’t that what Albéniz did with his impressionist compositions?  You can be sure the old maestro would have been delighted to hear his music at the hands of Cañizares.  We must remember how difficult it is to bring music composed for piano to the realm of the guitar, and the polyphonic angle, which is where the second guitarist came in.  Cañizares must also be praised for getting flamenco drama out of Albéniz’ written music; it’s as if he thickens it and gives density to those delicate, almost blurry emotions that characterize the composer of Suite Iberia.

That was the beginning, because afterwards, Cañizares got very flamenco interpreting beautiful pieces, full of shading.  This is where we can say that Cañizares’ guitar is in another dimension.  You can’t contain your emotion listening to his colombiana or alegrías built on small musical worlds that mesh into a creative unit. I remember Carl Sagan when in the series “Cosmos” he explained that, due to our own three-dimensional nature, we cannot perceive a fourth dimension, but we are able to imagine it.  And he showed one bucket inside another, with their vertices connected, assuring us that was the shadow of a bucket in the fourth dimension.  For this writer, Cañizares’ guitar is neither above nor below any other. There is no possible comparison.  It’s simply in another dimension, and fortunately we don’t need to imagine it in order to perceive it: he himself puts the imagination.