Flamenco in Caló, the language of the gypsies

by time news

Luis Ybarra Ramirez

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Stealthily, he washed down the language drop by drop, sculpting it according to its forms, contributing words and, therefore, wealth. The caló, through the gypsy performers, permeated the schemes of cante like a trickle. He deposited terms to expand the vocabulary, expressions of enormous popularity, also defining features. If we listen to a complete album of this musical genre that preserves so much of this town, it will be strange not to find one. If we read a book or a specialized critic, the same. There are many albums that have Caló words in their title, even complete sentences. For example, ‘Sinar caló sinela un pochibo (The pride of being a gypsy)’as baptized The Chiqui de Jerez to the work with which he bid farewell to a fruitful 20th century.

Some, beyond music, remained imprisoned, as Octavio Paz would say, in Spanish: cajole, parné, chanelar… With the day of the Gypsy People dated on April 8, we review the most used and curious.

Anyone could sing ‘Killing me softly with his song’ and change, in their brain, the voice of Roberta Falck for that of pintingo, who even soul went drinking to reap his greatest success. However, not many will have realized that Pitingo, hair gel backwards, hat with a short brim on this side and a shop window suit, means ‘presumed’. Also, I mean, the caló is in the nicknames of the artists. Have you seen Choro dance?

The debla, ‘goddess’, is a flamenco style, the one that Tomás Pavón gave height to in his cathedral ‘In the Triana neighborhood’, where there are no pens or inkwells left to write to the disappeared mother. AND Godin Caló, translates as ‘undebel’, perhaps one of the words that appears most in the flamenco repertoire: «Gitana, turn on the light/I’m drunk/I’m talking to an undebel about you», Camarón reminded us in the closure of a soleá. ‘Undebel’ is also the rumba that gives the title to the first album by Crayfishthe entity that Mairena cried out for in a seguirilla del Fillo and what countless cantaores mentioned with their eyes fixed on some unfinished point in the sky.

¡Camelamos naquerar!

‘Larache’ is ‘night’, and, with a ribbon for tangos in her hair, Carmen Linares tempts her to the shelter of a moon that doesn’t grow. ‘Larache’, ‘noche’: a precious sound. ‘Bajañí’ is ‘guitar’. ‘Duquela‘, or’ duke ‘,’ pain ‘. ‘Cowardly’, ‘shame’. And of pure ‘lache’ La Perla de Cádiz it is not a pity that it has its little fragüita for sale. ‘Camelar‘ you already know. ‘Guillar‘, what the Niña de los Peines did in the sequel ‘A la Sierra de Armenia’, maybe not. It means “to leave suddenly, to flee”. As some of the anonymous protagonists of Lorca’s ‘Romancero’ do when “the sinister layers rise” of the Civil Guards to ruin the party. ‘Guillar’ without even saying ‘mú’.

‘Naquerar’ it’s cracking, but badly when Manuel Agujetas sings, and in a vindictive tone when quoting ‘Camelamos naquerar’ by Mario Maya with text by José Heredia. We want to talk! ‘Sacas‘ are eyes. ‘Oripando‘, the new album by José Mercé and a lively composition by Manolo Sanlúcar for his album ‘Candela’, ‘amanecer’. ‘Amaró’, ‘ours’, as Manuel Agujetas Jr. defends in his only record work to date. AND ‘Sastipén talí‘, a farewell that sounds like a harangue to us, means ‘health and freedom’, the motto of a whole town that in search of that binomial never stood still, or very rarely.

Groups like Los Chorbos, Los Chichos and Los Chunguitos, who made gypsyism something commercial by finding it with the musical trends of the 70s, enclose in their imagination endless words in Caló that, referring to Manuel Machado, are already from the people, which he made the couplets his own. AND ‘crying’ and ‘jambos’ they happen today in the cities: ‘thefts’ and ‘policemen’, with that ‘I don’t know why’ as a backdrop with El Jeros restless at the microphone.

This romany variant It has been living together for centuries and has been extinguished without becoming extinct: it lives camouflaged in our speech. And it speaks, precisely, of old legends of roads and dust, of journeys on foot, andarríos and towns that not even condemned to galleys abandoned their customs.

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