The last time I attended a José Menese concert, he seemed physically diminished, in low form. He’d just suffered a fall and his arm was in a sling protected by a flimsy bandage. That was a year and a half ago. That same arm was the one that last night managed to gesture through the pain to acknowledge the cheers of his fans. Less than one month ago José was operated on for a fractured left arm, but “I gave my word I would sing today, and here I am”.
At that other performance, Menese was heavy-going. Dignified as always, but heavy-going. It had perhaps seemed at the time that the decline of one of the greatest interpreters of classic cante (if what this man does isn’t “pure”, nothing is), was looming. But no my friend, no. That low point was nothing more than that.
His laurels recovered their green color just as autumn was putting a brutal end to Indian summer in Madrid, and José Menese sang on Wednesday doing full justice to his reputation.
And at the same time, he opened the series of flamenco recitals that, with veteran singers as the focus, will fill the month with a good bunch of key artists, no two the same. Heroic programming we hope is a great success and can be repeated.
And so there we were, comfy in our ergonomic seats, and there he was. José Menese Scott, standard-bearer of the Mairena school for the greater glory of a diverse flamenco ecosystem.
The show got off to a good start with the Romance of Juan García at full throttle. We were seeing a flamenco singer at peak performance with the good humor to gracefully manage difficult situations such as sound problems, or some small confusion in the order of the numbers.
A light touch for farruca, and more so in the romance por soleá where he didn’t fake through it, although he could have.
The caracoles were rich with flavor, and petenera was in the same line. Always knowing just how to present himself and his art, in this first part with cantes that lasted no more than four or five minutes each, and where his earthy straightforward personality, almost more suitable for smaller venues, predominated over the “black sounds”.
It was Antonio Carrión with his “little” bulerías solo that divided the evening in two parts. Ten minutes of moving tribute to the guitar-playing of Morón, with melodic passages from Diego del Gastor which brought the knowledgeable audience to the peak of delight.
Now Menese, who returned to the stage publicly congratulating his guitarist, made sure to put flamenco singing on the customary high pedestal with just three cantes. All three delivered with absolute command. Important tientos despite some weaving in the tones but always even-handed, something difficult to achieve the way the night was going.
Soleá by the book, and siguiriya with a display of ability worthy of Menese at any point of his long career.
A timeless recital, “you’re better than ever” they shouted out. He said it wasn’t so, but perhaps it was, because even in the guajira that closed out his performance Menese’s throat was never dull.
