Juerga!

I had always thought the Spanish word "juerga" translated more or less to "party" in English. This isn't strictly wrong . . . but, as with most things in flamenco, it's more complicated than that. The venerable D.E. Pohren defines "juerga" as "a flamenco jam session." Robin Totton says it's "a get-together of flamencos among themselves" ( . . . and "also may mean a lively party"--vindication is mine!).

This all jives pretty well with the general impression I've had. It may be from the interwebs, however, that we get the unvarnished truth: according to babylon.com, a juerga is a "binge, spree, period of excessive indulgence . . . A festive binge of drinking and merrymaking." Oh my!

Whatever the truth, I think all of these descriptions effectively sum up the all-night bout of flamenco-steeped mirthery that Savannah Fuentes hosted at her house last Saturday. I knew this night would at least be blog-worthy before I ever stepped foot inside the house: as I was looking for a place to park, I stumbled upon my friend Rachel Sprague--who happened to be standing in the middle of the street, holding her truck's side-view mirror in her hand. ("It just fell off!" claimed she.)

After assuring that Sprague had the situation under control (the mirror "fell off," evidently, while she was trying to park next to--or perhaps in--a rather large oak), I got myself situated and found Savannah's house. I'll spare you the mingling minutia; let it suffice to say that there was plenty of wine (it never did run out) and lots of open space for dancing.

And were there musicians! My god! I expected there to be a few guitar players, perhaps a cajon player or two, some singers. But then the violin player showed up (Sallah--who is awesome). And the oud player (Yousef--also awesome). And the cello player (again: awesome (I am wearing this word out, I know--but it's the only word that fits!)).

To be honest, I was totally intimidated. I remember thinking, holy crap, these guys are going to be awesome and I'm going to feel like a tool, fumbling at my poor guitar with ten thumbs or flippers or something. As it turns out, they were totally awesome (okay fine, I'll find another word)--but they were also all about collaborating. And I think that's finally what made the whole thing really take off: no one was trying to impress anyone, or put on a show; everyone was there just to make music, sing, and dance.

I know, this sounds obvious. Like, why else would a bunch of musicians get together? Unfortunately, musicians tend to be egotistical (I'm no exception) and they generally want to sound good. Which means they (I) don't like to take risks in public. Which means that trying out new musical ideas is generally strained at best.

But behind closed doors (and undoubtedly helped along with no trivial amount of wine), it's easier to set aside the musical inhibitions and try something new. When it's just me and a cellist, say, it can be hard to find a groove. Inspired collaboration can happen, but there would have to be some rare chemistry (and genius) to turn such an outing into an all night party. But when there are musicians and palmistas and dancers all into a tangos or buleria one gets carried on the current of it. The energy draws you in. (Hmmm--this is starting to sound like nudist colony propaganda--but that comes later . . . ). Anyway, enough with the chit-chat. How about some pictures? (Quick--before I use the "a-word" again!):

. . . And then the photographer left. But this was still only 2:00 or 3:00 (I think I finally staggered home around 5:00--and I was not the last to leave). I can definitely see why the word "binge" would come into play here--not only for the "excess," but also for the sheer "carried-awayness" of it.

Lucky for me, the hangover was limited to a little bit of cotton-mouth and a slight ringing in the ears--neither of which kept me from a healthy (if sleepy) dose of playing the next day.

And speaking of playing, isn't that what you should be doing right now?

~A

Dinner Music!

As anyone who has hung around this blog for a while knows, most of the performance I do is as part of an ensemble--and usually with a pair of very loud dancers. During my little "sabbatical" (if only!), however, I had the opportunity to play a bit of solo dinner music during an event at the Veteran's Administration Hospital in Seattle.

The gig was actually very cool, which made things easy from the start. The dinner was in honor of some of the long-term patients at the hospital and was part the VA's "National Salute to Veterans." The impression I got was that it was an opportunity for these folks to break out of their normal routine and get together for a nice catered meal.

And what better final touch to put on a nice dinner than live music? Okay, fine: I may be a bit biased on this count--but luckily for me, the organizers were of the same mind.

As I expected, most of the time I was there for ambiance (a role which I quite enjoy, actually), but any time I started to suspect that people weren't listening to (or enjoying) the music, I would get a round of applause, a request, or someone asking what the name of a particular piece was.

As I have done for stuff like this in the past, I had prepared a set list, but really ended up more following the mood of the room. I had planned a sedate sort of program, for instance, but when shouts for "play something fast" came out, what more is a guy to do than buleria? In any case, there were definitely times when it was nice to have a list for structure: it's no good to sit around twiddling one's thumbs trying to think of what to play next.

All in all, I think the music went over well. People come to stuff like this, after all, expecting to enjoy themselves; as a friend of mine once said, they want the performer (in this case me) to do well. Of course I made the odd mistake, but since I didn't draw attention to it, I don't think that anyone noticed. Or if they did, they certainly didn't care.

On a practical note, you may be wondering: So how does one land gigs like this? (That's what I would want to know, anyway.) I wish I knew a general rule. (Unfortunately, I don't!) In this case, I suspect it was largely thanks to a noticeable web presence. The woman who booked me for this particular event had earlier booked my ensemble (Zamani Flamenco) for an event in May. And that she found through Google.

Of course, I also think that not being a spaz or a lunatic while booking that first gig helped, too. Evidently, the woman who booked me for this gig had been promised music by someone else--someone who evidently dropped the ball at the last minute. Which made me think a bit about all the other stuff beside just playing well that goes into being a working musician. I mean, let's face it: there are lots of people around who can play--many of them better than me. But, particularly for stuff like this, I think that once you're competent, being reliable and easy to get along with goes a long way.

Which isn't to say the music isn't important--that's definitely not what I'm getting at. But becoming a "good" player is something that's more of a process than a final result, no? (I personally don't imagine ever getting to the point where I'm "done" trying to improve my playing.) Being reasonable, however, is an entirely different story.

And speaking of reasonableness, I'm going to reasonably wrap this little missive up and go play.

I suggest you do the same!

~A

Flamenco, Anyone?

Hello, world! I've survived the PhD exams! And am nearly coherent enough to tell about it! Before you ask: no, I'm not quite a doctor yet--I still have to scribble out one of these "dissertation" things. . . . But I am nearer to being a doctor than I've ever been (and may, I'm told, play one on TV sometime soon).

But enough of my pursuit of nerdery! We care little for such things here, no? I have, after all, replaced the "daunting-stack-o'-books" picture with the "infamous-and-ubiquitous-guitars-icon" picture. So: what (you may ask) is new?

Well, as my intrinsically nerdy nature dictates, I feel compelled to tell you in two stages. Here's the first: it would seem that, despite my best efforts, flamenco guitar refused to be "back-seated" during my exams (see below). This is, of course, a good thing. But it also made for an interesting personal experiment centering around this question: what happens to one's (i.e. "my") guitar playing when a really big project muscles its way onto the scene?

The result was something I didn't even realize I was the least bit interested in (cf. "exam panic" below), but, as it turns out, should care a lot about. The good news is that with rare exception, I still managed for the most part to pick up the guitar every day. And most of those days included some species of structured practice. I think there were three factors in particular that helped this to be the case:

First, my guitars are never "put away." I actually don't store them in their cases. Is this potentially harder on the instruments? Yes, potentially. But does it mean that I play them more? Certainly. Since my guitars are always "out," it's easy to pick one up over coffee in the morning (which I regularly do)--or in those little "dead spots" in the day that aren't quite enough time to do something, but are just long enough to feel wasteful. For example: I can revisit a problem spot in a peteneras I've been working on (more on that later) or play through a couple sevillanas in the time it takes water to boil. There's another 8-10 minutes in the time it takes penne to cook (depending on what you consider "al dente").

This is not to say I actually leave the poor things strewn all over my house, willy-nilly. I actually hang them on the walls. I mean, let's face it: guitars are pretty. So why not leave them out? Having them there, staring you down, as it were, is also a good reminder of whether you've been neglectful or not (sort of a Foucauldian micro-politics of power meets musicianship . . . oh no! I can't turn the nerd off!).

Anyway, reason two: I don't watch TV. Don't even own one. They're degenerate, vile devices and should be scorned by right-thinking people. Yes, you're saying (I know you are! I can hear it): but how much time do you spend in front of a computer, mr. no-tv-snob? Arguable way too much; I agree. But let's think about this practically: what is an hour (or six) of mind-numbing television watching more likely to displace? The time I spend stalking my friends on Facebook or the time I spend practicing arpeggio variations? I honestly don't see "Pumping Nylon" winning out on this one.

Finally, reason three: before push came to shove (time-wise, that is), I made some choices about where my musical priorities were best focused. This means I backed off on Ravenna Flamenco and on my involvement in dance classes and La Peña in order to leave myself time to "just play." I know this seems counterintuitive, but in fact I found that the playing I did get in was productive and allowed me to expand my skills and maintain my enthusiasm (rather than just maintain dance repertoire).

Though don't get me wrong: I do love playing for dancers and singers--and in fact can't wait to get back to it (which will happen on the 23rd of March). (The "getting back" to Ravenna Flamenco, you may have noticed, has already begun.)

And this brings me to "part 2" of "what's new." This part aspires to give a quick rundown of all the stuff I should have covered in past blog posts but never got around to (see "exam panic" below). Since this particular post is already getting obnoxiously long, I'll skip right to the details:

• If you haven't been to www.zamaniflamenco.com lately, do check it out. We've posted a new promo video and a photo gallery on the "media" page. Also, dancers Dani and Zánbaka (who are currently cooling their heels in the south of Spain), are keeping us all up to dates on the vagaries of travel and study in Andalucia on the new ZF blog.
  
  
• I recently played solo guitar for a dinner event at the VA in Seattle. Much fun was this; there will be post coming soon on the ins & outs.
  
  
• The Northside Grill, Zamani Flamenco's erstwhile monthly gig, has closed! So no more monthly gig there. The good news, however, is that our summer festival and event calendar is starting to fill out (starting with a private event two days before the dancers are back . . . more on that later).
  
  
• Plans for Ravenna Flamenco: I've gotten a lot of positive feedback on the flamenco metronomes, so I'll be working in getting more of those put together. Next up is solea, then perhaps some tangos. These are, as always, a bit labor intensive, so bear with me!
  
  
• More RF plans: as I mentioned above, I'm working out a Peteneras by Pedro Soler. I'm planning to tab this out for the edification of all of you (it's a great piece--it forces you to play slow!), but I'm finding that transcribing "toque libre" is absolute murder. I may just scrap regular time signatures altogether and let the notes fall where they may. In any case, keep your eyes peeled for a new addition to "tabs."
  

And now, dear reader, I'll spare you further suffering by bringing this marathon blog post to a close--and I promise to limit such abuses in the future. What can I say? It's been a while! In any case, I hope you all are well and am looking forward to diving back into the thick of things.

Now you! Go play!

~A