Drugs for Kim... I haven't listened to El Torta forever. Finally have a space to breathe, and figured out to get on youtube while I'm doing this.
Returned to class with Rafael this morning. Cosas simples are best. He is a really good teacher. I picked up a book on the social history of flamenco in the Alhambra, and am challenging my Spanish. I am at a part talking about the last real flamenco singer, Rancapino. It's a little depressing. The book seems fairly balanced and not attempting to take sides only with the purists, but I now understand why they feel the way they do a little more. It is an art that has come from a way of life that involves neighbours meeting in their common courtyard, or in the street every day. It is an oral tradition, passed down in person, not by CDs. It can't be learned in an academy, they say, or from listening to discs. They lament the young people now who all want to be flamenco rock stars. That is not flamenco. So I wonder, what am I doing here... I do feel the difference between Sevilla and Jerez. But listening to Rafael's exhortations, I know that he has a significant connection to the real thing, and insists on far more than just technique.
It was beautiful out on the way to school, but pouring afterwards. I stopped in at a pastry shop and felt very foreign, as everyone coming in to this little place seemed to interact with each other, even though they were likely strangers. Buenas dias, says just about everyone, to the counter girl and anyone else in the vicinity. An older lady seems to come in talking about her mother and father, to all of us, and sets her purse on the chair at another lady's table, who encourages her to go ahead.
Diego del Gastor and Fernanda de Utrera. If I have the energy I might go to the pena tonight for more jovenes (young people) singing and playing guitar.