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The LeadThere are lots of places in life where being full of yourself, or at least acting like it, is not the done thing. In the spotlight of a flamenco show is absolutely not one of them. Peacocking is essential for the flamenco bailaor, and there's something awesome about seeing the magnetic power of a performer so in control of their instrument – and their audience.The Artistic MasteryJesús Carmona opens his show, and the 21st annual Flamenco festival, posed in a square of light against a blacked-out stage, slowly unfurling an arm with serpentine grace and then snatching at the air in a sudden grasp. It's this ability to play with tension and attack, to suddenly erupt or acquiesce, to shift the energy around him, that marks Carmona out as a great dancer. He'll stamp out demons in a burst of wild limbs, his legs fly and flick like La Liga's best midfielder, but he's got a core of absolute composure (and beautifully tight spins to go with it).The Festival ContextThe two-week festival encompasses a wide range of contemporary flamenco, from the traditional to the cutting edge. Carmona, a former dancer with Eva Yerbabuena, falls towards the purer end of the spectrum, albeit with a modern look and sensibility. UnYdos has no theatrical setup, no thematic investigation, just two dancers (Carmona and Lucía Campillo) and four musicians: a guitarist and three singers/palmeros (handclappers).The Collaborative ElementsAward-winning singer Jesús Corbacho is the standout, his lithe, flexible voice spinning melodic yarns in long phrases with real sensitivity of tone. Campillo dances with traditional props, a perfectly judged solo with a shawl, first clutched intensely to her body, then its heavy fabric swung in huge arcs. She changes into a bata de cola dress with its long train – more cumbersome fabric to wield while looking beautiful (the weight of womanhood, eh?).The Performance SettingUnYdos is no radical reinvention of form – there are just whispers of experimentation, and admittedly, quite an avant garde red blouson for the final costume – but exposed by such a stark setting and mood, Carmona shows real mastery. It's a stripped-back affair, a rhythmic study – even the guitar is often played percussively – and Carmona uses every colour in his feet.At Sadler's Wells, London, until 17 June. The Flamenco festival continues to 29 June.

The LeadJack Parlett's Flamboyance presents a serious study of the spectacular, exploring flamboyance as a form of resistance and political expression. The memoir-cum-cultural history examines how flamboyance can "burn with a resistant energy" and "put politics back into the picture," offering an alternative to ironic or cynical approaches to self-expression.The Cultural Exploration of FlamboyanceAlthough primarily concerned with the culture of gay men in the English-speaking world, Flamboyance nevertheless makes a broad set of philosophical claims about the value of sincerity, love and political commitment. Parlett finds examples of flamboyant expression in Oscar Wilde and what the cultural critic Susan Sontag once described as camp, a worldview obsessed with artifice and performance. The book moves between the low- and high-brow, observing that William Morris, whose elaborate floral wallpapers have helped define English design, was "more like a candidate for a makeover on a show like Queer Eye" than one of its chic hosts.The Historical ContextThe term flamboyance, Parlett tells us, has its origins in an architectural metaphor. From the French verb flamboyer, to blaze, it was in the 19th century used with a twinge of romantic longing to describe the gothic style of 15th-century churches whose ornate curves looked like flames rising up to the sky. He suggests that there is something erotically charged in this image, although it requires a bit of work to see the connection. "I would probably not be yelling 'slay' at the stonework around rural church windows," he tells us.The Personal NarrativeIn the memoir sections, Parlett describes his struggles with alcoholism and his gradual recognition that it is possible to "find fulfilment without the aid of intoxication". Read in the light of these revelations, it's hard not to view Flamboyance as an extended metaphor about drinking and the author's hope of finding some way of facing, rather than detaching himself from, his own life. The book makes a case for a rather austere vision of flamboyance, an outlook whose motivations become clearer through these personal revelations.The Critical AssessmentUnfortunately, the connection with cultural history is made weakly, and this in turn makes the discussion of art, literature and film seem unmotivated. The breadth of coverage can at times be overwhelming: Wilde, flamenco, the slain 1990s rapper Big L, Frank O'Hara, Lil Nas X and Donald Trump all get a look-in. Often, passages are held together more by word association than argument. Despite these shortcomings, Parlett succeeds in introducing a cast of writers, artists, dancers and musicians of which he has deep knowledge, meaning there is undeniably much to learn from Flamboyance.

The Lead: Carla Simón's Unique Approach to Family DramaFamily reunions in European arthouse cinema are almost always unhappy events, on a scale of strife that ranges from simmering resentment to spectacular score-settling. Carla Simón, however, has a rare gift: she makes you leave the cinema with renewed faith that having relatives and keeping in touch with them may actually be a wonderful thing.No film-maker working in Europe now is as capable of turning birthday gatherings, garden parties or poolside barbecues into thrillingly sprawling canvases of human virtue and vice as this 39-year-old rising star. From a riotous water fight in the Berlinale Golden Bear-winning farming drama Alcarràs to a foul-mouthed dinner table singalong in her new film Romería, Simón directs kinship meetings with the attention to detail that other film-makers may invest in action sequences or dance routines.The Event Details: Romería and the Journey to Self-DiscoveryAmong the tricks Simón employs, she explains, is to ensure her actors only read the script once before the camera starts rolling, so they have to improvise to fill the gaps. She takes her casts to parties, for walks and on shopping trips, and if there are disagreements on the way, so much the better. The ultimate secret sauce, though, is to ignore WC Fields's notorious advice and always work with children and animals."I never get bored of working with kids," she says. "When you are only working with adult actors, shooting becomes more like executing an idea that you have in your mind, and I think that is not interesting. With children, you always have this feeling that that things are going to happen in front of the camera by chance. It keeps things alive."Her new film Romería, meaning "pilgrimage" in Spanish, dives deeper into the story of the biological parents she barely got to know. Eighteen-year-old Marina travels to her relatives in Vigo, in north-western Galicia, purportedly to find the death certificate of her biological father, which she needs to study film-making in Barcelona. The initial reaction is warm, but family is a room with dark corners and locked closets.The Personal Journey: Aids, Loss and Family SecretsSimón's fascination with freewheeling scenes of family life was undoubtedly honed through her own biography. Born in Barcelona in 1986, her father died when she was three and her mother when she was six. Both of them succumbed to Aids. She was 12 when her adoptive mother told her that her parents had been infected with the autoimmune disease through their use of drugs.All of her first three films have been strongly autobiographical: Summer 1993 tells the story of a six-year-old girl who moves to an unspecified location countryside to live with her aunt after the death of her mother, while 2022's Alcarràs is specifically set in the Catalan peach-growing community of her adoptive family.In the film, a cache of letters written by her late mother opens up a portal to the time when her parents met and discovered love – for each other, the Atlantic Ocean and drugs. The letters, Simón explains, are real. "She wrote to her friends and family while she lived in Vigo. Her Catalan is full of mistakes, because teaching Catalan was banned under the Franco regime. But they are the most important thing that I have from my mother, because suddenly I can hear her talking."The Impact Analysis: Spanish Cinema and the Legacy of AidsSpanish cinema has a track record in making films where child actors take centre stage: Ana Torrent's spell-binding turn as a young girl obsessed with the Frankenstein tale in Víctor Erice's 1973 film The Spirit of the Beehive is considered an all-time great performance by a minor, and Simón describes it as "a very, very important film for me".During the transition period after Franco's rule, Madrid gave birth to la movida, a countercultural movement that celebrated lifestyles that had been banned under military rule. "All these kids who were raised under Franco and religious oppression, suddenly freedom arrived and they embraced it", Simón says. "They didn't think much about the future or the consequences of what they were experimenting with. And then the drugs came in."When we talk about this generation in Spain, people sometimes use words like shame and blame, but I feel that's really unfair: people like my parents just had bad luck.The Future Direction: Beyond Family in Simón's Next ProjectHalfway through Romería there is a stylistic shift, from the Eurorealism she favoured in her previous works toward something more magical-realist: there is a mysterious cat you might expect to encounter in a Miyazaki film, and an unforgettable dance number set to Vigo punk rocker's Siniestro Total's song Bailaré Sobre Tu Tumba ("I'll Dance on Your Grave")."These three films I've made are kind of a cycle, because they all talk about my family, adoptive and biological. But since I became a mother a few years ago, I feel that my place in the family changed. When you have kids you feel it's a new period in your life, so I feel like maybe doing something that has nothing to do with my family."Her next film, she confides, is going to be a flamenco musical.

The Great Gym Music ShiftWhen GLL, the social enterprise operating Better's 250 leisure centers across England, Wales, and Northern Ireland, announced its switch from licensed music to royalty-free tracks from the Power Music app, it sparked a rebellion among fitness enthusiasts. The change, implemented on March 1, has instructors and members up in arms, with many saying it's killing the energy in workouts and fundamentally changing the gym experience.The Technical Transition: From Licensed to Royalty-FreeThe switch means that instead of hearing well-known artists like Rihanna in their original form, gym-goers now hear thinner, less emotive cover versions with generic backbeats. For instructors like Rachel, who teaches body conditioning, power pump, and aqua aerobics at Better centers across London, the change meant creating entirely new choreography and playlists at short notice. The transition was initially set for January 1 but was delayed to March 1 after instructors pushed back, giving them more time to adjust.The Financial Rationale Behind the ChangeGLL made the decision after the cost of its music license was set to "increase significantly, well beyond the rate of inflation." By scrapping the license and switching to Power Music, the group expects to save £1m a year. This substantial saving comes at a cost to the quality of the gym experience, according to critics. The company maintains that the change allows it to "carefully balance how we allocate funding to ensure we continue to deliver maximum social value" to its wider community programs.The Cultural Impact on Fitness EnvironmentsThe shift to royalty-free music represents more than just a technical change—it's altering the very culture of fitness spaces. Instructors report that the "flat" nature of Power Music tracks is reducing the energy in their classes and affecting attendance. Rachel, who has been teaching for over 20 years, expressed deep emotional impact: "I spent my life finding music which inspires me and creating good choreography... Now, with Power Music, there's flat music playing, and the class is flat too. When I finish my classes, I feel sad."Members report similar dissatisfaction. Jacqui Lewis, a regular at Better's Clissold Leisure Centre, notes that her Ukrainian Zumba instructor can no longer supplement Latin dances with the diverse repertoire of flamenco, ballroom, Irish dancing, pop, and Ukrainian folk that she once used. Gabby, another member, complains that the "janky" American hits replacing her instructor's "amazingly choreographed" UK dance, garage, old-school rave, and drum'n'bass music fail to reflect the community that uses the gym.The Industry Ripple EffectGLL's move follows a broader trend in the public realm where cost-saving measures are replacing well-loved music with cheaper alternatives. This shift potentially affects not just gyms but shops, pubs, and other public spaces. The fitness industry's relationship with music is particularly complex—while PPL UK reported a 5.6% year-on-year increase in revenue from fitness and dance class licensing, with fees not increasing beyond inflation since 2018, businesses continue to seek ways to cut costs.The controversy has sparked significant backlash, with multiple petitions on Change.org (the largest with over 4,500 signatures) and a website called "Better Scrap the App" dedicated to reversing the policy. Power Music has responded by stating that "everyone is entitled to their opinion" and claims numerous instructors "love our music and variety," though they acknowledge none of their music is AI-generated.The Future of Music in Fitness SpacesAs the debate continues, GLL has indicated it is broadening the range of music genres available, adding Afrobeats, bhangra, and soon, soca tracks. The company maintains it is "following in the footsteps of other gym chains" in making this transition. However, the long-term impact on both the fitness industry and music creators remains uncertain.For now, the human cost is becoming apparent. Rachel is looking for alternative work, while members like Lewis and Gabby are considering their gym memberships. The situation highlights a growing tension between cost-cutting measures and the cultural value that music brings to communal spaces. As Lewis poignantly notes: "I don't go clubbing any more. This is the nearest I can get to that amazing feeling of a whole room full of people bouncing up and down, being united by the same thing. It's important stuff, and with Power Music being so characterless and flat, you don't get that – the joy of real music."

Discovery of the Lost VerseThe verse was uncovered on the reverse side of a manuscript of the poem Gacela de la raíz amarga from Lorca’s Diván del Tamarit collection. The manuscript was bought from a German antiquarian by Miguel Poveda, a flamenco singer and Lorca enthusiast.Historical Timeline1933: Lorca writes the eight‑line poem while working on Diván del Tamarit.1936: Lorca is murdered during the early days of the Spanish Civil War.2026: The hidden verse is identified, 93 years after its creation (2026‑1933=93 years).Content of the VerseThe poem reflects Lorca’s obsession with the passage of time: “The clock sings / I count the hours mechanically / Seven o’clock; twelve o’clock / It’s all the same / I am not here / It is the mark of flesh / That I left behind when I departed / So as to know my place / Upon my return.”Scholarly Verification and SignificanceExpert Pepa Merlo confirmed the handwriting as Lorca’s, noting that the verse underscores “the importance that the concept of time held for Lorca.” The find adds a new dimension to Lorca’s oeuvre, already celebrated for works such as Gypsy Ballads and Blood Wedding.Future PublicationThe poem will be featured in the forthcoming book Las cosas del otro lado. lo inédito en Federico García Lorca, co‑authored by Miguel Poveda and Pepa Merlo. Its release coincides with renewed interest in Lorca as the centenary of his death approaches.

Chala Chala Nav Bala (Maze Baal, 1943) marks the debut of Asha Bhosle, who entered the film world at ten years old. Paired with her sister Lata Mangeshkar, her bright falsetto captures the youthful innocence of the Marathi romance, foreshadowing the emotive style that would define her career. Aaiye Meherbaan (Howrah Bridge, 1958) showcases Bhosle’s rise during Hindi cinema’s golden age, thanks to her partnership with composer O.P. Nayyar. The song’s sultry vibrato and lush orchestration set the tone for the film’s noir atmosphere, establishing her as a leading‑lady playback voice. Aao Huzoor Tumko (Kismat, 1968) became a chart‑topping hit, featuring intricate vocal runs over a flamenco‑style guitar. Bhosle’s lower‑register chorus broke the conventional shrillness of female playback, while her nuanced phrasing added depth to the on‑screen heroine’s drunken allure. Dum Maro Dum (Hare Rama, Hare Krishna, 1971) stands out as her most successful crossover, later sampled by Western rappers. The track, produced with R.D. Burman—her future husband—blends psychedelic Beatles‑inspired grooves with Hindi lyrics, demonstrating her ability to bridge Eastern and Western pop sensibilities. Piya Tu Ab To Aaja (Caravan, 1971) pushes the fusion further into jazz‑cabaret territory, with bold horn sections and cinematic guitar reverb. Bhosle’s breathy, suggestive delivery sparked controversy, yet the performance remains a masterclass in balancing sensuality with technical agility. Chura Liya Hai Tumne Jo Dil Ko (Yaadon Ki Baaraat, 1973) epitomises the “masala” film soundtrack, merging drama, romance, and crime. Over a gentle guitar backdrop, Bhosle’s tender humming conveys quiet longing, contrasting with the film’s high‑octane narrative. In Ankhon Ki Masti (Umrao Jaan, 1981) sees Bhoske venture into Urdu ghazals with composer Khayyam. Her lower, huskier timbre—adjusted a half‑step down—highlights her continued artistic experimentation even as she approached fifty. Bow Down Mister (1991) illustrates her early 1990s foray into international collaborations, lending wordless, soaring vocals to Boy George’s post‑Culture Club project. The track transforms into a rave‑infused anthem, underscoring Bhosle’s versatility across genres. Radha Kaise Na Jale (Lagaan, 2001) pairs Bhosle with a young A.R. Rahman, reaffirming her status as an elder stateswoman of Indian music. The duet with Udit Narayan blends tabla and flute with powerful vocal runs, marrying traditional Hindustani scales to contemporary film scoring. The Way You Dream (2002) features an unexpected partnership with REM frontman Michael Stipe on the 1 Giant Leap project. The eight‑minute piece weaves tabla rhythms, subtle guitar, and a dramatic breakbeat, proving that Bhosle’s voice can seamlessly inhabit New Age and electronic soundscapes.