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Thoughts About Cante Flamenco

77K views 216 replies 15 participants last post by  SanAntone 
#1 · (Edited)
One of my loves is traditional cante flamenco, usually a singer and a guitarist sitting closely together, perhaps a small coterie of friends and relations together around a table, able to offer encouragement, rhythmic clapping, palmas, as seems best, and to express their appreciation of particularly moving expression on the part of the singer. The idea is to convey emotion, or the simulacrum of emotion, from singer to the small world immediately around her or him. The guitarist, or tocaor, provides a constant sympathetic and complementary accompaniment to the cantaor/cantaora, often looking closely into the singer's face to ensure that the rapport is tightly maintained-- it's a remarkable pairing. The guitarists, who are seemingly numberless throughout flamenco Spain, are almost stupefyingly skilled at the technical aspects of guitar play, yet this amazing virtuosity is, in the best accompanists, kept in tight check to better "romance the stone" of the singer's utterances. The singers themselves most often do not have, and are not judged upon, the quality of their voices--by the standards of Western art song or popular song, their voices, and appearances, are rough, "untrained", ragged--but rather upon their knowledge of the various forms or palos of flamenco, their mastery of many of them, and their ability to move their audience to empathy and/or admiration.

Sung flamenco, authentic cante, is an acquired taste. When I would play my flamenco albums in my room, my mother would ask when the chicken-strangling would be over. Yet the stories that revolve around the greatest singers of yesteryear--people like Manuel Torres, for example-- tell of people rending their clothing, crying uncontrollably, actually leaping through windows, while under the spell of his singing (such behavior often fueled by alcohol, to be sure). Anyway, what draws me into this world of cante flamenco is this experience of raw emotion, or often also of exquisite performance of the classical palos by both singer and guitarist, even in those cases where the emotional component is subdued, and the goal is to render a piece in a more detached manner. I just love it, and have since about the age of 15.

I have relocated this post here from another part of the Forum (some will recognize having seen it before), as it serves reasonably well as an introduction to why I have long cherished traditional cante flamenco, and it will serve as an excuse for me to post some observations about flamenco and some examples of flamenco song, and to welcome others to comment as they choose. More to come, as time and circumstances permit.
 
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#2 · (Edited)
Some Books About Flamenco

There are not many books published about flamenco in English, and often such books are either self-published or are from very small houses that may flash in and out of existence. A good place to search is Amazon, especially as used books. Herewith are some books that will take the reader a goodly way into understanding and possibly appreciating this fascinating music, and especially the singing which is at the center of flamenco:

The Art of Flamenco, D. E. Pohren. Several publishers, from 1962 to 2014. Donn Pohren's book remains the best guide and introduction to traditional flamenco yet published. Pohren became obsessed with flamenco, moved to Spain, married a flamenco dancer, started and operated an inn for others wishing to experience the art at close range, and wrote several of the classic books on the subject. If you can afford only one book on the subject, this is it. Hardcover and paper.

Lives and Legends of Flamenco, D. E. Pohren. A history and many short biographies and critiques of scores of the better-known singers, guitarists, and dancers of traditional flamenco. Pohren offers more insight into how flamenco performance is, or ought to be, appreciated. The author, recently deceased, had strong views on what constituted proper flamenco, but one always knew where Pohren stood on these matters of taste. I have the self-published 1964 edition, hardcover.

Flamenco, Claus Schreiner, Editor. A series of excellent essays on aspects of flamenco written by German aficionados. 1996, Amadeus Press (paper). First published in German in 1985.

More anon.
 
#3 ·
More Books

The Flamencos of Cadiz Bay, Gerald Howson. First published in 1965; currently or soon to be available in paper from The Bold Strummer. Howson, an Englishman eager to learn flamenco and to experience the "flamenco lifestyle", got employment in Spain as a teacher of English, and finally ended up in Cadiz, which, along with Jerez and the barrio in Seville known as Triana, was long recognized as one of the three centers of flamenco in Andalusia. Howson befriended the legendary Gatidano singer Aurelio de Cádiz, and, aided by Aurelio's patronage, was able to fulfill his dream. The book provides a rich account of the erratic and unpredictable lives of the flamencos of that day.

Queen of the Gypsies, Paco Sevilla. Sevilla Press, 1999, paper. Paco Sevilla is one of the best historians of flamenco writing in the past 20 years. Queen of the Gypsies is his biography of Carmen Amaya, the Queen of flamenco dance, but also an unparalleled account of flamenco in the first half of the 20th century, including the all-important role of traveling-troupe flamenco--people such as dancers Carmen Amaya, José Greco, La Argentina, but also well-known guitarists like Carlos Montoya, Mario Escudero, and Sabicas-- who did so much to introduce flamenco to the world outside Spain. An outstanding book.

Seeking Silverio, Paco Sevilla. Sevilla Press, 2007, paper. This is what Paco Sevilla calls a "flamenco novel" but it is best described as an "enhanced biography" of Don Antonio Chacón, widely regarded as one of the greatest singers of the earlier years of flamenco. Sevilla pens a wholly-believable account of the flamenco of the last quarter of the 19th century and of the Andalusia of that time--the sights, sounds, smells, customs. The book serves as a prequel to his Carmen Amaya biography, but is very enjoyable in its own right.

Enough of books, but I find that my enjoyment of any of the arts is hightened by any and all additional input, and I get such input usually from books.
 
#4 · (Edited)
The Palos: Some Ways of Classifying

There are scores of song styles or forms in cante--palos--Donn Pohren lists about 60-70. Of these, only a little over a dozen account for the vast bulk of performance. The palos can be divided by seriousness/joyousness of their subject matter/lyrics into 3 categories: cante jondo or grande, cante intermedio, and cante chico. Cross-cutting against this classification scheme is one that identifies the palos as being largely of gypsy (gitano) origin, or of non-gypsy (payo), or "Andalusian", origin. Thus we have cante gitano, and cante andaluz. This latter way of distinguishing the palos of flamenco has resulted in many decades of argument as to who " invented" flamenco, gitanos or some other mix of Arab, Berber, Jewish, Celtic, Church or whatever influences. Nobody actually knows. I regard cante flamenco as being like a rope consisting of two equally strong strands twisted inseparably together to form a whole that is stronger than its parts. But the proponents of "gitanismo", led by the great gypsy cantaor Antonio Mairena, have long battled the payo school, which was represented by the equally renowned payo cantaor Aurelio de Cádiz. This argument now has turned to mutual charges of racism in Andalusian flamenco circles; the idea being that it is racist to deny gitano primacy in the evolution of flamenco, and also racist to affirm it. A conundrum. How would the Blues be dealt with? In my further discussions of the palos, I will note where each palo is in these two classification schemes, as the subject comes up as a matter of course in flamenco discussion.

I plan to offer an example or two of each of the 14 palos that seem to me to represent most cante performance. I will list them here first by whether they are jondo, intermedio, or chico, and then add a G or A to show their possible origin as (maybe) gitano or (maybe) Andalusian/payo:

Cante Jondo Palos--Soleares, Siguiriyas, Martinete, Serrana, La Caña, all G. Saetas, A.

Cante Intermedio Palos--Fandangos Grandes, Malagueñas, Taranta, all A. Tientos, G.

Cante Chico Palos--Alegrías, Bulerias, Tango Gitano, all G. Fandangos de Huelva, A.
 
#5 · (Edited)
Bulerias: Cante Chico, Cante Gitano

As may be clear from the listing of the palos, the alleged gitano palos seem to occupy the emotional extremes of cante--those that deal with the greater sorrows of life, the cante jondo forms, and those that express great enthusiasm, joy, festivity-- the cante chico ones. In contrast, the cante andaluz palos are more to the middle of the emotional spectrum, and are more often sung in a mood of reflection, but we see the usual exceptions to these generalizations....

We will begin the review of the palos with one of the most well-known and loved, the exciting Bulerias. The first example has Bernarda de Utrera as cantaora, and Diego del Gastor as tocaor, in an outdoor village or "pueblo" setting, somewhere in or near the town of Morón. Diego del Gastor and the sisters Fernanda and Bernarda de Utrera, and some other local singers were prime exemplars of a simple, direct, exciting and very authentic pueblo flamenco that captivated the American expat Donn Pohren, who made Morón flamenco famous in his books and attracted dozens of young Americans and other non-Spaniards to the town and to Diego del Gastor to learn his version of real flamenco. This is the real deal.


The second Bulerias is sung by the legendary Terremoto de Jerez in his prime, with his favorite guitarist Manuel Moreno "Morao" accompanying. Terremoto later grew obese and drank far too much, a fate suffered by many cantaors. The poet García Lorca wrote of such: "The heart gets most of them...a strange and simple people, they sing with their eyes fixed on a point on the horizon...and then they burst, like giant cicadas..."
 
#6 · (Edited)
Siguiriyas: Cante Jondo, Cante Gitano

We turn now away from the gaiety and energy of cante chico and Bulerias, and to its polar opposite: the stark, tragic world of Siguiriyas, the most jondo of the several gitano palos. Unlike its close companion, Soleares, which tends to being more declamatory, the pain expressed by the darker, starker Siguiriyas is more in the nature of being wrenched from the singer. The dialect is the Andalu of Andalusia, which is not easy to understand in normal speech, and is rendered even more so by the conventions of flamenco song. The key to recognizing the various palos is to pay attention to both singer and guitar--the unique patterns that are common within each palo eventually become ingrained in the memory, and one need only hear a few moments of most palos to know which is being offered. In the various palos, short cadenzas, or falsetas are played by the guitarist in between the verses or coplas of the palo--evident in these two examples of Siguiriyas:

The first is proof that traditional cante still lives here and there. The cantaora is the gifted daughter, Estrella Morente, of the cantaor Enrique Morente. The guitarist is Juan "Pepe" Habichuela. I feel no shame in the tears that well in my eyes when I hear this music.


The second offering is sung by the then-young but renowned gitano cantaor Antonio Nuñez, aka El Chocolate, recently deceased. The guitarist is Eduardo de la Malena. The particular song here is one made famous long ago by the greatest of gitano cantaors, Manuel Torres.
 
#7 · (Edited)
Malagueñas, y Taranta/Taranto: Cante Intermedio, Cante Andaluz

Having briefly examined the extreme ends of the emotional spectrum with some cante gitano, we now gravitate toward the somewhat more moderate world of cante andaluz. The emphasis in these palos is somewhat less on direct expression of emotion and more on vocal control and phrasing--more of an Art Song approach. The cante andaluz palos lend themselves more toward being listened to, say, in a garden in the last of the day's sun as dusk creeps in, and one seeks respite from the Sturm und Drang of cante gitano, perhaps with a glass of wine in hand....

Malagueñas is the most prominent of the many palos from the vicinity of Málaga. This example is sung by José de la Tomasa; the toque is provided by Ricardo Miño. It is far and away my favorite version of this palo, and is exquisitely both sung and played.


The Taranta is the best-known of the mining-themed palos of eastern Andalusia. The subject matter of these strange-sounding songs is mines, mining, miners, and the dangers and terrors of that profession: "A miner cried out, in the bottom of a mine: Ayy, what loneliness I have! And although I have a lamp, I cannot find my way out." This example is sung by Carmen Linares; the guitarist is Rafael Riqueni.


Flamenco dancers wished to dance to Tarantas, but the absence of a defined beat in that palo led to the development of the Taranto, which does have a slow, steady measure that lends itself to a stately dance. Here is a Taranto sung by La Paquera de Jerez, a renowned gitana cantaora. The guitars are those of Juan Maya and Manolo Sanlucar.


Many of the cante andaluz palos are even more of an acquired taste than are the better-known cante gitano forms, and take some time to appreciate. But they offer rich rewards to those with the attentiveness to give them ear several times.
 
#8 · (Edited)
Serrana y La Caña; Martinete: Cante Jondo, Cante Gitano; Saeta: Jondo, Andaluz(?)

Four of the less-heard palos: one at least of great beauty (Serrana), another of unparalleled harshness that is almost shocking in its disinterest in any semblance of euphony (Martinete). We will begin with the Serrana, a palo thought to have evolved from the much older La Caña.

In 2007, an Italian-produced biopic of the Renaissance artist Caravaggio was released. I never saw it, but on some message board someone posted a short clip from the film and asked what was the haunting music heard in the clip. I watched and listened and was able to immediately identify the piece as a Serrana, titled Serenata, by the esteemed cantaor El Niño de Almaden, with Pedro Soler accompanying, and so notified the poster. It is a lovely piece, and works well, even though a flamenco palo in an Italian film. Here is that clip; the Serrana begins at about 3:55 and ends at about 6:50.


Some flamenco scholars believe La Caña to be one of the oldest palos of flamenco. It is distinctive in the ending of each copla with a ritualized, repeated (in threes) series of sung Ehes. While most cantaors know La Caña, the gypsy Rafael Romero is most closely associated with it. Here he is accompanied by Perico el del Lunar, the gifted son of a gifted guitarist father of the same name.


Some palos are sung without any accompaniment at all, they are sung "a palo seco", originally indicating time being kept by striking the floor or the ground rhythmically with a walking stick, but later including no accompaniment at all. The Martinete is an exclamation of grief and pain: "With the weariness of death, I crept to one side; with the fingers of my hand, I tore at the wall...". Many were originally sung as gypsies worked at forges, doing metalwork. This is uttered by Manuel Agujetas, regarded as a master of this palo.


The Saeta is what is sung during the Easter week procession in many Andalusian cities and towns. Statues of Jesus and the Virgin Mary are carried through the streets, with bands of drums and trumpets. The procession will stop at certain places, there will be silence, and the Saeta, the "Arrow of Song" will pierce the silence like the cry of some strange bird, recounting the suffering of Christ and Mary. It is thought to be of liturgical origin by some; others differ. Some--many--times it will send chills down the spine. This is sung by Manuel Mairena, the gifted son of famed cantaor Antonio Mairena--flamenco is often handed down through generations in the same family.
 
#9 · (Edited)
Intermission: 1950s Recordings of Cante--What Was Available?

My interest in cante flamenco was born in the 1950s, largely as the result of seeing dancer José Greco and his troupe on the Ed Sullivan Show on American TV. Greco usually would have a singer or singers, and something in their delivery, a suggestion of exoticism and wildness, appealed strongly to me. Flamenco albums were few at the record store, but the non-Spanish audience for cante was well served by what was available: a mix of traveling-troupe and recorded-in-Spain cante and some baile (dance) of very high quality. I bring this up because I will be using some examples of this 1950s cante from those recordings, that have found their way onto YouTube, because it is some of the finest realized flamenco combining cante, dance, and guitar. I will list some of the most important LPs of that era, some of which served to bring a knowledge and appreciation of cante flamenco to a huge audience outside of Spain. These recordings are still of enormous value and interest today.

The Hispavox/Westminster "Anthology of Cante Flamenco", with many singers, all accompanied by Perico el del Lunar. 3 LPs. This recording put cante flamenco on the map. Historic.

"A History of Cante Flamenco", sung by Manolo Caracol, accompanied by Melchor de Marchena. 2 LPs. A legendary singer (and guitarist).

Several albums on the Spanish Montilla label; one (Serenata Andaluza) with Sabicas and singer Enrique Montoya and dancer Goyo Reyes, has my favorite Alegrías, both sung and danced. Alas, not available on YouTube.

And two final gems of 1950s cante, only selectively available on YouTube--

"Festival Gitana" on Elektra, with Sabicas, Diego Castellon, and Mario Escudero on guitars, and singers Enrique Montoya and Domingo Alvarado. This wonderful LP had superb examples of Bulerias, Fandangos, Siguiriyas, and Tientos, this last I will feature in the section on Tientos and Tangos. This was available on CD at one time, under the title of "Fiesta Flamenco" (sic).

"Danzas Flamencas" on Decca, with José Greco dancing, The incomparable Manolita de Jerez and Rafael Romero singing, and an unidentified guitarist--perhaps Miguel Garcia, perhaps Triguito. This disk offers world-class Soleares, Bulerias, Fandangos (all three of which are in the YouTube clip that I will offer as an example of Fandangos), Tientos, Zambras, and La Caña. Sadly, this outstanding recording has never been transferred to CD, for it is one of the finest recordings of flamenco performance incorporating song, dance, and guitar.
 
#10 · (Edited)
Tientos y Tangos: Cante Intermedio y Cante Chico; Cante Gitano

Here we present Tientos and Tangos together, as they are very clearly related: Tientos being a slower version of Tangos, or Tangos being a faster form of Tientos. As is often the case in flamenco lore, the authorities are divided as to which came first--some say Tientos, with Tangos evolving as a speeded-up, less serious, happier offspring, or the reverse, with Tangos maturing into a more grave and somber palo, dealing with more grave and serious subjects. As you listen to the two palos, you will immediately hear the similarity of structure--indeed, the two palos are often combined, with several coplas of Tientos then switching into and concluding with the faster rhythm of Tangos--these combined versions are often called Tientos y Tangos. First, two presentations of Tientos....

The first is from the LP Festival Gitana, with Sabicas, Diego Castellon, and Mario Escudero on guitar and the cantaors Enrique Montoya and Domingo Alvarado. What created the power and intensity of this recording was, in my opinion, the bringing together of two competitive singers singing alternate coplas and thus each striving for and reaching depths of emotion unusual for either, under the stimulus of working with the then-acknowledged master of flamenco guitar, Sabicas. The result was amazing.


Next is a Tientos sung by Rafael Romero, "El Gallina" as he is called, with guitar accompaniment by Perico el del Lunar hijo, as sons are usually labeled; his father, also Perico el del Lunar, would be referred to as viejo, the Elder. Rafael Romero excelled at many of the lesser-known palos as well as forms such as Tientos, and was a major contributor with Perico viejo to the historic Westminster/Hispavox anthology.


Finally a marvelous example of Tangos Gitanos, sung by Chano Lobato. The guitarist is El Poeta. Flamenco artists are very rarely known by their birth names. Almost all assume pseudonyms by which they are known throughout the flamenco community. For instance, Perico el del Lunar viejo was born Pedro del Valle; his nom de guerre means Pete, He of the Large Facial Mole (removed long ago).
 
#11 · (Edited)
Soleares: Cante Jondo, Cante Gitano

Soleares is the most widely-sung and widely-appreciated of the jondo palos, as it combines both reflective and declamatory opportunities for both singer and guitarist. It can be danced to, with great effectiveness--moreso than its companion in profundity of expression, Siguiriyas. In any case, if one is to be considered a competent, let alone great, flamenco vocalist, one must have mastered Soleares. Audiences will want to hear any singer's interpretation of this key palo. The topics are usually love and anguish: "I used to think love was just a plaything; now I see one goes through the agonies of death." "I am living in the world devoid of hope; it is not necessary to bury me, as I am buried alive." "If I poured all my anguish into the streams, the waters in the sea would rise to the heavens."

The first Soleares is sung with great effect by Estrella Morente, whom we heard previously singing Siguiriyas. The guitarist is Juan Habichuela, the brother of the Pepe Habichuela of the Siguiriyas previously referenced.


The second example is that of Terremoto ("Earthquake") de Jerez, with Manuel Moreno "Morao" again as tocaor. Terremoto was born Fernando Fernández in the barrio Santiago of the city of Jerez de la Frontera, one of the wellsprings of flamenco. He began as a dancer but decided to try singing, and was an immediate success; he is commonly regarded as one of the greatest of gitano cantaors.
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The third selection is from the landmark 1950s flamenco LP, Danzas Flamencas, with Manolita de Jerez singing and José Greco dancing a shorter and more exclamatory and dramatic Soleares. José Greco, of mixed Spanish and Italian ancestry, was born in Montorio, Italy, but moved with his parents to Brooklyn, New York at age 10. It was in Brooklyn that he learned to dance flamenco, and rapidly became a world-class bailaor working with notable traveling-troupe star dancers such as La Argentinita and Pilar López. Possessed of a healthy egomania--"All women want to be loved by José Greco, and all men want to be José Greco."--he could be, when he chose, a quite remarkable and tasteful dancer, never moreso than on this great LP. Note that there are three selections on the clip-- the first is the Soleares, but the following Bulerias and Fandangos are world-class, and I will reference that Fandangos in the discussion of that palo.
 
#12 · (Edited)
Fandangos y Fandangos de Huelva: Cante Intermedio, Chico; Cante Andaluz

Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?

Herewith we examine both the Fandango and its merrier cousin, the Fandangos de Huelva. The relationship between them resembles that of the Tientos/Tangos pairing, with Fandangos being the slower, darker palo, dealing with love, thwarted love, pain, death--the usual subjects for such utterances: "Your love is like a bunch of grapes; first they refresh, then they intoxicate." "A woman was dying, her children surrounded her and the smallest said to her, 'Mama, look at my face. Don't die yet...'". Along with Tarantas, Fandangos are the most jondo of the Cante Andaluz palos. They have always been among the most favored by singers.

We begin with Terremoto and Morao. The declamatory nature of Fandangos, with the characteristic descending scale at the end of each copla is well-heard here.


Next are Fandangos sung by Agujetas, who is the last of the great gitano cantaors of an earlier generation still singing (and still alive). His appearance is one of the fiercest in flamenco. His accompanist is David Jones, aka David Serva, an American drawn to Spain to learn flamenco guitar at the feet of Diego del Gastor. Serva is perhaps the most accomplished non-Spaniard to master flamenco accompaniment. He speaks the Andalu dialect fluently.


We end with my favorite Fandangos, again from the Danzas Flamencas LP. It is the final palo in the YouTube clip, following the Soleares and the Bulerias, and sung by the incomparable Manolita de Jerez. The guitarist is unknown, but is likely Miguel Garcia or Triguito. Note the explosive ending of each of the four coplas.


After the intensity of Fandangos, we turn to the lighthearted Fandangos de Huelva, which present a picture of gaiety and cheer quite unlike the gloomier Fandangos Grandes. Castanets are not part of flamenco, being associated with "Spanish dance" instead, but they are occasionally heard in Fandangos de Huelva (but not in these examples).

First we will hear the cantaor Roque Montoya, "Jarrito", sing the Fandangos de Huelva, with an unknown accompanist. Jarrito was one of the key singers on the seminal Hispavox/Westminster anthology.


We finish with La Paquera de Jerez, and an unknown accompanist. Agujetas said not long ago that he, El Chocolate, and La Paquera were the only three real flamenco singers left. Now he is entirely alone.
 
#14 · (Edited)
Alegrías: Cante Chico; Cante Gitano

As we began this look at the most often sung palos of cante flamenco, we started with the excitement of Bulerias. We will end with the joyous rhapsody of the beloved Alegrías of Cadiz. Cadiz, or Cai as the gatidanos call it in their dialect, has long had a tradition of great cante and superb singers. It is the home of a family of related palos called Cantiñas, of which Alegrías is the best known. They are sunny and tuneful, and are often danced. As an aside, some of the other towns of Andalusia have distinctive names similar to Cai, for Cadiz. Thus we have Serva for Sevilla, and Grana for Granada. Most of the lyrics, or letras of Alegrías are about love, and the beauty of Cadiz: "I can't think straight when I see you on the street. I can't think straight, and I keep looking at you." "When you come with me, where am I going to take you? For a little walk alongside the great sea-wall." "How my Cadiz shines. See how beautiful! On a little piece of land stolen from the sea."

We begin with an Alegrías sung by the perfectly named La Perla de Cadiz, for decades the queen of Gatidana cantaoras. She is accompanied by her favorite tocaor, Paco Cepero.

And for a complete experience of Alegrías, we conclude with this stirring example of both cante and baile. The singer is Talegon de Córdoba, the two guitarists are the brothers Juan and Pepe Maya, and the bailaor is yet another brother, Manuel Maya, aka "Manolete". ¡Olé!
 
#15 ·
Some General Thoughts About Flamenco

The Primacy of Cante: Most authorities agree that cante was the first element of flamenco to appear, organizing itself out of a welter of gypsy, Arab, ecclesiastical, indigenous Andalusian, whatever roots. Guitar and dance were quickly added as adjuncts to and servants of cante. When a well-known cantaor was coming to town, posters would announce who, when, where, but the name of the accompanying guitarist would usually be missing. And until recently, the centrality of cante to flamenco was asserted by virtually all aficionados--it was absurd to speak of flamenco in its broadest sense as being unaccompanied guitar or guitar and dance, other than as occasional interludes between the singing of the palos. We cannot speak of lieder or of opera without the singer. Similarly, we ought not consider flamenco without its beating heart of cante.

The Cult of the Guitar: However, once one encounters a wider and non-Andalusian audience, it rapidly becomes clear that the raw voices, exoticism, slurred and indecipherable Andalu dialect, and overt emotionalism of sung flamenco is grating to most ears. Hence the much more accessible charms of the guitar and flamenco dance have become central to the popular notion of flamenco; also most aficionados these days are either guitarists or wannabe guitarists who are most appreciative of the virtuoso guitarists of yesterday and today: Sabicas, Paco de Lucia, etc. Hence the greater dominance today of toque and baile over cante in flamenco. Yet back in the heyday of cante's primacy in Andalusia, the wealthy señoritos would hire the cantaor of their choice for the evening's entertainment, and the cantaor would then select the guitarist as his accompanist--it was understood by all that the role of the guitarist was to interact with and to complement the singer, and the best and most authentic flamenco today remains the singer, the song, and the guitarist.

Flamenco is not a Folk Art: While flamenco may have arisen, at least in part, from folk song, it has been almost always a paid professional form of entertainment, not unlike the gypsy bands in many European cultures. In The Brothers Karamazov, Dmitri Karamazov is always calling for the gypsy band to enliven his various alcoholic and amorous sessions in the taverns and inns. In Andalusia and beyond, the adventurous wealthy became excellent devotees of flamenco, and would hire the cantaors, who in turn provided the guitarists and maybe some dancers, with the señoritos supplying location, cash, liquor, and perhaps feminine companionship. But certainly flamencos respected and treasured their music and performed for themselves in private juergas.

I may have other notions about flamenco and post them here from time to time, but for now I hope that some TC members might find what I have set down in this Article of some interest. As far as becoming better informed about flamenco, I again recommended the books referenced above, and I especially recommend repeated listening to the examples of the palos I have provided until one gets familiar with each one's identifying note patterns, rhythms, etc., and also looks for more examples on YouTube. It is astonishing how much superb cante is preserved on YouTube from the 1930s onward.

And I welcome others' posts on this subject--I Love Cante Flamenco!
 
#18 · (Edited)
Jaleo, and a Correction

Jaleo is the general term for the various ways that both onlookers and participants in a flamenco setting add to the atmospherics of the performance. There are, first, expressions of encouragement or appreciation from within the group such as "así se canta", "ole", etc. There is rhythmic clapping, or palmas; finger snapping, or pitos, an art that Carmen Amaya brought to perfection; rhythmic rapping of the knuckles on a tabletop (there is a name for this, but I do not recall it); and taconeo, the tapping of heels on the floor.

One also becomes aware, especially in the slower palos, of a thumping or tapping accent coming from the guitarist-- this is golpe, the striking of the guitar body usually by the ring finger to accentuate a particular run of notes. If the guitar is not fitted with a striking plate or golpeador to receive the blow, you may see a worn area on the guitar just below where the tocaor's hand is usually positioned. Golpe is one of the hallmarks of flamenco guitar playing, muy flamenco!

I must correct an obvious error in my remarks about Jarrito's Fandangos de Huelva: he is clearly accompanied by castanets.
 
#19 · (Edited)
Farruca: Cante Chico; Granaina y Mediagranaina: Cante Intermedio, Cante Andaluz

The Farruca, like the Mediagranaina, is somewhat of a later arrival to the flamenco family. It is thought to have entered Andalusia via the port of Cadiz from Asturias and then dispersed throughout the area. Long a favorite of dancers, it offers rich opportunity for display of footwork and form, especially for male bailaores. Here it is sung by Antonio Cuevas, accompanied by Paco and Angel Cortes, and superbly danced by the renowned Mario Maya. Mario Maya is not to be confused with the equally gifted dancer Manuel Maya "Manolete".


The Granaina and the Mediagranaina ("half-Granaina") are from Granada, and, like many Cante Andaluz palos, evolved to offer opportunities for singers to display their vocal artistry. The Granaina was popularized by the great payo cantaor Don Antonio Chacón. He was so fond of this sort of palo that he created the Mediagranaina as yet another vehicle for his talents. I myself, though, have some difficulty in telling one from the other palo. But they all share the Andaluz trait of the descending scale that closes each. Note the family resemblances to Fandangos, Tarantas, and Malagueñas, all of which reveal common descent from some more remote ancestor--some say of Arab or Berber origin. We begin with Mediagranaina y Granaina sung by Curro de Utrera, accompanied by Luis Calderito.


Next we hear Enrique Morente, the father of Estrella Morente, sing Granaina. Toque is provided by El Bola.


Finally a Mediagranaina, sung much as Don Antonio Chacon himself might have done. This is from a 1950s LP with Pepe el Poli singing and toque by the legendary Carlos Montoya, aided by Pepe Bandajoz.
 
#20 · (Edited)
Thoughts on the recent death of one of the greatest gypsy cantaores in the history of flamenco. I included examples of Agujetas singing both Martinetes and Fandangos in my review of the palos of flamenco. The following is found on Brook Zern's wonderful blog.

Flamenco Singer Manuel Agujetas - Obituary by Manuel Bohórquez - translated by Brook Zern
by Brook Zern

Flamenco Song's Last Cry of Grief

By Manolo Bohorquez

from El Correo de Andalucía, December 25, 2015

A flamenco singer has died. Not just any singer, which would be terrible news. No, one of the greatest masters of Gypsy song (cante gitano). Yes, Gypsy, because that's what Agujetas always was and always wanted to be. His father, Agujetas el Viejo, was also a singer, a Gypsy from Rota with a sound that came from centuries ago, metallic, dark as a cave, that put you in the last room of the blood. Manuel de los Santos Pastor, or Agujetas, who died this morning in Jerez, was the only one who remained of those Gypsies who took the song from the marrow of his bones, a singer who only had the song, who felt alone since the day he was born and who sang so he would not die of solitude. Unsociable, a strange person among strange people, as were Manuel Torres and Tomás Pavón [perhaps the two greatest male flamenco singers who ever lived]. Manuel Agujetas detested anything that was not the flamenco song or freedom, and who fled from stereotypes or academic schools, from technique, from treatises, from la ojana. He was, in the best sense of the word, a wild animal. Some critics reproached him for being too rough, disordered and anarchic, but he had the gift, that thing that correct and professional singers lack. That they can't even dream of. You can fake a voice to sing Gypsy flamenco, but Manuel never faked anything. He was the Gypsy voice par excellence, the owner of what Manuel Torres called the duende, the black sounds that captivated the early flamenco expert Demófilo and García Lorcca. A stripped-down cry that could kill you in the fandango of El Carbonerillo, but that when it was applied to [deep song styles like] the siguiriyas or the martinetes, reached a terrible dramatic intensity. No one sounded as Gypsy as Agujetas, with such profundity. No flamenco singer carried his voice to such depths, even though he could be a disaster on a stage, not knowing how to deal with the accompanying guitar and repeating verses and styles to a point of overload. There is no such thing as "Agujeta-ism", or attempting to copy his inimitable style; but his admirers are found all over the world and have always been faithful to him. A minority, to be sure, but devoted unto death. And they have not claimed official honors for him, as happens with other singers of his generation, They have loved his art and have wanted to experience it, knowing that he was unique and without parallel. Manuel had a charisma that wasn't for stadiums or big theaters, but for an intimate setting. Someone who has an old LP of Manuel Agujetas feels as if he has a treasure, a relic, something sacred. And someone who heard him on a stage, with that antique aspect, that scar on his face and those sunken eyes, knows that on that day he lived a truly unique moment. Surely this death won't make headlines or be reported on radio or TV. And what else? Those of us who heard him during an outdoor summer festival in a small town, or a small theater or a flamenco club will never forget it, because in each line, in each of his chilling moments, Manuel nailed to our soul a way of rendering deep song that didn't die today, with his disappearance, but that died decades ago. It will be a long time before another Gypsy is born, if one is born at all, who has such an ability to wound you with his singing. And when he wounds you fatally, when it kills you, it is a desirable death. The last great pain, the last great grief of song has gone. May he rest in peace.

End of article in El Correo de Andalucía of December 25th, 2015. The original is at http://elcorreoweb.es/cultura/el-ultimo-dolor-del-cante-AI1183398, Olé to Manuel Bohórquez, and a final olé to Manuel Agujetas, the greatest singer I ever knew and the greatest singer I ever heard. Please refer to other entries in this blog for more translations and opinion about Manuel Agujetas.

Brook Zern
brookzern@gmail.com
Flamencoexperience.com
 
#87 ·
Thoughts on the recent death of one of the greatest gypsy cantaores in the history of flamenco. I included examples of Agujetas singing both Martinetes and Fandangos in my review of the palos of flamenco. The following is found on Brook Zern's wonderful blog.

Flamenco Singer Manuel Agujetas - Obituary by Manuel Bohórquez - translated by Brook Zern
by Brook Zern

Flamenco Song's Last Cry of Grief

By Manolo Bohorquez

from El Correo de Andalucía, December 25, 2015

A flamenco singer has died. Not just any singer, which would be terrible news. No, one of the greatest masters of Gypsy song (cante gitano). Yes, Gypsy, because that's what Agujetas always was and always wanted to be. His father, Agujetas el Viejo, was also a singer, a Gypsy from Rota with a sound that came from centuries ago, metallic, dark as a cave, that put you in the last room of the blood. Manuel de los Santos Pastor, or Agujetas, who died this morning in Jerez, was the only one who remained of those Gypsies who took the song from the marrow of his bones, a singer who only had the song, who felt alone since the day he was born and who sang so he would not die of solitude. Unsociable, a strange person among strange people, as were Manuel Torres and Tomás Pavón [perhaps the two greatest male flamenco singers who ever lived]. Manuel Agujetas detested anything that was not the flamenco song or freedom, and who fled from stereotypes or academic schools, from technique, from treatises, from la ojana. He was, in the best sense of the word, a wild animal. Some critics reproached him for being too rough, disordered and anarchic, but he had the gift, that thing that correct and professional singers lack. That they can't even dream of. You can fake a voice to sing Gypsy flamenco, but Manuel never faked anything. He was the Gypsy voice par excellence, the owner of what Manuel Torres called the duende, the black sounds that captivated the early flamenco expert Demófilo and García Lorcca. A stripped-down cry that could kill you in the fandango of El Carbonerillo, but that when it was applied to [deep song styles like] the siguiriyas or the martinetes, reached a terrible dramatic intensity. No one sounded as Gypsy as Agujetas, with such profundity. No flamenco singer carried his voice to such depths, even though he could be a disaster on a stage, not knowing how to deal with the accompanying guitar and repeating verses and styles to a point of overload. There is no such thing as "Agujeta-ism", or attempting to copy his inimitable style; but his admirers are found all over the world and have always been faithful to him. A minority, to be sure, but devoted unto death. And they have not claimed official honors for him, as happens with other singers of his generation, They have loved his art and have wanted to experience it, knowing that he was unique and without parallel. Manuel had a charisma that wasn't for stadiums or big theaters, but for an intimate setting. Someone who has an old LP of Manuel Agujetas feels as if he has a treasure, a relic, something sacred. And someone who heard him on a stage, with that antique aspect, that scar on his face and those sunken eyes, knows that on that day he lived a truly unique moment. Surely this death won't make headlines or be reported on radio or TV. And what else? Those of us who heard him during an outdoor summer festival in a small town, or a small theater or a flamenco club will never forget it, because in each line, in each of his chilling moments, Manuel nailed to our soul a way of rendering deep song that didn't die today, with his disappearance, but that died decades ago. It will be a long time before another Gypsy is born, if one is born at all, who has such an ability to wound you with his singing. And when he wounds you fatally, when it kills you, it is a desirable death. The last great pain, the last great grief of song has gone. May he rest in peace.

End of article in El Correo de Andalucía of December 25th, 2015. The original is at http://elcorreoweb.es/cultura/el-ultimo-dolor-del-cante-AI1183398, Olé to Manuel Bohórquez, and a final olé to Manuel Agujetas, the greatest singer I ever knew and the greatest singer I ever heard. Please refer to other entries in this blog for more translations and opinion about Manuel Agujetas.

Brook Zern
brookzern@gmail.com
Flamencoexperience.com
Agujetas: Tres Generaciones (39 songs, 2 hours 27 minutes) is free to listen on Spotify or YouTube

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#21 · (Edited)
Perrate de Utrera and Diego del Gastor

I began my discussion of the flamenco palos with a bulerias sung by Bernarda de Utrera, to the accompaniment of guitarist Diego del Gastor. The town of Morón for decades was a hotbed of authentic pueblo flamenco, presided over by the legendary guitarist Diego del Gastor, the singer sisters Fernanda and Bernarda de Utrera, and the cantaor Perrate de Utrera. Diego and his singers became extraordinarily attuned to one another's art and recorded classic versions, uniquely theirs, of the gitano palos. Here I offer one each of three such performances by the team of Perrate and Diego--Bulerias, Soleares, and Siguiriyas. Perrate's family provides the setting. Note Perrate's rhythmic striking of the tabletop to mark the grave tempo, the compás, of each palo. These are highly personal, idiosyncratic readings of each form. First, Bulerias:


Next: Soleares:


And finally, Siguiriyas:
 
#22 · (Edited)
Rosario López and Antonio Gómez

Rosario López, a paya (non-gypsy) cantaora born in Jaén, was one of the finest singers of the closing decades of the last century. She had, for a flamenco singer, a very fine voice, and extraordinary expressiveness in the many different palos that she mastered. In 1989, she performed at a flamenco festival, a peña, before an audience gathered to formally listen to flamenco--The Peña Flamenca de Jaén--with guitarist Antonio Gómez, and offered remarkable examples of several palos that I greatly appreciate. Alas, the Peña was not videoed, but we do have the sound recordings of these, as follows:
First, Tientos:


Next we have Soleares:


Finally there is this stunning Siguiriyas-- it is among the best I have heard:
 
#23 · (Edited)
Wow Strange Magic!! I've lived all my life in Madrid, Spain (where the flamenco tradition is not as strong as in the south of the country but still it has a huge presence) and I have to confess that I didn't know half of what I just read in here. You seem to be a true lover of this fine art. :clap::clap: A wonderful article, useful even for a Spaniard, I'm telling you!

Nowadays here in Spain the focus of attention in the flamenco world (at least in the "mainstream" flamenco world) is divided in three:

1. José Mercé: I wonder if you have heard something from this monster. He is tremendous, one of the most loved personalities in the country. I've been to the Auditorio Nacional de Madrid (the mecca of Classical in Spain where the Wiener Philarmoniker and the likes come to play) and I have seen there so so many fine classical concerts, but none comes close to the time I went there to see José Mercé sing. His sole unamplified voice in a huge venue. An incredible experience I will forever cherish

2. Diego "El Cigala": he is probably most known in Spain due to his friendly gypsy character but still, I believe he recorded one of the finest albums that have come from my country in the last 20 years: "Lágrimas Negras", along with cuban jazzman Bebo Valdés. The result is, simply, extraordinary. Check it out if you haven't, Strange Music, for I believe it will get to you. A beautiful combination of jazz and flamenco and, furthermore, a combination of Spanish "salero" with Cuban rhythms.

3. Festival de Cante de las Minas de la Unión: aside from the Feria de Abril and "El Rocío", this is where Flamenco reaches its annual top. Whatever comes from this festival gets a huge attention and it's nowadays one of the principal sources of new blood in the flamenco. You just have to know a few names that sung or performed there to comprehend the relevance of the event: Paco de Lucía, Miguel Poveda, Sara Baras, Estrella Morente and, of course, the greatest of them all, José Monge alias "Camarón de la Isla".
 
#25 ·
There is no question that PdL was one of the most accomplished guitarists ever. He even accompanied cante with great skill and depth early in his career. But the increasing awareness of flamenco among a larger and larger audience who were less and less familiar with its roots and basics in cante, led to the growing dominance of the more accessable elements of flamenco guitar virtuosity and of flamenco dance, over the original primacy of sung flamenco. As I mentioned earlier in this article, today's "flamenco" is like what lieder or opera would be without song, but with the piano of lieder metastasized into a swollen caricature of itself, and perhaps with added bass, drums, flutes, maybe an accordion; opera might become a long tone poem. It is fitting that the PdL concert is during Jazz Week, and really makes no pretense of being authentic traditional flamenco. Late Paco, along with his many contemporaries, belongs in a hybrid category that is variously called flamenco fusion, flamenco nuevo, flamenco/jazz, and a host of other names. My view is that there comes a point when a genre has so evolved away from what it has been for a longish period of time into something else, that it be given a new name in recognition, and to do it its own justice. From what can be told from early recordings (1909), we can probably postulate flamenco as being relatively unchanged or changing very slowly, from, say, the 1880s to the 1980s. Before the 1880s, who knows--it's like the situation with The Blues. We know that Baroque evolved into Classical, and so we don't keep calling the music of Haydn and Mozart Baroque; it has a new name. Not better, not worse, but new, so, new name. Ditto with so-called flamenco today--to the extent that it no longer is centrally about song, accompanied by guitar only, and perhaps embellished occasionally by dance--it should have the courage to seize a new title for itself.
 
#26 ·
I understand what you are saying, but I happen to be a contemporary music fan. I enjoy modern music and musicians that draw from the well of tradition, and incorporate these influences into a contemporary musical format. And I also happen to be a jazz fan, so I like Indian/jazz hybrid music, and other cultural music fusions.

If other musicians want to preserve their folk heritage by trying to re-create music of the past, that's up to them. But my feeling is you can't go back. Same with classical music, which is why I have no interest in listening to 18th century music on period instruments.

And I don't think Paco's music is only about the guitar. He was definitely not a one dimensional musical character. Even in his solo guitar albums and performances you can always feel the spirit of dance, and the social aspect of music.
 
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#90 · (Edited)
I understand what you are saying, but I happen to be a contemporary music fan. I enjoy modern music and musicians that draw from the well of tradition, and incorporate these influences into a contemporary musical format. .... If other musicians want to preserve their folk heritage by trying to re-create music of the past, that's up to them. But my feeling is you can't go back...."
:StarThrower: Traditional Cante Flamenco is timeless. When I and many other fans listen to it we are not trying to re-create music of the past or return to the past. Cante Flamenco is an art dedicated to human emotions. We experience the same emotions as people who lived 50, 100, 1000, 3000 years ago! Will evolution change the existence of or the nature of human emotions? I don't know, but as of now it has not.
 
#27 ·
I completely understand your position. It may be that traditional cante flamenco is dead or near dead, and that would be just fine with me, though, like the blues, there are pockets of both artists and of aficionados still working the seam. The blessing is that we have an enormous recorded legacy, audio and video, of classic flamenco available to us, and so we can still immerse ourselves in an art that did endure for perhaps a century or more as a recognizable entity. And early PdL and early Camarón have a place in that legacy. But his story as an artist, and the associated story of the mutation of traditional, cante-centered flamenco into a number of increasingly non-flamenco idioms, is best served in a thread devoted to the man himself. After all, there are many students of guitar technique who rate PdL the greatest master of the instrument ever, bar none.
 
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