Interview with Daniel Méndez, guitarist:

"Morón isn't a style of playing,
but a way of touching the strings"

Fernando González-Caballos. Morón (Sevilla), noviembre de 2002
Translation: Estela Zatania

You can tell the young man is happy, a big smile gives it away. The year 2002 has been his year, despite the fact that those who said he was a shoe-in for the guitar-playing prize at the Twelfth Bienal de Flamenco were mistaken. Although he only made it to the finals, he played professionally on the great stages of the Seville festival on three occasions. Daniel Méndez, formerly Dani de Morón, speaks with a more confident voice now that in his hometown of Morón de la Frontera (Seville), fans and detractors have had no choice but to bow to the evidence. The young guitarist strips away the mystique from the Morón style of playing with no desire to start any debates: "My thing is playing guitar, period". Which is why, there are never enough hours in the day to pick up the instrument and lock himself in his room, the starting-point for a guitarist who has just barely begun to walk.

	Daniel Méndez (Photo: Javier Hurtado)

Are you attracted to the controversy?

Just the right dose of tongue-in-cheek arrogance (laughter), and if it's none, so much the better, because you know what happens to the politically incorrect in Morón.

Let's get down to the heart of the question. What is Morón style?

In my opinion, Moron guitar isn't a style of playing, but a way of touching the strings, depending heavily on the base strings, and free of advanced technique. The thing is, there are people who think I've got a lot of nerve to say such a thing. But now that Paco de Lucía has also said it, maybe things will change, don't you think? But knowing the kind of people we've got in town, they might just go and say that Paco doesn't know what he's talking about either. It's such a dead issue that it's best to leave things as they are. I don't want confrontations with anyone, my thing is playing guitar, period.

How has your life changed over the last year?

Wow! That's some question to ask! (He meditates for a moment and then continues). Up until this year I really didn't know what my real calling was. Nevertheless, now I'm beginning to see it all more clearly. Things aren't as easy as they appear, but you don't go around complaining to people either. Every person has to be in charge of his or her life and live the experiences it brings. When you join a dance company and start to travel a lot of things change. The people in the group become your family. They're the only ones there with you, for better or for worse. Those are the experiences that teach you to tell one thing from another.

First came El Mimbre, isn't that so?

Yes indeed, Manuel Corrales, El Mimbre, was the first person to put me up on stage and make me feel the power of this art. Because it's even more difficult when you're up there. Even now I get gooseflesh when I remember the seguiriya Curro Fernández sang for him at the eleventh Bienal de Sevilla. Poor thing, as sick as he was. It was magical. (He pauses before continuing...). What I learned in those dressing-rooms with El Mimbre and Curro Fernández is incredible.

And then, Antonio Canales...

Exactly. In April of last year I went to see 'Bailaor' at the Lope de Vega and ended up filling in for one of the company guitarists for the group's tour of Brazil. The first time I spoke to him I had no idea I would end up in his group. It was really a surprise. A crucial turning-point in my career.

How did you come to play for Javier Latorre?

By sheer chance. A few days earlier I had been watching a rehearsal. With the premiere of 'Rinconete y Cortadillo' just nine days away, one of the guitarists quit and I was called to ask if I could take his place. Imagine what that meant. There was no turning back, so I had to get myself together to learn Juan Carlos Romero's music in the few remaining days.

In addition to the music, there was more to it: you had a part to interpret.

Pepe Quero, the stage director, gave me a rundown of the part I had to play. At first I refused to get into the character they proposed because I felt ridiculous. Nevertheless, when I saw I was the only one who didn't behave like everyone else, I realized that it was me who was standing out. That, along with the surprise of seeing Enrique el Extremeño dressed up as Monipodio, was what made me change my mind.

How would you compare the two experiences?

Canales is more classic when it comes to setting shows. On the one hand you have the group of dancers, and on the other the musicians. Latorre breaks away from that format to move all the members of the group around the stage. He's a choreographic genius. Which doesn't mean one is any better than the other, but simply that they have different concepts. They say variety is the spice of life, don't they?

And what have you got to say about the outcome of the Bienal contest?

	"I'm not going to say that I wouldn't have liked to win the Bienal contest, because it would be a lie"

What can I say? Lots of butterflies, and lots of responsibility. The Lope de Vega theater commands respect. In any case, now that some time has passed I can say, with absolute confidence, that I didn't even play up to thirty percent of my capability that night.

They say that all the guitarists on the panel of judges except Manolo Sanlúcar voted for you...

You know how contests are. People talk and talk because there's always something to gossip about. It's impossible to get everyone to agree. I'm not going to say that I wouldn't have liked to win, because it would be a lie. Eduardo Trasierra deserved to win and it's going to be a great boost for getting work, because that's what it's all about. My only regret is that I didn't play the way I would have liked to play. Just to be there is a prize in itself, because it's recognition of your work as composer and interpreter. And if you add to that the fact of having played in three different shows over the course of the Bienal, the bottom line is more than positive.

What's your next project?

Besides following the same line of work that I've been in up to now, playing for cante and dance, I'm going to debut as author of the music for a new show which I'm not prepared to discuss at this moment. It's a project I've really put everything into. And then, of course, I'll keep studying to see if I can also be a soloist some day. But I'm still a long way from that.

What guitarists have the greatest influence on Daniel Méndez now?

In addition to Paco de Lucía, there's El Viejín, Riqueni, Juan Carlos Romero, Manuel Parrilla, Cañizares, Paco Jarana, Chicuelo, Gerardo Núñez... and many more whose names I've surely left out, but who make their appearance as soon as I lean the guitar across my legs to play.

What about Manolo Morilla and Alfonso Clavijo?

Well...they are my maestros, and two of finest people I've even known in the world of flamenco. Don't anyone doubt it for a moment.

revista@flamenco-world.com