Fiddle and Flamenco

Fiddle and Flamenco March 20, 2014

During our time  in Alozaina, we enjoyed the semi-regular “Flamenco Night” at Pepe Bravos, a community gathering spot.  The event is one of those sorts of spontaneous organic events that can happen - or not, depending upon whether or not the musicians show up.  The core is made up of two local fellows - Carlos, the guitar player, and Jose, a singer, and a smattering of some other local guys who might show up.  The contingent of expats may join in for the fun but mostly sit back and enjoy the music.  This is nothing formal - just a bunch of folks sitting around making music - what we might call a house party back home.

Pepe Bravo's place

One night, Rod, our British friend from Devon, brought his fiddle and encouraged me (Bruce) to play while the flamenco guys were taking a  break.  I picked up the instrument and scratched out a couple of familiar tunes: Old Man Dillon,  Red Wing, and Liberty  - despite not having played since Christmas.   The fiddle, a ¾ size instrument, had been in Rod’s family for a very long time. It was built in Germany in 1742 and has a very mellow sound.   Rod took lessons as a child but preferred the piano and is now very accomplished on the keyboard.

Rod trusted me to take his precious family heirloom back to our home so that I could figure out a few more tunes for an upcoming birthday party for Sky Chapman - another Devon denizen.   It was great to have a fiddle in my hands again, but I was very conscious of its value and its meaning to Rod - I appreciated his trust in keeping it safe.  His wife, Alice, claims that he has never lent the fiddle to anyone else.  I was fearful of something happening to the instrument while in my care. One windy night I had a dream of it being flung across the room and smashed. However, I practiced for the next few days and on Tuesday night, we returned to Pepe Bravo’s for the party.

Nothing starts early in Spain so we arrived an hour after the announced start of 8 P.M. and again, realized that we were early. Gradually, the place started to fill up with expats and a few Spanish guests.  Lots of Spanish treats were available - tapas,  potato omelets,  salads, ham, olives, and gambas shrimp.

Spanish tapas

Eventually, Carlos and Jose arrived, along with several other musicians -  Jon Stein, John Ryan, Rod, and Alice who joined in singing John Denver tunes and folk songs from the 60s.   I got up and played 4 or 5 tunes that I had rehearsed earlier and was pleased that a bunch of folks got up and danced to some of the jigs and reels.  Rod and Jon both accompanied me on the keyboard and we were able to manage a sort of dance-able rhythm, despite not having practiced together.  

fiddling with accompaniment

The flamenco guys followed up with a number of great tunes with a mysterious rhythm and the loud mournful chant that is characteristic of this music.  The evening was a great time with lots of music, dancing, delicious food, and conversation among the expats gathered together.   We walked up the steep hill to the town square after midnight, underneath the sparkling stars and the distant lights of Malaga, far to the east.

the flamenco performers - Jose's son, Carlos, & Jose

After that evening, when I met Carlos and Jose in town, we greeted each other. Carlos asked me when I was going to play the violin again, making a bowing gesture with his hands.  Even though my Spanish is rudimentary, at best, the fiddle has given us a nice connection with some of the Spanish local residents. It has been a good opportunity to connect with another culture and share in the universal language of music.