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Alejandro Postigo
Copla: a Spanish Cabaret
Writer/Performer: Alejandro Postigo
Director: Sergio Maggiolo
Violin: Violeta Valladares
Piano: Jack Elsdon
Video Design: Ricardo Ferreira
Images © Alejandro Postigo
NOV, 9, 2025
VOILÁ FESTIVAL 2025
COPLA: A SPANISH CABARET
Theatro Technis
21 - 22 Nov | 2025
A celebration of Spain’s vibrant cultural and political history, brought to life with a queer twist. Practically unknown abroad, Copla is the dramatic, heartfelt music that shaped Spain’s early musicals—perfect for anyone who loves laughing, crying, and singing along to a diva’s melodramatic refrain. Once censored under Franco’s regime, Copla’s raw emotion and soaring melodies are reimagined for a new, intercultural generation. Join a journey through the upheavals of a queer migrant experience: living far from home, translating childhood musical memories, and celebrating foreignness through song.
Hi Alejandro, thank you for taking the time to talk with The New Current during this years Voila Festival. What does it mean to you to have Copla: A Spanish Cabaret as part of this year’s festival?
It feels wonderful to bring Copla back to London through Voila, a festival that celebrates multilingual and cross-cultural theatre. The show was born out of my own experience as a queer Spanish migrant in the UK, so presenting it here, surrounded by other artists exploring language, identity, and belonging, feels like the perfect homecoming.
Copla has had an amazing run in London and a stunning Edinburgh Fringe run gaining incredible reviews. Did you imagine you would get the type of reaction you’ve gotten for the show?
I am very fond of the show, but I never imagined the response would be so emotional and wide-reaching. The audience testimonies, the tears, the laughter… have been incredible. People from different cultures and generations connect with Copla in unexpected ways. At Edinburgh, some said it helped them rethink their own heritage and identity, and that’s the best review I could ever get.
How much has the show changed since your first staging?
It has evolved with each audience. The core remains the same — the reclaiming of copla as a queer and migrant language — but it’s become more musical, more playful, and more international. It’s now fully accessible, allowing English-speaking audiences to experience the emotion of copla while still keeping its Spanish soul.
If you could describe Copla: A Spanish Cabaret in one sentence what would it be?
A passionate, queer, and defiant love letter to Spanish folklore, told through music, humour, and heart.
It sounds silly but do nerves ever set in ahead of a festival run?
Always, but they are part of the game. The show is very exposing and carries emotional weight. Performing Copla is both an act of vulnerability and resistance.
When did you first get introduced to flamenco and how does this most Spanish of art forms connect with you as an artist so much?
Flamenco was always around me growing up in Spain. Later, I understood its link to copla: both are art forms of repression and survival. As an artist, I’m drawn to that tension between beauty and pain, the pulse of resilience that flamenco carries.
Can you tell me a little bit about how Copla: A Spanish Cabaret came about, what inspired you to tell your story in this unique format?
It began as research for my PhD on Spanish musical theatre and identity. The more I studied copla, the more I realised it mirrored my own story as a queer migrant. So I transformed the research into performance, bridging scholarship, emotion, and live art.
Did you have any apprehensions about creating a show that is autobiographical?
Yes. It’s exposing to stand on stage and speak your truth. But I believe personal stories become political when they resonate with others, and the audience’s empathy makes that exposure worthwhile. My story is, in many ways, the story of many other queer migrants.
How did you go about choosing the music you use to unpack Copla: A Spanish Cabaret?
Each song represents a fragment of my journey: exile, love, shame, resilience. I carefully select the coplas that resonate most deeply with me, and then recontextualise them in English, preserving their poetry while reinterpreting them through my lens as a queer migrant.
One of your Voila shows will be fully in Spanish, what has the experience been like for you adapting your text in this manner?
It’s been quite complex. The Spanish version is aimed at audiences who might already know copla, so the whole premise changes — as does how I address the audience. I keep reshaping the text so it speaks directly to them, knowing their connection to Copla will be very different from the English-speaking audience.
Has it provided you with a different insight into the story and how it might connect with your audiences?
Definitely. Creating the Spanish version isn’t just a translation — it’s a full rethinking of perspective. I’m curious to see how it lands with a Spanish-speaking audience at Voila, who will bring their own memories and emotions to it.
One of the powerful moments in your show involves your abuela. Had you always intended to include her?
Yes. My grandma is 103 now — and still kicking! She embodies the history of a generation silenced by dictatorship and gender repression. I wanted her to be part of the show so we could share our personal connection to Copla, and celebrate the resilience of a whole generation who saw this music evolve with them.
Copla: A Spanish Cabaret is also quite political, did this happen naturally or was it something you wanted to include in the piece?
It was intentional from the start. When you talk about identity, migration, and queerness, you’re already being political. Copla songs touch on all of these themes. But I try to approach them with humour, tenderness, and music — because joy itself can be a radical act.
"With Copla: A Spanish Cabaret, the solo format allowed me to take the story around the world."
How important is the creative collaboration between writer/performer and your creative team when working on a piece like this?
Essential. The show exists because of collaboration — with director Sergio Maggiolo, musicians Jack and Violeta, and designer Ricardo. It’s through working with them that my writing evolves and my ideas get challenged.
Have you always had a passion for theatre?
Yes. I’ve been performing since I was a kid: I used to put on little song-and-dance shows for the family and drag my sister in as my backup singer.
What have been the most significant changes to your style and approach to your work since your debut play?
I’ve learned to downsize. When I first created The Copla Musical, it was a huge ensemble piece: a full band, big staging, the works. But touring that was almost impossible. With Copla: A Spanish Cabaret, the solo format allowed me to take the story around the world. The limitations became artistic challenges, and the work became more intimate and personal without losing the flair or the joy.
What has been the most important lessons you’ve learnt about yourself and the stories you want to tell so far?
That vulnerability is strength, music is my language, and humour can bridge cultures.
What themes are you hoping to explore with future productions?
I’m continuing my research on Spanish folklore, protest flamenco, and the memory of the Spanish Civil War — exploring how performance can recover forgotten voices and histories through a contemporary queer gaze.
Do you have a favourite theatre quote?
I once heard Spanish actor Blanca Portillo say: “In this profession, when you don’t have work, you can invent it.” It’s something I’ve carried with me.
And finally, if audiences could take away one message from Copla: A Spanish Cabaret, what would you like that to be?
If the show sparks curiosity about Copla and the stories behind it, then it’s done its job.