Tomás de Perrate, flamenco cantaor. Interview

“I'm going to copy, which is the best way to learn”

Silvia Calado. Nîmes, January 2006
Translation: Joseph Kopec

Tomás de Perrate took a long time to bring out the legacy he guarded within. But when he felt cante's call, there was no turning back. The Utrera-born cantaor takes to his time the legacy from his father Perrate de Utrera and his grandfather Manuel Torres, capturing it in his performances and his recordings. The latest is ‘Perraterías’, a record produced by Ricardo Pachón, who left his trademark on some of the most emblematic albums by Camarón. As surprising as it may seem, this cantaor with an old-time echo was a rock drummer and he's inspired as much by Manolito de María as by Tom Waits. “If there's a natural evolution of flamenco, I think I'm a good example, since I belong to one of the greatest cantaor families, but I can't deny myself”.

What was the process of making ‘Perraterías’ like?

I think Ricardo Pachón had the desire to work with me. He was around a lot with my father - Perrate de Utrera - and is an enthusiast of that period. In fact, right now he's working on a project to recover old sound archives and in it are my father, Diego del Gastor, Fernanda and Bernarda... And he heard me sing at a Flamenco Fair and he came to meet me right away. When he saw the chance, we got down to making the album. It's a really short production in everything. We created a company; the record is ours and we made it with great pleasure.

Was there an idea ‘a priori’ of the line the album would follow?

Ricardo knew me as a classical cantaor and he thought I was that conventional. The idea was to make a record with guitar and voice. And in fact, I did it. But I didn't want to stick to my guns either because I like many types of music and I saw there were songs things could be put into. Being more revolutionary than me, he saw it right away.

There's that reggae blended with tangos by El Piyayo...

The reggae is recorded with a metronome and a guitar as a reference. Some Málaga tangos were recorded just like I do them in a classical repertoire. Since it was well-measured, it could be orchestrated. And it was clear that I could use some delightful rhythm with the collaboration of the musicians.

Do you think it might shock the fans who know you as a classical cantaor?

I'm very young within cante and I don't think people know me. You have to seek current techniques and it's not that they have to be sought out, but that you yourself are one. I've been singing since 1999, but before that I used to play the drums in a rock group. My house is full of instruments. You can't give up your life no matter how much you're Perrate de Utrera's son or Manuel Torre's grandson. If there's a natural evolution of flamenco, I think I'm a good example. Because I belong to one of the greatest cantaor families, but I can't deny myself and the musical influences I've had. Without meaning to criticize, I love the blues that José Mercé does, but perhaps he has less of that musical culture. I grew up with that.

So it's been completely natural for you, hasn't it?

Yeah. Moreover, working with Ricardo Pachón has been a great pleasure in that sense. He knows perfectly well what's right or wrong with an instrument. Nobody's told him what he has to do, but he does know how to choose. I think he lifts up the profession of musical producer to the category of art. He's even special in his dealings with the musicians: he doesn't command, but it's clear that he's the boss.

There are drums in a seguiriya because you wanted to prove something...

Last night I ended up talking to Diego Carrasco about the same thing. And he doesn't even have the album. He played the guitar for me yesterday and we'd never coincided. He was doing a rhythm for me on the guitar which is completely different from the usual one, but is nevertheless the original one. It's faster, more continuous, and obviously, well-measured... In short, the seguiriya is a cante designed to be done to rhythm; it's not free cante. That got on my nerves, above all when letting myself be accompanied. Because the guitarists are like waiting for you, they like fall behind... No sir; play the rhythm. When recording it, the same. I love the work the three of us have done: guitar, drums and cante. I love Antonio Moya's work in the seguiriya. Ricardo wanted to stick in more things, but I refused; I saw it as finished. I think it's turned out really approachable for all ears. Now then, really tiresome because it's very long. I would've removed some of the lyrics.

What was the bulerías party like with your family?

Oh, what a really nice thing. It was what I wanted to do. My siblings, my nephews and nieces, my wife, some gypsies from Utrera, who aren't really artists... all of them were delighted that I was recording the album. And when I told them to come down to the studio, they went mad. Ricardo asked me what drinks we should buy and I told him no, that we should buy food. And there they were, all friendly... If you pay attention, there are two cantes through bulerías; a tribute to my father and a tribute to my aunt – María la Perrata - and even though both are bulerías, they're completely different. In fact, that beaten-out bulería could only have turned out well like that. We tried to do it with studio clappers and it didn't work out.

Does family flamenco still exist?

Family flamenco exists everywhere. We gypsies singing, besides doing a lyrical genre, also get across our culture. It's a trademark that tells us more things than music. And in every flamenco home the singing goes on; it's inevitable. It's more necessary now with the life we lead. Yesterday I was telling Diego Carrasco, and he was surprised, that he'd become an icon for all gypsies. Since his nephews and nieces are crazy about him, he thinks it's only his people. But my nephews and nieces are also crazy about him because he represents an essential part of our culture: that ‘aje’, that tale, that grace, that rhythm. Diego is an important icon wherever you go. Farruquito is another big icon. Since there's no longer a family tradition, we need references of our culture like Diego Carrasco more than ever.

Tell us about what those ‘tales’ are.

How funny. It's also a gypsy thing, not just a thing of my great uncle Curro el Vereó. It isn't lying; it's making up stories and believing them yourself. And you tell them with ‘aje’ so that we all have fun. We kids used to get together with that uncle of mine in a little square. He was already pretty old, and he used to take off his shoes. And with a wooden clothespin, we'd sit around him and we had to scratch the soles of his feet. And he'd start telling us stories about ‘cascarreyes’, about salamanders that wore hats. And we kids used to flip out... but so did he! I used to see how he did the same thing with my father and with his friends. Gaspar de Utrera is also like that. Not long ago he told me: “Cousin, I'm real ecological, but if my wife's dog were to get run over by a truck and then by another...” Ha ha ha ha. Some stories... The infundio is making up stories to have a good laugh. And I've put them on the album doing the lyrics and the music, telling that I want to be a tenor.

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