I have been waiting for this concert all the festival. Not only because the others, but due to the tremendous quality of the proposal. Dorantes is a genius; Renaud Garcia Fons, a master. We arrived a little bit late and Diego had a sprain so he hardly could walk. They made us sign a paper in which we promise just taking photos from the balcony after the first three songs. Diego has lied, he said that he lived on the 28th floor. The hostess looked for us and she said that we had to fill the information properly. She laughed. I have been saying during half of a month that my photographer is lame, and against all the odds she believed that. She didn’t mind that I bring others with me. That doesn’t happen in every place so that makes me love this festival even more. Really, I love more that woman.
I believe that the key is the antinomy between recycling/innovation. I believe that it is necessary that a musician knows his instrument to carry out a good job, compose elbow to elbow. That’s where the unison soul comes up, the rest are executive orders. And that’s why Dorantes and Renaud have the four feet that make this withered auditory bloom. I’m not only talking about techniques. There’s a pact. No lover brings the best of his beloved if he doesn’t know him and acclaims his faculties. Dorantes experiments, he looks for the 4th leg of his piano, and he makes it from the flamenco essence. Renaud delighted by hookah smoke, and as much in the realization of the scales as in the touch that emerges from him without thinking, exudes Al-Andalus. The mixture, if the roots are raw, they take an intense red colour. Innovate, without recycling absolutely anything. The themes grow up as they progress. The progression, the changes, slow dancing in the precipice. Esperanza Fernandez appeared a little bit cold, but when she returns to the scenery she shouted from afar: “¡La Serrania, for the “serrania” I’m looking for my “serrana””. I don’t really know if she is exactly saying that, I don’t think so, but that’s what I understood, but it’s part of flamenco flair. Trivial lyrics which touch the soul because of the manner they are suffered and Esperanza has a hole in her soul.
Javier Ruibal appeared. If the poster of this year pretended to value the drummers, Ruibal is justifying it. As he arrived we entered in a different time-space dimension. It’s incredible how they make 2 or 10 different songs in the same theme using three chords. They have offered so much this night that I feel like I have spent a few days here. They finish a song- the 8th, the 10th, I don’t know, for me it’s the second one-, and someone said: “we have to go to bed, people want to go home”. Dorantes, Renaud, Javier and Esperanza are musicians that don’t want to leave. They look like they have just launch from a water slide and it is getting closed. The clamour is such big that the festival director go closer to the scenery and gave permission for another song. They conclude giving everything they have. That has not been a concert, it has been a walk of insane people who have escaped from an asylum. Dorantes juggling with his stool to put his hands in the strings; Renaud studying the digression of the arch bound against his. Doing the best that can be done in a festival: innovate, with risk, without fear to get lost returning to the white walls.
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