We spent the weekend celebrating our second wedding anniversary. Two years ago we had a blues "boda" with all of our friends and loved ones in Mississippi. With September 26th approaching, we lit a roaring metaphorical fire. It began in Portugal with an argument about directions. Then we took turns pouring gasoline on it for much of our time in Madrid. So, by the time our bus wound through the neat rows of olive trees into Granada, we had the perfect embers. Our first hotel room since leaving U.S. soil made the embers glow romantically. The intricacy of the Alhambra's Arab architecture and the passion of live flamenco music and dance made it perfect.
The flamenco was incredible. The band we saw had six members, only one of whom was over 30. The venue seated no more than 50 people. A glass of boxed wine was included with our ticket. We were the first ones in and took seats on the front bench. The show was two hours of concentratin and passion.
It started with a percussionist taking a seat just in front of me on a box that looked like a speaker or a subwoofer. It turns out this is his drum. Behind him, a young man of maybe 23 sits at a piano. Then the three chairs with microphones are filled one by one. First by a woman in her 50s or 60s with the look of a true gypsy. She has thin snaking gray curls, ample eye makeup in a bluish-purple shade and a long flowy black dress with her shoulders out. Her voice is raspy and baritone.
Next to her sits her opposite. A beautiful young woman who looks to be 21 or 22. She wears a blue blazer with sleeves rolled, white pants and heels. Her voice glides around octaves like waves on a rocky shore. Sometimes crashing with power. Sometimes caressing with tranquility. They both clap and tap as well as sing. Next to her sits a young man with a small acoustic guitar. He sings with his fingers. And his microphone is appropriately pointed towards his navel. He plays his guitar expressionlessly like a classical music recital with the fingers of Eric Clapton. The music is rousing, moving, and at times, sad.
By the time they reach the second song, the dancer appears. She wears a tightly fitted dress of black and red. From her mid-thigh, the fabric reaches down to the floor and out into the crowd. She has a long curly pony tail adorned by a flower to match her dress. At first red. Then purple. Then yellow. For the next two hours, nobody breathes as she taps, slaps, spins, glides, flourishes, dips, bows, scoops and carries our hearts away. It culminates with a huge exhale and applause.
Flamenca
Flamenca video I tried to load but it didn't work........
No comments:
Post a Comment