Last night in Madrid I went to my first Flamenco show. It was described as “alternative” flamenco. Perhaps it’s best to see a traditional Flaminco show before an alternative one. Without the former experience I wasn’t entirely sure where the variations began. I am pretty sure that, as of ten years ago, the band was actually present on stage instead of projected onto a big screen behind the dancers and that same screen didn’t host images of a man in jean shorts running along a beach or scenes of underwater life skimming the ocean floor. But so it was in this show that I saw with my 75-year-old Godmother.
There were a few splendid moments though – namely when the lone female danced solo in an oversized peacock dress and when the three of them tapped their feet in unison around stage. I was sad that no maracas were involved, but I am intrigued. I would like to look into classes when I arrive in the South. And I will certainly see another show.