Rosalía de Triana and the mines of Egypt

It's always gratifying to remember artists who have disappeared or been forgotten by flamenco followers. Like this sweetly rough voice, lost in the smoke of countless back-rooms in Seville’s Alameda de Hércules and the cafés cantantes of Madrid or Barcelona, private parties, and flamenco gatherings. Rosalía Ortiz Agudo (Seville, 1905–1973), known as Rosalía de Triana, embodied the flamenco aesthetic of the era she lived in: a plump, middle-aged lady, kind-hearted, with hair pulled back in a bun, and a broad smile, she reminded you of María Bala from the Sordera family.

Her short but expressive repertoire, which included soleá por bulería, toná, tangos, and bulerías, was recorded thanks to the interest of Antonio Mairena, who included Rosalía in his Antología de Cante Gitano.

A point of particular interest in Rosalía de Triana's repertoire is the curious verse about “the mines of Egypt”:

Yo quiero ir a las minas de Egipto /
porque me habían dicho que había allí unos pobrecitos gitanos./
Esos gitanitos lo que hacían /
es pelarle los borriquitos a los castellanos /
por eso yo quiero ir a las minas de Egipto (I want to go to the mines of Egypt / because I heard there are some poor gypsies there,/ and what they do / is shear the donkeys for the local people,/ That’s why I want to go to the mines of Egypt)

«Rosalía Ortiz Agudo (Seville 1905-1973), Rosalía de Triana, cultivated the flamenco aesthetic of the era in which she lived: a plump, middle-aged, good-natured woman with a tight bun and a big smile, she reminded you of María Bala of the Sordera family»

Although some flamenco enthusiasts have tried to find in this quirky verse evidence of historical migrations from the East, it’s more likely a small poetic creation, probably inspired in the tradition of Lebrija. My friend and researcher Ramón Soler explained to me that Rosalía was the girlfriend of Benito Pinini, from whom she learned it, which is why it’s often sung by people from Lebrija. Ramón believes it has the feel of a lyric taken from a theatrical play with a Gypsy setting, later adapted to soleá. He notes that he hasn’t found the verse in any songbooks that might suggest a less obscure origin.

In any case, as recorded by Rosalía de Triana, it doesn’t conform in any way to the metrical structure of a classic verse and therefore cannot be identified as a cante por soleá or bulería por soleá, whose verses typically consist of three or four 3-syllable lines. However, it remains a curiosity that musically fits quite well with bulería por soleá, its closest relative, lending a somewhat exotic, even primitive feel to this creation by the charming artist from Triana.

The irregular meter of this verse makes it impossible to replace its content with another, but there’s also a musical curiosity. The resolution of the chord at the end of the first line (played por medio. A position) calls for a G minor (barre on 3), a harmony I haven’t detected in any style of soleá, bulería por soleá, al golpe, etc., though it may exist and I may have simply overlooked it. G minor, which appears frequently in tangos and some other cantes, is a lush dramatic chord popularized by Paco (think of the opening of Almoraima) which does not have a presence in the more than 50 styles of soleá, yet it elegantly finds its place in “Las minas de Egipto” thanks to this interesting interpretation.