Spain often is marketed as the land of passion, bullfights, flamenco, sun, and sand. Blurring significant regional diversity, an almost comic-book version of its southern region, Andalucía, has been promoted as the public face of Spain – it has all the right elements: bulls, flamenco, beaches, …
Ironically, then, most travellers to Spain visit Castilian Madrid and Catalán Barcelona, neither in Andalucía. However, both cities have significant Andalucian communities and the tourist industries in both emphasize an ‘Andalucized’ image of Spain (except Barcelona also capitalizes on its ‘more European’ status and Catalunya has recently banned bullfights). If time permits, travellers do head south to Andalucía – generally to Sevilla and Granada. Many travellers – particularly from Europe – spend time at a costal resort.
If you are in Spain for a limited time, and particularly if you don’t speak Spanish, it can be difficult to get past the made-for-tourists packaging. As a result, some travellers feel almost a sense of shame for participating in what appears to be a staged event and want to find the ‘real’ Spain. But let’s be clear – there is no shame in travelling and even the most touristy establishments are run by real people, making a living and selling aspects of the local culture, albeit in a stylized manner. Nevertheless, a bit of knowledge can significantly enrich one’s experience – the more you know about the culture going in, the more you will be able to learn while there.
Take flamenco as an example. Typically, a traveller will see flamenco in venues that cater to tourists – perhaps a flamenco tablao in a larger city, the Gypsy caves in Granada, or a nightclub in a costal resort. Often the tickets are sold at the hotel and transportation is arranged – one is shipped in and shipped out – the audience is 100% foreign. Is this the real thing? Yes and no. These are real flamenco artists, and sometimes very good ones. These venues provide employment in a tight market, so the jobs are coveted. Thus, the performers will usually have a fairly good technical level. On the other hand, flamenco is a delicate thing, and performing night after night for hordes of uncomprehending tourists (some of whom sleep through the show due to the grueling pace of their packaged tour), takes its toll – the result can be a rather lack-luster display.
But the audience usually loves these shows – there is color, movement, rhythm, impressive technical ability, and something resembling passion. But it is hard to get more than this – the dancer stamps and twirls with great precision, the guitarists play with amazing technique, and the singers wail in a vaguely Middle-Eastern manner. Without some knowledge of flamenco, the traveller won’t realize that this is an Andalucian oral tradition, where each member of the group communicates with the others according to a set of unwritten signals: the dancer calls in the singer, and then follows the song; the guitarist follows both the dancer and the singer; the rest of the ensemble provide a rhythm section through intricate hand claps; each ‘song’ is actually an instantiation of an abstract song-form, each with its particular rhythm and melodic structure; while there may be little or no rehearsal, everyone seems to know just when to speed-up, come to a stop, etc.
So – a bit of knowledge about flamenco would enrich the experience. It might also inspire a traveller to seek out venues that are not on the tourist trail, such as local festivals and performances in flamenco peñas (‘social clubs’). This requires a bit of digging and it helps to know enough Spanish to search the web, but it really shouldn’t be beyond the reach of most travelers.
The easiest way to learn about flamenco is to read up on it. There are several English-language books and websites that cover the basics – descriptions of flamenco history, song forms, and aspects of song, dance, and guitar. Many of these tend towards the exotic, however – written by foreign aficionados, some of whom harbor romanticized notions of what flamenco should be, and their well-meaning exoticization of flamenco actually ends up reinforcing the tourist’s image of Spain – passion, duende (roughly ‘feeling’ – a term I have rarely heard Spanish flamencos use), … This is not to say flamenco doesn’t involve strong emotions and trance-like states – it can and does. Nevertheless, one should avoid the comic-book caricatures and try to dig a bit deeper.
For the past several years I’ve lead a study abroad program in Cádiz – a small Andalucian city on the Atlantic coast. My students study the history of Spanish, Spanish dialectology, and flamenco – they don’t learn to do flamenco – rather they study its structure, history, and culture. Cádiz is one of the cradles of flamenco and once had an important and unique flamenco community (it still has one, but it has been eclipsed by Jerez and Sevilla). Cádiz is also famous for its liberalism (the site of Spain’s 1812 liberal constitution), its Gay community, and Carnival. During Carnival, costumed singing groups satirize anything and everything. Related to Carnival is Cádiz’s famous gracia – a unique brand of humor. Cádiz is outside the main tourist route – while there are miles of beaches, it caters more to Spanish vacationers than to foreigners. Hence, the gracia and lore of Cádiz, while very much at the heart of what flamenco is about, is largely ignored by the rest of the world – this makes it a perfect vehicle for understanding flamenco.
English speakers have two windows into the history and culture of Cádiz flamenco: one written in English and another soon to be available in English.
British guitarist Gerald Howson travelled to Cádiz in the 1950s and wrote a beautiful memoir of his experiences (The flamencos of Cádiz Bay, The Bold Strummer Ltd.; boldstrummer.com). In this book, readers meet several important artists from the waning flamenco scene in a desperately impoverished Cádiz. Howson does a masterful job portraying the artists, their relationship with wealthy señoritos, from whose largess the artists lived, and the near third-world conditions that existed in the mist of the Franco dictatorship.
The other book has been available only in Spanish; however, I have recently completed an annotated English translation; it will become available from Inverted-A Press (inverteda.com) sometime in 2012. This marvelous book – Mil y un historias de Pericón de Cádiz (‘A thousand and one stories of Pericón de Cádiz’) – is s a collection of witty stories by the famed singer and storyteller (see video) – it takes the reader to the streets of Cádiz during the early 20th century and chronicles the gracia, fiestas, hunger, and terror of a period that spanned the end of Alfonso XIII’s reign, the second republic, the civil war, and the Franco dictatorship – all through the eyes of a street-wise flamenco singer. There is history, culture, flamenco history, and lots of Cádiz’s famous gracia – the book is a jewel on many different levels! Collected and arranged by José Luis Ortiz Nuevo, it was published in 1975, out of print for years, and re-edited in 2008, when it won Deflamenco.com’s ‘best flamenco book’ award.
In translating the book, I found the stories themselves are fairly straightforward; however, there is a wealth of historical and cultural information that most outside Spain (and many in Spain) might not be aware of. Hence, I bolstered the translation with copious footnotes and appendices, explaining these references, short bios, and a glossary describing flamenco terms and places. In this way, the translation can serve as an introduction to flamenco.
As with everything, travel can be experienced on many different levels – cultural awareness is the key to delving beneath the surface and getting beyond the pre-packaged tours. Again, one can certainly enjoy even the most tourist-oriented itinerary, but if you are looking for more, arm yourself with knowledge; justa little effort – e.g. reading a few books – will make the experience all the more enriching.
I enjoyed this well written write up of flamenco for the traveler in Spain. You write: “singers wail in a vaguely Middle-Eastern manner” when you describe flamenco performances. Are there Middle Eastern influences in flamenco? If so, what are they?
Thanks. much of Spain, and particularly Andalucia, was Islamic for many centuries, settled by Arabs and Northern Africans, beginning in 711. There was also a significant Jewish population until the late 15th century, when the Jews were expelled by the Reyes Católicos (leading to the Sephardic communities found around the Mediterranean). The Moorish community persisted until the end of 16th century, when they were also expelled. Flamenco is based on Andalucian folk music, which certainly had Moorish and Jewish influences. Gitanos (Spanish Roma) arrived in Spain in the 15th century and played a significant role in adapting the existing folk music into what is now flamenco (the term ‘flamenco’ originally meant ‘Gypsy’).
Hi John, I stumbled upon your article by chance and I am so pleased I did. You have describedthe art of flamenco and its origins beautifully. Actually I have heard of two other theories dealing with the the origin of the the term “flamenco” referring to the Andalusian art of music, dance and song. Perhaps you have your opinion about this. Theory 1: According to Blas Infante…..the word flamenco originates from the arabic “felah mencus”meaning “exiled peasant”
Theory 2: Romani (gypsy) men who fought in the Spanish wars in the Spanish Netherlands in the sixteenth century earned the nickname “flamencos” or “the Flemish” on returning from their service . The song, dance and music of the Romani community eventually became know as being of the “flamencos”.
I would like to know what you understand about the etymology of the word “flamenco”.
Thanks.
Thanks for your comment.
Yes – those are two of the ideas about the origin of the name ‘flamenco’. There are a few circulating, some more believable than others. Here are the ones I’ve heard:
1. It comes from the word for ‘flamingo’ (which is ‘flamenco’ in Spanish); the idea being that flamenco dancers resemble flamingos. I don’t think anyone takes this seriously. Interestingly, some English speakers mistakenly call ‘flamenco’ ‘flamingo’ – a type of folk-etymology.
2. The ‘felag-mengu’ theory is many people’s favorite, but I think it is also pretty unlikely. I think people like it because it has a romantic outcast flavor to it – it is based on the idea that Jews, Moors, and Gitanos were exiled to the hills and created a fugitive culture together. History does not back this up; Jews were expelled from Spain in the late 15th century, Moors in the early 17th century. Gitanos actually benefitted from the expulsion of the Moors, as they moved into several Moorish professions and the utility of having Gitanos prevent labor shortages in these areas led local authorities to tolerate them and to not enforce all of the draconian regal mandates against them. Also, I have never found a reliable source that showed what the actual Arabic phrase was (nor have I found an Arabic speaker who recognizes it).
3. There are two versions of the Flemish idea (‘Flemish’ is ‘flamenco’ in Spanish). One is that the ostentatious way that Flemish dressed during the wars was associated with the way Gitanos dressed, leading Gitanos to be called ‘flamencos’. The other is as you say – some Gitanos who served in the wars in Flanders were referred to as ‘flamencos’; some were granted ‘Old Castilian’ certificates, which gave them the rights of Spanish citizens and exempted them from the persecution laws against Gitanos at the time. I think this is the most likely idea, as the term flamenco began to appear – as a synonym for ‘Gitano’ – right about that time. Also, the term ‘flamenco’ referred to Gitanos and not the music at first – it was not until the 19th century that it extended to the music. Now it mainly refers to the music, but you still heat people say things like “Qué coche más flamenco!” ‘What a flamenco car!’, meaning that the car is like a Gitano car.