"Just a moment of Manuel Moneo al cante "It's worth more than a thousand years of understanding." This is a statement he once made. The Cake She was picking flowers from her brother's house. She confessed it to us. The hubbub already at the bar, after the romp of cante that he placed on the Paraná stage. And it's because he adores his father, his wife, and his children, as well as Undibé above all else. He likes the cante more than the food. And it eats the cante.
I don't know a Gypsy like him, who breaks his ribs in the heat of a lament and recovers, charging with swagger as many times as the third demands, or who pushes the blood to the mouth without stabbing you twice in the same place. When the Gypsy spirit has been steeped in so many drunken revels of art, without set square or protractor, the dark lashes erupt without thought, cracking the bones of the audience, bruising the flesh of the fans.
That's what the man from Jerez did. He sang straight. He didn't need eight or ten. palos To mess with our heads. The one who needs an hour and a half to scratch doesn't have the twenty reales of a duro. Barullo is rich. He has more than enough guts to squeeze the left hand into two or three letters and one can go to bed happy. There's nothing more. The flamenco This is it. Well, this and what he created later in the bar, where he happily gave three more recitals among friends, singing like nobody cared. Today, even criticism would be superfluous. What for? Faced with such a singer, one doesn't know anything. And what one does know, one forgets.
"That's what El Barullo did. Sing it right. It didn't require eight or ten palos To mess with our heads. The one who needs an hour and a half to scratch doesn't have the twenty reales of a duro. Barullo is rich. He has more than enough guts to squeeze the left hand into two or three letters and one can go to bed happy. There's nothing more. The flamenco "Is this it?"
A las palmas They gave him a compass salao y The Year. Domingo Rubichi He accompanied him on guitar as only he knows how, swaying to the airs of Jerez, picking up the nuances where they belong, adding subtle touches with profound falsettos, and championing the "less is more" philosophy of a guitar that is simple yet as deep as the abyss. He replaced his friend Miguel Saladowho continues his fight with the virus. His absence has already left [name missing] heartbroken. MoneoHe recalled him, emotional, asking for applause for himself before starting.
The taranto of Manuel Torre It sounded like a nut in El Barullo, short and well said. The second one for Almería and the brave finish full-body soot The first bull, from Cartagenera, was fought with ease. The soleá overflowed with flavor and was delivered with style, in bold, sweeping motions. It hurt with a powerful thrust in the seguiriya, which she opened point-blank without tempering because My sorrows were greatLike the ones she cried in the Uncle Joseph or in the male where he castrated his offspring. A series of fandangos left me trembling, without imitation of the Pinto o AgujetasAnd with a flamenco song, he remembered his uncle El Torta and all his descendants. And that's it.
Ladies and gentlemen, listeners. Manuel Moneo Barullo has no shade. He gives it his all until it hurts. He empties himself every time he climbs onto the rafters. And down below too, with whomever he pleases. In Paradas he felt better than in arms, and there he left his skin and soul. Manuel Moneo El Barullo is not just another singer, not just any singer. He is THE singer.
Credits
Manuel's Recital Moneo The hubbub
XXXVI Flamenco Activities Cultural Week of Paradas
The Comarcal, headquarters of the Peña Flamenca Miguel Vargas, Paradas, Seville
April 12th 2026
Cante: Manual Moneo The hubbub
Guitar: Domingo Rubichi
PalmasSalao and El Aoño
