This Anzonini, raised in the historic town of El Puerto de Santa María, was always coming out with philosophical absurdities, like any true Andalusian. I’ve written a great deal about flamenco festero. It isn’t a comic version of flamenco dance, although there’s certainly some of that too. That same “lite” kind of dancing is often sought out in the cruel darkness of life, when singers like Cañeta de Málaga, for example, deliver lines such as: “You married that old man for the money; now the money’s gone, and the old man stays.” It’s a whole novel’s plot turned festive through bulerías, without losing its sense of tragedy.
When a festero performer joins a flamenco ensemble, the atmosphere takes on a sparkling quality, sweet and at the same time richly aged, and technical execution moves into the background. A good festero is pure inspiration and discovery. Blink, and you miss it.
"Who hasn’t seen that style Manuel had? At first you don’t quite get it. No dancerly poses, no footwork or turns, no Farruco moves…Anzonini’s words spoken that day ring a bell, and you don’t really miss the apparent superficiality of some great stars"
Flamenco dancer Israel Galván is one of those who has changed the roadmap of flamenco dance, or rather, is in a constant process of doing so. One One of the elements that influenced him was the Japanese dance form which, according to what I’ve read, is based on life, death, universality, and improvisation. Its spontaneity does not allow for choreographies.
And what about the female festera? She’s a completely different creature, each one with her own repertoire of moves. If the men toy with matador-like poses, a female festera might pretend to be carrying a baby, or perform the famous routine of La Coreana (Isabel Expósito) on a bus full of men, or, without any pantomime, like Cañeta de Málaga, Aurora Vargas, Lola Flores, and many more… But we’ll leave that for another day. ♦
