We sat in the front row, my sister and I, in the Bimhuis in Amsterdam. On pleasant red seats, about in the middle, with old rockers around us: Paco Peña’s generation.
First Yerai played a few songs alone, a fandangos and a solea. Then the young, fashionable demigod was accompanied by two proud Spanish women who clapped (palmas) and stomped their feet (zapateado).
His playing was not as virtuoso as Vincento Amigo. Not as experimental and above-all excellent! as Paco de Lucía (unfortunately I never saw him live). Not as rhythmically pushing as Paco Cepero, or pulling as Moraíto Chico. And not as good as Tomatito, that old pirate with his wild hair (and oh he is good!).
Don’t get me wrong. It was wonderful play! Really! The young man has flamenco all the way down in his fingertips, fingerspitzengefühl, he can play arpeggios at lightning speed and he does the most difficult alzapua even with his eyes closed.
Or no: he does look. But not at us.
Or no …. he does look, but doesn’t see us.
He sees the music that is yet to come.
No Yerai is different, he has his own style.
You know what? What that boy is so good at is that he plays with (the) silence. Yerai plays with the voids, stretches the silence. Lets the tones linger, almost letting them fall down. …. 1
And so he plays with us.
- Why don’t they say that, those music journalists? Don’t they hear it? Don’t they really know the music?
By chance (and I kiss it!), I came across these two videos on YouTube last year: a jaleos and a seguiriyas. Listen carefully and keep an eye on that guy!
*And be sure to listen to another young maestro too: El Perla! ︎ ↩︎
