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Manuel He is “a child of the marshes”, with all that this means. He carries as his banner his humble condition and having earned his bread with the sweat of his brow and fighting against whatever had to be fought, with no other interest than that of Andalusia. “A child of the marshes”, he always says, with his eyes dazzled with hope when he remembers his childhood and youth, when his parents, already in Los Palacios, went out of their way to ensure that the child studied a career. And he studied it. And he took advantage of it… boy, did he take advantage of it. Just as he took advantage of the teachings received from the great Paco Sánchez.
Curao carries in his way of speaking –Pive Amador He says that he carries an old man inside him– the four cardinal points of his land. The literary palaces of Rosemary Murube with its Distant Village. The Palaces flamencos of the Peña from the Well of Sorrows, altar for flamenco ceremonies with Herrera Rhodes as an indisputable beacon. The Palaces of Alvaro Romero Bernal, which looks out at the world through a palace peephole, always with the veil of its people, its culture and its people, thrown over its face. Curao is its people and its people is Curao. A cultured people that lives off the land and adores the land, that gathers life from it in every harvest. It is that clear.
A life dedicated to flamenco. What I told you cante, Flamencos, Stay with him cante, The door of the cante, Flamenco night, The sale of the goblin, Forum flamenco, portal flamenco…And in a corner of his house, the Honorary Giraldillo of the Biennial of Flamenco of Sevilla, the award Flamencos Today or with a Waves for the programming of flamencoradio.com.
"Who would have told you, Manuel Curao, that the day would come when you would have to cut your ponytail when you are at the top? Who would have told this success story to that boy from the marsh, when he started on the airwaves with scissors to cut ponytails?"
They say she's going to cut her ponytail, but I don't believe it. Or I don't want to believe it. Because I have a hard time understanding the flamenco without her voice and her elegance. Because I want to keep listening flamenco of someone who was a child of the marshes, who reached the Olympus of the gods, where he had always dreamed, between rice fields and eucalyptus trees, and who speaks to us about what we like most with a black polka dot handkerchief in the pocket of his jacket and the flamenco Cubanita. And all this from a place of respect and knowledge, which is why he has never had to resort to insults or disqualification.
“The square bursts with white handkerchiefs”… With white handkerchiefs –with black polka dots– to take out through the Puerta del Príncipe of dreams those who have been, and continue to be, all in the world of dreams. flamenco, with the only weapons of humility, truth and a microphone in front of his lips.
Who would have told you, Manuel Curao, that the day would come when you would have to cut your ponytail when you are at the top? Who would have told this success story to that boy from the marsh, when he started on the airwaves with scissors to cut ponytails.
He started working in communication and is finishing the job playing like a little child, like pepe louis He played bullfighting at the San Bernardo slaughterhouse, enjoying every second, every moment.
His schedule, packed with events and activities, will remain the same, I am sure. But time will be longer so that he can enjoy his family as much as he has not been able to until now. His children need him and now they will have him more than ever. His voice will now be theirs and not ours.
All that remains for us is to touch him. palmas, to the beat, and thank him for all he has done for our art. And yes, maestro, yes, we will all end up “drunk with art, dancing to the beat of the bulería.”
→ See here the first part of this article about Manuel Curao
