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Chicuelo, flamenco guitarist.
Interview
‘Diapasión’
by Chicuelo, track by track
Silvia Calado. Madrid, February 2008
‘Tomodachi’ (fandangos)
This song came about in Japan. It comes
from an idea by a Japanese boy who studies with me, a
short phrase that gives me inspiration. Everything is
related. I wanted to pay tribute to Shoji
Kojima because I’ve been working with him for
many years; I wanted to give him a musical gift. And that’s
why it’s called ‘Tomodachi’, which means
friend in Japanese. The song was created and grew there.
Chicuelo |
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‘A la deriva’ (tangos)
They’re tangos which I already
had ready. At the beginning there’s a falseta which
is on the album ‘Mi
forma de vivir’ by Duquende, but it was done
before that. Those tangos were going to be played by Paco
de Lucía, but there was a mess with the dates,
with work... and overnight, I had to record them myself.
And then, I had to tear apart mine. Ha ha ha.
And afterwards I couldn’t see why I wasn’t
going to record them on my album. People don’t know
that nor do they have to know that, but it’s not
about why do you repeat yourself or why haven’t
you done something else. And they were done with a little
refrain on vocals, which was what I called El Salao for,
and I also included the trumpet to give it a different
color.
‘Somorrostro’ (bulerías)
As I did on the previous album, they’re
little short films... of falsetas. It isn’t a bulería
which has a common thread; it’s a lifelong bulería,
made from cuts. Flamenco guitar has always been like that,
but as it occurs in the fandangos ‘Tomodachi’,
now those toques turn into songs from top to bottom, into
stories with a common thread. But I still preserve the
way of using the falsetas, which are short stories.
-There are guitarists who say they feel
obliged to compose songs even though there’s so
much repertoire...
-It’s frowned upon for us flamenco
guitarists to perform others’ work. I’ve also
grown up with that idea because I’ve seen it; you
hear comments and that influences you. You’re told
yeah, that’s nice but deep down, what you’re
doing is giving someone else publicity. What publicity
do you have? What you need is to be given a little space,
to become known and to be talked about for your music,
not because you play somebody else’s music really
well. That doesn’t happen in cante. Well, it just
happens with Camarón; he’s the only one who
can’t be copied because it destroys you. You can
copy Mairena, Mojama, any of the old-time cantaores, but
if you copy Camarón,
they come after you. Check out what things are like, what
a mess. When he’s turned out to be one of the greats
in history and not just because of his revolution; it
all starts when he was young doing classical cantes with
a guitar. Now you do something by him or your voice sounds
like him and right away it’s like... When somebody
recalls Mairena nobody says he sings well, but that he’s
‘mairenero’. And in guitar, if you copy someone
it’s not well looked on. I don’t know if it’s
good or bad to do it. There are performers all over the
world and in classical guitar, most of them perform and
that’s great. But in classical the composers weren’t
performers. But in flamenco if you want to perform Paco
de Lucía, you have to play like him. That isn’t
so easy. If there was a guy composing at his house and
he called you up for you to play it, then it would be.
The music is his but the attack, the form, as there’s
no reference, there’s no comparison and you don’t
feel like you’re copying anyone. But that hardly
exists in flamenco. You have to play something that’s
already been played by Paco
de Lucía, Vicente
Amigo, Tomatito...
And moreover, contribute something, being guitarists with
so much character.
‘Crema catalana’
(rumba)
I continue along the same wavelength
as the previous album, on which I named the rumba ‘BCN’.
And in this one well, in tribute to the rumba, which has
an important part which is Catalan, well... If I do another
rumba, I’ll call it ‘Pan tumaca’ or
something like that. Ha ha ha. It’s a little distant...
or let’s say that in flamenco it’s been considered
a minor style like sevillanas, but the rumba catalana
has it’s charm; it’s a really good style.
And it’s not that my rumbas have anything to do
with rumbas catalanas, but it’s because of the style
in itself.
‘Diego’ (lullaby)
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Chicuelo (Photo Daniel
Muñoz) |
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The lullaby is to my son, to my Diego.
On the previous album I dedicated it to Sheila and if
not, he gets jealous. But Diego asked why Duquende hadn’t
sung in the lullaby, because he likes Duquende’s
album more than mine. He’s seven years old, but
he likes him a great deal... and he loves Camarón.
And he wants Duquende to dedicate a song to him, and asks
why there’s a trumpet and he hasn’t sung.
I’ll be damned, after all...
‘Huelva’ (fandangos
de Huelva)
They’re fandangos de Huelva but
with some little lyrics to add grace to the chorus. It’s
also a song which was composed about three years ago and
I wanted to recover it; it arose when I was doing Somorrostro.
I liked it a lot and I wanted to leave it on the album.
‘A tres’ (bulería)
It was a sort of waltz and in the end,
I decided to do it with Elisabeth Gex because it was a
really open song. I also wanted to do a song in which
the viola played the lead role, in tribute to the work
she’s done with me and in support of the instrument.
And she even has her moment when she improvises, nor do
I improvise. In some of the songs I didn’t want
to attach importance to myself, but rather give it to
the one whose turn it was. I’m not seeking success;
I don’t want to be too present. I like to be there
but I leave, I come back, I leave... I’m not the
typical guitarist who always wants to be there, no matter
who he has behind him. That lack of humility and that
lack of comradeship aren’t good. Some might think
the contrary, and ask why the viola played instead of
me playing... But it’s because it didn’t fit
in or because I didn’t feel like it. It isn’t
about who plays, but rather about you liking what you
hear. What does it matter?
Chicuelo |
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‘El Mirador’ (soleá
por bulerías)
El Mirador is the housing development
where I live. It’s a really nice place, a mountain
that’s wonderful. And I’ve gone there sometimes
with my guitar. It isn’t that I’ve done anything
special; they’re instants when you sit down and
take in the landscape or you go with your son who’s
playing in the park. It’s a very peaceful place
which I wanted to pay tribute to.
‘Sambiana’ (colombiana)
You can clearly see that it’s a
mixture of a colombiana and a samba. It has a lot of ‘brasileiro’
details and that’s where its name comes from. I
really like the rhythm and the harmony of Brazilian music;
it’s a great source for a guitarist. The sambiana
could even remain as a (flamenco) style. Ha ha ha.
‘Alalhambra’ (granaína)
‘Alalhambra’ - with another
‘al’ in front- is to make it still more
Moorish. It’s a song like the bulería, in
which each variation is a little story, a little tale.
I took some falsetas that I had which I really liked and
intertwined them and left them on the album. And that’s
how ‘Diapasión’ ends; very peacefully,
after a lot of struggle...
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