Last dance saloon: Step into Madrid's authentic flamenco scene

I had always been entranced by the idea of flamenco. The famously impassioned music. The impossibly raven-haired ladies. The glorious macho posturing of the men, so surly and so proud. But I had never experienced the real thing, never found a place where aficionados hung out and enjoyed "their" music. So when a mutual friend suggested that he could arrange a meeting with flamenco superstar Joaquin Cortes in Madrid, I jumped at the chance to get a real insider's view.

On my first night in the city I was left to my own devices, and set off in search of flamenco clubs. I stumbled into my first port of call, El Arco de Cuchilleros, by accident, and was immediately seated amongst a gaggle of fellow tourists in front of a stage the size of a postage stamp.

I sat back, bought a €10 (£7) glass of wine and watched as a couple who might easily have passed as fashion models took to the stage. Backed by taped music, they proceeded, with little enthusiasm or vigour, to try to put out a non-existent blaze with their feet. By the time a flamenco version of "My Way" came on, I was out the door.

It wasn't long before I was sitting before another stage, this time watching a gang of rather more serious-looking gentlemen dressed in black and holding guitars. This was the celebrated Café de Chinitas, just off Madrid's Gran Via. Once described as "the self-styled cathedral of flamenco", it is now decorated like a bad-taste Marbellan paella palace. Although the obviously adept performers provided a more than capable show, I was still left with the feeling that they were cruising well within their speed limit. This, coupled with irascible management and even more overpriced drinks, left me feeling less than content.

Yet it was still only midnight, the chronological equivalent to mid-evening in Britain. Madrid is a city that doesn't sleep – unless it fancies a quick nap in the afternoon.

Finding the next venue, Corral de la Moreria, involved further consultation with my map. As I passed revellers of all shapes warming up for a late night I began slowly to be sucked into the city's atmosphere. At the Moreria (cover charge €32/£23, including one drink) I was ushered to a front-row seat. Within minutes two guitarists and two singers were going about their business as if their lives depended on it, while four female dancers took centre stage. With a ferocity only matched by the intense expression on their faces, they danced to a breathless exhaustion. Thrilling and enthralling as it was, however, it was still just a show. It lacked the true passion of flamenco.

It was beginning to get seriously late. Next on my list was Cardomomo, a club on Calle Echegaray where I'd been assured that the new breed of gypsy performer plied its trade. I soon realised that I was in the right place. Many of the crowd, and all of the performers, looked like Joaquin Cortes: bearded, long-haired young men whose dark skin and jet-black hair revealed their gypsy roots.

What followed was a mélange of flamenco and Cuban drumming that, although probably the future of the form, was still not quite what I was looking for. But as Ruben, the young guitarist, said: "Some guys want to put flamenco in a box. But not me. I'm not a purist. Flamenco is evolutionary. If you keep flamenco stagnant, it can't grow – and it has to."

The following night I met up with Joaquin Cortes himself at Casa Patas, a restaurant and dance venue that sits between Calle Echegaray and Lavapies. He was casually dressed in jeans. Only his fiery black eyes betrayed his passion.

"Madrid is where some of the best flamenco is found in Spain," said Cortes. "Any flamenco performer who wants to reach the top comes to Madrid."

After dinner we slipped into the small back room of Casa Patas, which seats just 100 people. The show that unfolded was scary in a way that only pure, undiluted passion can be. Lead singer Manuel Malena began with a guttural howl that prompted guitarists Jesule and Juan Jimenez to strum single chords, the rasgueo. Then suddenly they were off, the singer digging into his soul to pull out an extraordinarily emotive song, and the guitarists frenetically describing a rhythm that drove the dancers to live up to my every expectation. At last their proud, truculent manner seemed to be a statement of intent rather than mere annoyance. It was incredible.

"What you look for in flamenco is the duende," advised Cortes. "This is a special word in Spanish which really means the 'soul', in the way that you would look for soul in a singer. It's more than that because it has a meaning in bullfighting as well, but that's another thing. I think there are a lot of similarities between flamenco and blues, which is where soul comes from. Both give a voice to oppressed people and both have evolved and modernised in their own ways but have become vastly more popular as a result."

As I left Casa Patas, Cortes pointed me in the direction of Candela, a bar two blocks south in Lavapies, which means "feet-washer".

"Lavapies is the centre of it all," explained Cortes. "It's the old gypsy quarter in the centre of Madrid, and it is the area that has maintained that tradition more than any other. It is in the bars of Lavapies that the community hangs out when they get together to perform. If the atmosphere is right in Candela and the right people are there and in the right mood then you can see really great flamenco – but nothing is planned or rehearsed."

Candela turned out to be an old rough bar that looked just like the other old rough bars in Lavapies. Arriving at 3am, I thought I'd missed the boat. Four gnarled old men sat at the long bar knocking back wine; at the back a soused fortysomething argued with her husband. Slowly but surely a crowd trickled in, some carrying guitars, others still in their all-black stage clothes. Some of the women's faces showed remnants of stage make-up. And there we sat and drank red wine until 4.30am, when I rose to leave.

But then I saw a couple of young guitarists nodding away next to an older, far scruffier man, who soon stood and sang while the crowd began shouting encouragement. And all around, the rhythm grew, the patrons tapping the tables with their ringed fists as the guitarist tore off in another direction. And then in stepped the dancers to take centre stage – some as old as 70, some as young as 15 – while the whole crowd screamed and clapped and stamped. This was pure, unadulterated soul music. This was what I'd been looking for. This was the real flamenco.

TRAVELLER'S GUIDE

GETTING THERE

Madrid is served by British Airways (0870 850 9850; www.ba.com), Ryanair (0871 246 0000; www.ryanair.com), easyJet (0905 821 0905; www.easyJet.com), Iberia (0870 609 0500; www.iberia.com) and Air Comet (00 34 90 099 5499; www.airpluscomet.com).

Alternatively, Rail Europe (0870 837 1371; www.raileurope.co.uk) offers routes from London Waterloo and Ashford via Paris. To reduce the impact on the environment, you can buy an "offset" from Equiclimate (0845 456 0170; www.ebico.co.uk) or Pure (020-7382 7815; www.puretrust.org.uk).

EATING & DRINKING THERE

Café de Chinitas, Calle Torija 7 (00 34 91 559 5135; www.chinitas.com). Metro: Santa Domingo. Open 9pm-2am Monday-Saturday, admission €31 (£22) including one drink.

Corral de la Moreria, Calle Moreria 17, Los Austrias (00 34 91 365 8446; www.corraldelamoreria.com). Metro: La Latina. Open 9pm-2am nightly, admission €32 (£23) including one drink.

Cardamomo, Calle Echegaray 15 (00 34 91 369 0757; www.cardamomo.net). Metro: Sevilla. Open 9am-2am nightly, admission free.

Casa Patas, Calle Canizares 10, Lavapies (00 34 91 369 0496; www.casapatas.com). Metro: Anton Martin. Open 8pm-2am Monday-Saturday, admission €30 (£21) including one drink.

Candela, Calle Olmo 2, Lavapies (00 34 91 467 3382). Metro: Anton Martin. Open 11pm-6am nightly, admission free.

MORE INFORMATION

Madrid Tourist Office: 00 91 701 2210; www.esmadrid.com

Spanish Tourist Office: 08459 400180; www.tourspain.co.uk

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