Chicuelo, flamenco guitarist. Interview
“In music, the lack of humility
isn’t good”
Silvia Calado. Madrid, February 2008
Translation: Joseph Kopec
Following many seasons of devotion
to other causes, Chicuelo
renews his own. ‘Diapasión’ is the
second solo album by the Catalan guitarist, a lengthy
record on which more than classicism, “there’s
searching and current importance”. He doesn’t
run away from external influences, nor much less so from
teamwork, since he likes for the musicians he’s
surrounded by “to give me ideas, to give me energy,
to give me their version”. Sometimes even putting
them before himself, since “I’m not seeking
success”. And the thing is that he’s one of
the ones who considers that in music “neither the
lack of humility nor the lack of comradeship is good”.
His is a shared passion.
Chicuelo (Photo Daniel
Muñoz) |
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Seven years have gone by since
your first album, ‘Cómplices’, was
released. Why has the second one taken so long?
The truth is that I haven’t stopped
doing stuff since ‘Cómplices’ came
out. Among other things, producing, which is a difficult
task and which wears you down a great deal psychologically:
records by Miguel
Poveda, by Duquende...
They’re their albums, but in a way, they’re
my albums due to the work and the effort in the composing,
in the guitar, in the production, in everything that’s
cooked up there, which really wears you down. I’ve
also been composing for Barcelona’s Compañía
Somorrostro, with two shows they assigned me to do the
music for. And afterwards, the musical ‘Tarantos’,
which is the one that took me the longest. It’s
all been done over these past few years, apart from working
live and going to Japan annually, where I do the musical
directing and production for Shoji
Kojima’s shows.
Which is no small thing...
The truth is that you don’t have
so much energy left as for a guitar album, but what I
have done over the course of these years, little by little,
is to compose songs. And when I saw the whole, I decided
to do it, seeking the space. It wasn’t a matter
of leaving everything I was doing and composing an album.
No, because that’s tremendously complicated and
takes a long time. No, it was little by little.
What was the recording phase
like?
In early 2007 I made an agreement with
the studio - not with the record company, since I did
it without a record company -, to start making my album
in the spare time I had. I began to get down to it, I
started doing one thing, I started doing another... and
as the tracks and collaborations came along, the album
started to take shape, until the ten songs were finished.
At first, I intended to choose nine out of the ten, but
in the end I didn’t want to take off any. The truth
is that it’s an album with many minutes of guitar;
it isn’t usually like that. I could have kept some
ace up my sleeve for another record. After such a long
time, I wanted to be generous.
In the listening there’s
a glimpse of great complexity in the instrument...
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Chicuelo (Photo Daniel
Muñoz)
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Yeah, it’s a really elaborate record.
At least, so that they don’t find fault with me,
so that they don’t say that after so long, I just
did thirty-five minutes. I think it’s like fifteen
minutes longer than what the average usually is. I didn’t
want to remove them and leave them for another album in
order to strive to compose new things. Who knows when
I’ll record again? It might take me three years
or it might take five. It depends on my state of mind,
if the score comes quickly or if I’m following the
same system... Right now I’m producing an album
for my niece, cantaora Mónica Navarro, which we’re
waiting to mix. And it’s another adventure.
How do you tackle composing?
It comes about quite naturally. I grab
my guitar and as the ideas spring up, I develop them.
I think, like most people. That first idea is the one
you start developing, which you use, which you shape up.
And sometimes the idea doesn’t go anywhere, it remains
just an idea... because nothing comes out or because you
don’t feel like it or because it isn’t your
day. I don’t know.
How have you changed from ‘Cómplices’
to this new album?
I think I offer the same thing, but with
more maturity, of course, more settled down. I think the
listener can perceive that more than me. I think I’ve
matured in every sense, in the rhythmic sense, in the
musical sense... I think so, but it’s a perception
with which I don’t want to detract from the other
album. I still like it after seven years. And that’s
impressive because most of the guitarists I’m with,
when they listen to something old of theirs, they don’t
like it. I don’t know why. Nor do I listen a lot
to what I do. I listen to it while I’m recording
it to see if this fits in, if it doesn’t... Although
not to enjoy it, but rather to try and find the mistakes,
for it not to have any. When I’ve finished, I listen
to it two or three times and that’s all. I haven’t
listened to it again since it came out.
Are you very self-critical?
Yes, of course I am. That’s why
I try for the record to come out in the best shape and
for it to have as few errors as possible, within what
can be considered an error on an album. Whether you like
it or not doesn’t mean it’s an error. There
might be an error in something in the tuning which you
haven’t perceived, or something in the rhythmics.
I try for the mix to be good, for everything to be heard.
If there are eight elements, for all eight to be heard.
And above all, to give the musicians collaborating with
me their space; they don’t do it for the mere fact
of collaborating. I want it to be a team. And if Ray plays,
for him to contribute. Not to write the notes for him
that he has to do, but for him to give me ideas, give
me energy, give me his version. At any rate, when I go
to the studio the record’s never closed; there’s
seventy-five percent closed and twenty-five percent open.
And when I finish a song it isn’t what it used to
be, because I change things as I go along which I liked
at first. Since the studio is usually colder, I no longer
like them so much and I have to seek a solution there.
I don’t stop until I like it. That’s the percentage
that I leave open in my way of working. And I leave it
open to that and to proposals by my colleagues... I’m
not a dictator; on the contrary.
The team of musicians is quite
select...
I can’t say anything about Carles
Benavent which isn’t already known; he’s
a monster. And he’s a musician I’d always
collaborated with on other people’s albums, never
our own. We’ve finally been able to record together,
which we were really excited about. And I did a song on
an album of his which will come out soon. It was an exchange.
Elisabeth Gex has been working with me for many years
and although she isn’t well-known in the flamenco
world, since she comes from classical and she’s
American, she’s a girl with a lot of energy, she’s
really brave, I like her character, her way of playing.
And I understood that there was no better person for recording
than her. Moreover, I think it has to be like that. I
find people detestable who work with certain musicians
and afterwards call up so-and-so because he’s more
renowned to do the same thing the other one was doing,
who he keeps on calling for the concerts because he doesn’t
have enough money to pay the ‘famous’ one.
That’s why I wanted the people I work with to come.
You can invite some star, but without forgetting about
the people you count on.
Chicuelo with Miguel Poveda
(Photo Daniel Muñoz)
And Ray is a musician from Barcelona
who plays unbelievably. He comes from jazz, but above
all else, he loves experimenting, he enjoys it and makes
us all enjoy it. He’s always contributing. El Salao
is a kid who isn’t well-known that sings in the
tangos. I love him, but he’s a kid from Huelva who
isn’t prolific; he doesn’t usually sing there.
I think he’s brilliant; he has moments of brilliance,
of madness, of doing wonderful stuff... Sometimes he does
things I would kill him for, but that’s the way
geniuses are. And people don’t fully understand
him. In the fandangos there’s El Londro and Mónica,
who are cantaores that are better known in the artistic
world and I wanted to help them a little in the sense
of them being heard. Roger is an incredible percussionist,
Isaac is also phenomenal, there are basses by Javi Martín,
by Kiflus and a contrabass by Rai Ferre in the lullaby.
They’re all wonderful musicians and the important
thing is what they give on this album and not how each
of them is labeled. When they come with too big of a label,
that can’t be handled; it’s uncontrollable.
Some of them bring influences
from other types of music. How do they affect you?
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you listen to then appears unconsciously when you
pick up your guitar..." |
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Yeah, but they’re super-professionals,
they know how to adapt, they know how to contribute and
they also know how to listen. That’s really important
to know how to listen and to know who has the last word;
in this case, me. And I live it the same way as I was
saying before about composing, naturally. I listen to
the music I like. I think there’s good music in
nearly every style. And the only thing is for the musicians
to be good, for there to be heart in what’s done,
for there to be feeling. Everything you listen to then
appears unconsciously when you pick up your guitar...
like what’s playing now. If you listen carefully
to this piano (which is playing in the cafeteria where
we are), later you might start with the guitar and something
comes out which has to do with this. You don’t remember
any more, but it happens. That’s why many times
certain melodies remind you of others. That’s the
way to absorb something Brazilian or jazz or fusion or
soul or Argentinean tango... any kind of music.
And there’s no danger for
flamenco...
My album isn’t a classical guitar
album. Whoever isn’t aware of that is mistaken.
My album is loaded with fusion, it’s loaded with
nuances from other types of music, with chords, with harmony...
and with instruments that don’t have anything to
do with flamenco. They can be integrated, but I haven’t
made a classical album. If I had done so, I wouldn’t
have called any of those musicians. There’s a bit
of searching, a bit of current importance. But in short,
I haven’t forced absolutely anything; I like what’s
there. To listen to and to play. And I like a solo guitar,
obviously. Who knows? On the next album I might go the
other way.
Although some of the songs like
the granaína are with solo guitar, aren’t
they?
Yeah, but few. Looking at the ten songs,
there’s a granaína, there’s a soleá
which, apart from the beginning and end which is a kind
of refrain, the middle is a bulería por soleá.
Although it has chords and a different tuning from the
usual, it’s really guitar style. And the bulería
and the fandangos de Huelva... I don’t mean that
the album doesn’t include classical guitar, but
in general, it has a different concept.
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