Space to Perform, A Space to Heal

Last Saturday night, February 7, was one of those nights that reminds me why playing with the dancers and a singer still matters. I played for the group at Mediterranean Cafe (112 W. Washington St., San Diego 92103)—a nice little neighborhood spot in the Mission Hills/Hillcrest area with people out living life: eating, talking, laughing… and then stopping long enough to let Flamenco Cante y Baile take over the room. That’s not a small thing. A restaurant is a bustling business, and it takes a gracious owner and staff to let artists interrupt the normal flow of the night. I don’t take that lightly, believe me. I’m grateful they allowed us to do what we do, and show our stuff for the night.

This gig also hit me personally because I’m trying to get my sea legs back playing for dancers and singers, even though it has not always been my favorite. Especially since my wife's passing (5 years now last January), I just haven't been into it. Part of it has been personal, and part of it has just been...well personal, and something I don't need to get into in this Blog post. Anyway, Solo gigs have been my absolute jam since I lost our families rock, and because it has really allowed me to find a form of meditiation, I really must say that I can't help but enjoy them. They are most definitely their own world—clean, controlled, and very “all on me.” I miss them, honestly, despite the occassional private gigs I book. But playing for dance and cante is different. You’re not leading from the front—you’re supporting, responding, catching the energy as it shifts. It forces you to listen harder and stay present in a way that’s difficult to replicate when you’re the only guitarist on stage. And Saturday reminded me of exactly how much I’ve missed that kind of pressure—in a good way.

Paty Improvising over my Improvisations

Elvia por Guajiras

Monica por Tangos

I was proud this Saturday. Truly proud. I played for dancers who I’ve watched grow over the years, and it who are still growing and will continue to do so, and it was fun. I remember their early nerves from years past, their hesitation, the moments where fear tried to convince them not to step forward. And this past Saturday, I watched them get up there, commit, and do something they love in front of people. That takes courage. Seeing that kind of growth over time is one of the most rewarding parts of staying in this scene. To Paty, Monica, Elvia, and our more seasoned dancer, Malka, as well as a guest appearance por Bulerias by Shannon, I salute you all and thank you for an evening that held a warm place in my heart.

The singer’s presence, Melba, also pushed me in the right way. I felt inspired to open things up, improvise, and add in some falsettas and melodic ideas to lift the group and keep the energy moving. That’s what I love about playing with others: you get pulled into moments you wouldn’t necessarily create by yourself because of the time slot and pressure, and more often than not, staying in "Compas", which is the main thing in Flamenco, becomes bigger than your plan. I was a little experimental and got it done, which felt good.

I also want to give a real nod to Ana, and the belly dance portion of the night. Her performance was excellent—strong, confident, and really engaging. I love that once a month she welcomes our flamenco group into her event, and that generosity matters. It was a beautiful night of two styles sharing the same room—different worlds, but not as far apart as people think.

Now, I have to say this too: I miss Tahona. That place in Old Town where I spent 7 years of Sundays doing my thing. The first two as a Soloist, the next two with my buddy Andres on Second and First Guitar, and the last three with the very talented and brilliant Bruno, was a major chapter for me. We had guest appearances there as well with Antonio, and the late Jamie Shadowlight. You all made my time with Sol y Sombra very special. I miss it badly. But it’s also been beneficial for me to not be there for personal reasons. Being away gave me space to heal, grow, and finally cut out a pain that hit me deep. I don’t say that lightly. I miss it… but all things must end.

And what I miss the most isn’t even the venue—it’s performing with Sol y Sombra. That chemistry, that history, that feeling of being part of something bigger. But again… all things must end. And I’m learning to let that be true without letting it break me.

Saturday night didn’t replace anything. It just reminded me: the work continues. The music continues. There are still places willing to make space, and people willing to step into fear and do what they love anyway. Grateful for the room, grateful for the artists, grateful for the night.