Olé!

201104flamencoThey say that flamenco should be enjoyed live. The reason for this is that the desperate expression on the singer’s face, the sweat launching off the dancer’s chest and the tremble of the wooden floor against striking feet are as much a part of the experience as the music, the beat and the melody that can be folded up into a CD.

Flamenco is about passion. When  picturing Spanish dancing, many people imagine frilly skirts, polka dots and castanets. And while this is an essential part of the art, authentic flamenco is so much more. It is an intensely technical art form, whose expression is surprisingly dark and fiery.

The flamenco dance that we see at most commercial shows today and the dances that were performed many decades ago have little in common. However, they do retain a core soul, or duende, that has not changed since the beginning. That core is the cante, or song. It is believed that with flamenco, the songs came first, then the dance, and finally the music.

Ask any aficionado, and they will tell you that the cante is still the most important element of flamenco. While flamenco fashion changes every year (at the annual Seville festival it is social suicide for a dancer to be caught in the same dress two years running), the lyrics and the melodies of traditional flamenco songs have not changed much since the late 19th century.

What has changed dramatically is the role of the guitar. At first it was a prop, something of a metronome, which was strummed and often thumped with no other intention than to keep the singer’s beat. But virtuosos such as the legendary Paco de Lucía changed all that. Now solo flamenco guitarists pack entire concert halls, wowing audiences with the speed at which they work the strings; a skill which is often self taught. Paco, for example, only learned how to read music at age 44, when he was asked to perform the Spanish composer Joaquín Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez. Like the flamenco guitarists before him, Paco learned by listening and watching relatives, friends and neighbours, and he perfected the art to such a degree that he was invited to play on the radio when he was just 11 years old.

But while the guitarists have transformed their art and opened the doors of flamenco to much wider audiences, it is undoubtedly still the dancers that pull the crowds. When you go to a flamenco show – whether the stage is filled with polka dots and castanets, or whether there is only one, black-clad soloist – it is undeniable that when the dance begins, the show is taken to another level.

While the exact origins of flamenco are undocumented and unclear, it is pretty much accepted that the art form originated in southern Spain, and was an important part of the gypsy culture in the region. Today, the style most people would consider flamenco is much more commercialised, involving group dances, elaborate costumes and varied props. But in its most pure form, the flamenco dance is a solo dance, an improvised, yet highly technical routine that is explosive in its emotional intensity and its lightning quick footwork. At its heart it is an angry dance. Both the male and female bailaores are so absorbed in the emotion and the technique that they barely acknowledge the audience, instead focusing on the precision of their footwork as they viciously stamp their way through the performance.

As flamenco enthusiast Montse Madridejos explains: “This is the one form of dance in which beauty, age and wealth have no influence.” In fact, for many, the dance is so passionate that it is considered out of the grasp of young girls. This is why most flamenco dancers only reach their peak in their 30s and keep performing until well beyond their 50s.

But while most people go to see flamenco for the dancers, even today, it is not always a part of the show. There are over 50 musical styles or palos of flamenco, and each one comes with its own traditions. Some of the forms are sung a capella, while most feature a guitar or other accompaniment. Some forms are danced, while others are not. Some are the reserve of men and others of women, while some may be performed by either.

The way in which the concerts are presented, also varies widely. Traditionally, flamenco fiestas were intimate, organic gatherings of never more than about 20 people. The performances were unpredictable, as nobody knew what time the invited artists would arrive, or if they would pitch up at all, leading to the style being nicknamed “Gypsy Blues”. But at the end of the 19th century, this all changed. The art form caught the attention of the public, and cafés cantantes or ticketed venues where audiences would gather to watch a set performance at a set time were set up all over Spain.

While many considered this as crass commercialism, the flamenco dance grew out of these types of venues. As demand increased, so new pieces were created, and as the audiences grew more knowledgeable, so flamenco was performed on a more professional and artistic level.

Just like flamenco changed with the café cantantes, so it is changing again today. Now you are likely to hear jazz harmonies mixed in, and do not be surprised if there is a bassist or flautist on stage. While many purists feel this is corrupting a once authentic art form, others argue that, being an oral tradition, the natural order of flamenco is to evolve.

Whichever way you look at the situation, what is important, is that flamenco – with or without its modern touches – is still alive and stomping. No trip to Spain is complete without a flamenco show, and the art form is unexpectedly finding new audiences in countries as far afield as Japan and Jordan. And if we had to give our opinion, we would say: “Olé to that!”

Story by Roberta Coci


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