Tomatito- en VIVO!



A fuera de la concierto del tomatito

A wintry February evening 6.30 pm and Mack, a moroccan buddy and me head to the Chicago Cultural Center (CCC), to watch El Tomatito perform live. El Tomatito was the accompanying guitarist for the famous flamenco musician Camaron from Spain, now performing solo. "He's big, real big in the mediterranean, i can't believe we're having a free concert here !" says Mack, as we scurry against the wind blowing through the concrete and steel canyons of the Loop.

At the CCC we somehow manage to push the glass doors against the packed mass of people in the foyer, wriggle in. All of them are too late already. Although there's still 10 minutes for the concert to begin, the security guards are not letting anyone climb the stairway in the center of the foyer.
The crowd assembled is diverse in race, age, sex, economic status, health condition..but all of them have a common look, a human longing on their faces, all eyes focussed on the security guards who keep parroting that the upstrairs concert hall is full. Hall, bah! A small room it must be. Bad management on part of the CCC to invite someone as wellknown as tomatito and then proceed to have the concert in a little room.

Mack stations himself at the head of the crowd. I look around for Paul, Gabi, Cris and Raul. A small group of short, distinguished looking people weave their way through the people, straight towards the security. Mack senses it and "ghisses in" directly behind them. looking at me askance "Marty, com on !"
They talk to the security and pass on. Mack too, but then he gets stopped by one guard. He waits a fraction till the group has gone a few stairs further and out of earshot. "I'm with the group !" They let him through! Me, the loser decided that I would get stopped on account of my frayed jeans, while Mack the blue-eyed arab was dressed nondescript corporate, the person who'd never stand out in a crowd. I have to look around for my friends, thats the excuse i give myself.

The concert begins, loud applause, and then some rasgueados on a guitar. That heats up a section of the crowd who plead and argue with the guards. The building manager descends and announces that as the room is already full, we'd be violating the fire code if he let any more people in.
"Hey, we have been waiting for more than an hour" "Hey I called you a few hrs earlier, and you should have indicated its gonna be this crowded"
Me.."Ma'am, can you at least ask them to turn up the volume on the PA system ? I have come a very long way to hear him" "Sorry sir, but I am not in charge, I'm just helping out" Yeah right. "Okay then ma'am, could you get through to someone who could increase the sound level?" Very conveniently she pretends to be distracted by the general chaos going on at the foot of the stairs.

I mull upon making a mad dash thro security, what if everyone were to make a dash for it, then how decent the crowd here is. Then I see Gabi and Paul enter, their faces red from the cold outside. Paul with a drooping southern-style moustachio. Seems like they are having a fiercest moustachio competition in architecture studio. Who lasts the longest. Fierce though Pauls' moustachio may be, with Gabi around, who knows how long that would last ?

The crowd still remains. The security now wants to clear the lobby. I pipe up to the guards "No way, sir, I came a long way for this concert, and am not leaving. I want to hear, and please, shhhh, let us HEAR!!" People now sit wherever they find an empty spot, on the walls, on the floor.

One guard comments to another "Whose this tomato guy, never heard of him, and lookit all dese peopul ! Now if it wuzz the Jackson Five, aah'd understand.." We speculate that perhaps the CCC has a music awareness exam for job applicants, and the lowest scorers are chosen, so that they don't get distracted in their duties.

Meanwhile upstairs the concert goes on in full steam. Passages of solo guitar, now melancholy, now punctuated with staccato rapid fire phrases give way to a chorus, where claps work the rhythm on the offbeats with the guitar's chords, and a violin weaves its wail through. Singing too. And loads of applause, round after round. We clap from below. The walls have an intricate pattern of lapis lazuli and jade ( or some stones with these colors ) interlaced with copper. Funky lamps illuminate the foyer and the stairways and passages, that have moorish arched windows that strangely accentuate the andalucian flamenco experience. We could be in spain, and half the crowd talked in spanish too.

I took a picture of Paul and the roof overhead.

An hour later, some people start descending down. Still these guards won't let anyone inside, except ladies. Yes. Chivalrous knights in shining suits these be. We decide may as well go on home and do other things. So ou we go into the frigid sparkling noche en downtown.

The next day I meet Mack in the office. "Man you should have come along with me, the concert was just awesome !!! Why didn't you come in later ? Natasha came in about 7.30."
"Oh, if I were a woman I could have gone in.."
"I met him after the concert and was talking to him for a while.."
"Who, the security guard?"
"Of course not ! I ws talking to tomatito, man, he's a very cool guy"