I've always heard that "La Paquera came out to sing at the Parpuja Festival in Chiclana with the sun on her face, around nine in the morning." I don't know if this is an exaggeration or not, but eyewitnesses seem to believe this statement is absolutely true. There is another anecdote, as the artist's agent confirmed to me. Juan Ramón Reyes, from Chiclana, to be more precise: “Beni de Cádiz sang even later, and jokingly asked the audience to exclaim in unison something like, ‘Los mue… de Pulpón!’” All this is told with that particular grace of this Bay of Cádiz native who faces life with an ironic smile on her face.
What is clear is that it was the trend of a bygone era. And I hope it remains so, because the formats, however nostalgic they may be when you see those historic posters, They must adapt to today's audiencesIt's a recurring analysis, yes, and no one really has a reason for why things used to be one way and now they're another. What I know, and I don't intend to argue with this because it's what I perceive at most of the festivals I present (there are always exceptions), is that the respectable audience, past two in the morning, if I'm pushed to three, isn't in the mood to continue sitting in a chair they rested their butts on before ten. Nowadays, the cultural offering is much broader than it was in the seventies or eighties, so there are opportunities to enjoy live performances at any time, in your city or nearby, seeing your favorite singer.
La Parpuja Festival This year's show has been a success once again. And that was before two in the morning when Caracolillo de Cádiz was leaving the stage to close the edition. By that time, 30 percent of the original audience that filled the town's Playa Mayor (it was free admission) had left, another good percentage remained seated respectfully, and a few continued to shout and annoy. "Shut up now!" he said. Aurora Vargas, because she didn't feel entirely comfortable with so much buzz. I don't mean this as an attack. Much less as an attack on the City Council, which firmly supports this event. Nor on all the great professionals who made it possible. I don't want to generalize either. But I think it's necessary to tell readers that the saying that any past time was better isn't always true. I don't want to imagine what the square would be like at five in the morning.
Having analyzed this aspect, which is more a curiosity than anything else, artistically it was a great evening, extraordinary I'd say. I went out to present with the audience packed, good people and real fans, with that bar on the side, which always makes things a bit awkward. Edge of the Patios, a Madrid street facing south, started his task por bulerías, with a nod to Paquera, bidding farewell to the beat of fandangos. Julio Romero was their guitarist and confirmed the effusiveness of a devoted audience. I insist, #FromWithin We don't like to go into such technical aspects, this is not a criticism of usage. Antonio ReyesThe King of Chiclana, demonstrated a sense of professional maturity and an increasingly patriarchal image. Dressed in pristine white, he delivered a dreamy recital, like the ones he's been designing lately, with which he never leaves his thousands of followers behind. He was accompanied by his son. Nono, always full of rhythm and flavor.
"What I know, and I'm not going to argue with this because it's what I perceive at most of the festivals I present – there are always exceptions – is that the audience, after two in the morning, if you push me, three, isn't in the mood to continue sitting in a chair they rested their butts on before ten."
There was a touching moment, a tribute was paid to Bernardo Oneto Aleu, guitar advisor, involved in the activities of the peña flamenca for decades. The mayor, José María Román, gave a gift.
Macarena Ramirez She is the most prominent local dancer. She has spent some time away from the stage, becoming a mother and having to dedicate herself to her son. She has returned with enthusiasm and numerous projects, especially Thorns, with which she will tour important venues. Last Friday she performed a dance recital flamenco, with no more drama than that of his soul before his people. The Genet y Anabel Rivera were at cante, and Javier Ibanez did the same on the guitar. Adrenaline rush.
Before arriving at Caracolillo, with those cantes from Cadiz that connect so much and remembering those nights of Juanito Villar or Pansequito on that stage, came out Aurora Vargas as a goddess of beauty, of art, of teaching. In white, with Miguel Salado, always superb, she strolled across the stage singing tangos, alegrías, and bulerías with spontaneity, friendliness, and the corresponding tug of the ear for those who didn't keep quiet. One of them even sang under the stage while she did so, a total lack of respect towards the artistAnd it was twelve o'clock at night!
Nono Reyes went back up with Snail, one of the winners of this summer, with the palmas de Cepa Núñez, Tate Núñez and Ramón Reyes, from good to high, as they would do before Diego Montoya, Javi Peña and Manuel Salado with Aurora. The palmas are essential for a festival to be a success, good palmas, I mean. ♦
