Step by Step

A lesson from local luminaries on the art of flamenco

Flamenco is excitement — and contradiction: love and hate, fiery passion and coldly tragic loss, sound and silence, movement and stillness. It’s traditionally a mix of influences that range from Spanish to African as well as Latin American, Muslim, Jewish, Catholic, and — of course — Gypsy (the preferred terms are Roma or Romani, which can be traced back to India). It can be loud and in-your-face then quickly turn soft and seductive.

New Mexico has long been hailed as the Flamenco Capital of the USA with its flamenco schools as well as its well-known and skilled artists who perform and learn in Spain and reciprocate by hosting Spanish stars here. New Mexico is fortunate to have a choice of venues where we can witness and be transported into another world — where you can surrender to the art form’s overwhelming magic. Even if you know nothing about flamenco, you’ll be entertained and amazed by the colorful costumes and the passionate music and footwork. But by learning a few of flamenco’s secrets, you’ll have a more meaningful experience you’ll not soon forget.

Historian, teacher, and cantaor (singer) Vicente Griego recently invited Pasatiempo readers to learn more about world of flamenco.

The setting

Flamenco has two presentational styles: tablao, a party-like atmosphere with random and organic performances (the experience has been likened to going to a classic jazz club); and teatro, which is more cabaret, featuring a set show. Both offer a playfully mysterious and challenging promise that anything can happen at any time.

The sound

aural atmosphere instantly shocks audiences into what Griego calls a “soundscape [where] ancient melodies evoke a memory of place, even if only unconsciously recalled.”

The music

usual components are guitar, voice, and percussion, which includes the pounding feet and rhythmic clapping of dancers. It all takes years to master with compas, or rhythmic patterns, complicated by a 12-beat structure. “That is why audiences should hold their applause till the end,” Griego says. “In flamenco, clapping is the most intricate instrument; it connects all the other elements of performance. You wouldn’t go to a concert and blow your own horn!”

Clapping is even a trade; professional flamenco clappers are called palmeros.

Griego notes that there’s a way for excited audience members to participate. “You can join in anytime with the jaleos [shouts of encouragement],” he says. Enthusiastic cries include “Olé!,” “Amoya!” (conflated vernacular for “Let’s go!”), “Eso es!” (“That’s it!”), and “Agua!” (a humorous admonition to “Cool it down!”).

Singing

Even if you understand the singer’s language, there’s a reason you may have trouble understanding the lyrics. Although the birthplace of flamenco is widely acknowledged to be Andalusia, Spain, the songs are not sung in Castilian Spanish but in Caló, a Romani (Gypsy) dialect.

The melodies emanate from their diverse and tangled roots, and the finest singing comes from the performer’s body and soul. You know it when you hear it, and you feel it when you do.

Dance

Aficionados regard song as the essence of the art, but dance is such a recognizable and familiar aspect that it’s become almost synonymous with flamenco.

“There is Flamenco Puro, or pure flamenco, which adheres to tradition and Spanish gitano or gypsy origin, and Danza Española, which is ever-expanding in its embrace of other forms of dance and cultural influences,” says Griego.

Golpe (“strikes” or “hits”) can be applied to attacks on guitar, percussive knuckle raps on tables, and the concussion of the dancers’ feet. Look quickly for these dancers’ steps, because they appear like sudden flashes.

Golpe — In dance, it’s zapateado footwork; a flat stomp of the entire foot Planta — The ball of the foot slaps the floor

Talón (or sometimes Tacón) – A sharp heel hit

Punta — A toe tap

Although you may be mesmerized by the fast and fancy footwork, there are impressive vueltas (turns). Flamenco offers a dazzling variety; some mimic daily chores such as sweeping, while others include veronicas, which are the same moves executed by bullfighters with their capes.

Griego recommends taking the dancer’s whole body into account, as it all has meaning and importance. “Everything from the hips up is heaven and, from the hips down, earth,” he says. “It’s a battle.” The metaphors are apt and plentiful: The concept of duende (soul) suggests spiritual possession and palpable transformation of the performer and — by extension — the audience to a higher plane, similar to concepts of Asian martial arts and kung fu.

Embedded in the dance are many other moves. The vuelta quebrada is a graceful and sensual backbend. Floreo (flower) are expressive hand gestures that occasionally seem at odds with the dancers’ stern faces, which, Griego says, express “intensely focused concentration.”

There are distinct parts to the dancing that include an introduction (often a presentation of the performer or even a visual confronting of the audience) and then slow and fast sections that can build to astonishing climaxes (bulerias).

“Flamenco is like jazz because it originated with a discriminated class, is defiant joy, and celebrates personal expression,” Griego says. “See if you can notice the subtle signals between the musicians, singers, and dancers as when it’s their turn or when someone really nails it.”

Paul Ross is an award-winning writer and photographer who travels the world but lives in New Mexico.