The roundtable that opened the festival's second day began with José Luis Ortiz Nuevo once again expressing, in his characteristically poetic manner, an idea he has defended for more than half a century: elevating purity as the sole artistic path obstructs the natural process of change and growth that defines every art form, and flamenco is no exception. This idea forms the central thread of Alegato contra la pureza, whose historical significance was explored by the session's moderator, Ángeles Cruzado, alongside fellow panellists Paco Hidalgo, Antonio Molina, Lluis Cabrera and Norberto Torres. The exquisite voice of Antonio Campos brought several of Ortiz Nuevo's coplas from the book to life, reinforcing the central thesis that runs throughout the work.
Equally illuminating were Antonio Campos's reflections on the endless debates surrounding tradition and innovation, yesterday and tomorrow, essence, purity and impurity:
«I´m dedicated to enjoying music. I wake up every morning and do exactly what I did as a little kid: I'd press play and start playing whatever instrument I had at home. Maybe it's Janis Joplin, maybe it's La Paquera. I have a great time with both. I don't understand purity. I don't understand anything beyond simply enjoying music».
The notion that innovation emerges organically from the simple enjoyment of music also found an echo in another member of the panel: Gualberto García, one of flamenco's most groundbreaking and internationally renowned artists, and founder of the legendary group Smash. With his sitar he has travelled the world, performing alongside Manuel Agujetas, Camarón de la Isla and Enrique Morente, but also with The Grateful Dead, Frank Zappa and countless others. Looking back from the vantage point of his eighty-one years, his defence of musical enjoyment as the driving force behind artistic creation carries considerable weight.
The discussion was followed by the Young Aficionados Gathering, led by dancer and educator Ana Pastrana. As teenage guitarists Samuel and Guillermo played bulerías, fellow teenagers Marta Loza and Paola Sollero answered with lively pataítas to the singing of their teacher, Ana Pastrana. Then eight-year-old Estefanía Rodríguez captivated everyone with the precision of her rhythm and movement, her radiant smile and the almost ecstatic joy with which she danced. The love of music begins early. Gualberto would surely agree.
Four hours later, we witnessed another of those sublime Málaga sunsets that created the perfect atmosphere for immersing ourselves in the remarkable musical project of Soleá Gatica and RaveCalé. Traditional flamenco singing, flute and electronic music blended so naturally that younger listeners danced without asking why, while older aficionados rediscovered their youth through electronic reinterpretations of classic cantes, beautifully delivered by Soleá's voice, alongside her outstanding command of the flute.
"At one point, a recording played of several self-appointed guardians of tradition insisting that authentic flamenco had received no foreign influence whatsoever. Immediately afterwards, a traditional cante emerged over which Cantizano built an elaborate guitar solo whose musical language owed as much to funk and rock as it did to flamenco"
Their tangos offered a highly personal interpretation inspired directly by Camarón de la Isla and Paco de Lucía's Al padre de Santo Roma, while the legendary singer from San Fernando reappeared through another equally personal reimagining of La leyenda del tiempo. Their alegrías, imbued with the scent of the Cádiz sea shimmering beneath the moonlight, felt equally at home in a traditional flamenco gathering as they would in a beach bar in Los Caños. It was a beautiful flamenco paradox, revealing both artists' profound devotion to the tradition and, in Soleá Gatica's case, an artistic upbringing deeply rooted in the family legacy of the renowned Puerto de Santa María dynasty known as Los del Cepillo.
Next came Raúl Cantizano, one of the leading figures of contemporary flamenco guitar, who immersed the audience in a trance of unmistakably flamenco psychedelia. Classically trained yet relentlessly inventive, Cantizano opens new aesthetic pathways through boundless creativity and an insatiable passion for exploration, venturing into flamenco's electronic territories with infectious exuberance.
His work has been dismissed by the most reactionary defenders of orthodoxy, but here at the Cabildo—and here at ExpoFlamenco—we celebrate precisely his daring and creative spirit. At one point, a recording played of several self-appointed guardians of tradition insisting that authentic flamenco had received no foreign influence whatsoever. Immediately afterwards, a traditional cante emerged over which Cantizano built an elaborate guitar solo whose musical language owed as much to funk and rock as it did to flamenco.
At times it felt as though he were resurrecting La Niña de los Peines—not as the frozen icon imagined by defenders of purity, but as the joyful, urban and profoundly innovative artist she truly was before decades of purist discourse buried that image beneath the theories of Ricardo Molina and Antonio Mairena. Her name echoed repeatedly through the loudspeakers until its very meaning began to dissolve. Then Cantizano filled that imposed void of forgetting with a series of tientos that allowed some of us, if only for a moment, to enter into conversation with Pastora herself.
We then made our way to another stage at the Sunset Pool Club for a performance featuring the legendary Gualberto García on sitar, Ana Pastrana dancing, and the ever-witty José Luis Ortiz Nuevo. It proved to be the evening's defining moment: an artistic dialogue between dance, Indian classical music, flamenco and Ortiz Nuevo's literary works. In Gualberto's tanguillos one could hear the popular echoes of an imagined Cádiz childhood, but also the endless colours that flow naturally from the sitar. We journeyed alongside Fernando Quiñones, Antonio el Morcilla, Pericón de Cádiz and the guitar of Capinetti as his alegrías unfolded. Ortiz Nuevo then delighted the audience by recalling, entirely from memory, Pericón de Cádiz's countless stories, somehow making us laugh through memories of hunger in post-war Cádiz. Ana Pastrana's magnificent dancing followed. What lay at the heart of their artistic language? Was there a unifying thread connecting such a diverse tapestry of music, dance and literature? We cannot say with certainty. What we can say is that the elegance of this artistic dialogue was undoubtedly born from an overwhelming joy in the act of creation.
At midnight another legend took the stage: Kiko Veneno. He was joined by guitarist José Torres Vicente and drummer Jimmy Glez. Kiko's distinctive musical language draws from countless traditions, yet flamenco always remains at its core, animated by the same joy of creation that has run throughout this chronicle. We heard rumbas, tanguillos and alegrías, but perhaps the most memorable moment came through his words: «Everything I know about music, I learned from life. Singing about life is something I learned from flamenco». Later, joined by Sara Holgado, we all sang together: «Volando voy, volando vengo, por el camino me entretengo. Enamorado de la vida, aunque a veces duela...»
To close the evening, at around half past two in the morning, Chiveca took the stage. We had been there since half past five that afternoon, when the roundtable discussion began, and fatigue was beginning to settle over part of the audience. Even so, they provided the perfect finale to a day filled with innovation and joy. They burst onto the stage with boundless energy that carried us all the way until four in the morning. Their fusion of flamenco, progressive rock, bossa nova and Celtic music, combined with lyrics inspired by canonical poetry—including Miguel Hernández—resulted in a musical proposal that was as compelling as it was accomplished. ♦
