Karen wanted another salsa fix. In Barcelona, her regular haunt 'El Manisero' is not five minutes' walk out of her front door; there, she dances as often as the DJs play. We'd already cut a rug in Wetherby two nights before, but her feet had started to itch in a way that only a good dose of hot sauce would cure.
In the quiet time, when events draw a breath between Christmas and New Year, salsa nights are rare as truffles. I said "well, there's Clowne..."
"Dónde?" she asked quizzically.
I'd recently become acquainted with Iván and Emma of Salsa Beat who'd both struck me as having an inclusive dance philosophy; and when I said that I thought Stephen Gordo Mágico played a good set, that sealed it for Karen... she couldn't get to the car fast enough.
Salsa is a monolithic transnational phenomenon, bestriding the megalopoleis of New York, Japan, and London; and yet it thrives in modest fertile places like Clowne, Debyshire (population circa 7500). Walking into the village centre's Anchor Inn, the barman motions us to the function room around the side of the main salon where we're greeted by salsa music blaring away.
El Rincón Latino pulses in a slightly-narrow rectangular room boasting a good wooden floor, a raised stage at one end, counterbalanced by a modest stretch of bar at the other. By the time we got there at nine-thirty the place was packed, many with faces I recognised from as far afield as Nottingham. Above the energetic hubbub, Stephen kept the dancefloor filled by limiting his palette of colours to Nuyorican dura, crossover and Colombian salsa; merengue; bachata; and kizomba - Fania classics and sones/son montunos didn't to see light of day. A track by Bamboleo (a bold choice I though, as it requires a dancer with strongly internalised rumba clave to navigate through it) made it onto the decks, but remained the sole timba number of the night - it wasn't received with the same certainty as the Colombian fare. La Excelencia's 'Salsa con Conciencia' got an airing, although I suspect it's message flowed over the majority of the dancers; I might have gone for something from their 'Mi Tumbao Social' album instead.
Observing audience-dancer responses to Stephen's music selection, I was able to assess the local salsa scene's development to be in the latter phase of the youthful growing stage. Karen paid El Rincón Latino's party her ultimate compliment by saying that it felt like being at El Manisero. She and I left as the night wound down through a bachata set into kizomba. We'd had our satisfying fill of salsa by then, including some Cali stepping (Karen'd lived in Colombia for a bit).
There are just a couple of tweaks I'd recommend that would make a huge difference: a pair of air blowers positioned at the bar-side exit facing outward, to extract heated air from the room; and slight attenuation of the low and low-mid frequencies to manage the bass rumble of the room.
We live in an age where bigger is marketed as implicitly better e.g. "The biggest <insert adjectives and superlatives here> salsa congress". On the contrary, I've discovered people from smaller cities and towns to be the more accommodating by far.
For the atmosphere and its warm welcome, El Rincón Latino's party en el pueblo de Clowne [in the village of Clowne] is hard to beat.
Smaller is most decidedly better.
Loo Yeo
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