It's a Party. You're invited.

We drove down to the Icehouse the other day to catch a show by the Flamenco Collective, one of the groups that sustain that art-form on our area while supporting themselves giving dancing lessons and touring outstate on government grants, I would imagine. We had seen the featured dancer, "La Chaya" Nishiuchi, at the same venue a few years ago. Good stuff.

But I really pricked up my ears when I read that they were bringing in a singer, a dancer, and a guitarist from Seville. Our local artists are good, but I have never heard a local singer who possessed that rough, flamenco puro, open-throated rasp without which all the shouting doesn't carry the anguish required, and begins to sound like caterwauling. Javier Heredia's voice has that quality, and he has the snappy dance movements to go with it.

The Icehouse is a perfect venue for these tablao-style performances, where the artists—dancers, singers, clappers, guitarists—sit in a row on straight-backed chairs taking turns in the spotlight while urging one another on with a glorious and infectious energy. I've lost the knack of identifying the forms they were using, but I'm sure I heard several bulerias, some tangos, and perhaps a rumba or two. All of these are pulsing flamenco chico forms full of anguish but also of excitement.

Each of the three dancers was given an extended solo with guitar and palmas accompaniment (see a bit of La Chaya's solo, and feel the energy  here) , the two guitarists both had a solo opportunity to shine, and two thirds of the way through the show, when the energy was high, Heredia stepped to the mic to gesture, stomp, and bewail in the best flamenco tradition. (You can listen to a bit of it here.)

As a final touch, at the end of the show La Chaya invited a few of her students up on the stage to do a few steps in the midst of the finale, accentuating the fact that such tablao performances are based less on virtuosic display than on a genuine yet casual rapport first of all between the artists on stage, which, as the night develops, extends to the aficionados in the audience sitting only a few feet away.

I listen to flamenco on CD from time to time—Vicente Amigo, Pepe Habichuela, Remedios Amaya, Chicuelo, Cameron—but it's important (and wonderful) to be reminded of the art-form's community spirit, which can only develop in a club environment.

I'm sure half the people in the audience knew, and perhaps studied with, one of the dancers on-stage. It's a small world, just like Nordic fiddling or Balkan tamburitza music. We learned just how small it is when we spotted our friends Marnie and Bryan in the crowd and went down to chat with them after the show. I wasn't surprised to see them; Marnie studied flamenco dance seriously for quite a while, and Bryan plays all sorts of music. But I was surprised to learn that La Chaya and her husband, Bobby, are practically their next-door neighbors. Small world indeed.