Alejandro begins another piece: strong, forceful, forward moving; the bass-string note resounds in a fast quarter rhythm underneath the rapid melody. The music continues to turn with the fury and frenzy of tempestuous emotion. "Ah! Ole" I shout out with the rest of the crowd, excited by the speed of Alejandro's picking. And then he begins to tap-strum the strings with his right hand while simultaneously holding them at the neck with his left so that the wood and hollow echoes of the tones resound. Suddenly, Alejandro jumps up, abandoning the strings, and begins to play the floor with his feet.
He is a slender man and small in build, but his jumps echo through the intimate, red-lit room. The crowd cheers, swept up by his spontaneous excitement. He places his right hand defiantly against his hip, then his left, and his black pants shine under the spot track-lighting. Soon after the close of his piece, Jackie and Alejandro announce a break, but when the intermediary music of the Gypsy Kings comes on, they don't stop. Jackie and Alejandro begin to dance and strum together before exiting the one-level temporary stage made of a hard wood (which helps the stamp of the tempestuous footwork resound).
I turn my attention to the bar. When you are a writer, your requests sometimes may seem a little strange. I was looking for a nice red wine; one that is smooth and wet, light on the tannins and subtle. For me, this is a hard one to find outside of a finer wine shop, and I often come across too many restaurateurs who know nothing of the wine they serve. Thankfully, Paula was more than willing to provide taste samples from which to choose. She first provided me a taste from a bottle of the Mendoza Argentinean 2005 Durigutti Bonarda and then a taste from the 2006 Dona Paula Malbec, also Argentinean. I settled on the El Original Bajoz 2006 from Spain. But at Carmen's, the Sangria is the most popular choice. It is a drink I tasted first in Nice, France; and while I have tasted many a good Sangria, none have yet compared to the first taste (but perhaps that has more to do with firsts).
Sangria is made from a mixture of wines, often ones that are at least a day old, or from bottles with low level. The wines are then combined with oranges and lemons and with sugar, and then these ingredients are fermented, preferably, for some days. Sometimes, brandy is added for an extra kick, but this is not the typical recipe ingredient.
As Paula moved to take the first two glasses of wine away, I endeared, "May I take them with me?" and I indicated my spot at the sheet-music-shellacked counter with laptop open. "I want to capture the evening; the tastes and sounds," I add. She smiled and kindly obliged.
During the break, I sat with the glass of the Bajoz (and the two taste glasses) and two baked chicken and poblano empanadas that Paula makes fresh. The chicken is shredded, soft and warm, within a flaky crust that is toasted and sprinkled with the slightest dash of paprika. I dipped the delicious empanadas into the spiced sour cream that accompanies them and looked around, pleased to see that this jazz house brings in what many do not: Youth. It is a good thing to see, as love for the music that plays here seems oft only to be within the hearts of ones who experienced the music in its more righteous hey-day.
I think for a moment with humor of Paula's mother Norma, who quickly came outdoors (as is her custom) to collect my cover before I entered. She had complemented the silver peacock-feathered earrings that hung from my ears and laughed as she exclaimed, "Ooh, if you give me those earrings, no cover!" She elicited a wonderful laugh from me as I gave her the five instead and moved to the door, contemplating whether I should have told her how cheap the earrings actually were (less than the cover). (Inevitably, they will break one day, as all good cheap things do.)
The second set begins with an a cappella foot stomp. Jackie has changed out of her prized rose-red dress with the large black polka dots and into a sleek black pants-suit. The diamond-studded black ruffle that runs down the front of her top is like that of a composers' tux. She places a hand mid-way near her sternum, just barely touching the ruffle as she stamps both her feet and the palo (stick) she holds in her right hand. The dance is short and she ends with an anti-climatic "Ole" that effectively elicits a much more emphatically juxtaposed exclamation from the crowd. At times, Jackie sits and simply claps rhythms in response, and Alejandro is the sole focus of adulation.
During the second break, I get a chance to speak to Alejandro. He is very patient with my many questions of detail. He says he has never seen someone come in, listen, and then turn to type. "I see journalists jot notes," he says. "Ah, yes," I laugh, thinking how much things have changed. I remember having to change from pen and paper to computer. It took an actual change to my frame of mind to create on screen what I used to create only on paper.
I learn that Alejandro is from San Antonio but lives in Corpus Christi. Each Friday, or as many Fridays as he can, corrects Alejandro, he drives back to San Antonio to play for Jackie. He has been doing this for nearly as long as Carmen's has been open: seven years now (Norma reminded me earlier as I sat outside on the patio with her and long-time employee Eddie Vasquez, while he took a cigarette break). Seven years. I can't believe it has been that many. I remember when Carmen's first opened. I lived in the most run-down apartment imaginable off from the near-by circular street of Huisache (how I loved that old slum place).
And while sitting on the patio and listening to Norma and Eddie kid one another, and while listening to the trickling of the fountain to my left, I learn that there is a new club in the works for the owners of Carmen's; one that will hopefully open in the springtime at the corner of Alamo and Houston Street downtown. This club, Eddie explains, will have more tango, salsa, and world music. And I can not wait!
I turn my attention from my revelries and revelations back to Alejandro, and I am surprised to learn that he has not been to Spain; his technique is amazing. He tells me that while he almost had the chance once, he was ultimately unable to go. Jackie was able to study flamenco in Spain, he explained, and came back with such a renewed vigor for the art and for her role as a dancer. Alejandro continued, explaining how for four years he worked a gig for Fiesta Noche del Rio (an outdoor dance festival at the Arneson River Theatre on the River Walk that celebrates various forms of Spanish dance). When the Fiesta gig ended at 9, Alejandro would race to Carmen's to begin the evening of flamenco by 9:15. I laughed as the image of the racing guitarist (much like his music) sped through my imagination.
I continue my inquiry. How did he develop such skill? Were his parents musicians? If he did not travel to Spain to learn, who was his mentor? Alejandro kindly explained that his father, though not a musician, was very supportive of his learning and currently he works the lights and sound for Alejandro's shows. His mother was a dancer, and Alejandro began learning dance at the age of 9. Together, his family cultivated his knowledge of Spanish guitar and dance. His mentor, he revealed, was "El Curro" Willie Champion, a flamenco guitarist of San Antonio who still performs at Las Canarias at La Mansión del Rio. I kindly thanked Alejandro for speaking to me during his break and sat back to enjoy the third set.
When the third set begins, mid-way through one song, Jackie starts a full march across the wood panel that is her tapping floor. Her arms and elbows move high into the air like a soldier; a soldier of dance. The music remains hot, and periodically Jackie rotates her hips in small circles; but mostly the circling occurs in her wrists. She ends the piece with a jump, and the quick uptake of her right arm. Her hand fans upward and around to face her upturned chin before she takes a seat on her chair in front of the large fan that is spread as backdrop behind Alejandro and her. The fan is huge and green, with gold lattice working, and red roses. In the center is a Spanish acoustic guitar. This fan (I learn later from Jackie) was made by a member of Alejandro's family. And I am awed by the artistry within this room this night.
Jackie continues by kicking her right leg back into the air behind her and then places both her right and left hands on her right hip, her body facing forward, her waist and torso turned toward the audience before the heated song ends. By the end of the evening, our ears and eyes have been blessed with the music and rhythms of soleá, tango, rhumba, and much more. And we, the audience, are pleased. Then Jackie wishes everyone a Merry Christmas and a Good New Year, and Alejandro closes the evening with the rhythmic strum and intermittent box-slap of his guitar. See you next year!
Ole!
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