If you were expecting a guitar album then you’re in for a surprise: ‘Campo del Príncipe’ is an unusual collection of cante and songs with a flamenco flavor. El Tío Juan or Uncle Juan as he’s endearingly known, ever faithful to his friends, and a passionate lover of flamenco who listens untiringly to new voices with the same gusto as he did when he started out, has brought together both veterans and newcomers around his guitar.

And the gathering that results produces everything from the dreamy lyricism of the cantes de Levante sung by the veteran Juanito Valderrama with whom he struggled on the road to fame and fortune, to the coarse malagueño echo of Mellizo de Rancapino which marks the end of the Cadiz cante. Everything from baroque classicism in the form of tientos at the hands of Enrique Morente, through the soothing, balmy voice of his daughter Estrella Morente on a delicate vidalita, to the clear and emphatic voice of Miguel Poveda por tangos. Here we find all kinds of voices: there are those that have come to represent Nuevo Flamenco, such as that of El Negri or Juañares singing fandangos de Huelva or bulerías, there’s the wailing sound of his great-granddaughter as a prelude to the farruca, and there’s the highly acclaimed Niño de Rancapino. From one shore to the other, there’s almost a whole century of cante flamenco brought together on this second album from the patriarch of the Habichuela clan.

And that’s what’s troubling about the disc: it isn’t about the guitar work, but it isn’t really about cante either. What’s El Negri doing alongside Valderrama? What’s Estrella Morente doing rubbing shoulders with Rancapino? The contrasts are as incongruous between the different versions of cantes as are the arrangements. The disc contains everything from a seventies-style string arrangement reminiscent of Paco de Lucía’s ‘El Duende’ or Manolo Sanlúcar’s ‘Sentimiento’ on the zambra dedicated to El Ovejilla and at the end of the tientos; right through to the sober, traditional toque that resonates on the malagueña and the taranta. And in between there’s a hint of Ketama, with those upbeat styles and furiously chanted choruses, and even a strange duet of bass and guitar between Benavent and Juan Habichuela on a personal adaptation of Sabicas’s farruca ‘Punta y tacón’. In the light of all this, it’s hard to make sense of just what the producer’s artistic goals were. What really comes through on this disc is the pleasure Juan Habichuela takes in selecting cantes and falsetas, and in gathering together, rehearsing with and recording with his friends, leaving space too for his children and nephew to give the final product a modern and homely touch.

The most convincing and admirable side of Tío Juan is in his playing accompaniment to cante clásico. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect a forthcoming anthology of his toque, a selection of his best work since he began with Farina and Caracol, right up to his support on the soleá of ‘Zaguán’ by Miguel Poveda. A true lesson in know-how and professionalism for those who aspire to learn what guitar accompaniment is really about.

revista@flamenco-world.com