A MEETING WITH CHANO LOBATO AND MARINA HEREDIA:

"Duende? I don't know what that's supposed to mean"

Alberto García Reyes. Seville, May 2002

The fountain of the Casa de la Judería breaks the silence. The streets of Seville bake under the relentless sun, but the shady refuge of the Santa Cruz neighborhood is like a cool balsam for Chano and Marina. Madrid awaits them. The old maestro has already done it all, and his young student has only just begun. But Chano is the first to show up for our meeting, shyly peering through the doorway. He carries a hand to his forehead, shading his eyes and cursing the glaring sun as he crosses the patio. The recital of wit and charm begins. Marina calls from her mobile phone to tell us that it will take her a bit longer to arrive. But far from a setback, this is an opportunity for Juan Miguel Ramírez Sarabia-the man from the Santa María neighborhood of Cádiz-to treat us to his art. He remembers a night when he sang for a señorito in this hotel, when it was still a palace owned by a wealthy family: "It rained cats and dogs that night. It was horrible, but I remember that we really needed the money." Marina Heredia interrupts the story, arriving with the Granada bullfighter Pedro Pérez, "Chicote." It seems like a metaphor: the hardships of the older flamenco artists paving the way for the arrival of fresh blood. In the ensuing conversation, he offers his advice and she listens attentively. They are not yet aware of their successful performances in the CajaMadrid festival, because this conversation took place a week beforehand. Here we have the thoughts of these two artists.

Marina Heredia (Photo: Anahí Cármody)

Chano, now that she's sitting here, what could you tell Marina to help her in her performance in Madrid?

Chano: She doesn't need any advice. I realized that the first time I heard her sing, in a village near Madrid. I can't remember where it was. She sang liviana, seguiriya and cabal, all perfectly. That was at least two or three years ago, and she was already singing that stuff at her age, so I don't think I can teach her anything. Just imagine, singing the styles of Paco la Luz and El Planeta. Kids like her are singing those things because they have the means to learn them. When I was growing up we never had those means. I remember that things were different even when you went in to make a recording: They'd set down an hourglass that you had to pay attention to, and we used to tie one on...

That's what they say about Manuel Torre, for example. That he was always really drunk when he recorded. Isn't that right, maestro?

Chano: Yeah. For example, people say that Manuel Torre's taranto is really good, but they should have made him eat the record! Like a tapa with a glass of fino. The end is horrible! He sings it all out of key.

Do you mention that in your biography that Juan José Téllez is writing?

Chano: Oh, at the pace we're going, it'll be finished in 2030. At least 14 people came to see me about writing my biography, and I finally decided on Téllez. He's too much. He came by my house and took a bundle of photos with him, but I don't know when he's going to start writing. He's too much for me. When he writes, it's one sheet of paper and four red wines. I told him not to come around any more, because he's going to send his work to the publisher and me to the graveyard! When he calls, I say that I can't make it because I have to go to Pamplona.

Maestro, we're changing the subject. Give Marina some advice, she's sitting there so quietly.

Chano: Okay, let's see... I want you to sing just the way you did when I heard you that night I mentioned. Start off with toná liviana, and get the crowd going. Then, sing that thing of yours about Caracol, and go on with cantiñas, and they're going to love it. But you have to do it with that style you've got. You're a really strong singer. I think it was in Alcobendas that first time that I heard you sing, and I was stunned. And with all that personality that you project, they're going to love you. I always say that I'm not against the evolution of the art, but things have to have a sense of proportion. You've got common sense, and I like people like that. But, nowadays, there are a lot of young people that say that they're cantaores, and I can't understand what they're doing. That's why I love listening to you. So, that's my advice: The way you're going, you're going to do just fine.

Chano Lobato (Photo: Anahí Cármody)

Marina, you must have something to say to that!

Marina: I think that Chano is one of the living institutions of flamenco. If you want to learn how to perform onstage, he's the one to look to, because nobody can do it better than Chano. He's so natural and so confident. And nobody can tell him how to sing, because he's one of the most complete singers today. It's an honor for me to hear him say those things about me. It's encouraging and it makes me feel confident about what I'm doing.

Chano, with all your experience, you must know what you're talking about. Do you think that Madrid is "the capital," like it says in the famous verse of Chacón's malagueña?

Chano: Madrid is Madrid. Before you turned that thing on (he points to the tape recorder), we were talking about bullfighting, and I said that, in that context, Madrid really bothers me in some ways. But for flamenco artists, it's one of the most important cities. Every time we go there to sing we have to try our hardest to win over the public.

Marina: Don't forget about Seville. It's more demanding.

Chano: Yeah, you're right about that. Crowds and critics aren't as demanding in Madrid.

Marina: Remember that, in Seville, there are more aficionados that understand what the artist is doing. Madrid has knowledgeable aficionados, too, but not as many.

Chano: That's life. Seville is a lot harder for artists that were born there.

I ought to remind you that people in Madrid are going to read this interview...

Chano: (Laughing) I'm 74 years old, and, at my age, I don't have to worry about impressing anyone, because it won't be long before my last fin de fiesta. But I do have to say, "Viva Madrid." I worked there for 30 years, and it's important for an artist to win over the capital. But, whatever the reasons may be, it's a lot harder in Seville. But if you're a real artist, and you've got style, it doesn't matter where you sing. One of the problems is that there are critics that don't know what they're writing about, because this is a hard thing to talk about (Marina laughs). That's the truth. Some of them have been doing this their whole life, and they still don't know, like that guy that'd been a city cop for 20 years and didn't know where the city hall was.

Marina: He didn't even know the mayor (laughter).

Chano: But I have a lot of good memories of Madrid. I went there the first time with Paco Toronjo, God bless him. We went to a tablao owned by Pastora Imperio called El Duende. That morning, before we went onstage, we had at least five or six glasses of cognac. We were scared to death. Toronjo went on drunk, and spent the next 30 years drunk. He got so drunk it lasted 30 years! Those were the days.

Marina: I've got a lot of respect for Madrid, because that's where all the journalists and artists are. I've always said that I'd like to be an artists' artist. The opinions of my colleagues are the ones that I listen to. I like it when they tell me if my singing is good or bad.

Do either of you believe in duende?

Chano: I don't know what that's supposed to mean. I know there are times when you're more inspired, even when you're starting to lose your voice. I think the guitar has something to do with it, because I've got a lot of respect for the instrument. It's important to sing with a guitar that supports you. There are days that you sing some silly little song, and it comes off great, and, other days, even though you've got a voice like Pavarotti, it's a disaster. It's a mystery.

Marina: I think duende is a relative thing. You have to be in shape and work at it every day. If you don't make the effort, the duende isn't going to appear and wave his magic wand. On some days, you'll be in a better mood than others, but that's the way things are.

Marina, ask Chano for some advice on what kind of work goes into singing, or on anything else that want to ask.

Marina: I could ask him about lots of things.

Chano: I'm going to give you the best advice of all: Don't ever stop studying. I remember that film on television-I think it was "Fame"-, when the teacher said, "You're going to sweat blood." That's the way it is. You never stop learning about this. I know you're going to take this seriously, because you've proven it to me. I lose track of you for a year, and you surprise me the next time I see you. That means that you're studying. And I'll say it again: At my 74 years of age, I've got nothing against the evolution of the art. But I don't want you to lose that respect for tradition.

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