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“You're a gypsy”

 

Manolo Sanlúcar
   

He currently spends most of his time at his home at El Pedroso in the province of Seville, but his heart still lies beside the mouth of the Guadalquivir, in Sanlúcar. When he spoke to Bohórquez he was clearly offended that the province of Cadiz had neglected him, although he does feel the people of Jerez have a special affection for him: “When I was 17 I was with La Paquera. I'd go to Jerez and there I felt all the warmth of the gypsies,” he affirms today in this long chat with Flamenco-world.com. Until there came a day when I told them I wasn't a gypsy, I was a 'gachó' and they took offence: “You're a gypsy”. The truth is the gypsies from Jerez are a breed apart. When Manuel El Sordera went out onto the street it was like he owned it. The Jerez 'gitanos' are a kind of aristocracy. Not long ago even the landowners boasted of their gypsy roots. The gypsies I'm talking about didn't consider me an outsider because I didn't behave like a 'gachó', not because of my roots. But to me those are still outsiders.”

Perhaps on guitar it's harder to notice the nuances of the gitano styles that characterize some cantes: “A taranta comes from the north of Andalucía. And when it's performed in the south it's still based on the Andalusian cadence. Cadence means scale. The Andalusian cadence is the framework for the taranta, just as it is for the seguiriya or anything else you play. Any other kind of comparison is just random stuff. There are differences in expression, in gesture, in the cries, even between the past and present. Today it's known - at least I've read - that during Arabian and Berber rule of what was then the caliphate of Al-Andalus, the Maghribian troops were accompanied by Indian people who brought their songs to this land. So centuries later when the gypsies came to Andalucía, they found music they recognized as their own and which they hadn't found elsewhere on their long journey across Europe from India.”

“Pride attacks, satisfaction doesn't”

Manolo Sanlúcar hasn't hesitated in making political commitments, as an activist with Enrique Tierno Galván's People's Socialist Party or helping Paco Casero and Salvador Távora to support the Council of Andalucía at the start of the present century: “I was really involved in those circles, with an urge to serve. I was close to Tierno, it's true. I lived in Madrid and I joined the People's Socialist Party because I was looking for truth and honesty. Ideas are manipulated by men and end up as what men want them to be, not what they actually are. Do you really expect me to stand by an idea? I stand by an ethical stance in a historical context. I wasn't a socialist in the strictest sense. At least not what was considered one back then. I was a socialist but I was a humanist not a pragmatic socialist, as many people called themselves when democracy arrived in Spain. Humanity is what steers history. And between man's perception and formal thought there's room for alternative schools. Insofar as I define myself as a Social Democrat, I feel committed to being part of humanity, not to help humanity as many feel is their duty in a patronizing way. I define myself as a Social Democrat because socialism has learnt, from Marx till the present day, and it's acquired a kind of sieve to filter all of that. But thoughts and human beings have gradually been labeled. Now you hear a lot of talk about the poor workers. And a lot of people like to play the poor worker. What I stand up for in terms of a communist society like the ones we've seen until now is the idea that man can carve out his own path. I believe in human ambition and I believe in justice. Of course I'm not into all this politically correct stuff. The other day I heard they asked Ramoncín about the differences between his youth and the youth of today. And he said that when he was twenty he wanted to have enough money to buy a car, and now young people expect their parents to buy the car. When I got married we lived for a time in lodgings because we couldn't afford a place of our own. I didn't need a couple of chairs, what I needed was a partner.”

Since the death of his son, events have driven him to the edge of passion, that enormous eye of the hurricane that some confuse with madness. So it's no surprise to hear him say his psychiatrist is like his boyfriend right now, they've seen so much of each other: “He's a magnificent person. He plays guitar too. The big problem that we have, he and I, revolves around how to define pride. I don't know how to feel pride, I know how to feel satisfaction. Pride attacks, satisfaction doesn't hurt anybody. Proud people are usually aggressive. I feel good about being Andalusian, but I wouldn't use the word pride to define that feeling, because the natives of some area of France, say, can also feel proud of being from there. The pride I feel is right here in my chest. If I link it with my homeland, it goes right inside me. My homeland is me, my people are me. This land is something to be really proud of and if there's still room for improvement that's because we're so generous. Outsiders reproach us because we let them. They called the female minister Bibiana Aido 'la flamenquita' as an insult, because she used to run the Andalusian Agency for the Development of Flamenco - and she did it well, too. The worst thing is that when some journalists tried to defend her they also accepted that the word flamenco could be used as an insult.”

Manolo Sanlúcar doubles up at the 2008 Festival Bienal

J. J. Téllez, September 10th, 2008


Manolo Sanlúcar (Photo Daniel Muñoz)
 


 

Manolo Sanlúcar. Like father like son. His father - a true survivor who loved music and poetry - died practically singing a soleá, as he recently confided to Fermín Lobatón from newspaper ‘El País’. He belongs to one of those legendary clans that made life into an artform, regardless of his actual trade: “I've given my life over to this culture because I've believed in it right from the start. My father passed on that love for Andalucía and its culture to me. It's been my reason for living,” exclaimed Manuel Muñoz Alcón last Monday, at Seville's Casino and exhibition center, surrounded by organizers, journalists, friends and accomplices. It's clear his father's life wasn't in vain. He was there to present his show ‘Tu oído es más viejo que tu abuelo’ (Your ear is older than your grandfather), a quote chosen by his brother Isidro as the title of the opening gala for Seville's 15th Festival Bienal de Arte Flamenco: “my brother Isidro was the one who was asked to give this presentation. I know that he's dedicated a lot of time to it, under great pressure and with absolute commitment. He's been incredibly thorough and professional in his approach,” he insisted.

He's accompanied by dance from Cristina Hoyos– a swirl of eggplant-colored veils covering her face as a tribute to those made to wear a veil - Israel Galván and Juan de Juan. And there's cante from Arcángel, José Valencia, Luis el Zambo and Fernando de la Morena, plus the guitars of David Carmona, Miguel Ángel Cortés, Dani de Morón and Manuel Morao. The rehearsals go on till late on Wednesday, the day before the show in Seville's Plaza de San Francisco. There, under the plain but amazing supervision of Isidro Sanlúcar, some last-minute nerves were evident, voices raised in an inappropriate way which is perhaps essential sometimes to create tension on stage. On a stage where Pepa Gamboa tried to impose some order, a space was left for the Bulgarian female voice choir, preserving all the mystery of the Bulgarian voice, and you could already hear the instrumental rigor of the Orquesta Joven de Andalucía: “The highlight of the festival so far was being able to meet this youth orchestra, a perfect example of what Andalucía should show in her music”, Sanlúcar had declared at that press conference.

At the opening concert for the Bienal he included the soleá he wrote when he was 17, and the prayer dedicated to Curro Romero. As the choice of music was left up to his brother Isidro, he longed for more recent pieces: “I don't have the same fingers as then. I don't have the same age as then. I'm not the same.” If he had to sum up the milestones in his own career, he'd give three titles: the albums ‘Tauromagia’, ‘Locura de brisa y trino’ and ‘Medea’, a composition for dance that became the Ballet Nacional's most-performed piece: “And bear in mind that their repertoire included several pieces by Manuel de Falla. But it was Medea that they've performed most, from Australia to Russia, from Germany to Argentina, and of course Canada and the U.S.”

The opening night, organized by Seville City Council and sponsored by the Andalusian Agency for the Development of Flamenco, was the biennial festival's tribute his life and work, perhaps following the lead of Málaga en Flamenco which last year celebrated the genius of Paco de Lucía. “Paco could have been here but he told me: don't do that to me, I won't sleep until the day of the show,” he confided to his friends.

In public, though, he returned to the solemn air of mourning that soaked the pages of his book ‘El alma compartida’ (The shared soul), published last year by Editorial Almuzara: “Life has torn everything away from me. And on this, the downward curve of my life (though not of my artistic thought), I'm grateful for life and to God for putting me on this path, because my life has been worthwhile.” Manolo expresses his acceptance, although tears come to his eyes every time he remembers his son Nano.

This won't be the only occasion Manolo Sanlúcar comes before an audience over the course of this Bienal de Sevilla. On 19th September, at Teatro Lope de Vega, he'll première his eagerly-awaited performance focussing on the work of painter Baldomero Resendi, entitled “la voz del color”. In recent performances he's already given a glimpse of some pieces: “I met Ressendi when I worked at the tablao Las Brujas. He was from Seville, but he went to Sanlúcar a lot because he was related to the Romero family who had a large winemaking concern. There was a certain despotic air about him with those high boots he wore. But he had a great sensitivity. He liked flamenco a lot. His father was a doctor and played classical guitar. I remember he said, ‘don't you see how all the musicians in the orchestra come to an agreement?’ ”

Perhaps this is one of the factors behind his long musical career that has flirted many times with classical music. As demonstrated in the four movements of his ‘Fantasía para guitarra y orquesta’, his symphonic poem “Aljibe”, with Orquesta Ciudad de Málaga, or ‘Trebujena’, a concierto for guitar and orchestra in D Major. The ‘Medea’ he composed for the Ballet Nacional de España travelled the globe with more than a thousand performances behind it, allowing him to create ‘Soleá’ in 1998 for that same company.

Over the course of his artistic life, with a long discography that's sold all around the world, he's paid frequent homage to neighboring worlds. There's a tribute to bullfighting in the shape of 1990's ‘Tauromagia’, or the constant references to poetry, via the work of Rafael Alberti – he composed the music for La Gallarda in the version that Miguel Narros directed to open the Expo de Sevilla in 1992, with Montserrat Caballé, Ana Belén and José Sacristán. And via the work of Federico García Lorca, who inspired his ‘Locura de brisa y trino’ with the voice of Carmen Linares in the year 2000 - the same year that he would receive Spain's National Music Award, the Puerta de Alcalá and the Flamenco Hoy award from the association of critics.

Musical director of the movie ‘Sevillanas’, directed by Carlos Saura, he also took part in ‘Flamenco’, by the same director. His experiments with cinema include unusual projects such as the soundtrack from the Japanese documentary “Viva la Blanca Paloma”, recorded alongside the Royal Philarmonia Orchestra that he himself directed in London.

In September 2002 at Seville's Festival Bienal de Arte Flamenco, he premièred his composition ‘Mariana Pineda’, played by José María Bandera on guitar, as music for Sara Baras, with mise en scène by Lluis Pasqual based on Lorca's tragedy of the same name. At the end of October he will probably première his long-awaited ‘Música para ocho monumentos’.

Manolo Sanlúcar runs a course at Córdoba's Festival de la Guitarra every year, usually during the month of July, covering accompaniment for vocalists and dance. A spin-off has been his celebrated theory manual and method for flamenco guitar. Right from the start he states his mission clearly: “There's a belief, more or less widespread, that flamenco is an informal culture, the result of improvisation and fun, associated with parties and 'juerga'. Whilst I have to admit that more than one bottle has been uncorked listening to flamenco, these shouldn't be the credentials of our culture - we should focus on the vast artistic content that underlies it.”

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Manolo Sanlúcar stars in the inaugural gala of Bienal de Sevilla 2008

 
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