Manuela Carpio: Gypsy soot of the dance in Jerez. I like her style. I can't deny it. Although I prefer her up close. That way I can savor her essence. And her racial dance, with its dark colors, splashes on my chest and doesn't fade into the background of a stage. The Villamarta It's huge. Even though the curtain rises to celebrate thirty years of the Festival and the image of Manuela in her white flamenco dress will be forever etched in my memory, more than two hours of spectacle is a lot. So much so that I had to leave early, because we journalists were jumping around trying to tell you everything. They were waiting for me in La GuaridaExcuse me.
Roots of the soul It struck me as more of an opening gala than a show. La Carpio is too generous. Her dancing gets lost and diluted among the guest artists, reduced to just three or four brushstrokes, compared to what she puts on. And I missed the best part. Because I was eagerly awaiting the bulería, where she sheds all embellishments and shines as brightly as she is: magnificent, flamenco, authentic, and gypsy. And I didn't see the supreme elegance of the dance of Diego de La Margara al cante de Hubbub, nor to Luisa from Regiles to The Tolonor Manuela herself singing to her nephew JuanitoWhat a mess! And what a mess they made! Anabel Valencia, Angelita Montoya y The Macanita Because of the holidays. I didn't hear the applause. I had to leave, damn it. Don't do this to me! These days, a short and sweet explanation would have been enough. Otherwise, I'd get indigestion on the first day and see the Jerez Festival from Chamomile.
It started with sound feedback. The wailing of the large bells couldn't be clearly heard. The Extremaduran and the flocks of Miguel Lavi. I rang It's so rough you can hear it even cante Underwater. The cast revealed by the stagehand as he pushed up the velvet promised a good night. Three platforms on the stage were divided between the rhythm, the guitars, and the cante. Torombo y The Oruco, José Gálvez y John Requena And the throats of those I've already mentioned. Almost nothing!
"Manuela Carpio: a gypsy icon of dance in Jerez. I like her style. I can't deny it. Although I prefer her up close. That way I can truly appreciate her essence. And her vibrant, dark-hued dance splashes me in my chest and doesn't fade into the background of a stage. The Villamarta is truly grand."
Until they figured out the trick, it was all noise and commotion. Manuela swayed her ruffles with joy, radiating happiness, sprinkling with salt. Then they fought over the bulería por soleá. Saray Garcia, Rocío Marín y Susana Casaswho danced like there was no tomorrow. First, each one sat in a chair for a while, then on the wooden planks, warming things up. And soon came one of the highlights of the night with Tañé and the pellizcoLavi's tight rhythms, tonás fragueras, seguiriyas rajás, and a little bit of bulerías lebrijanas, with an anvil on which El Oruco and Torombo forged the rhythm. The latter performed a few steps to keep them in the bag of his arañones. "You're my favorite madman," Miguel told him. They evoked the irons of Uncle JuaneTorombo cheered and danced with more flair than the man who invented the dance. His handkerchief fell, and with a graceful kick, he picked it up from the ground and continued the delight of artistry and rhythm, alternating with El Oruco, who is no limper either. They rolled away on the log upon which they had placed the anvil, accompanied by a string of well-deserved applause. Superb.
A long transition was used to dress two or three tables with a shawl around which Anabel, Tomasa, Angelita, the guitarists, El Tolo, Barullo and sat Jose ValenciaAnabel, the basket weaver, began with tangos. Angelita formed the circle to the same rhythm, paying tribute to Triana and complimenting Jerez. La Macanita tinged the honey of her throat with vetún. El Tolo tempered himself in the air with corridos and romances, delivering daggers, like those also inflicted in the soleá and soleá por bulerías by Barullo, beginning with Alcalá over the echoes of Dog from Utrera...to wield magic in the times of the Jerez variants. This is an animal of the canteI thought. What a sight, gentlemen! He slowly devoured the thirds of the song, mouthful by mouth, drawing out the "oles" from the very roots of the song. And the terroir of Lebrija clung to José's throat, who began to romanticize the bulería with the accent and rhythmic patterns of the town of snails. He still seems to me one of the best of the bunch, a singer of impeccable character. flamenco Like no other. And his kick.
The curtain fell and the guitars began to trill. The two guitars Manuela had chosen, each better than the last. The soleá began. El Extremeño launched into it, charging from one side of the stage, trapping Manuela at the other, sending shivers through the audience. He sang that one of Ramirez, so painstaking, recreating it as she pleases, because that's what she's an eminence of canteAn authority. And he does whatever he pleases well. He's a master. La Carpio moved a flounced shawl with grace, knew how to stand and show off on the promenades, complaining with the dance, contrite about Enrique's rough handling, who was torn to shreds in the La AndondaLavi followed, digging deep into his guts, and Tañé, whose heart the dancer kissed. She then distributed the brush among the group. The bulerías finale brought the audience to its feet with each flourish of gypsy flair. They wrapped her in shorts for the celebration, and I thought it was over. But Requena's taranta, in a guitar solo, overwhelmed me, tickling me with clean tremolos and an exquisite touch. Gálvez continued in the Manuel MolinaI strolled around the stage, playing and singing to Manuela in the style of bulerías reposás, dedicating the lyrics to her. And then I left.
Manuela Carpio's getaway backfired when she split the bill. She knows how to charm people. She has good taste in... canteThe touch and the dance, that which is unique and distinct in her. It left me wanting more. Not the gala, of course, but her, who captivates and gives me goosebumps without ostentation, speeches, or artifice. Just with dance for dance's sake, what she masters: the endless party. I liked it, but I reached my limit and missed her. I enjoyed myself immensely with so many artists. Manuela felt too small for me. She's too generous. I've already said it. And she made herself small—despite being so great.
Credits
Roots of the soul, of the Manuela Carpio Company
XXX Jerez Festival
Villamarta Theatre, Jerez de la Frontera (Cadiz)
February 20th 2026
Dance: Manuela Carpio
Flamenco dancers: Saray García, Rocío Marín and Susana Casas
Dance and rhythm: Torombo and El Oruco
Guitars: José Gálvez and Juan Requena
Palmas: Israel by Juanillorro and Iván de la Manuela
Guest artists: Tomasa 'La Macanita', Anabel Valencia, Angelita Montoya, El Tolo, Manuel Moneo 'Barullo' and José Valencia
Fiesta por bulerías: Diego de la Margara, Luisa la de Regiles and Juanito Carpio
