Jerónimo, guitarist. Interview

“I'm in search of the artist that I have in my mind
and in my heart, but I still haven't reached him”

Silvia Calado. Madrid, May 2004
Translation: Joseph Kopec

Jerónimo is a veteran making his début. The Madrilenian guitarist, a professional since he was a child, has patiently waited to publish his first album, which has his name since “it's what I am, simple and natural”. ‘Jerónimo’ is what one would call a sincere letter of introduction since, far from proving anything, the guitarist confesses that it merely reflects his way of feeling music. Not in vain does he want it to be “an album within everyone's reach”. And in fact, displaying broad-mindedness, he fosters flamenco's coexistence with those other types of music he confesses he is in love with, like classical music and jazz. Although he is surrounded by great artists such as El Indio Gitano and José Antonio Galicia, nothing overshadows his guitar, a guitar with a capital G which draws on three sources that are a must: Ramón Montoya, Sabicas and Paco de Lucía. Now it is the next generation's turn.

‘Jerónimo’ is a much-awaited album since, despite your youth, you have an extensive career. Has it been a problem that you were labeled a child prodigy?

I'm always asked the same thing. I always say that I'm not child prodigy; I never have been. I've had the great luck of having a dad - guitarist Felipe Maya - who's treated me like a child. My dad used to tell me: “Sit down and study, you're playing very badly, you're doing this, this and this wrong... Sit down and study”. And he wouldn't let me watch the videos, afterwards the two of us would watch them and he used to tell me: “Look, rewind, you screwed up there, there again, don't you see? You're off track there”. I didn't use to understand it. I would say: “Damn, my father. Is one a piece of shit or what?” But now I realize he was doing the right thing.

I'd be given cups at school or in a contest and don't think my father used to keep them or anything; a cousin of mine would come and he'd give them to him. And I'd ask about the cup and he'd tell me: “What cup? But you can buy that. Tomorrow I'll take you and I'll buy you another one”. And thank God he did that. I'm grateful to him for it and that's why I don't have any child prodigy trauma or anything like that. At home I was ‘Momo’; that's what they used to call me because Jerónimo sounded very harsh. It was a very normal family ambience, since they're musicians... Rather, I've always had to be a straight shooter since my father is one of the great experts on today's guitar. Instead of pampering me, my family kept me busy: “Listen, it's time for you to learn this and listen...”.

And now?

The same nowadays, things haven't changed; my dad is still the same, is more critical now. To me his silence is a “that's not bad”. And since he's right, he doesn't cut you down just for the fun of it, but since he's such a long-time expert, he has the proof to justify it to you. It's like if you go to the doctor. My dad's a music doctor. And I haven't been through that child prodigy thing. I wasn't allowed to think about that; rather I thought about other things, like my father used to tell me. In fact, there was a very important job offer when I was twelve years old for an exclusive four-year deal abroad, which was when I worked at the bullring in Málaga with Camarón and I'd already worked at Carnegie Hall with Paco de Lucía. My dad said no, that I had to go to school and study, that I had to lead a normal life, that I was a child. My father is that natural. Rather he goes overboard being how he is. He tells me: “Listen, no matter how you dress it up, the Manzanares (River) is full of shit. You may like it, OK, whatever you want, but the Manzanares...”. And what can you say to him if he's right?

How would you present your first album?

I think the title speaks for itself. ‘Jerónimo’ is what I am, simple and natural, which is how I like things to be. It's a record that really expresses what I am. Doing a self-portrait is hard... I always say that I'm in search of the artist I have in my mind and in my heart; I still haven't reached him and I never will. It's all a quest, an experience.

	"Though I've been a flamenco, and it's normal because there are a hundred and fifty years of flamenco history in my surname, I've always expanded towards other types of music"

Since it's your letter of introduction, have you tried to show you're a flamenco?

I don't think about that. I express what I feel and that's all. It's an album of what I feel, of what I'm like. I don't try to... In music you shouldn't aim to do anything or try to do anything, in music you are or you aren't. I didn't want to say that I'm a flamenco, no, no, no. I don't even think so. When you really are, you don't want to say what you are. I have loads of friends from other types of music, I play the record for people who don't have a clue about flamenco; they listen to it as music and they like it. I think it's an album within everyone's reach; it's a guitar album with very good people such as El Indio Gitano, Miguel el Rubio, Ramón Porrinas, Lucky Losada, José Antonio Carmona and my brother Leo de Aurora, with whom I play a tune that isn't flamenco, you see? And there's also ‘Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’, which is a zapateado, but it's a tribute to how much I've always loved classical music. Though I've been a flamenco, and it's normal because there are a hundred and fifty years of flamenco history in my surname, I've always expanded towards other types of music and I've fallen in love with other types of music since I was very little. And in my concerts it's plain to see.

Talk to us about those collaborators. There's the last collaboration by José Antonio Galicia, a recording by El Indio Gitano...

I have the great fortune that great figures always collaborate with me. I called Jose (Antonio Galicia, who passed away last September) and he came and played like that, the way he plays, I'm not saying anything new. That's the way he used to play and that's the way he's still playing because he now rests in another world. I have the same thing to say about El Indio Gitano...

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