Kris and the Cajon

The traditional image of flamenco is the driven, alternately exuberant and subtle footwork of the dancer who commands the stage. It's easy to overlook a key element of Calo Flamenco, the understated percussion of Kristofer Hill and his unique instrument, the Cajon (Big Box), which looks for all the world like a wood crate stood on end to serve as a stool. In a traditional dimly lit tableau venue such as was the case at the Blue Loon, both Hill and his contribution remained comfortably in the background.

In the brightly light venue that is Dance Theater Fairbanks, however, Hill's focused musicianship was on full display, along with the rest of the supporting rhythm section that frames the dance. It was as if we were seeing through all the stagecraft to the naked essence of performance. It's a tribute to the art form that it can be as impressive in bare simplicity as it is wrapped in theatrical trappings.

The Cajon is a recent innovation in flamenco. It was discovered in the late '70's in Peru. But the ingenious device appears to have originated there sometime in the late 1800's. Like Hill himself, the simple outward appearance of the instrument hides an inner complexity and acoustic sophistication. Get him talking, however and there is a wealth of understanding under the surface that rises just to the occasion and no more.

Kristofer Hill has been accompanying classes on piano & percussion and composing for modern dance performances at ASU for eight years. Some of his compositions for dance have been performed at the Joyce, Soho, NYU, and Virginia Piper Theater. Performance credits also include Gammage Auditorium, the Olympia Dome (WA) and Woodstock. Kris is also a member of some other local groups where he plays keyboards, guitar, and percussion: The Drunken Immortals, Africa Tam Tam, Shh! The Baby’s Sleeping, and Street Jam. Kris has also spent many years working with children in music and dance workshops and teaching guitar as well as doing habilitation with developmentally disabled children.

Like the entire company, Hill exhibits an elegant discipline of posture at every moment of a performance. Something about the off-spotlight bearing of the troupe conveys a respect for the performance approaching reverence. Every tiny gesture matters, even if there is none. The body language of the flamenco troupe interlock into a mosaic of purposeful intention that has to be witnessed to be understood. This is most evident when, after a musical preamble from guitarist Chris Burton Jácome, the dancer rises with exquisite grace and deliberation to address the stage and challenge the dance.

This stems, Hill says, from the nature of flamenco, which he describes as originally an introverted art form. The gypsies who developed the art form were constrained by the society around them and developed a very understated nature around outsiders. Thus true tableau flamenco is a paradox of enormous internal energy bound by extreme self-discipline.

In Hill's case, he blends seamlessly into the background, often still for extended periods, or delivering one single, well place beat at a critical moment. Make no mistake, Kristofer Hill is as intense as they come. You just don't realize it until you see him focused on the footwork of Martin Gaxoila, tracking every nuance and varying his tempo effortlessly in perfect accompaniment to the dynamics of the moment.

The outward calm belies the flamenco fire that flows through Hill with the same intensity as the rest of the company. The result is a magic trick, a juxtaposition of seemingly desultory participation and intense engagement with the flow of the music and the dance.

It's a perfect match of musician and instrument.

— Larry Lowe