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Did you have access to recordings to listen
to cante?
There were recordings, but in my house we never had one of those record-players.
And now there are a lot of recorded singers that I don't like. Everything in this
world can be learned, but all that matters is what comes out in the end. Look,
I can't read or write. Who needs to? God gave me this gift, I know about art and
about people, I know how to be with people...
When you were young Pepe Marchena was very important. What do you have to
say about him?
Marchena was a singer who had lots of music that was different and very beautiful...
his repertoire was endless. He was the apple of everyone's eye. And when he died
I brought out a cante, 'Se murió Pepe Marchena'.
La Sallago in 1969
What are your favorite cantes?
I sing everything... I like all the cantes. My mother sang the old cantiñas
a lot, always in the family. I like soleá, tientos, fandangos, malagueña,
taranto...
In your youth did people sing much soleá and siguiriya?
They used to sing a lot of flamenco cuplés, Imperio Argentina's songs.
She was of gold and I'm of clay because I'm a flamenca. Real true cante was less
common. My grandfather Sallago and my mother sang siguiriyas, the old styles.
My father was also a very good singer, but I never knew him. And the bulerías
of my town were beautiful, very paused... [She begins beating on the table
with her knuckles and sings: "Yo tendí mi camisón, ay con lunares
coloraos..." 'I hung out my blouse, the one with red polkadots...'] When
I was a young girl I loved polkadot dresses, with ruffles, and I was quite a live
wire... ["...lunares, lunares, lunares, mi batita de lunares, el domingo
me la puse y salieron los novios a pares", 'oh those polkadots, my polkadot
dress, I wore it last Sunday and the boys flocked to my side'] Lots of people
used to come from Lebrija to hear the Sallagos, not in any theater, but at my
house. Because my brothers liked their little glass of wine, going about their
business and that's it...they sang very well but they never wanted to go out.
And we were always fretting because people would come over, but we couldn't afford
to fix up the house. And when my mother was already widowed she used to sell shrimp
and she would sing: "Sacando yo el copo lloré, porque quería
un camaroncito y el viento rompió la red", 'I wept when I was dragging
in the catch because I just wanted one little shrimp and the wind tore the net'.
That's old cante from Sanlúcar.
Did you know La Periñaca?
What a great singer La Periñaca! She used to say that she was four times
twenty, and now I have to say "four times twenty plus three euros" [she
laughs]. And neither one of us gypsy... lots of people think so, but it's
not true. Then there was this guy who said he'd dug up ancestors in my family,
you know, showing that I was a gypsy. But it was all a lie. One time when I was
at the Price (major Madrid theater), and I swear on my life that this is true,
because it went down in history... There was a cup to be awarded and all the singers
wanted to give it to Antonio Molina, know what I mean? But that night I really
grabbed the crowd and the audience protested, "no, for the gypsy girl!",
because they thought I was gypsy. And Antonio Molina had a fit because he said
the cup had to be for him. So they had to give another cup to Antonio Molina.
You toured with Pastora Pavón, La Niña de los Peines, didn't
you?
Yes indeed, and with her husband Pepe Pinto. And with Pastora Imperio, Pericón
de Cádiz, Manolo Vargas... When my husband was ailing, that's when I was
singing with all those important stars. And I was dancing a lot then too, because
I was also a dancer, you know? The thing is that now, with this face and this
body... because I don't have wrinkles, I've got crevasses! If I go out dancing
people will kill me. But there are people who love me, that guy from Rota with
all the gold teeth, what's his name? Agujetas! He really loves me and he takes
me to his house in Rota and says "you're staying here with me". Just
like Terremoto who adored me... and Porrinas de Badajoz, who was crazy about me...
and La Niña de los Peines. We were in the Campana once, in Seville, and
I said to her: "Pastora, how can I get rid of these bags under my eyes?"
Without skipping a beat she says: "With a steam roller!" What a riot!
You also knew Caracol didn't you?
You bet I did! I was always alongside Caracol. As far as I'm concered he was
the greatest singer of all time. Perrate too, what a great singer. Mairena knew
a lot about cante also. I'm crazy about La Paquera. And that Perla de Cádiz!
Each one in his or her own way, don't you think that's beautiful? Gypsy cante,
Andalusian cante and those songs from Aragon and from Jalisco... But what I like
best is gypsy cante because it comes from the heart.
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"Young artists can't make a living with siguiriya and solea,
and neither could I"
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In a 1989 interview with Manuel Herrera you stated: "Flamenco singing
is losing its way and must go back to where it was". Has it gone back?
Who said that, me? Don't tell me! Cante continues to exist, and some of it
is very good, like that José Mercé or Camarón, that's real
cante. I'm not that good, but it's also real cante. Now there are a lot of good
people... but flamenco flamenco, no. They sing these things, you know, with a
kind of flamenco sound. Let me tell you girl, young artists can't make a living
with siguiriya and soleá, and neither could I. I'm also one of those people
who did that other stuff, like the young people today. And I sing sevillanas,
clipped, different from everyone else. And nobody gives me the verses or anything,
I make them up myself. There are some very good young people, very good. What's
that boy who dances? Canales! Wow... what an artist! I really like him a lot.
Is traditional cante becoming a lost art?
[There is a long pause...] I don't think it's getting lost because there's
always a select audience, if something is good it never gets lost. There are audiences
who are more knowledgeable and less knowledgeable. The young people want action,
and those pretty women and those cute young boys. When someone like me comes out
singing, they don't really understand. Two years ago I sang in La Roda and it's
painful to recall, but what happened was, when I went out on stage there was this
groan from the audience: "Ooooh!" Like they felt sorry for me, know
what I mean? And I've come to understand the reality of life in that sense. I'm
just not presentable girl... [she knocks out compás on the table and
sings: "Qué feíta es la vejez, desaparece la ilusión,
y ya no hay naíta que hacer", 'Old age is so ugly, all your dreams
vanish and there's nothing you can do'].
That night at the peña nobody seems concerned about the singer's lack
of physical beauty. Amongst the audience there are many young people as well as
old, gypsies and non-gypsies. And La Sallago effortlessly wins them over with
her richly worn voice and still admirable faculties. They love her, they shout
encouragement and cheer her on at every moment. The singer intersperses cantes
with little dances and observations about the realities of life. And her words
again melt into cante. It's obvious she is comfortable singing with Fernando Moreno
who lovingly accompanies her...malagueña, tientos, soleá, tangos,
bulerías, siguiriyas, fandangos... She returns the admiration singing over
and over: "Qué bien toca mi Fernando!, con ese ritmo y ese compás",
['Fernando plays so great, with that rhythm and that compás']. When
a small child runs rudely across the stage everyone scolds him, but the singer
silences us adults improvising a verse about the beautiful innocence of childhood...
and about the children "I never bore".
revista@flamenco-world.com
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