Although the organization of the venerable Festival
de Nimes doesn't have the custom of placing the typical Roman
numeral in front of the festival to indicate the edition,
this year makes seventeen consecutive years of the event since
that first “Nuit du Flamenco” in 1991. But long
before the adventure got under way, there was a deeply-rooted
population of Spanish immigrants in town, and important recitals
were sporadically presented, including that of Paco de Lucía
in 1970 or Vicente Amigo in 1989 when he was barely known
outside Spain. Since those beginnings, few major flamenco
stars have failed to appear on the stages of this lovely city.
The
Nimes flamenco clock began ticking on a regular basis in 1991
when the event was inaugurated as a guitar contest with a
special gala performance by Manolo Sanlúcar, followed
one year later by Camarón de la Isla with Tomatito
in what would be the singer's next to last appearance. The
event grew and was transformed, along the way the contest
was dropped and the program of shows was expanded as well
as the parallel cultural activities. Now, in 2007, the Festival
Flamenco of Nimes is the biggest window on the flamenco world
from the balcony of France, and has a clear international
influence. And that success has contributed to inspiring an
entire generation of French flamenco artists, not only guitarists,
but dancers and singers as well, people who consider flamenco
their own, without it ever losing its Spanish identity, just
as we associate opera with Italy while at the same time admiring
classic singers from many different countries.
Flamenco belongs to those who
coddle and practice it
And it's that perspective, in addition to a self-sufficient
character, that disinguishes French flamenco artists from
those of other countries. No sooner have they pronounced their
“bonsoir mesdames, messieurs”, than it's “¡vamo'
allá!”, never stopping to glance back, and they
dish up a kind of flamenco which is absolutely valid and dignified,
outstanding at times. The program's first recital began with
an exemplary French musician. Antonio Santiago “el Negro”,
from Marseilles with a half-century of life and almost the
same number of years playing guitar, with roots in Almería,
is known in France for his fascinating experiments with other
musical genres, but on Monday night, he showed off his good
flamenco feeling. His brother Pepillo provided the singing,
with a Camarón style but in his own way, revealing
a true life-long devotion to the art. His interpretation underlined
the fact that Camarón wasn't just a voice, but a very
special way of weaving melodies, basting here and there with
surprising half-tones or sliding the intervals, the technique
of “glissando” we'd all inadvertently heard from
the radio waves that reached our old receivers from North
Africa.
A brisk tempo for soleá, with a jazz treatment in
just the right measure, extended chords used with admirable
discretion and taste, the recipe devised by Paco de Lucía
around the time El Negro was getting hooked on flamenco guitar.
He indulges in repartee in French with the audience, and you
get used to the idea that flamenco belongs to those who coddle
and practice it. Siguiriyas is also taken at a clip, and Pepillo
does a fine job with well-defined styles including that of
Juanichi el Manijero in the Cádiz version inspired
by Fosforito which today dominates. Debla is sung with cajón,
and hats off to percussionist Juanma Cortés for his
extreme sensitivity and his obvious desire to support without
getting in the way. Fandangos de Huelva and Granada, and bulerías
to wrap up, recalling some popular songs that have become
famous in recent decades such as Pepe de Lucía's classic
“Al Alba”. The audience begs for a curtain call
but the artists disappear among thunderous applause.
A soothing balsam that manages
to be moving when you least expect it.
After
intermission, we take our seats on the Santiago express to
Jerez, a guided tour led by veteran singer Fernando de la
Morena with the young guitar of Diego del Morao. Fernando's
rich warm voice takes you by surprise because of its naturalness.
Far from the histrionics that characterize Jerez singers,
Fernando's way of singing is a soothing balsam that manages
to be moving when you least expect it. A noble and sincere
style, soaked in real-life experiences and a places and times
that no longer exist.
The trilla songs he begins with, including the characteristic
interjections of “gitana mía” and “ay”,
immediately win over the audience. Taranto, full of shading,
carries the Manuel Torre model beyond the usual reading, and
Diego is in top form on the guitar with that mixture of deep
roots and contemporary feeling he dominates so well. We are
made honorary citizens of Jerez via these two, and Fernando
goes on to interpret his highly stylized fandangos with an
apology for having “a little cold”.
In siguiriyas he manages to call up the “soníos
negros” in an absolutely natural way, the cante knows
what it has to do and the good cantaor acts as spiritual intermediary.
Bulerías, Fernando's specialty, but don't make the
mistake of chalking him off as a “mere” fiesta singer”…the
last song, bow and curtain call, inescapable in this case.
Because Fernando's “case” is a special one, and
“Con qué gusto y qué placer” the singer
gives a bit more of his delightful art. A third call is inevitable,
and now he tosses out one of his entertaining songs in minor
key, that special sound that transports us to another era
and fills out a very flamenco evening at the theater on this
cold French night.
