Review by Sam Waite
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Emerging from a style of poetry, coplas are a deep-rooted part of Spanish culture. These songs, the earliest successes of which date back nearly a century, take on classically subversive subjects – adulterous unions, homosexual encounters, women acknowledging their mistreatment – and heavily impact those who feel akin to their tragic characters. Among them is queer Spaniard Alejandro Postigo, whose Copla: a Spanish Cabaret aims to translate the stories and the substance behind copla music for English-speaking audiences.

With small tables housing the audience in The Other Palace’s intimate Studio space, Postigo acts as both performer and mentor in the art of copla. Never more than a few feet from his audience, the sense of grandeur inspired by his entering of the music’s fantasies moves against the immediacy and simplicity of the set-up. All at once, we are in the grandiose stories behind these tragic characters, and in a room with an artist trying to explain something ethereal and elemental in plain, human terms.
Early on, we breach the topic of translation – after a brief rendition of The Sound of Music’s “Do Re Mi”, Postigo reminds us that he grew up with Spanish-translated versions of English-language productions, and that the voice he grew to love as Julie Andrews’ was in fact that of Teresa Maria. Particularly delightful here is a “real-time translation” in which Postigo and violinist Violeta Valladares perform the Spanish lyrics, while pianist Jack Elsdon flatly states how the lines literally translate in English. Highlights include, “Do, which is still a title for a gentleman,” and, “Fa, which in English sounds like far.”

Hilarious as this segue is, it serves the deeper purpose of establishing how awkward and complex translation can be – and how difficult it is to translate the true spirit behind these songs’ lyrics when detached from their original tongue. As with opera sung in Italian or German, the English storytelling Postigo fits between verses to clarify the narrative simply doesn’t carry the same beauty and charm as the Spanish lyricism, which is moving even without speaking a word of the language myself. In writing Copa, Postigo seems acutely aware that the words themselves will never carry across, but that the affecting nature of the storytelling could perhaps be of a more universal appeal.
Valladares and Elsdon play beautifully, both to accompany their leading man and to set the tone while the crowd take their seats To further this initial transportation into the world of Copla, Ricardo Ferreira has compiled looping clips of songs performed on the silver screen, played without their audio to allow us to wonder what these tragic, beautiful women are singing about, and to observe the devastation often cast across their faces. Ferreira also laces such footage through the performance, with Postigo expertly mirroring their movements and emotions as he relays their tragedies to us.

Alongside emotive, deeply passionate delivery, Postigo also makes for a charming and entirely empathetic host. His love for copla music is abundantly clear, and his abilities to connect with the audiences make for a fast-moving, truly fun 70 minutes on stage. Coming into the audience frequently, whether to walk among the front row, to rest a hand upon a viewer selected as his lost love, or to engage us in a guessing game around censorship, Postigo’s energy is constant and infectious from the moment he enters the space. How funny he can be, how genuinely likable he is, makes a near-finale moment where he sings of pain and loss alongside Valladeres (also blessed with a striking singing voice) more affecting, for we know full-well that he is much more than a one-trick pony.
Wisely, director Sergio Maggiolo doesn’t adorn the work with too many bells and whistles, instead reigning in any potential excesses in Postigo’s delivery and allowing the work to feel home-grown and authentic to its performer. With Ferreira’s videography encompassing interviews with Postigo’s 101-year-old grandmother, the political roots of copla and of Postigo’s decision to leave his home-land find their way into the work with nuance, and with a palpable passion for change and for a future better than the fascist past his grandmother endured. The passion Postigo puts behind belting with Barbra to “My Man” (itself a later version of a classic copla) is also his rallying cry that he, and others who feels as strongly as he does, are moving towards true freedom, and that his love for this music will play an integral role in this escape.
Copla: a Spanish Cabaret plays at The Other Palace Studio until January 26th
For tickets and information visit https://theotherpalace.co.uk/copla-a-spanish-cabaret/
Photos by Jake Bush