After leaving the company gades In 2000, I was able to return to my true profession and enjoy my vocation as a musicologist, after the best years of my life alongside a genius with whom I traveled the world several times. In my work as a bookworm in the Historical Library of MadridWith the new century, I turned my attention to a repertoire that was then languishing in the cellars of the Conde Duque barracks. There I spent four years, reviewing thousands of handwritten scores of tonadillas, sainetes, entremeses, theatrical dances, festive finales, loas, and the first zarzuelas, written between 1750 and 1808, every day from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. As I've mentioned before, I worked for free (I could afford it). During the work of scrutinizing that treasure, hidden for over two centuries, I came across many scenes of gypsies and Roma people that, even though they dated from the mid-18th century, clearly demonstrated the flamenco vocation of this people so crucial in the crystallization of certain styles within the genre. flamencoI've brought a small selection for the readers of ExpoFlamenco which I hope will be of interest to you.
The oldest work featuring gypsies dates from 1754 and is titled The gypsy stewardAnd it's an anonymous one-act play, in which a chorus sings: “Since the little gypsy boy has a steward, let's celebrate like this, let's make a racket, let the choruses say with their cheerful tone: tiri titiri, titiri.” I thought then that they were going to break into seguiriyas, but we would still have to wait a century for that, although one can live on dreams. At the end of the play, these gypsy-style seguidillas were sung, both in music and lyrics (I transcribe verbatim what is written there): “My pretty girl sings gypsy seguidillas, for since she is so gypsy, a gypsy likes her… oh nenene, your little gypsy love drives me crazy.” And then comes the refrain: “Little lark that sings in the almond tree, take my warbles to the one I love, oh oh oh little lark…”. I immediately remembered the lullaby “Little bird that sings in an almond tree, "Don't wake the sleeping child." This is yet another example of the importance of this repertoire when tracing hundreds of songs from the traditional Spanish heritage.
Another, perhaps even more surprising one. Nowadays, it would be unthinkable that one of the most frequent compliments among Gypsies would be "gachó," wouldn't it? Just read this dialogue between Gypsies: "Go up to your saucy girl, with all your flair... How handsome you are, and you, so skinny and scrawny, oh girl of my life. When I'm sick, this Jopeo makes me well, and well-rested, my dear friend... hey, Janda, you're the salt of Spain, come on, joa, you're like a pot... oh my darling, you're the queen of Gypsy culture...". This work is by Antonio Esteveand is titled The adventures of the gypsyand it dates from 1774. That "little orandero" is very reminiscent of the commotion of "little arandito plowing, roses and lilies you scatter" that he sang Matron.
Continuing with the blessed compliment. Antonio Rosales placeholder image, in the undated tune entitled The Gypsy WomanHe set the following lyrics to music: “…There in Cádiz, my dears, in the time I was there, a polished gypsy woman went through squares and streets, and with great grace, yes yes… and without lacking any charm, no no… she sang in this way… with so much soul: What shall I do, poor me, if my sweetheart is away from here… My beloved Pelanchón… I love you… (but her sweetheart, who hears her so sad and distraught, sings to her in this way to the rhythm of his hips: “Hey, sweetheart, I say, my dear little Juan, go away from here” (and the gypsy, the sweetheart, answers her): “My dear Pelanchón, don’t grieve, for your sweetheart loves you, with all his soul and life, cast your sorrows aside and Castile is wide.”
"During the work of scrutinizing that treasure hidden for more than two centuries, I came across many scenes of gypsy men and women that, even though they were from the mid-18th century, clearly showed the flamenco vocation of that people so crucial in the crystallization of some styles of the genre flamenco»
Of all the divas of Madrid, the very famous singers who even had "fan clubs", The Chorizos and the Poleswho went every day to pick them up from their homes in Lavapiés, and carried them on their shoulders up Ave María to the Teatro del Príncipe, now Teatro Español, and Teatro de la Cruz, on the street of the same name, of all of them, the most well known was María Antonia Fernández, for art Wow!"Outstanding singer." She moved from her native Motril to Cádiz, and from there made the leap to the court. Authors dedicated dozens of works to her, almost always reserving for her roles as a gypsy, a maja rechuscaza, the quintessential Madrid court lady. José Castel He wrote to her The poor little gypsy girl, an undated tune, where our proto-singer sang: «…ay chairito, ay zeñor, ay quién digo, ay gachón. Y con mi pandero, ahora bailare, a lo Gitanito, que te bechizare». Seguidillas:
“The elegance and the saltiness
from a Gypsy,
He doesn't have it in the world
human person,
salt salt, little salt shaker, air and more air, this is grace, chi chi tru chi chi tru, long live the gypsy joke… salt salt, little salt shaker, this is a jump, air and more air, this is a dance, that the gypsies dance with two thousand salt shakers.”
That María Antonia showed promise as a flamenco singer is confirmed by this song she sings of Pablo Esteve en The nobleman's fright (undated): "Listen, gentlemen, how a Gypsy woman sang these seguidillas, she'd compose herself, pick up her guitar, strum a little, and then gargle... The wit of a Gypsy woman surpasses all others, and if you don't believe me, let my royal persona say so, just look at that sharp wit... absolutely..." Strumming the guitar she played herself, gargling with a whimper, if this doesn't announce the flamenco You'll tell me all about it.
Another little tune by Pablo Esteve (in honor and memory of his great-great-nephew Antonio Esteve, Gades) is Gypsies and non-Gypsies, from 1776: «I am a gypsy, Ventosa is my name and the poor fellow I catch I give a good winding…I am cheerful, I am graceful and I know how to dance a little tune, that makes you jump. (dances making poses with the dengue) Throw yourself in the little dengue, that I will stop, call me, that if you call me, I will come closer…».
This material is enough for a hundred articles (I published it in my Annotated Guide), but here we have the space we have. I'm finishing up. The valentona, a solo tonadilla from 1770, seguidillas: "Oh, in Cadiz, gentlemen, there's a gypsy woman who sells delicious oranges on the promenades… so sang the gypsy woman they call the salt of Spain…". And in The young gentleman in loveIn a short comic play from 1777, there's a chorus of gypsy women singing: "Long live the wit and charm of the pearl of Cádiz, long live the gypsy woman, the very embodiment of wit." Finally, one of the gems of this repertoire. It's by one of those Italians who settled in Madrid and were crazy about everything Spanish. His name, Lorenzo Bruzzoni, and the work a duet tune entitled The poor girl and the handsome lover o The zorongo (Part 2), from the year 1794. In one of the recitations (paroles they were called) the comedian says Garrido“…what a woman, I’ve come with a terrible craving to hear you play the guitar and one of our songs.” The maja replies: “Well, look, I’m going to sing for you. What shall I sing? Lalea, which a gypsy woman taught me in Cádiz.” He: “Here, here, take the guitar and let the world come down (he sings to the guitar without an orchestra). Let’s finish our zambra with a new tirana, and you have to dance that thing that’s all the rage in Madrid.” She: “The gypsy-style dance playing the castanets…” Of course. ♦
