Javier Molina, Historical interview
by Juan de la Plata
(August, 1955)

This article was published in the Madrid newspaper "Dígame" on August 23rd, in 1955, and was written by the Jerez aficionado and author Juan de la Plata. The interview is accompanied by three photos of Javier, in one of which he is seen playing with classical postures. Juan Morao remembers Javier playing Tárrega compositions from sheet music on a stand.

JAVIER MOLINA, THE GUITARIST OF DON ANTONIO CHACÓN, IS STILL PLAYING AT EIGHTY-FIVE

He states that singing used to be better, and that modern flamenco is "patched up". He became ill when he heard of the death of Ramón Montoya. By Juan de La Plata.

Javier Molina can be considered the grand master of all the active flamenco guitarists in Spain. Despite his eighty-five years, he still teaches and plays occasionally for a group of gentlemen that have the habit of visiting his house to listen to the wizardly playing of the maestro.

In the Andalusian art of guitar playing, Javier Molina represents three fourths of a century of complete dedication to the most flamenco of all instruments. Three fourths of a century of constant strumming on stages, in cafés cantantes, country taverns, and the patios of ranches and estates. Javier has played flamenco since he was seven, and has spent his entire life accompanying flamenco song with his guitar playing. He has appeared onstage and many other places, where his great mastery has caused the admiration of his listeners at all of the most important fiestas.

He is the man who, with his art, most often accompanied the great Don Antonio Chacón, that genius who, with his singing, earned the title of Don. Among those of his class and profession, this is more than a simple title of honor and dignity, to be bestowed upon any decent person. He played his guitar por seguiriyas for Manuel Torres' singing (Niño de Jerez), and his exceptional artistic and thoroughly creative qualities have shone brightly alongside the most celebrated singers and dancers of recent years.

JAVIER'S FIRST YEARS AS AN ARTIST

Javier Molina was born in Jerez de la Frontera in a street of the typical Santiago neighborhood that is named after the patron saint of the city: "Nuestra Señora de la Merced." He grew up in Jerez, where he still lives, in a house in the San Pedro neighborhood. We went there to see him, in order to hear what he has to say about his life and his art.

Javier's apartment is small, with two or three rooms. On the walls, one can see paintings of the Virgin, guitars, photos from his days of splendor past, of his childhood, a portrait of the bullfighter Lagartijo el Grande, and a painting of our Lord, the "Señor del Gran Poder." His entire house is saturated with that old flavor found in the houses of elderly artists that have nearly completely withdrawn from public life.

Javier attended to us courteously, inviting us to sit down. He took out his old but well-conserved guitar and began to play seguiriyas, soleares, alegrías, tientos, farrucas... All playing styles, the dramatic as well as the frivolous, come to life through his talent and artistry; through the smooth and agile hands of a marvelous artist. Without putting down his companion the guitar, he explained to us how he began as an artist. He spoke about playing in public at eight years of age in the old Alameda area of Seville, between performances at a modest puppet theater owned by a blind violinist. Javier made his first earnings there: Two pesetas a day!

The old guitarist never learned from teachers. He only received a few classes from an aficionado friend of his brother-a celebrated dancer that went on to form a trio with Javier and Chacón. The three were unknown at the time, and began to perform in public in cafés cantantes, forming part of what were then called "artistic concerts."

THE STORY OF THE FIVE-PESETA PIECE

This story is from one of those concerts. Javier tells us as he caresses the strings of his instrument.

"We performed in a colmado in Facinas, a little town in the campo de Gibraltar, and when we passed the tray around, a drunk threw in a duro (five-peseta piece). Just imagine how thrilled we were. Nobody would give you that much back then; it was a fortune for us. Since that was something to celebrate, we had a fiesta for this generous member of the audience, and it went on for nearly an hour. So imagine our surprise when, the next day, we see this drunk from the night before come into the hotel demanding that we give him back the duro! He said that, because he was a 'bit tipsy,' he hadn't realized how much he'd given us. So, naturally, we didn't give it to him, and, after raising a big fuss, he went back to wherever he'd come from." Since we're into anecdotes, Javier also tells us what happened to a less than brilliant singer that he was accompanying onstage.

"The poor fellow hadn't slept for several days because he'd been traveling, and he fell asleep right there onstage. He fell into the orchestra pit, and he went on singing, all covered with blood."

"I'VE PLAYED FOR THE BEST AND THE WORST"

The maestro tells us:

I've played for the best and the worst singers.

Who was the best, maestro?

There've been good and bad singers.

But the best...

Don Antonio Chacón. He was the most complete singer that I ever met.

Did you play for him often?

Just about any time that he sang. He was a great friend and a perfect gentleman.

How many more famous singers have you accompanied with the guitar?

Tomás el Nitri; Manuel Torres, Niño de Jerez; Caoba; señor Manuel Molina; Paco la Luz; Loco Mateo; Chato de Jerez, the Marrurro brothers, La Serna, Cabeza, Frijones, and a lot more whose names would make an endless list, among them, Juan Breva, Canario, Fosforito, and Mescle, who was worth a whole cortijo (ranch) when he sang, and was really funny.

Who was better, Chacón or Manuel Torre?

I've already said that Don Antonio was the most complete, but I liked Manuel Torres por seguiriyas more. Now then, Chacón was a genius por malagueñas. And those caracoles of his!

What style is that?

A style of alegrías that Don Antonio Chacón created and sung como los ángeles (like the angels).

Which of today's artists have you played with?

With Niña de los Peines. I toured Spain for two years with her and Estampío and Cojo de Málaga; with Lola Flores, in her first performances in public, when she was sixteen and I gave her dance lessons; and with Manolo Caracol, who I accompanied in his debut in Madrid when he was still just a kid, in the theater "del Centro," in Atocha Street, with Ramírez, who was a very famous dancer.

Did you know Ramón Montoya?

We were close friends, and we performed together on many occasions. Every time he was asked who was the better of the two, he'd answer that I was. He sure could lie, because he was the greatest player of all time. When I heard that he had died, it hit me so hard that I got ill, and I had to be put to bed.

What styles are the easiest and the most difficult in flamenco guitar?

The easiest is sevillanas, and bulerías is the hardest to play on the guitar.

Please tell us about modern singers.

There are good ones and bad ones; there always have been.

Your favorite?

Manolo Vallejo. He knows the most, and sings the best of today's artists.

"MODERN FLAMENCO IS PATCHED UP"

What do you think of modern singing?

It's patched-up flamenco. People used to sing much better than they do today.

Who's the best modern guitarist?

Without a doubt, Niño de Ricardo.

Have you had many students?

Quite a few. In the six or seven years since my retirement, I haven't stopped teaching. Before that, I'd taught the daughters of Bombita III and Morenito de Algeciras. After I'd stopped performing, I taught a few that are professionals today. Some of them are Lápiz, Palma, and the Moraíto brothers.

A POEM BY JULIÁN PEMARTÍN

The conversation trails off with the old guitarist. We've gone up to the terrace so that Pereiras can play some records. Javier complains that the old cafés cantantes have disappeared forever. According to him, they were like universities of cante. He proposes the creation of an educational center to train the voices of inexperienced singers, teaching them to sing well, so that pure flamenco does not disappear. He confesses to us that he is a fervent follower of Lagartijo, the bullfighter. He tells us about the recordings he has made, and reminds us of the homage to Don Antonio Chacón in Jerez, the land of his birth, in 1933, and in which Javier took part. Others intervening were Pemán, Julián Pemartín, and all of the Jerez flamenco artists of that time. We also spoke of another fiesta that took place three years ago, celebrating the bicentennial of Domecq, in the well-known vineyard "El Majuelo," where Julián Pemartín improvised a poem that began with: ¿Qué tendrás, noche divina, que en mi recuerdo te borre? Tocaba Javier Molina y cantaba Manuel Torres...

What is it about you divine night,
that blurs my memory of you so?
Javier Molina was playing,
and Manuel Torres was singing...

Interview: Juan de la Plata
Translation: Norman Paul Kliman