Sandy clause

>> The percussive approach of flamenco renegade Juan José Carranza

by RUPERT BOTTENBERG

Scott Thompson of Kids in the Hall once facetiously suggested that "outdoorsy" might be a suitable synonym for "Canadian." Local neo-flamenco artist Juan José Carranza agrees. "Canadians are in general a lot more nature-minded than Europeans or Americans," he says, "so I find it easier to bond with them."

This despite Carranza's warm-weather heritage--although American-born, his family is Costa Rican, and he spent enough of his youth there to consider it home. And home-proud he is. "Costa Rica's a country that's had only one revolution in its whole history, and that only lasted two or three weeks. There were only a few casualties, and afterwards, the side that won got rid of the army completely. It's a very peaceful country, very laid back, very nature-minded--the rainforests are carefully preserved. The people are into simple pleasures. Because of that, musically, Costa Ricans tend to express a certain thing, different from other Latin countries that are wartorn or poverty-stricken, where the artists will do very impacting work."

Transatlantic antics
Carranza himself prefers to leave an impact on a nice, comfy spot on the beach, where he generally finds himself upon returning to Costa Rica (the cobblestones of the Old Port, where he has a long history of busking, make a reasonable substitute). His love of sand and surf, bonfire and beer is apparent from the very title of his new CD, Playa Gitana (Gypsy Beach). Armchair geographers will furrow their brows, thinking, "Uh, flamenco's Spanish Gypsy music, not Latino." And they're right, but then, Carranza's not playing by the house rules.

"There is a backlash from the flamenco purists, and there always will be. The Latin crowd, on the other hand, ask me why, if I'm Latin American, I do flamenco and not salsa. But those people are more supportive, maybe because we're all Latin, but more likely because what I do is bring in that percussive edge."

That's what sets Carranza apart, the use of myriad Latin rhythms (Argentinian tango, Brazilian samba, Cuban son) compounded by an aggressive approach to flamenco's intricate fingerwork. "There's the soft touch of the jazz drummers who play with brushes," he says by way of comparison, "and then there's the Cuban conga players who really slap it out and give it that hard edge, that upbeat thing. That's the side of the scale I'm on."

Moreover, for Playa Gitana, he's rounded up some sympathetic souls to expand his palette. "On this second album, it's almost completely a band situation. I do less singing--I'm a guitarist first, then a singer. The first one, Flamenco de la Costa, was more of a solo thing, more raw--reminiscent of the Gypsy Kings when they'd just started, that rootsy rumba flamenca. The new disc is more fusion, more modern, less lyrics--words can separate people, while music is a universal language. I want each listener to paint their own picture."

His Haitian percussionist should help in that respect, as should his irksome little Basque bassist and multifaceted québécois flautist, whose occasional North-African inflections recall flamenco's Andalusian roots. "This disc could possibly set up a scheme for things I'd like to do in the future, but with musicians actually from these places. This was an experiment, painting these little passages, little backgrounds, like the Arabic touches."

Speakin' Nuyorican
To understand Carranza's unique take on flamenco, one has to see that flamenco, and in fact guitar, was not his first passion. "I wanted to be a drummer. All the percussive stuff comes from that. But my parents got a little wise to me and said, 'A drum set, hmmm, oh man. Let's get him a guitar. You can turn the volume down.'"

He'd already been digging not only cumbia and salsa, but Latin rock, prog and even punk (guess who once played in a band called Shit for Brains?). It was the teenage experience of stumbling across a mysterious Gypsy noodling away in Washington Square Park that gave him the flamenco bug, but not at the expense of everything else.

"I couldn't say my influences came from Costa Rica, because over there, traditional music is played on marimbas, and it's very traditional. It was difficult for me to digest that, being a little kid growing up in New York City. There, there was a lot wilder stuff going on, with the Latin fusion--Ray Barreto, Rueben Blades, Tito Puente--the stuff I'd hear walking down the street. Always percussion--percussion, percussion, percussion. It's so embedded in me that I think, if I were stranded on an island and my last guitar string broke, I wouldn't feel a thing. I'd just keep playing the guitar like a drum." :

At le Petit Campus on Tuesday, Oct. 3, 8pm, $10