Paco de Lucía once told me over the phone, as we discussed a controversy about Camarón‘s royalties, that he had contacted me because he had been told I was not a big fan of him. “I want to talk to you precisely because of your objectivity”, he told me, because he did not like fanboys. He was also aware of my admiration for Manolo Sanlúcar, whom he loved like a brother, although I know for a fact that sometimes he could not stand “his issues”.

 

Yesterday I heard a well-known contemporary guitarist say that “Paco was the one who gave renown to the flamenco guitar”, or something to that effect, and I was shocked. It is like when someone says that Marchena or Mairena took cante out of the taverns and “made it stylish” or “took it into the universities”. Or when they talk about “dignifying flamenco”, something that is almost always attributed to the great Antonio Mairena. What are we supposed to make, then, of Silverio, Chacón, Niña de los Peines and Manuel Vallejo?

 

I am bothered by these lies, which then morph into truths, and then everyone loses. Stating that Paco was the one who gave renown to the flamenco guitar, for example, is an insult to intelligence and, above all, a mockery to all those who gave it prestige and prominence. Julián Arcas, Paco el Barbero, Paco el de Lucena, Ramón Montoya, Sabicas and Ricardo elevated the quality of the Andalusian guitar, making it known all over the world, and yet few seem to remember them now.

 

 

«Let us leave aside the fanatism. I never heard Paco claim he was the best, and the same goes for Camarón, Morente or Lebrijano. Let’s not forget that they were not gods, but humans made of flesh and bone»

 

 

Later, Mario Escudero, Estéban de Sanlúcar, Pepe Martínez and Serranito succeeded in making the flamenco guitar universally known, and it was from this revolution that Manolo Sanlúcar and Paco de Lucía, the greatest guitarists in flamenco history, came out. Others, such as Paco Cepero and Niño Miguel, came out like flowers blossoming among stones on the street. Have you ever walked on a cobbled street and seen how flowers bloom among the stones?

 

How can I possibly not be a fan of Paco de Lucía? I am, to the bone, but I am not a fanboy. It is not a secret that my favorite guitar player was always Manolo Salúcar, who was never known for dizzying picados, vintage-soaked strumming or late-night pellizcos. For that, I always preferred Diego del Gastor, Manuel Morao or Melchor de Marchena. And for melodies that made me cry of sadness or made me love life, Paco Cepero, whom I adore and revere since I was a teenager.

 

I do not love Paco de Lucía for anything in particular, but for all of his incredible combination of qualities. Paco did not teach, he didn’t undertake research, he could not be bothered with tiresome studies and analysis. All his life, he just focused on playing the guitar like no one had ever played it. He was the great revolutionary of the flamenco guitar, just like Camarón de la Isla was the great revolutionary of cante flamenco. The fact that I prefer Morente to Camarón does not mean that I look down on the genius from Isla de León.

 

Let us leave aside the fanatism. I never heard Paco claim he was the best, and the same goes for Camarón, Morente or Lebrijano. Let’s not forget that they were not gods, but humans made of flesh and bone. The most fanatical fans of Antonio Mairena have greatly harmed his reputation, although Mairena himself fed the beast. We can say the same about the fans of Camarón, although he himself never fed any beast.

 

Traslated by Paul Young

 

Image above: Cover image of the documentary ‘Paco de Lucía la busqueda’