I’m thinking of some of my Mom’s best dishes…you know,
the kind that bring back memories…whether it’s beef stew, macaroni
and cheese, Sunday pot roast, maybe paella, who knows… Whatever it is,
it has personality, a special identity, an essence, a spirit (even if your
friend’s Mom makes the dish completely differently). We recognize
that essence the moment the first bite hits our tongue. But imagine if the
macaroni and cheese contained sliced beets or pineapple tidbits –
our individual “spirit recognition system” would immediately
say “ah no, this is something else…”. It might be good, bad
or indifferent, but the pressing question is, what happened to my favorite
dish that I’ve been enjoying all these years?
Flamenco singing, dance and guitar have been simmering on the back burner
for many years, each one of its styles acquiring a special spirit. At
least a lot of us feel this is true. And that spirit is not rigid or closed
to evolution and change – it can handle just about everything, which
is in itself an understatement. The only thing it seems to demand is that
the end product continue to have a flamenco taste and smell. Purely subjective
you say? Well of course!! Everything related to art is purely subjective,
make no mistake. But certain things last and are valued because of a certain
universal and unspoken agreement which usually allows us to determine
when a book is well-written, a casserole well-prepared, a garden well-tended,
a soleá well-sung…with no need for uniformity between the various
products.
Has something in flamenco changed between the days of Diego el Perote
and Luis el Zambo? Between Niño Medino and Fernando de la Morena?
It is abundantly clear there’s a vast difference between one and
another, and yet it’s all CANTE, in capital letters. The essence,
the spirit is there, no matter how much the “old singing”
has been altered and modernized.
What about Perico del Lunar compared to Sabicas? Or Borrull compared
to Paco de Lucía? You might like one more than another, but no
one can say they don’t play flamenco forms.
Everything related to art is purely subjective,
make no mistake
Perhaps it’s only fair to add that personally I consider the Paco
de Lucía of thirty years ago to be the most phenomenal flamenco
guitarist of all time. In any of those early records is the proof of his
genius, the kind that identifies an era, just as Ramón Montoya,
Niño Ricardo or Sabicas did in their time… Paco marks a before
and after. He changed flamenco guitar playing like turning a sock inside
out and he was still more flamenco than anyone. He preserved the spirit
of each style although he manipulated the compás in diabolical
ways that no one had before imagined, he let his imagination soar and
a seldom-seen degree of creativity came to the surface, always with good
taste and musicality difficult or impossible to surpass. Paco is the perfect
example of “change with spirit” and “change without
spirit”.
When you hear any of his siguiriyas recorded years ago with titles like
“De Madrugá”, “Llora la Siguiriya” and
others, you realize the unique talent and extraordinary flamenco quality
of this man from Algeciras. It’s impossible to have a more siguiriyas-like
sound, the profound quality that makes your hair stand on end and your
throat tighten up. By contrast, if we listen to the siguiriya “Luzia”
from his record of the same name, you notice it right away: the essence
is missing. The spirit of siguiriyas is absent. Macaroni and cheese with
beets and pineapple. Musically, you might prefer one or the other or like
them equally well – this is a musical genius we’re talking
about, but that’s not the point. The point is whether the identity
of the style has been respected, the essence, the spirit. The genius chose
to forego that identity in the name of…of…of…of what, Paco? Perhaps
he’s right. Perhaps one becomes anchored in the past and flamenco,
for its own good, must be “enriched”, putting aside those
forms and adopting completely new ones. It’s possible after all,
that pork n’ beans with melon and fresh ground cinnamon is a dish
to die for…
So the question is…have I, or have I not, the right to turn down
a plate of lentil soup with bananas floating on top if I like my lentil
soup frickin’ straight? By the same token, the next guy has every
right in the world to eat his lentils any way he wants. And this goes
for all the flamencologists, and the “experts” who would defend
their fusion and two-bit flamenkito and consider that a “certain
sector” of flamenco fans represents intransigence and fossilized
art fit for museums. It’s virtually become a crime to listen to
traditional cante and no one dares to say they don’t like “nuevo
flamenco” lest they be attacked by the defenders of same. You HAVE
to swoon over the newest and the hippest, to the detriment of Chocolate,
Fernanda de Utrera, Terremoto and other old fogeys or suffer the consequences.
Not politically correct to say these things? Fine! Like a singer friend
said the other day, “I’m filled to the gills with so much
political correction, ignorance and Cracker Jack box wisdom.
So there.
Arzapúa
Black and white photograph of Paco de Lucía:
Carlos Arbelos
