Concurso de Cante en Alcala (singing contest)

November 7, 2008 Friday
Two nights ago, I had one of the best nights of my life and am still floating 2 inches above the ground. I went to sing in a flamenco contest in the town of Alcala de Guadaira. Now in that town, they sing a song called Solea that is famous in all the world of flamenco. When I first started singing some 40-something years ago, that was one of the first things I started to learn and over the years has become my best thing. I could sing that for more than 2 hours without repeating a verse. So when I read that the contest was awarding the biggest prize for the best singer of Solea de Alcala I knew that I had to go and give it a try.
I will digress for a second to note that, for almost 50 years I have been chasing this exotic art form pretty much on my own. Naturally, there was nobody around who could tell me whether or not I was doing it well or badly (other than to say they liked it or didn't). Because Americans naturally don't know the many intricate distinctions that comprise flamenco singing. So when I performed in public, there was applause, but when I executed a particularly difficult part of the song, nobody ever said "ole" because nobody ever knew what I had accomplished. With the exception of a few flamenco hard-core crazies, I never had anyone to even discuss flamenco with. But I had the disease and went on studying and learning for my own satisfaction. I mention all this to provide a context for the way I am feeling now.
So we arrived in Alcala. There were 10 other contestants and each could choose to sing songs in 3 categories. The first was the Solea de Alcala, which had the biggest prize. The second was a group of songs considered "cante jondo" - the serious and deep emotional songs; and the third was a group of everything else in flamenco. I elected to do one song from each group (to maximize my chances of winning something). I was scheduled to compete in the second half of the contest, so we got drinks and a good table and started to watch the show.
Well, some of the other singers were pretty impressive. None of them were gypsies (which means it was sort of like white people singing the blues), but they sang with lots of style, lots of little details and flourishes. It was obvious that they were very advanced singers. In fact, someone said that a lot of these folks follow the singing contest circuit as a way of making money.
Well some were very good, but in spite of all the apparent emotion on the stage, the audience was dead. One guy sang with an intensity that was amazing. He had complete control and amazing technique, but you would have thought that he was in the electric chair, they were turning up the voltage, he was about to die any minute and this was his last message to everyone. And the audience just sat there. Shakespeare's phrase went through my mind "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing".
When I saw all that I thought, "well if this is what wins concursos (contests), I don't have a chance because my singing is really primitive in comparison". My singing is primitive because I sing like the primitive singers I learned from. So I wasn't at all sure how the audience would respond to me. I was more nervous than usual. On top of it all, I was playing my own guitar. Some singers brought their favorite guitarist with them and others used the guitarist that was provided (who was excellent), but I am so used to playing for myself that I figured I might as well go with something predictable.
Finally, it was my turn. I climbed onto the stage and started the Solea. I was pleased because the guitar was working well and the first few verses came off perfectly. The second verse I had learned only that morning, so I was afraid that I could forget the words under pressure. So once I had finished that verse, I could coast to the finish line. So I started paying attention to the room. People were shouting jaleo (words of encouragement)! A lot! That hadn't happened all night. I finished the Solea to a big applause. I then sang a siguiriya and then a buleria (you flamenco folks will know what those are, but it doesn't matter). When I did the buleria, Andi, Estela Zatania, and Juan from Jerez got up to do palmas (handclapping). We got it cranked up and the audience started shouting. Andi said, "You rocked the room!" We finished to a huge applause with some people on their feet.
Afterwards, all kinds of folks came over to offer congratulations and praise. The most important praise that I got was from two gypsies who were from the family of Manolito el de la Maria, one of my heroes and someone who I most want to sing like. (My poor children had to grow up listening to Manolito when all the rest of their friends were listening to the Beatles). The gypsies were very happy and enthusiastic. One said that it had been years since he had heard the "eco" (sound) of Manolito sung like that. Both said that the amazing thing about my cante was that I was actually able to transmit the emotion and the audience really felt it. It went on until I was glowing pink to the bottoms of my feet. I don't know if I won anything - there are 4 more days of contest (71 competitors) before we know who the finalists are. But, as an expert on cante, I know that on that night, nobody sang a more pure Solea of Alcala than I did. And if quantity and warmth of applause - and the number of "oles" - is a measure of success, then I won.
This was to die and go to heaven for an artist - to have finally been heard by an audience that is qualified to judge good cante and to have been approved, even celebrated by that audience. If nothing else ever happens for me, this was enough!
I've rambled on and fear that telling all this is to be guilty of hubris, but to whom would I want to share this joy but my family and friends. Forgive me if I went on too long, but I am so happy! I've waited 50 years for this, never really daring to think that it could happen. For the younger folks, the moral of the story is - follow your dream and dare to dream big.

When artists reach some kind of summit, it is customary to give thanks to those who helped along the way. In my case, I owe absolutely everything to my lovely wife who give up a home in the redwoods, a garden, her cats, and her own career in dance, so that we could follow this dream of coming to Spain and sailing. Then she insisted that it was time for me to put my art in front of a real audience and has been a support every inch of the way. To her, the biggest of thanks. And the most moving thing about the contest was how happy and proud of me she was after it was over.

Here is the video of the soleá on YouTube:



And here is the Siguiriya - the singing is something that I have sung for years, but I was very proud of the guitar work since I made it all up in the moment except for the introduction":