{"id":19241,"date":"2020-04-24T15:10:54","date_gmt":"2020-04-24T13:10:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.expoflamenco.com\/archivo\/?p=19241"},"modified":"2020-04-24T15:10:54","modified_gmt":"2020-04-24T13:10:54","slug":"cristobalina-sanlucar-utrera-lebrija","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/expoflamenco.com\/archivo\/en\/estela-flamenca\/cristobalina-sanlucar-utrera-lebrija\/","title":{"rendered":"Cristobalina\u2026 Sanl\u00facar, Utrera, Lebrija"},"content":{"rendered":"

With the world crumbling into sad little pieces right before our eyes, here I am still clutching memories of simpler times when flamenco wasn\u2019t a \u201ccultural industry\u201d, nor was it even for sale much of the time.<\/p>\n

In the early 1970s I used to spend winters in Mor\u00f3n de la Frontera as caretaker of the Finca Espartero, a country house a few kilometers outside town which served in summer as a sort of flamenco retreat where lodgers would spend a week or two soaking up what they could of a kind of flamenco not usually available in tablaos, night-clubs or theaters.\u00a0Home-grown flamenco, rough around the edges to just the right degree.\u00a0 During the wintry off-season, after long fiestas with nothing open in the wee hours to keep the flamenco flowing, artists from Mor\u00f3n or elsewhere sometimes ended up pounding on my door innocently thinking the finca, at one time owned by Pepe Pinto, and with its history of freewheeling flamenco, was a sort of roadside inn.\u00a0 For me, it was a flamenco-lover\u2019s dream come true, needless to say.\u00a0 Always on hand, plenty of cheap red wine, home-cured olives from the grove and more often than not, a pot of boiled chickpeas with olive oil.\u00a0 That was enough to get people revved up again to keep chasing after the duende<\/em>.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s how I met Miguel Funi and Pedro Bac\u00e1n (1951-1997) from Lebrija, festero<\/em> and guitarist respectively.\u00a0 Two terrific artists and good people we\u2019ll focus on another day.\u00a0 I had heard Miguel\u2019s wife was a wonderful singer, and asked him why she had not come along, indeed, why she had never become professional.\u00a0 Miguel quickly answered \u201cbecause I didn\u2019t want her to\u201d, and I didn\u2019t pursue the topic.\u00a0 During those years married women did not usually perform in public, so it wasn\u2019t all that surprising.<\/p>\n

A year or two later, on November 6, 1972 to be exact, I was in Casa Pepe, the popular Mor\u00f3n bar, watching the only public television set in town for the weekly episode of Rito y Geograf\u00eda del Cante<\/em> presented by our dear friend, Jos\u00e9 Ma. Vel\u00e1zquez Gaztelu. Cristobalina Su\u00e1rez, Miguel Funi\u2019s wife, was the subject of that episode, so I looked forward to finally hearing the lady people spoke so highly of.<\/p>\n

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\"La<\/a>

La cantaora Cristobalina Su\u00e1rez. Foto: discogr\u00e1fica Acci\u00f3n<\/p><\/div>\n

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In this episode of the historic series, filmed at the home of Cristobalina\u2019s parents, she explains that although from Sanl\u00facar, she has been living in Lebrija for many years, singing at family gatherings, never becoming professional because \u201cI\u2019m just another gypsy girl\u201d, although she clarifies that she\u2019s not afraid of being on stage.<\/p>\n

Cristobalina has a sweet but edgy voice with a haunting natural delivery typical of Sanl\u00facar, Lebrija and Utrera, which is the title of her one recording (AC 40.026 1974). The Camar\u00f3n sound had not yet saturated the atmosphere in 1972, and Cristobalina\u2019s singing personality is unmistakable and very flamenco.<\/p>\n

When asked if she and her then-husband Miguel Funi had influenced each other\u2019s cante, she says no, attributing differences to Miguel being from Lebrija, province of Seville, while she is from Sanl\u00facar, province of C\u00e1diz, although the distance between the two towns is only 20 miles (about 35 kilometers).<\/p>\n

She says there are no artists in her family (this is 1972, Aurora Vargas had yet to be discovered) except her cousin, singer Mar\u00eda Vargas, adding that in general there are very few singers left. \u00a0Cristobalina recalls how her grandfather, Juan Vargas, sang to her as a small child, the same grandfather Mar\u00eda Vargas recalls as a source.\u00a0 Interestingly, when asked who else she listened to, she names Perico Frascola, a Sanl\u00facar singer of seguiriyas, martinetes and canti\u00f1as who died in 1915, 21 years before she was born, and who left no recordings.\u00a0 By 1972 Antonio Mairena had sorted out historic attributions which had not previously been of interest to most singers, particularly non-professionals.<\/p>\n

Cristobalina is accompanied by Pedro Bac\u00e1n for canti\u00f1as with a flavor of times past.<\/p>\n

For siguiriyas without guitar accompaniment, she marks the rapid tempo that was common before dancers pushed the speed down for dramatic effect.\u00a0 You have to love the tangos with the small child on her lap, half asleep as her mother takes us through verses that include \u201cv\u00e1monos pa\u2019 Utrera\u201d and references to Utrera\u2019s Virgen of the Consolaci\u00f3n.<\/p>\n

The episode ends with buler\u00edas sung to a portrait of grandfather Juan Vargas, and charming dance bits, including that of Cristobalina\u2019s and Mar\u00eda Vargas\u2019 uncle Paco Vargas.<\/p>\n

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Do check out this jewel of a video with English subtitles:<\/p>\n

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