So, you want to know about flamenco?
I’ve been asked about it a hundred times, and I’m sure so have most Spanish people living abroad. This is a PSA about flamenco for our lovely well-meaning international friends.
Your Spanish friend just shrugged and declined to dance it?. Unless you are very very lucky, this is the usual outcome. ‘It’s in your blood’ you said, but, unfortunately, that’s rather unspecific.
Of course, the history of Spain is one of mixing, so dancing flamenco could very well be in my genetics somewhere. But so could greek pantomime, roman military tactics, forging a kick-ass damascene sword or making a french omelette be.
Historians (yes, there are people who go to University to study Flamencology) have defined flamenco as a dance and music resulting of a mixture of Andalusian , Gypsy and African culture, with the gypsy input being the most defining.
As I’m sure you wouldn’t ask an African to dance flamenco, I’ll explain now the link between Andalusian, gypsies and flamenco.
Andalucia, covers most of the south of Spain, and has a rich ancient history. Population wise around a 17% of Spanish people (as per 2015 statistics) live there, making it the most populated region in the country.
However, as the odds of the person in front of you being Andalusian are less than one in four, thread carefully. A madrileño like me could be ‘expected’ to dance the chotis, a rather unflashy (we say you only need to occupy one floor tile, and I swear, that’s not as sexy as it sounds) couple dance to a street organ. The far north west dances muñeiras to the sound of windpipes while the catalonian north east traditionally dances in a group joining hands to sardana, with metal instruments providing the soundtrack.
And, what’s the ‘de facto’ social dance of Andalucia?. To the foreign eye, it might look like flamenco. However, a local would downright chuckle if you call sevillanas flamenco.
If you head to Sevilla two weeks after Easter, you’ll find plenty off ruffles, colors and music (like on the picture). It’s the ‘Feria de Abril’, probably, the most iconic Andalusian event of the year. It’s not a given that social events feature sevillanas, but here you are sure to see many people dancing them.
This is a social dance done in pairs (not necessarily mixed), where partners can change periodically within the group. Floor and arm patterns are the main decorative element of the dance. By-standers, or the dancers themselves, can clap along to mark the rhythm, but you won’t find much of that floor stomping people associate with flamenco.
While the dance is purely social and tells no stories behind it, the singing usually tells small stories. As often in the south, they alternate between religious topics (for special dates) and extremely tongue-in-cheek jabs. For example:
“Me casé con un enano, salerito/ I got married to a funny dwarf
pa hartarme de reír / Just for kicks
¡ole ahí ese tío que va ahí! / Oh what a guy he was!
eso si que fue de veras / This happened once
que al bajarse de la cama, salerito,/ That when the funny guy jumped out of bed
se cayó en la escupidera”./ He fell right onto the chamber pot.
Naughty topics are also well loved, for example, a proud man detailing the kind of panties he’s going to buy for his woman (hint, with holes, to keep it breezy). Not the kind of topic to keep on those serious intense faces people imagine for Spanish dance, right?.
Now, where do the gypsies come onto this?
The Spanish Census doesn’t recognize ‘gypsy’ as an special ethnic group, but the Gypsy Secretariat Foundation estimates its current population at around 650.000 individuals. This makes barely 1,5% per cent of the total population of Spain. The biggest part of them, over a third, lives in Andalusia. While some cities have areas traditionally inhabited by gypsies, the Spanish government does promote relocation and integration among the general population. Only about 4% of them currently live in slums.
Historically, they spoke the Caló language (an iberian variation of romaní). However, the majority of the population currently speaks mostly Spanish, with some Caló thrown in. Some words actually found their way back into the mouths of spanish Payos (non- gypsies), mostly for unofficial speech. For example, parné (money), camelar (seduce), churumbel (son) or currar (to work).
It’s believed the gypsy people came to Spain in the XVth century, originally from the north Indian state of Rajasthan. Unlike the Christian ones which would go on to prosecute them, the southern Arab kingdoms were tolerant of sefardi Jews and gypsy travelers. This is what made Andalusia the original breeding ground for flamenco.
Unlike the religious history telling background of Kathak, flamenco is a deeply personal dance. Think of it more like a jam session, not a theater show. While the music piece might tell a small story, a full narrative is uncommon. Through his own duende (magic), the singer expresses his feelings, quejíos and alegrías (laments and happiness). The dancer is supposed to reach to the music. The most serious style of singing, cante jondo, doesn’t feature any dancing at all.
Although there’s some degree of artistic creativity, the traditional layout of a flamenco performance is like that of a music concert, no backdrop needed. Just a group of musicians, one or two singers, and one dancer in the middle.
Heeled leather shoes are a must for both genders, it’s a special handcraft of Spain, and you’d do well to pick up some for yourself, to stomp, if not the tablaos, at least the streets. Possible accessories are Castanets, wooden hand percussion, fans and a Manila shawl (an embroidered silk, often with flowery motifs and big fringes).
So, just as a final tip, I know, you really want to see Carmen. But although the Spanish tourism sector is eternally thankful to these two Frenchmen who wrote the novel and the opera, Spain, my friend, is different!.
