In Love with Flamenco

My encounter with flamenco happened when I passed the SFC entrance exam and saw a recruitment poster for the flamenco club on campus. I thought, "Alright, I'm joining."

My homeroom teacher in high school had told me, "I think you'd look good doing some kind of dance," so I thought this might be it. Up until that point, I had never even seen flamenco (laughs).

So you were able to dance right away?

No, it wasn't like that, but the fun and rhythmic nature of it really suited my personality.

I also liked moving my body, but I didn't have much athletic sense, so I admired dance and joined the same SFC club as Mr. Ijuin. From there, I just got hooked.

Did you start with dancing as well, Ms. Hiroshige?

That's right. I did dance within the club for about a year, but I didn't become able to dance that easily. When I was wondering what to do because I wasn't getting any better, I noticed there was only one senior student doing the singing.

So, I thought if I could learn to sing, I would be valued in the club. When I tried it, it seemed to suit me better than dancing. In my third year, I stood on stage for the first time at a "tablao," which is a show restaurant where flamenco is performed.

That's amazing.

At that time, I asked the teacher I was learning singing from, "Can I make a living with flamenco?" and they said, "It'll be fine, it'll be fine." And that's how I ended up where I am today (laughs).

Flamenco is said to be a trinity of "guitar," "cante (song)," and "dance," but I think it originally started with the song. To put the origins of flamenco simply, it is said that the Gitano (Roma people) wandered from India and reached the Andalusia region in southern Spain, where they absorbed local folk arts.

Its history is surprisingly short; it's said that the current prototype was likely formed around the 19th century.

Initially, it was just singing, and I think people gradually started dancing to it. Guitars were expensive, so they probably came in later.

It's said they were the very last. Until then, it was just handclapping, finger snapping, and shouts. So, while you mentioned a trinity, they can certainly be done individually.

There are also songs sung as cante solo without guitar accompaniment.

There are also forms like the toná that are sung unaccompanied. However, for dancing, it's generally easier to have both song and guitar.

I have two encounters with flamenco. One is the films known as the "Flamenco Trilogy" made in the 1980s by director Carlos Saura with the dancer Antonio Gades.

That would be "Blood Wedding," "Carmen," and "El Amor Brujo."

Yes. After that, Saura also filmed movies like "Sevillanas" and "Flamenco" in the 90s.

The other encounter was when I went to the "Feria de Abril" because I had a friend in Seville while I was studying abroad.

The Seville Spring Fair.

Exactly. I was invited by my friend, put into festival attire, and received three or four hours of intensive training for the "Sevillanas" dance (laughs). Then, for a whole week...

You kept dancing?

Yes (laughs). It really goes on from morning until night for a week.

Furthermore, I was taken to the "Pilgrimage of El Rocío (Romería de El Rocío)." There is a village called Rocío in Huelva province, next to Seville, where a statue of the Virgin Mary was found. No matter how many times it was moved elsewhere, it always returned there.

A church stands on that spot, and groups of believers called hermandades form processions of covered wagons to gather in Rocío village once a year. That is what's known as the "Pilgrimage of El Rocío."

On the way to Rocío, everyone travels while camping and dancing in various places.

There are indeed many devout Catholics.

Yes. There is also a song called the Saeta, which is indispensable to Seville's Easter week (Semana Santa).

That is close to a religious hymn. "Semana Santa" is a festival where people feel the suffering of Christ together.

It's a festival where everyone walks carrying floats, likely to experience the Passion of Christ together, and the Saeta is what is sung there.

Everyone listens while weeping, don't they?

Flamenco singers sometimes sing the Saeta unaccompanied on stage, and I think this can be considered a type of flamenco song.

Strictly speaking, the genre of "Sevillanas" is considered a folk song or folk dance, so there is a view that it isn't flamenco.

However, the dance form is completely flamenco, and when we learn flamenco, Sevillanas is the first thing we learn. It contains most of the basics of arm movements and footwork.

There are many songs like that where it's debatable whether they can be called flamenco.

Since the Gitano people originally didn't have a written language, there may be many things that have been passed down without clear explanation.

Seville is the capital of Andalusia and a place where people gather, so flamenco is very popular there.

There are many people practicing it.

When you talk about flamenco, three places always come up: Seville, Cádiz, and Jerez de la Frontera.

Also, Granada is quite distinctive.

The atmosphere is a bit different depending on the town. When working with flamenco artists from Spain, if I don't go in with an image like, "This person is from Cádiz, so they might be like this," things won't mesh and it can be a disaster.

Spain itself has diversity in every region. It's said that once you cross a valley, there are different folk dances, folk songs, and various rhythms. The established theory is that flamenco was formed by the mixing of the folk music that originally existed in Andalusia with the arrival of the Roma people.

That's right. A characteristic of the Roma people is that they generally don't mix blood with other ethnicities, but they do adopt local culture and religion. They are good at adopting things, and I feel they have a natural gift for musical and dance talent. I've been surprised by how they can play the piano naturally.

I agree.

In that way, they absorbed various cultures, and with influences like the Arab conquest, flamenco gradually took its current form.

In flamenco songs, there are parts without lyrics like "Ay-ay-ay-ee-ee," and I think this is where the Arab influence comes in.

People talk about the Gypsy scale and various other things. Like the "Phrygian" mode where the melody ends on E.

Around the beginning of the 19th century, "cafés cantantes" were established, and that's when public performances began.

Yes. The café cantante is where what was originally done in private circles began to be shown as a show. Now those have become known as tablaos. I think that by having places where people could watch flamenco while drinking, "flamenco for watching and listening" developed as a profession.

Flamenco cante is difficult; first of all, the time signatures are different. It's not just the 4/4 time familiar to Japanese people, but also 12/8 time or variable 5/4 time where the length of a beat changes. Basically, you can't sing it unless you can grasp those rhythms.

Furthermore, the vocalization is completely different. Because I'm a flamenco singer, people say, "You must be good at karaoke, right?" but the way of singing is so different from Japanese popular songs or pop music that I can't sing them at all.

The way vowels are pushed out is very strong. To put it simply, instead of just saying a word, you push out the vowels like "da-a-ka-a-ra-a." Many Japanese people are not good at asserting themselves, so there might be parts that are difficult to approach.

Singing might be the most difficult part. There's the difference in language to begin with.

The way the language itself is vocalized is different, so the way the body is used is different. As for the quality of the voice, the air over there is extremely dry, and Spaniards speak very loudly even in conversation. I think our voice quality, living in Japan, is inherently different from people who are constantly speaking loudly in dry air.

That husky voice comes naturally to them, but Japanese people can't produce it without training. Conversely, if you train too much, it becomes unnatural.

Are there also difficulties in terms of scales?

If anything, I think many of the melodies themselves are familiar to Japanese people. They are melody lines that are easy to empathize with.

The tone of the music has a bit of melancholy, doesn't it?

I think it's close to Japanese Enka in some ways.

I was working with some Spaniards in Rumoi, Hokkaido, and while we were walking through the streets, they heard Enka coming from a snack bar and started saying, "It's flamenco! Let's go, let's go!" I had to stop them, saying, "No, it's not" (laughs). There might be something similar there.

It's exactly like Enka. There are singers like Rocío Jurado who are good at Copla and also sing flamenco.

There is flamenco as a culture of the Roma people, and there is also flamenco by non-Gitanos, called Payos, who have inherited it. In terms of dance, the latter has a slightly more refined feel.

本当に演歌そっくりですよね。歌手のロシオ・フラドとか、コプラが得意でフラメンコも歌う方もいらっしゃいますね。

ロマ民族の文化としてのフラメンコがあり、それを継承した、パジョというヒターノじゃない人たちのフラメンコもあります。こちらは踊りで言うと、ちょっと洗練された感じになっています。

The dancer Antonio Gades, whom Mr. Ando mentioned earlier, is said to be a genius who transformed flamenco into a performing art.

Flamenco, which originally started in small taverns, became a show in places called 'café cantante,' and now it has evolved into a performing art, making flamenco a global phenomenon. It is now recognized as a World Cultural Heritage site, isn't it?

That's right. It became a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2010.

But when I first went to Spain, there were many people who were like, "Flamenco? What's that?" and I felt quite a few people thought of it as a somewhat lowly culture.

Yes. It seems it was often perceived as being rustic or country-like.

However, the Sevillanas always comes up at dance parties after weddings. If you can dance the Sevillanas, people are like, "Oh!"

Even in Madrid, when it comes to weddings or dance parties, the Sevillanas and Pasodoble are always danced.

I see. The Pasodoble is that "tan-tarian-tarian-tan" one, right?

Yes. It's the music that is always played during bullfights.

I've never danced it myself.

It's included in what we call social dancing (ballroom dancing).

It fits the image Japanese people have of flamenco.

But it's a bit different from true flamenco.

In any case, every region in Spain has its own songs and dances. Even regarding folk costumes, the frilly flamenco dresses we imagine are only from a part of the south; I think there are over 50 types across all of Spain.

The people in the northern Asturias region are completely different too. I have an acquaintance from Asturias, and that's where the Spanish Reconquista (the movement to reconquer from the Muslims) began.

That's where they stopped the Islamic army.

Apparently, those who serve the Spanish Royal Family still have to be from Asturias.

Just as the Crown Prince is called the "Prince of Wales" in the UK, "Príncipe de Asturias" is the title for the Crown Prince.

It really varies by region. Catalans are diligent and good at business. It's said that the Barcelona Olympics were only possible because of them. People say it would have been impossible for those in Andalusia (laughs).

As a woman, I have a desire for transformation, and I thought I'd like to wear those colorful flamenco dresses. But since I do Cante (singing), it ends up being black.

In Japanese shows, many customers come for the dance, so I inevitably sit in the back and feel like I have to dress in a way that doesn't stand out more than the dancers.

I still have few opportunities to do my own Cante live performances without dance, but I'm often asked to "please sing about two songs here just with vocals" to bridge the gaps. In those cases, I try to wear something with as many decorations as possible.

For men, the costumes often have high waists.

There are bullfighter-like styles with very high waists and short jackets.

You mean the bolero?

That's right. So it does feel like there's a connection with bullfighting. In the dance forms, there are many movements that mimic the bullfighter's motions. In fact, it seems many famous bullfighters in the past were of Roma descent.

There are many "bullfighter poses" in the dances. Bullfighting also comes up quite a bit in the lyrics.

There's a movement called "zapateado" where you keep time with your feet. A word I often hear is "duende." Does it mean something like "becoming possessed" for the dancer, singer, or guitarist?

Yes, like a demon or spirit.

It's said that duende comes from below—that is, from the earth. It's not just about having excellent technique; when that duende enters, it's said that both the performer and the audience are overcome with emotion.

Yes. I suppose it's an Oriental way of thinking. Like the dancer being possessed. People don't say it much anymore, though.

Does that mean it has become more urbanized?

It feels like those elements are fading. But there is certainly an Oriental culture. When I was learning, I sometimes received advice like, "Step on the ground as if flowers are blooming from there."

Also, castanets are used, but Roma people actually dislike castanets. That might come from a Spanish folk dance called Clásico Español. Castanets are very difficult. I can't really do them.

I tried them too, but they're hard. I was imagining the ones from kindergarten, so I thought they had rubber bands, but they're just strings. I wondered how I was supposed to snap them back.

You dance while making sounds with both hands.

If you can do that, it becomes a selling point for yourself.

There are dancers in Japan who are good at that.

Hand-clapping (palmas) is also difficult.

It's incredibly difficult (laughs).

There's this implicit sense of groove that Spanish people have. I couldn't keep up with it. Moreover, they often told me, "You, that's wrong," without telling me what was wrong.

I think 'palma' probably comes from 'palm' (of the hand), but in the case of flamenco hand-clapping, you do it with both hands slightly offset.

Flamenco is tough because there are many things no one teaches you. It's changed now, but it used to be a world where they'd finally teach you only after you asked many times.

It's like a kind of secret tradition. I heard that the famous guitarist Ramón Montoya used to lock himself in his room to practice so that even his own son wouldn't hear him, and he wouldn't teach him.

There's often no sheet music, right?

Basically, many people can't read music.

I heard that Miwa Yoshida from Dreams Come True once invited Vicente Amigo, who is called the prince of flamenco guitar, to work on an album. Even though Miwa Yoshida had prepared proper sheet music, he performed by improvisation.

When I learned singing, the teacher would first sing everything, and then say, "Now, you try singing," and we'd go in order around the class. Spanish people can pretty much do it. Even if it's not perfect, they can sing what they heard, but Japanese people are not good at that. Since we can't do it on the spot, we take recordings home and listen to them intensely to analyze them.

Like, it goes up a bit here, down once, then meanders about three times before going up. But there are also subtle pitches like quarter-tones that can't be accurately written in sheet music, so when I'd write the pitches as dots and bring them the next day, I'd get praised a lot. They'd say I was like a "máquina" (machine).

They'd ask, "How can you copy the teacher like that? Unbelievable, Japanese people are amazing," but from our perspective, they are the ones who are amazing (laughs).

The instrument I play is a type of bagpipe called the gaita from the northern Asturias region.

It has a bag, and you blow air into that bag to play. In contrast to the "duende from below" mentioned earlier, this one feels like blowing breath in from above. I think these aspects are quite different.

It seems there was no sheet music in the past, and it was taught through oral tradition. However, since the 1980s, people who graduated from conservatorios (music schools) have transcribed what was taught orally into sheet music, which seems to have significantly broadened the base.

That kind of thing happens. Flamenco also became international, and Paco de Lucía performed with guitarists from all over the world and realized that metronome standards are important. Within that, the thinking shifted to how to bring out the flamenco groove.

To create a groove, you need to slightly sway the rhythm with accents, and there's a point where doing it to a certain degree makes it sound like flamenco.

We can do that quite well now, so it's a great help to us. With schools being established, things can become easier to understand like that.

The reason it's popular in Japan might be that it fuses Oriental and Arabic elements from people who came from India, and the melancholy in the use of sound strikes a chord with us.

Yes. I think it's surprisingly easy to empathize with.

However, while many people come to performances by famous Spanish artists, I still feel that the original insider elements remain strong.

It's said there are 50,000 enthusiasts, but I feel it's difficult for it to become a larger movement than that. Even so, it's said to be the most popular country for it after Spain.

But no Spanish culture has spread across the world as much as flamenco. The gaita I play also had a period of significant excitement in the late 1990s riding the Celtic boom, but flamenco is truly in a league of its own.

The influence of Bizet's opera "Carmen," based on Mérimée's original work, must also be huge.

That's true. There are many women named Carmen too.

Isn't it the most common name?

I suspect there weren't that many until Bizet's "Carmen" (laughs).

Whether it's an admiration for that kind of woman, there are certainly many of them.

Because it's not Japanese, Japanese people naturally end up admiring it.

I think flamenco is popular in Japan because many Japanese people harbor suppressed feelings. Conversely, flamenco is something where you express yourself intensely. That's why once people see it or try it a little, it feels so good they can't get enough of it.

I think many people get hooked because they feel that sense of release can't be found anywhere else but flamenco.

There are few male dancers. The overwhelming majority are women. That's true for both the audience and the students, so I wish a few more men would give it a try.

I have several male students of my own who are learning it.

That's great to hear.

Currently, I run a small-scale studio myself. I teach dancing, palmas (clapping), and a bit of the cajón percussion instrument.

The cajón is interesting too.

Cajón means 'large box,' and it's a percussion instrument originating from Peru with a hole in the back. Paco de Lucía found it when he toured South America in the 1970s and brought it back, wondering if it could be incorporated into flamenco.

It's very simple, with only low and high tones. I learned it in Spain, but it's fun because you can get pretty good at it even if you're self-taught.

Do you ever perform on stage specializing only in the cajón?

It varies. Sometimes I'm hired to play the cajón, sometimes for palmas, and sometimes in combination with dancing. Just like Paco de Lucía's group, you might think a member is just playing the cajón, and then they suddenly start dancing.

How do you make the sounds with your feet?

It's more of a stomping feel than tap dancing. However, in recent years, it has evolved by incorporating elements of tap and ballet.

Flamenco involves striking the floor so hard with your feet that it can be a nuisance to the neighbors, but recently there's also a trend toward lighter footwork. I think that happened naturally through collaborations with people from various genres.

The singing also incorporates a lot of Latin American music, like the Milonga, doesn't it?

That's right. There are songs like the Guajira, which went to Cuba once and then came back.

I wonder how many songs there are in total.

For example, there's a category called 'Song of Joy: Alegrías,' but under that name Alegrías, there are countless lyrics. Even if someone says, 'I'm going to perform Alegrías today,' it's completely different from the Alegrías performed yesterday. Honestly, the number of songs is uncountable.

And the lyrics are updated daily as well.

Yes. Sometimes the atmosphere becomes a bit more stylish.

Isn't there also a song about a snail seller?

That's 'Caracoles.' It's said to be based on the street cries of snail sellers.

They eat real snails, not escargot, right?

They're delicious, though.

Boiled and steamed.

It's like eating whelks. Prepared with garlic and various spices. It's just the appearance... (laughs).

When you see them piled up, you think, 'Whoa...' (laughs).

Many lyrics sing about the good old days of Madrid.

Also, in more somber forms like Soleares (Soleá), they sing about the history of persecution of the Gitanos, and there are also mining songs called Minera. There are some quite gruesome lyrics, like 'my brother's hands were cut off.'

Alegrías means 'joy,' but the music is based on a form called Jota from the Aragon region. Apparently, when Napoleon's army invaded, the Aragonese fought bravely, so the Jota became popular throughout Spain and spread as a song. It's said that people in the south then incorporated it into the flamenco format as Alegrías. That's why things like cannonballs appear in the lyrics.

That's right. Even though it's supposed to be in the 'joy' category, there are lyrics about 'bombs falling.' But the melody is bright. It's interesting because there are so many different lyrics. I suppose songs about love or the hardships of life are common?

There are quite a few songs about things like a husband hitting his wife because she didn't make dinner.

Or songs like, 'Let me tell you how terrible my wife is.' Love songs are also quite intense, with many saying things like 'I'm going to kill you,' or others saying 'I have no money, give me money' (laughs).

There are several 'Tablaos' in Madrid, but many of them might have become a bit more like high-end restaurants now.

Until Antonio Gades turned it into a performing art, flamenco was performed in places that held maybe 50 or 60 people at most. I think that's the right size to really feel the atmosphere.

There are several 'Tablaos' in Japan too. They've decreased significantly compared to before, but the ones remaining now are in Nishi-Nippori, Shinjuku, and Hachioji, I believe.

And Asakusabashi. I'm performing there tomorrow, actually.

I wish more people would take up Cante (singing).

There are very few. Maybe 20 professionals at most. It's hard to find a singer.

The hurdle to becoming stage-ready is high. You have to memorize many categories and be able to sing any song. Requests come in for specific styles, so you can't get on stage without a massive repertoire.

Singing is vital to flamenco, so I certainly wish there were more singers.

As Mr. Hiroshige mentioned, doing flamenco makes you realize how different Japan and Spain are. We tend to think before we act, so there's a 'pause,' but Spanish people, even during rehearsals, just keep going—'Let's do it,' 'What's next?', 'What are we doing now?' (laughs).

I think they are people who are very skilled at living in the 'now.' I wonder if this is the difference between hunting peoples and agricultural peoples. I think it's because hunters have to take down an animal right then and there if they see one.

Actually, I used to be 'anti-flamenco' (laughs). It was because there was such a strong sense of Spain equals flamenco. It's not that I disliked it at all, but people talked about flamenco so much.

But after hearing your stories today, I think flamenco is great after all (laughs). I hope to see a live performance by the two of you.

Listening to this conversation, I've realized once again that while flamenco is certainly from the south, it has received various influences from all over Spain. If we don't look at the various cultures within Spain, focusing only on flamenco isn't enough.

In any case, Spain is a fascinating world with diverse folk costumes, dances, and songs. I truly hope many people will experience flamenco and Spanish culture.