José Carmona: «Working with Paco de Lucía gives you enormous status»

The double cancer he has been diagnosed with, lung and colon, has not taken away his good looks or his good humor. Jose Carmona quotes Expoflamenco in Madrid The Bullfighter's tablao, one of his usual spots, and settles into his seat with a glass of water. “I’ve drunk a bottle of tequila a day for thirty years, and I’ve never been sick. But of course, you’re dancing for sixty-something, and your body takes its toll. Of course, I’m always happy, no problems at all.”

A life full of changes and chances, through which he crossed Paco de Lucía to leave indelible memories, which make him laugh out loud when he brings them to the present. At every moment, the conversation is interrupted by young artists from the tablao who approach to greet Carmona affectionately, and to praise his elegance tonight. “I am the best dressed, I can wear a different suit every day for a whole month,” he confesses. “I am not bragging, I just like clothes.”

 

–To someone who doesn’t know him, how would we explain who José Carmona is?

–My career started as a waiter. I wanted to work and I went to Barcelona with my uncles, where I started. Then I started working as a mechanic in Granada, combining it with work as a waiter. I had never liked the flamenco, but my family were flamencos all, on my mother's side are the Ketama, and on my father's side is Pepe Albaicín, and also my nephew Pablo Maldonado, who is a great pianist... The fact is that I went to Palamós with one from Jerez, who really liked to dance, both of us as waiters. I remember that Carmen Amaya died and we went up there to Begur...

–It wouldn't be you flamenco, But flamenco was chasing him…

–The truth is that I was fed up with that, and I said to my friend: “Let’s go to Palma de Mallorca.” And I went to the Pueblo Español, as a waiter in a discotheque. There was a tablao there. flamencoOne day one of them was missing, Juanito Revélez, and they told me: “Put on some pants and boots and dance.” “But I’ve never danced before, I’m here with my tray.” But they didn’t say anything: “Come on, what are you going to dance first?” “Alegrías,” I told them. And I danced for alegrías. I had never done it in my life, I had never had a teacher, and I continued like that. But Isidro El Mono, Carmeta, Diego Amaya were there… And a week later I made a record [laughs] with the group from Pueblo Español. A great group.

–It was your debut and you were already like a bullet?

–Then one night Peter Ustinov came, saw me dancing and took me to a party in Tagomago, where Sara Montiel was. Then René François came, he painted a picture of me that they sent me recently… I stayed in Mallorca and had to do my military service. I wanted to go to Granada, and as soon as I got to the station, the police caught me. “Are you Juan Carmona? Come on, you've been assigned to do your military service in Palma de Mallorca.” And I stayed there working with Carmen Sevilla, in discotheques, tablaos. flamencos… From there, while I was doing my military service, since I was a cook, I made croquettes for a commander. And there was a boat trip for the Queen Elizabeth and I was able to sign up, and I stayed six months on the boat, with a bunch of Spanish artists who were there, like a hundred: people who did tricks, musicians… Then I came here, to Madrid, I worked at Los Cabales, then the Café de Chinitas, at the Corral de la Morería, at Los Canasteros… Always as a figure. I became independent, I made my group, José Carmona and his group, and I went to France, to Italy… Then my cousin Manolete said to me: “Why don’t we go to Japan?” And Cristóbal Reyes, nephew of Joaquín Cortés, said to me: “No, come to Mexico.” And I stayed there for 16 years, although from Mexico I went to France, to Germany, to the United States, with some, with others… And that’s where Paco de Lucía met me.

–Had you been in contact with each other a lot before working together?

–I knew Paco, Pepe and Ramón very well. I was at the Convention Center in Acapulco and I thought, I’m going to play a joke on Paco. I don’t even know how to get the tones out of the guitar, but I had two guitarists and I told them: when I say so, do this and you two play along. As if I were the one playing along [laughs]. Until one day he said to me, “come with me, let’s rehearse.” And I answered: “I’ve never rehearsed, Paco, in my life.” “And do you dance like you dance?” “Sometimes better and sometimes worse.” I had to replace El Grilo, and he noticed me.

–Where did you debut with him?

–In the largest theater in Mexico, and everyone there was amazed: “Carmona is going to dance with Paco de Lucía!” Because I was better known there than the president.

–Before working with Paco, had you been with important figures?

–With Carmen Mora, with La Chana… And as guitarists, I have danced with Tomatito, with Serranito… I have played with all the good ones. I don’t even remember many of them. I walk down the street and they say “Carmona!” and I wonder, who is that?

–Who was Paco for you before that tour?

–Paco was… He didn’t do what he did with me, either with El Grilo or with anyone else. He didn’t give me money, because I spent it. In the end, we came back from Cuba and he paid me, and he said: “Come on, go to Granada.” And the same day I went back to Mexico [laughs]. It was a lot of money, and what was I doing in Granada? I went to Mexico to spend it. “You’re a son of a bitch,” he told me [laughs].

–Were you a big party-goer?

–Yes, although Ramón was very strict. “Come on, eat and sleep.” Ramón had the habit of getting me up at six in the morning to go for a walk, because I liked it. But some nights he caught me dressed, because when we were alone Paco would do this [he tries to make a gesture with his head] and he and I would go out. We would get home at four in the morning, I would lie down dressed and with the blanket over me. Paco couldn’t do that with Ramón, Pepe was something else… And with me he relaxed, he would laugh his head off with me. I also cooked for everyone, in Santo Domingo, everywhere in the world.

 

«Paco is alive. All those who play the guitar today drink from him, those of Jorge Pardo's flute, those of Rubem's cajon... It is a school»

 

–What was Paco looking for in those escapades?

–We would go to listen to music, jazz, to a club or wherever. Just to laugh, he would approach someone and pretend to wipe their nose. It was a lie! He would pretend to wipe it in your same clothes [laughs]

–What was Paco like off stage, apart from being a joker?

–There was no other, at least for me. He was a good person, he laughed at everyone, he liked to laugh, but he gave money to everyone, he helped anyone who approached him… With me he just had to do it like this [he puts on a comical look] and I understood him.

–Pepe, was it different?

–Pepe was very funny, but… When Ramón was there, we all had a lot of respect for him, not fear. And the only one who woke up was me!

–What else do you remember about those experiences?

–We would go to a theatre. I would do whatever I wanted, but dancing well. Paco would introduce everyone, “Rubem Dantas!” And everyone would say, “oooooooh”. “Jorge Pardo”, “oooooooooooh”. “And José Carmona!” And he would hide behind his guitar and say, “He danced like shit!” I would turn around without flinching and say, “I’m the star, Paco, you’re in the back” [laughs]. Everyone was fine with me, including Al Di Meola, who came as a guest, and I would sing a little of the songs to him. cantes from Granada, the tangos, and Paco liked them…

–Do you have photos with him?

– I have few photos, I never take them, they take them for me and sometimes they send them to me, but… I have videos with him, if you want I can send them to you. I don’t know if from Peru, or from Venezuela, with the whole group.

–How would you explain to an ordinary fan why Paco was a genius?

–Things got into his head like geniuses, all day long doing different things… All the gypsies had to eat from there. The best ones, there. It was the source of everything.

–It’s funny that you talk about your head more than your hands…

–Yes, we often went to La Soleá, a bar in Cava Baja, opposite Lucio. Everyone wanted him to play a bit, but he didn’t like it. He knew that people would be happy to hear him, but he was embarrassed. Sometimes he would take her for a while, and then he would say to someone, “Well, you play,” and he would let her go.

–Have you ever met people who wanted to see you fail?

–People have always gone to see the mistake. But the thing is… He rarely made mistakes. He never made any mistakes! He was also very noble, he didn’t snort. When he wanted to snort, he would say something stupid that didn’t make sense, “you don’t know how to play or anything, use cat claws.” [laughter] But he would say it for laughs, and only with people he really trusted.

 

«What was Paco looking for in a dancer? Purity. Being a good artist, a good person, and fulfilling his duties. Professional. Not dizzy, drunk, or rowdy. Being serious and responsible.»

 

–Have you ever done a tour like that?

–The truth is that I had never worked in such big theatres. Pepe was singing, and Paco would make a sign for me to get to the centre of the stage on time and stop, boom! And then I did whatever I wanted. But I never had any problems with him, on the contrary. Now everyone dances the same, even the women. Before, people danced differently, there were forty male dancers and they were all different. Now, if one dancer who is different dances, after two weeks he becomes the same as the others.

–Do you remember what your dances were?

–I used to dance alegrías, I always liked it a lot. And the bulería, of course, the finale, all that…

–Was the audience very different from one place to another?

–Wherever Paco went, he turned the theatre upside down. He was too much. As a person, as an artist… He was too much.

–Do you remember Paco’s nerves before leaving?

–No, Paco would have a drink, lock himself in the dressing room… And that was it. We were getting ready to go on stage, and he would say: “What? Come on, you cowards!”

–Well, he has a reputation for being very scared, especially when he came to Spain…

–Everyone will say that based on their own experience. I never saw him like that. He would go out and take over the stage. When I danced, he would die of laughter. I don’t know what I was transmitting, it was all improvised, but he would make those faces and laugh… I think I can see him, his face, his gestures [laughs].

 

 

–And their angry faces?

–Wow, when he looked at you like that… I told him, “Paco, what a fat ass you have,” and it made him very angry [laughs]. But playing everything went well. It was like eating a cake. The joy of working with a figure like that in the best theaters, in front of 5.000 or 6.000 people… Once we were in Peru and Manzanares, the father, was there. And Rocío Jurado and Ortega Cano were there too. Manzanares was sitting on the floor and he said to me “take him out to dance,” we took him out… And after five minutes he said to me “get him out of here now, throw him out, throw him out!” [laughs]. Manzanares got excited and didn’t leave [laughs]

–Other moments of laughter?

–The thing is, when I remember, maybe I'm walking down the street alone, and I'm dying of laughter. I say to myself, is it possible? Once we went to Cuba, to Cienfuegos, we went to the beach, and everyone was scratching themselves except me. Some scratches… And it turned out that it was a kind of lice that was in the sand, and I had to go get two cans of flour and put it on everyone's balls. You wouldn't believe how they came out, they looked like bricklayers! [laughs] Nothing, never, not even a mosquito has bitten me. That day Carlos Benavent was going to the hostel, and there was a big stone and poor guy, he tripped and miraculously didn't die. We were treating him there…

–Did you have any code between you?

–I was paying attention to him, and he knew that I was paying attention. He would do this [he tries to wink] and I already knew everything he was going to say to me. And every time he came here and we met, he would say, “What? Here, so you can buy some tobacco,” and he would give me something. He would stop by the Café de Chinitas or we would see each other at Candela, with Enrique Morente, where we spent many nights together.

–Him playing and Enrique singing?

–Of course, they got along very well. With Paco, everyone got along.

 

«He had things in his head like a genius, doing different things all day long… All the gypsies had to eat from there. The best ones, from there. It was the source of everything»

 

–What was Paco looking for in a dancer?

–Purity. Being a good artist, a good person, and fulfilling your duties. Professional. Not dizzy, drunk, or angry. Being serious and responsible.

–But he was also obsessed with time, didn’t he ask them to be like a clock?

–No, everyone knew their role, it was to go out, push and give it their all. I've never seen him have to reprimand anyone, except when he told me that I had danced like shit [laughs]. But he told me because everyone was crazy about me, and he was happy about that. Until I got sick, I came to Madrid and worked at Casa Patas for fourteen years, with my group. They keep calling me for things, but I can't, I have to be at the doctor's every two days... Plus, with the chemo I don't have the strength.

–Do you remember when you and Paco separated?

–Well, almost twenty years ago. We had finished the tour and I came to Mexico. Paco was still everywhere, but when he went to Mexico he came to see me. The time when Manolito Soler died, how many years ago? Then he continued his tour with other people, with other singers and other dancers, with Juan Ramírez, who is now here in Madrid, giving classes at Amor de Dios…

–Has some former member of Paco's group complained about being paid too little by him? Do you have any complaints?

–Me? With Paco I earned what everyone else earned. And I paid for all the meals, everything! Paco liked money like everyone else, but he wasn't tight-fisted. He gave me 500 dollars per show, apart from the expenses. Twenty years ago that was a lot of money [laughs]. Now the kids do five shows at any tablao and they get 150 euros.

–After being with him, did other guitarists want you?

–Yes, Tomate has played a lot with me, everyone has played with me, and I haven't rehearsed with any of them! And they all get along well with me, you play and I dance!

–Have you ever been with him at his house in Cancun?

–Yes, I think I went there a couple of times. He liked to dress up as a Moor with his djellabas, with a beard down to here, to cook his paellas, his fishing… He was there in his paradise. I remember when he went into a reef and got his finger caught, everyone thought he would lose his faculties.

–It seems that there were even those who were happy about that possibility.

–Yes, yes, some thought so, but it was a miracle.

 

«Now everyone dances the same, even the women. Before, people danced differently, there were forty dancers and they were all different. Now, if someone who is different dances, after two weeks he becomes the same as everyone else.»

 

–Have you ever talked about anything other than flamenco?

–I don’t know, I have a photo in Palma de Mallorca, the two of us dressed in white, looking like two faggots [laughs], in Tito’s, do you know where it is? I lived in Plaza Gomila, on Calle Santa Rita, opposite… We both happened to be living there. And he always went to the Pueblo Español to see Diego Amaya, this one, the other one…

–How did you receive the news of his death?

–I was in France, they told me that Paco had died in Cancun, while playing football with the boy. I cried so much, because I loved him very much. I went to the National Auditorium, the whole family was there, the daughters, who love me very much, Curro, and Antonia, who is called like my mother… And Pepe was there playing jokes, he liked to throw little pieces of paper [laughs].

–What do you think Paco's second marriage, his two last children, gave him?

–I was calmer, happier. She [Gabriela] is a very good person, it suited her very well.

–Have you kept in touch with the Sánchez family?

–Yes, I see Pepe in Seville when I go, when I meet up with Morante and Manzanares.

–Paco, were you a bullfighting fan?

–He liked it a lot, and he loved football.

–Did you ever play with him?

–No, no, not me. He liked Curro Romero, Morante, the good-good stuff about bullfighting…

–Sharing those tours with Paco, what has it given to your career?

–Working with Paco gives you enormous status. Not everyone has worked with Paco de Lucía.

–How many times do you remember Paco in your normal life?

–At every moment, because I really like to put flamenco…And sooner or later he appears.

–It’s been ten years since his death, where is Paco?

–He is alive. Everyone who plays the guitar today drinks from him, those who play Jorge Pardo's flute, those who play Rubem's cajon... He is a school.

–Do you ever think about all your adventures and wonder if you really experienced them?

–No, no, of course I know that I lived through all that. With a bottle, with two bottles, whatever. Paco, always human, horny… He had everything good. I will never forget it. ♦

 

 

→  See here the installments of the series THE CHOSEN ONES, by Alejandro Luque, about Paco de Lucía's collaborators.