Tenshu -> RE: GITANOS... & DJANGO REINHARDT (Jan. 30 2006 16:55:28)
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I know two manouche gypsies, both blind, both friends of my guitar teacher. My guitar teacher / mentor has lived among the gypsies for a while. He says it's impossible for a gadje / payo to be regarded by gypsies as an equal. A few people in this thread refer to gypsy 'friends'... I have my doubts. Or maybe times have changed. When my mentor gave his birthday party, it was for a very select group. There were the two blind gypsies, one of their fathers, three russian guys I never saw before (possibly gypsy as well). Interestingly, I was invited as well. They were all very distrusting of me. When they came in, nobody of them greeted me. They looked at me only from the corners of their eyes. It was very intimidating. I felt really uneasy at first. They were running all over the place, like little boys, drinking and laughing, and shy as I was, I just sat there and tried to fade into the background. Every ten minutes someone would jump up and run towards the CD player to play a new disk (including, but not limited to: Tuvan throat singing, django, etc...) . Then the 'juerga' started for real, with accordeons and violins popping up out of nowhere. Words can not express. Then my teacher looked at me with this mischievous grin, and mentioned the name Camaron. One of the blind gypsies started his journey into music with flamenco when he was a little boy. Of course he demanded that I got up to get a guitar, and play por buleria. I even got one olé !!! Then everyone shouted palos at me to play. I played por seguiriya, por solea, and even a bit of granaina. Then out of the murmuring voices, the blind guy again spoke up and said 'excuse me, it's been a while'. Then this sound emerged from deep inside his body, from deep inside his soul. It was hauntingly beautiful. Buleria can only sound like this out of a gypsy chest. I accompanied, but apogado. At the dinner table (this in itself is a fiesta with gypsies), he managed to find me and he talked about Camaron, and cante. I promised to burn some Duquende and Manuel Torre to disk for him. And, believe it or not, a few of them (everyone except for the Russians) shook my hand when I left at six am (afterwards I heard they went on with the fiesta till 11 am). I heard stories of gypsies smashing guitars on the head of a guy who touched them and invaded their personal space. And I managed to do it and am still alive to talk about it today. I have no illusions that I'll ever be accepted into this inner circle that's so characteristic for gypsies, but I have established at least some (a teenyweeny bit) respect. Edit: Oh, and get this... the 'father' I talked about once went to his wife's mother, to *ask* her if he could hit his wife! LOL!
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