Madrid is growing on me. I was not super happy with it when we got here. Unlike Lisboa, which instantly felt like home, and O Porto, which is quite possibly constructed entirely of magic and wine, Madrid was not friendly to me at all when I arrived. The ATM ate my debit card. The people were quite rude to me when they heard me speaking English. It's hot, expensive, and hard to get around if you're in a hurry. The bar across the street stays open until 8 am, with drunks shouting all night. The percussion store next door opens around ten, with people playing and building drums and cajons all day. I think there may be a music school nearby, judging by the loud, out of tune violin playing of children I can hear though my closed window, even right now. No sleep at night, no napping in the day. Shit. I was tired.
Some miscommunications - either from language differences or phone/internet issues - on the first two days of the festival made for some alternately hurried circumstances then long periods of pointless waiting on several occasions. The sound the first night was a never-ending disaster. Giuliano was gone, I was tired from travel. I was in a BAD MOOD. I became very homesick for KC and for my temporary home in Lisboa. Madrid felt so foreign and harsh. Not so far from Lisbon on the globe, to me it was a world away.
There were some bright spots. First, I loved meeting the other fadistas at the festival. Lina Rodrigues from Clube de Fado in Lisbon is incredible. What a voice. We talked for awhile about fado and singing in general, and she had great advice. We also met Mariana. Only 15, she's already taking the Fado world by storm. It's like Maria Teresa de Noronha was reincarnated in the body of Taylor Swift. She is as positive as can be, gorgeous top-to-toe and talented all day. (If she weren't so incredibly kind and sweet, I might have to hate her!) The festival staff, though harried at first, were and are a bunch of great, giving people who really care about sharing Fado and about their fadistas. Our new friends Katia Guerreiro and Ana Geraldo, her manager, came to the opening show at Mercado San Miguel. It was nice to get to play for them there. When we dined together at Mesa de Frades last Tuesday, we didn't play until almost 4 am. My voice was shot, we were exhausted, and we played like shit that night, in front of one of my fado heroes to boot. Playing for them Thursday at the festival opening felt like a little redemption. And finally, I got to meet Fidel, Beau's good friend from Andalusia and our new photographer for the last third of the trip. He is gentle, soft-spoken and graceful. I liked him instantly.
However, I was too wrapped up in my dour mood to really appreciate any of this at first. I slept all day Friday, saw none of the city, and then spent most of my day waiting and preparing for a gig we didn't even end up playing. I felt like it couldn't get much worse. I wanted to go home to Lisbon, home to KC. I was done with Madrid. Until yesterday.
Yesterday, we met Fidel for coffee, then went shopping. Beau is surprisingly fun to shop with. He's fast and has actual opinions on fit and fabric. Zhanna's trained him well. Along with Jordan, we walked all over downtown, saw protests for public radio in the streets and stopped for tapas and beer at lunch. I felt like I was starting to see the city. Next, we went to the Museo del Prado to see works from Goya, Velázquez, Bosch, and El Greco, whom I love. His sense of color just kills me. I loved Velázquez's royal portraits, especially Las Meninas. I adored Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights. I must confess, I couldn't handle Goya's Black Paintings. I got to the one with the dog, and I just had to go. I liked Saturn Devouring His Son, though. I saw just enough art to fill my eyes, but not enough to exhaust my brain. Then naps. With earplugs.
Our gig last night at the Casa de Fados was great. Fidel picked us up and we got there in time to eat and hang out backstage with the other musicians. The festival staff was light-hearted and playful, the stress of the previous days behind them. Both the dinner and the show seemed to flow smoothly, with significantly fewer sound issues than before. There was a fadista from Spain who played first, then we played second, followed by the three regular fadistas who play every night: the adorable Mariana, Micaela Vaz, a beautiful morena with a smoky voice, and Pedro Calado, a rich baritone from Évora. The featured singer last night was - like Lina Rodrigues from the two previous evenings - one of the talented fadistas from Clube de Fado in Lisboa, Miguel Capucho. We heard him our first night in Portugal; he's incredible. At the end of his set, the stunning Cuca Roseta joined him for a duet. Their harmonies together were hauntingly beautiful. The whole evening was lovely. Camané, Marta Pereira Da Costa (who is presently the only notable female guitarra player,) and a bunch of other amazing musicians were there. It was really cool. I was so honored to be in that company.
Beau, Jordan, and Fidel left early to go see a Flamenco show at a club called Corral, and I dashed out after the Fado was done to join them just in time for the very last song. Kiko Pena was the singer. Holy crap. He's a a protégé of Miguel Poveda, who was in attendance. (I am new to Flamenco - tiny baby new - so I know Poveda mostly to me through his duets with Mariza. Beau tells me he's quite well known.) This kid, Kiko, was astonishing. If he's the student, I cannot conceive of what a master must sound like. As introductions to live Flamenco go, this one was hard to beat. I hope to see more in Sevilla. It spun my brain all to bits!
Today, I will go see Picassos and Dalís at the Reina Sofía, then go see the Palacio with my friends Rachel and Aaron Leimkuehler, in from KC by happy coincidence. This evening, as a kind gift from the festival staff (one of many!), we have tickets to go see Camané's concert. (I simply ADORE this man's singing, and one look from his gray eyes will knock you back about three feet, believe me.) Then we head back for one more Casa de Fados show. I have been told that lots of fadistas and guests will be there, and tonight's feature is the one and only Ricardo Ribeiro! I'm ridiculously excited!
Madrid and I may just become friends after all, in spite of some of the crappier parts of the last three days. The children across the street have been repeatedly practicing "It's a Small World After All" on their violins all morning. They're annoying, but sort of charming now. They are out of tune, yes, but they're not wrong; it really is a small world, once you get out into it. I can't wait to make friends with more of its people and more of its cities.
Thanks, Madrid.
Shay Estes
