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Text: Estela Zatania Cante: Enrique Morente. Guitar: Pepe Habichuela, David Cerreduela, Paquete. Percussion: Bandolero. Drums: Eric Jiménez And thus ends another Bienal de Flamenco de Sevilla. Lots of hype for such a modest show, and I hope no diehard fans of Enrique Morente take that the wrong way. It’s that with this being the festival’s 25th anniversary, and having followed the 57 shows, day after day for an entire month, a big inaugural bash, world premieres, press conferences, presentations, interviews and other media events, not to mention the hip anglicized title “Flashback”, well, I was expecting some kind of cross between Indiana Jones and Gone With the Wind. But no, it was a thoroughly conventional recital, to the extent that Morente can be conventional. Nearly an hour and a half, including two programmed encores (the first, by audience demand, the second, because the singer wanted to), a first half featuring stylized cante, and a more popular vein in the second half, but only one palo throughout the entire recital: “morentianas”
It’s ironic…after 32 days of “experimental”, “novel”, and of course “risky” works, along comes flamenco’s oldest revolutionary to open with soleá, with another grand oldtimer on guitar, his paisano Pepe Habichuela. And siguiriyas, moving in the undefined no-man’s-land between cante and song, with poetry of Lorca and Silverio’s cabal, and truckloads of electronically-produced echo. Alegrías cantiñas, always seesawing between cante and personal creation, and this is when I began to realize how good Pepe Habichuela is soundiing, in excellent form and defending his classic hard-hitting playing, so down-to-earth, so different from the gentle flighty sound of current stars.
With tientos and malagueñas, Morente continues to make each one of us stake out our personal definition of flamenco. It’s not easy to undergo this process seated among more than one thousand five-hundred of the singer’s ardent followers. Despite the prohibition about no recording or photographs announced before show-time in three languages, little lights and illuminated screens dot the entire theater, and one young man seated right in front of me, shoots to his feet like a jumping-jack with each melodic turn of his idol. Conventional siguiriyas, well-sung, but you get the distinct feeling this isn’t what this audience is looking for. “Flashback” must be a reference to the singer reminiscing about his beginnings. Back-up comes on the scene…another guitar, percussion…but it’s still a discreet production. From this point on, the recital becomes more popular, and the fans, more agitated. Enrique hangs his creations over the structures of cante, and achieves some good moments, but all the innovation seems to cancel itself out, and the effect begins to fall flat. Morente has two or three favorite tones he reiterates continually, holding them, nearly without melisma or even vibrato, creating a hypnotic drone that’s the singer’s trademark. A strange, almost uncontrolled glissando adds mystery and strength, and a piece dedicated to Mario Maya incorporates dramatic percussion. Suddenly, they’re all bowing, but there are still two encores to come, Enrique’s famous tangos, and bulerías, including “Estrella”, originally tangos, now passed through bulería, the song that marked the beginning of a new era for Morente, just as surely as La Leyenda del Tiempo marked a turning-point for Camarón.
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