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Flamenco, of course, didn’t start in London, or even in Spain (a popular misconception). Its controversial origins add to its mystique, but it’s probable that it resulted from the interaction of two strong, proud cultures: that of Andalusian Spain and that of the Gypsies who arrived there as part of the diaspora from India. It is likely that the original ancient, sacred Hindu dances were then influenced by Greek, Roman and Egyptian cultures as the Gypsies passed through these countries. In a recent post-performance audience at the Royal Festival Hall, Paco Peña said “What makes Flamenco goes back more than 800 years, from the culture left by the Arabs, the Jewish influences and indigenous creativity... It is written that people were imported from Cadiz to entertain aristocracy 3,500 years ago, so Flamenco draws from a huge tradition”. However, we would only have started recognising the music after the guitar was used, 30 or 40 years before the word Flamenco was first introduced in 1881. As Flamenco developed in the “cafés cantantes” (singing cafés, a Spanish equivalent of the English music halls) two distinct groups had already formed; one believing that it should remain exactly in its traditional, pure form and the other that it should be allowed to develop and be projected through new channels.
This difference of opinion still exists in London and the extremes of both sides are still expressed regularly. Yasmine Villalobos, singer and teacher at Escuela de Baile at The Latin Quarter says: “My passion for pure Flamenco makes me angry. I feel very strongly about how it has been bastardised, prostituted and abused by people who don’t have sufficient knowledge, who haven’t lived it. We are supposed to be Flamenco, to live Flamenco and not just to put it on like a hat when we go on stage”, while Danielle Allan, another Flamenco teacher and student says: “I collaborate on a Royal Academy outreach programme all around the country and pure Flamenco wouldn’t be appropriate for the work. We combine the dance with getting children to respond to the sounds of the music and the palmas, then get them to make marks on the paper that look like what they have experienced. I’m not obsessed with Flamenco and I’m not prepared to suffer for it. It’s one part of my lovely, rich life and I come home to my husband exhausted and happy.”
While the song forms are now considered immutable by most, improvisation by dancers within these constraints is considered essential. Even the experts (who agree on very little) are unanimous that Flamenco must be passionate, that movement, improvisation and passion of expression is essential, and that the movement in Flamenco is a reflection of life itself. Paco Peña says: “Flamenco is the music of poor, persecuted people. They developed it out of want and hardship and it comes out as a very strong statement of how bad things are. It’s not political, the singing tells of suffering and some joy. If you’re looking to express clearly the truth of your emotions and the audience connects in understanding it is a magnificent experience.”
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Left, Flamenco teacher Maribel di Manchega, one of London Flamenco's most popular personalities, who has a reputation for teaching incredibly complicated taconeo, performing at the Pena Flamenca des Londres. Right, Student Danielle Allan.
Photographs by David Kallo. |
Despite protestations to the contrary, Flamenco is still changing. It would be impossible — and in a way hypocritical — for an art form that has taken shape through such a merger of world cultures to stay still. But nowadays these changes are wrought only by extremely talented, highly creative and deeply rooted artists. Notable dancers who have done this are the late Antonio Gades and Mario Maya, the latter of whom has been known to come to London to teach intensive courses at Escuela de Baile.
The modern, sophisticated equivalent of a café cantante is a Tablao or traditional Flamenco show. Drinks are served and the artists appear on a small stage, usually sitting in a row along the back wall or in a semi-circle while they perform songs and dances amid shouting, clapping (palmas) and the snapping of fingers. Wander along Hanway Street near Tottenham Court Road and you’ll see two London examples. Costa Dorada has both a bar and restaurant and a great tradition of invited Andalusian performers and opposite a smaller bar is more like something you’d find in the back streets of Seville. The Peña Flamenca de Londres, a Flamenco club that organises regular events organises gatherings on the second Sunday of every month. Whether there are professional dancers on stage or an organised Juerga night (an opportunity for anyone to show what they can do, where improvisation is encouraged), members and guests are welcome to sit and watch with a drink and some reasonably priced traditional Spanish food or take to the floor to dance Sevillanas or Bulerias. Once a month on a Sunday you can spend an entire afternoon in Tufnell Park learning to dance Flamenco, then the evening practicing what you have learned.
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Above, Recent Flamenco Fusion at the Barbican, London: Bebo Valdes and El Cigala, a Cuban musician and Spanish Flamenco cantoaor, both famous in their own right. Photograph by Juanlu Vela, courtesy of BMG Imports.
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There is a wealth of choice in terms of teachers and locations in and around London. Escuela de Baile, is run by Nuria Garcia at the Latin Quarter, Euston. This is the largest Flamenco school in London (and possibly the largest in Europe outside Spain) and is dominated by Nuria’s enigmatic and engaging personality, her inexhaustible enthusiasm for the dance and a deep seated belief that Flamenco should be performed in public as soon as possible. Escuela de Baile students often appear at Peña Juerga nights, and a full show where all the school’s students and invited professionals appear at a professional London venue such as the Peacock Theatre. Conchita Del Campo gives Sunday morning classes in Kings Cross, Maribel di Manchega (one of London Flamenco’s most popular and personalities) has a reputation for teaching incredibly complicated taconeo both carefully and patiently, and is willing to demonstrate what is required as many times as possible for even the slowest student and Felipe de Algeciras, who still puts on professional shows with his Flamenco troupe, gives excellent lessons in a variety of locations.
The structure of dance lessons depends on the teacher, but most lessons last about an hour and a half and either concentrate on technique or a particular choreography. If you’re not going to be able to get to lessons regularly it is better to look for technique, Bulerias or Sevillanas lessons. As you would expect, it’s important to learn the basics of a choreography and build on them, and only exceptional students will not struggle if they miss more than a couple of lessons in a row. When trying the lessons for the first time, low, strong heels and baggy clothes are acceptable, but if you decide to learn Flamenco properly you will soon want to buy the shoes, and women the skirt as there is a technique in dancing with a long heavy skirt that can only be developed with practice.
You use every part of the body when dancing Flamenco, and co-ordinating hands, arms, feet, legs and your upper body while dancing with your face is quite a challenge. But it is excellent exercise and you leave your troubles in the changing room — there is simply not enough room for more than the dance you’re learning.
The traditional, hierarchical nature of Flamenco is as evident in London schools and shows as it is everywhere. The stage is ruled by the singer, who sets the initial pace, mood and rhythm with the guitarist through the way the song is expressed. The dancer usually has most opportunity to express him or herself between verses. A good performer will control the length of each section of the dance as well as the pace and rhythm through taconeo (footwork) or palmas (clapping).
Most dances fall into two distinct styles. The Cante Jondo (profound song) and the Cante Chico (little song). The former is serious, and a good dancer will express the pain of life or the cry of the oppressed and the second is much lighter and often humorous and therefore more popular with the general public.
I love Flamenco. It’s another world; dark, passionate mysterious, operatic. It attracts the kind of person who isn’t afraid of hard work and who has sufficient staying power to learn how to dance properly. I’ve made a number of good friends from the lessons and have never in my life found so many people with whom I’ve had so much in common. But to finish I’d like to quote Vera, Chairman of the Peña Flamenca de Londres, who says “I love Flamenco for the feel of it and because it’s like Everest, however high you get there’s somewhere else to go.”
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