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Triumphant
Just one guitar. Nothing more was needed to fill the stage.
Every corner was overflowing, it cut through the air and opened
a space in the heart of the theater. The sounds fell like a dagger,
wounded like a bull’s horn, scorched like a red-hot poker.
The profound resonance was a duel and the lily was gilded despite
itself. Gerardo Núñez reclaimed his role as guitarist
at the Teatro Central. He offered a concert with one lone guitar,
without accompaniment of any kind, but he alone was enough to delight
the audience. It was the epitome of good taste, the best of the
Bienal to date. He demonstrated his technical virtuosity and artistic
sensibility, went through the bases of current flamenco guitar-playing
and left it wide open for all to see. It was like a homecoming.
Gerardo broke the ice with Yerma. The honey flowed from his strings
and fed the rich music with reinvented arabesques. Just he and his
guitar facing the audience head-on, nothing to hide behind and nothing
held back, playing full out with his captivating personality. He
never hesitates, just boldly goes forward, immersed in prodigious
tremolos provoking moments of great tension. Soleá por bulerías.
Extraordinary. Melodically exquisite picado runs, well-executed,
swift and clean. This man is a genius. The strums mark out a rhythm
that never gets lost in the complex falsetas. The richness of his
ability to compose is especially obvious in Trafalgar, a bulería
with a sort of chorus that is reprised a dozen different ways, to
unsuspected heights, almost unbearable. He creates a different language.
“Sevilla” is a nod. His good taste adorns each piece.
Zalamero, sensitive… He enjoys having the guitar in his hands
and caresses the strings kissing them with the tips of his fingers.
The bulería is a complex piece, Jucal. Precise and precious.
Base strings, vertiginous picado runs, powerful arpeggios and unusual
chord positions to achieve a falseta. The soleá is more intimate
and hushed. It hurts inside. Some notes are damped and “oles”
interrupt this lengthy piece. Seguiriyas. Each note is a lament
that lances the soul and pierces the heart. The bulerías
is gay. Thumbwork the ear can’t conceive of, picados that
are impossible to digest, a parade of impossibilities that just
keeps coming. After a tremendous ovation, two curtain calls, a pasodoble
dedicated to his mother who had come to see him, and another piece.
Gerardo was feeling good, right at home. The public wouldn’t
let him leave the stage. Astonishing. Triumphant.
Text: Kiko
Valle
Photo: Rafael Manjavacas
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Gerardo Núñez |
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