Do you want to learn the language of Spanish flamenco? go to granada

It's almost sunset and the cave district on the hill of Sacromonte is just starting to stir. The summer heat that had been suffocating Granada all day began to lift like a weighted blanket. The scent of a wizard's head hangs in the breeze, and the echoes of the shaded plaza echo with the meowing of cats and the cries of children's play. Walking down the steep cobblestone streets filters out different sounds. A classical guitar pluck comes through the open door of a hillside house.

“Sacromonte has its own magic,” says guitarist Pepe Romero when we meet him. “It was here in the mountains that the Romani people settled. Later, Muslims and Jews, expelled by the Christian authorities, took refuge here in the 16th century. Sacromonte was founded against this background of oppression. It was one of the hotspots where flamenco was born. Flamenco started as a lament.”

Today, Pepe, a charismatic 80-year-old, is one of the most famous classical guitarists in the world. Although he is from Malaga, his musical journey owes its origins to Granada. As we speak, the Alhambra itself – Granada's famous Moorish and Christian palace, an architectural masterpiece – is surrounded by shifting canvases of burnt ocher, rose gold, and ferro thread. Enclosed beyond the balcony.

Despite his classical fame, Pepe's early albums from the late 1950s and early 1960s were flamenco records. “I've always been in love with flamenco,” he says. “That spirit is what we call Duend. It's like a divine inspiration, but not religious. It's the divinity of all humanity. When you're in touch with it, you're in fear. “Dunde takes away fear.''

At Pepe's urging, I climb further up the hill to see the dünde in action at Cueva de la Rocio, a flamenco venue located in a complex of rock-cut caves. I'm led into a tunnel-like room with a barrel ceiling, dimly lit with purple light, and its rough walls hung with brass cooking pots and family photos. The drummer, singer, and guitarist take over the stage at the end, delivering a frenzied song interspersed with cries of “ay!” – An exclamation, a cry of lamentation known as Kezio.

Through it, a female dancer in a polka-dot dress improvises a mesmerizing dance, her fingers clicking rhythmically or clenched in defiant fists, her heels echoing percussive sounds from the polished floor. Sending out a firecracker chorus of taps.

The spirit of flamenco infuses all Granada's artistic life and collective imagination. The alleys of Albaicín's labyrinth scene, the city's medieval Moorish urban area, are home to dark, atmospheric clubs like Exhabilla. There, instrumentalists and singers improvise a new fusion of flamenco and jazz in real time. The crown of Spain's indie capital. Granada's flamenco hold transcends even the world of music and can be found in some of the most unexpected places.

new flamenco

In Le Rejo, a gritty, centuries-old neighborhood south of Sacromonte that was once home to Granada's Jewish community, a striking mural shows a dark-haired woman with hoop earrings. Her forehead is marked with a bindi, a reference to the Romani origins of northern India. La Fuerza Esta en las Raices reads a calligraphy text next to her. Strength is in the roots.

The mural, like many others that brighten up the elegantly decaying buildings of Relejo, was created by Raul Ruiz, aka El Niño de las Pinturas (“The Painting Boy”) – Granada's most famous street artist This is the work of I meet Raul around the corner from his studio mural. There, all surfaces are covered with specks of paint. House tunes pumped out of the boombox and into his hands.

“Flamenco and street art share a lot spiritually,” he says between puffs of rolled-up cigarettes. “Graffiti came from American street culture, but there are many similarities between hip-hop and flamenco. Both sing and are very rhythmic – hip-hop has a beat, but flamenco… .'' He emulates percussive flamenco guitar by covering his feet, snapping his fingers, and lapping his hands on his knees. “But the main thing is the spirit of sharing. Both are artistic battles. Breakdancing in the Bronx and Romanis dancing in Sacromonte – it's not that different.”

Raul combines the leonine portrait of the legendary gitano singer Camaron de la Isla with the gentleness of the giant guitarist Paco de Lucía, whose fusion of flamenco, classical and jazz has made him a major figure in the SO. Bounce photos of his work including images. -Called Nuevo Flamenco (New Flamenco) movement. Most of the images Raul shows me no longer exist, he says – removed by authorities, even though they are often commissioned by building owners. I decided to go out and see some of Raul's current murals while I still had the chance.

I wander through Realejo, carving out Raul's work: lively paintings of guitarists, violinists, crowds applauding flamenco, and children playing in the street. I soon stumble upon Mítica, a tattoo studio that also serves as Raul's official shop and sells stickers, badges, and prints depicting his designs. Enticed by the promise of air conditioning, I step inside and meet tattooist and street artist Paco Hidalgo, a tall man with dreadlocks and a thick beard.

“For the past six months, they've had a zero-tolerance policy,” he says. “But art is a gift we give to the city. People love it.” I can believe him – the streets of Rerejo are not ended by Raul's murals. And punky, anti-establishment attitudes are part of the neighborhood's modern character. That's evident not only from the street art, but also from the name of the small square down the road from the tattoo studio. Named after the legendary frontman of Clash, who found a spiritual home in Granada.

A recurring face among the painted streets of Lelejo, stenciled on walls and lampposts, is the face of Federico García Lorca, both of Granada's most famous son and most popular poet. is often called. A famous left-wing figure, he was assassinated by fascist forces in 1936 at the age of 38 and was a symbol of Andalusian resistance to repressive nationalism. He was a particular champion of Granada's Romani community, reflected in his most famous work, the Gypsy Ballad – Flamenco in the grounds of the Alhambra, in 1922, which is credited with popularizing the art form. Helped organize the festival. Above all, Lorca championed Duende's creative power and meaning, describing it as “a mysterious force that everyone feels and that no philosopher can explain.”

Lorca's spirit is supported by many of Granada's young rap stars. A young rap star from Granada has become the epicenter of a new genre of music that fuses hip-hop and flamenco. Breakout stars include Lazowi and Delafuente. I meet two others. Duo Pepe y Vigio (also known as Pepe Sánchez Bela Serrano and Vicente Pérez Carmona) in Jardines del Trunfo, a foliage park in central Granada. They're young, in buzzy white T-shirts, gold chains, and colorful shorts, with buzz cuts and beards. “Lorca inspires all of us artists in Granada,” says Pepe.

It's refreshing to hear contemporary urban artists unconsciously cite the influence of their country's long-standing and beloved poets. It's harder to imagine a British rapper or graffiti artist extolling the virtues of William Wordsworth, for example. But Lorca is different as the embodiment of the flamenco spirit. Vicente is the voice of the voiceless, like a rapper listening to grow up. When they met Pepe, a flamenco guitarist, they saw the way their two styles could merge.

“The sounds complement each other, but so do their origins,” says Vicente. “Working class, poverty, struggle – flamenco and hip-hop come from different countries, but their emotions are the same.” Vicente is not the only one from Granada who is fusing the two genres. The abundance of flamenco through every aspect of city life is partly to blame. “The influence of flamenco is everywhere in Granada,” he says. “Music, painting, poetry, film – everywhere.”

Then there's the local accent. Andalusian Spanish is especially good for rapping. It's pleasantly sibilant, and its tendency to chop off the edges from words creates a consonant-rich cadence that clicks like castanets.

Above all, these rap stars, like the gitanos of Sacromonte for centuries, flamenco is a source of love, passion, and revenge for the downtrodden. And, of course, Pepe says that it is a condition that exists because of Granagino. “You can feel Duende all the time. It doesn't matter if you're practicing karate or making coffee,” he says. “Flamenco is a frame of mind.”