I don't do the Ballet and Strictly leaves me cold but I love Flamenco. Last Friday, I went with Linda and Irene to see 'Sangre Flamenca' at the Peacock Theatre. The Peacock is the West End outpost of Sadler's Wells, located in Portugal Street; a turning off Holborn Kingsway leading down to the LSE. I have walked past this theatre so many times over the years but never seen a performance.
Nuevo Ballet Español do a mixture of contemporary dance with traditional flamenco so you get the usual fiery footwork and wailing vocals in a slick, polished production with a dazzling light show and fabulous costumes.
Music was provided by the eight-piece flamenco band, Mahera featuring the renowned cantaora, María del Mar Fernández. For most of the performance, María sat on her stool at the back of the stage wrapped in a big, black shawl. She was the original singing blanket. When she stood up at the end we saw that she was just a little squirt of a thing, but what a voice!
Music was provided by the eight-piece flamenco band, Mahera featuring the renowned cantaora, María del Mar Fernández. For most of the performance, María sat on her stool at the back of the stage wrapped in a big, black shawl. She was the original singing blanket. When she stood up at the end we saw that she was just a little squirt of a thing, but what a voice!
A company of eleven dancers, five women and six men performed ensemble numbers punctuated with star turns by the founders and choreographers, Angel Rojas and Carlos Rodríguez. They all got their castanets out for one number which was a fantastic display of attacking, stamping and rattling.
I am a flamenco dancing ignoramus and can't tell a buleria or a tango from a zapateado or a jaleo but I throughly enjoyed the heart-racing, virtuoso performance which ran for nearly ninety minutes without a break.
Dancers and fancy lighting. All these pictures were either blagged or taken with my phone as I didn't have my camera with me.
Rodríguez on the left with the stubble and Rojas on the right with the sweaty armpits, they danced their boots off. I always imagine flamenco dancers after the show sitting in their dressing rooms soaking their feet in bowls of warm water and saying "Ahhhh". All that stamping, can't do your feet any good.
Post theatre drinks were taken at the George IV down the other end of Portugal Street and we enjoyed a nightcap of a few red wines (each) and then home on the tube. This is us heading north on the Piccadilly Line and about to burst into song. Ole!
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