There are flamenco singers who feel trapped by the half-meter-high stage, unable to fully express themselves, and their talent thrives among friends, even with just a sip of wine, letting loose freely. The stage is imposing. And one hundred and fifty pairs of men staring down at you can suffocate anyone. But that doesn't make you any less or more of an artist. It's a matter of practice and different sensibilities, of each person's unique style.
Lately, I have to admit that Abraham El Zambo He's one of my weaknesses. I met him at a party, then at a recital in Valencina And I heard it again this Saturday in Seville, at the Peña Flamenca Torres Macarenawhich has become my second home. He accompanied him Domingo Rubichi's to the guitar with his usual depth, serving what needs to be given to rock the cante among the gypsy silks of coppery cords and shining primas.
The Malaga woman's double-barreled charm was sweetened by The TwinCaressing the verses without embellishment or excess. And thus he tempered his privileged voice with natural sounds that do not aspire to astonishment, but to stealthily seep into the very marrow and provoke a shiver. There he arrived in the soleá. Pure, without getting lost in the bulería, the kind of listening that is customary in Jerez. He linked rhythms and verses, weaving together lyrics that are little overused and of good literary quality, combining them with some classics and others that are deeply felt, the kind that hurt to hear, strolling with relish through Alcalá or Triana. La Andonda in which he excelled. He then finished bravely, as he pleased. One of the best of the night. For the tangos, he was supported by the palmas his father Joaquin the Zambo, Guitarist José Gálvez y Merchi del Chíharoas if to step out of the ordinary. In the set of fandangos he captivated again, striking with some caracolero or de The GloryTaranto and cartagenera were then sewn together not as filler, but rather chewed with force, better in the second body, where the centers were searched for, pregnant with packaging. The bulería por soleá bore the stamp of the land and the house, evoking the style of her aunt Maria Bala, caught in the rhythm and relaxed in the phrasing. The seguiriya was a sugary ember that wounded softly, well embedded from Uncle Jose de Paula until the tight finish for the one who stood up to throw the cattle. The palmeros They came back on stage to close the recital with a bulerías performance, and there wasn't much to criticize, except that his voice sounded a bit weak and he couldn't quite find his rhythm as usual. But he was never flat.
"The celebration of a natural flamenco singer. He forgot that his voice was hoarse and gave three more and better recitals, without pressure and singing for pleasure, without judges mediating. (...) He distributed the pellizco"It was hitting lower than on the stage. He's forgiven, because he gave us one of those flamenco parties that you'll never forget."
Then he went down to the bar, among friends, with a sip as prescribed, and alternated a string of flamenco songs with flamenco flair. cantes rizaos with his father Joaquín, among some lyrics of Raquel Heredia and even those of a shameless critic. That was something else entirely. The celebration of a natural flamenco singer. He forgot that his voice was hoarse and gave three more and better recitals, without pressure and singing for pleasure, without judges mediating, for the sheer joy of sharing among the flamencoHe gave what came from his heart to the homeless. pellizcoIt was hitting lower than on the stage. He's forgiven, because he gave us one of those flamenco parties that stay etched in our memories of those sleepless nights spent aimlessly. And this is the flamencoThe rest is another matter. If you have the chance to hear it, don't miss it. And as I once said:
"Abraham El Zambo is overflowing with cante Unintentionally. It slips out. He says the words without thinking. He lets them fall with astonishing naturalness. He doesn't obsess over pondering the canteHe recreates it, filtering it through the threads of his surname without imitating anyone. He sings in his own way, without ostentation or shouting. He pays no attention to demonstrations. He only laments and savors as few know how, taming the low notes, grounding himself to the earth, because pushing is easier and there are many for that. But enduring the abyss of a lament wounds.
Credits
recital of cante by Abraham El Zambo
Peña Flamenca Torres Macarena, Seville
January 17, 2026
Cante: Abraham El Zambo
Guitar: Domingo Rubichi
PalmasJosé Gálvez, Joaquín El Zambo and Merchi del Chícharo
