On a team meetup in Madrid in 2017, a group of us went to see flamenco dancing at Cardamomo. The dancer spun fast enough to blur, with two guitarists, a singer and two men clapping behind. I’m not sure what I expected, but it didn’t move me. The reviews are glowing, though. Every seat I could see held a tourist, us included, and the whole evening felt staged for that foreign audience.
Maybe I expected what you’d see in an Irish pub where musicians are surrounded by the tables and it’s more intimate. It’s probably not possible with flamenco dancers.
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