{"id":6160,"date":"2017-02-16T14:25:58","date_gmt":"2017-02-16T22:25:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/classicalguitarmagazine.com\/?p=6160"},"modified":"2017-02-16T14:25:58","modified_gmt":"2017-02-16T22:25:58","slug":"playing-for-a-dancer-the-best-flamenco-is-truly-a-collaboration","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/classicalguitarmagazine.com\/playing-for-a-dancer-the-best-flamenco-is-truly-a-collaboration\/","title":{"rendered":"Playing for a Dancer: The Best Flamenco is Truly a Collaboration"},"content":{"rendered":"
From the Spring 2017 issue of Classical Guitar | <\/em>BY JASON WEBSTER<\/h6>\n

There is a saying in flamenco that before launching off on a solo career, a guitarist should first play for at least ten years accompanying bailaores<\/i> and then another ten years with cantaores<\/i>; only after this combined experience will he or she have the necessary training and understanding to perform alone. Although this is not always strictly adhered to, there is some truth to it. Players who fail to go through the due apprenticeship can usually be spotted within the space of a handful of bars. What gives them away, in most cases, is failure to adhere to a strict sense of comp\u00e1s<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Comp\u00e1s, as regular readers of this column will know, means \u201crhythm\u201d and \u201cmeter.\u201d It is of crucial importance to flamenco\u2014even more so than in many other Western forms of music. To be told that you have poor comp\u00e1s is like a boxer being told he has a glass jaw or a gardener being told she doesn\u2019t have a green thumb (or \u201cfingers\u201d as they say in the UK). It can be practically terminal, so you need to nail it. And the best way to do so is to play for dancers. A lot.<\/p>\n

Fortune has blessed me with a beautiful Spanish wife, who is also a highly talented flamenco dancer. I have played for her in the past, but less so in recent years: the health of our marriage was deemed of greater importance. Be warned\u2014arguments over rhythm can become heated (and learn to accept now that it\u2019s always the guitarist\u2019s fault). But, when I was preparing this article and asked her opinion about guitar accompaniment for a dancer, the first thing she said was, \u201cComp\u00e1s!\u201d She did not need to elaborate; that single word encompasses so much. In fact, doctoral theses could be (and perhaps have been) written on the subject. There is something magical about hitting a truly perfect comp\u00e1s with another performer, as though the rhythm somehow expands into multi-dimensions and you are able somehow to step inside it. I think this is the reason why flamencos can be so playful with it, throwing in off-beats and polyrhythms that seem to defy understanding. Having good comp\u00e1s and being in time with the dancer is the fundamental building block for accompanying; it is the foundation upon which the entire performance is built. Without it, it simply isn\u2019t flamenco.<\/p>\n

The second thing my wife mentioned was tempo. There is a tendency among guitarists who have spent little or no time with dancers to play too fast. All those hours practicing and perfecting can turn the humblest musician into an insufferable show-off. And what better way to demonstrate your virtuosity than by hammering the fretboard at 90 mph? This may impress your more sedentary friends, but it\u2019s only going to make for a grumpy bailaora. (Trust me on this one.) So almost as important as comp\u00e1s is to slow things down a bit. Make sure you\u2019re playing at a pace that the dancer can actually follow with her feet. In fact, it\u2019s probably the other way around\u2014let the dancer set the pace and you follow. Remember that the principal function when playing for bailaores is to provide the music for their performance. You are accompanying them; they are not accompanying you. It is, of course, a collaboration, but there is a pecking order and\u2014notable exceptions apart\u2014guitarists <\/span>are not at the top of the bill. You are there to provide the music that makes the dancer want to dance.<\/p>\n

Which brings us to the third element my wife mentioned: soniquete<\/i>. This is a very difficult word to translate. My dictionary simply gives it as \u201cdroning.\u201d Ignore that. In a flamenco context, soniquete means something like \u201cthe groove,\u201d \u201cthe vibe,\u201d that thing that makes you want to sway your hips and start dancing. You know it when you hear it, and when you\u2019ve got it, it shows. You may have great comp\u00e1s, you may have slowed your playing down to a reasonable, danceable pace, but if the soniquete isn\u2019t there, you might as well go home. Few things can be more soul-
\ndestroying than glancing up from your guitar at the blank expression on a bailaora\u2019s face and the look in her eye that says, \u201cWhat do you expect me to do with that<\/i>?\u201d The music has to have \u201cfeeling\u201d (and the Spanish sometimes use the English word here). It may seem too obvious even to mention, but it can easily be overlooked. With your backside firmly settled in a chair, it\u2019s easy for a guitarist to forget that\u2014for the time being at least\u2014the music has to invoke and speak of movement.<\/p>\n

So take your time, enjoy it, and make something you would want to dance to yourself. Soniquete probably can\u2019t be taught, but it can be absorbed. Surround yourself with flamenco. Play, play, play. Go and find yourself a dancer (marrying them is optional). And then start all over again.<\/p>\n

Here’s a nicely shot clip from Spanish director Carlos Saura’s masterful 2010 film <\/em>Flamenco, Flamenco, featuring dancer Sara Baras:<\/em>
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