Joaquín Grilo: «The way Paco is being honoured hurts me»

About to land at the next Seville Biennial with his new show, Ladle and step back, Joaquin Grilo (Jerez de la Frontera, 1968) looks back on a successful career from a mature age. She has danced for the greatest voices, but perhaps it is her time in the group of Paco de Lucía in the late 90s the fact for which he is known throughout the world. For many, he is, in fact, the dancer par excellence of the genius from Algeciras, the one who set the pace and pellizco in a golden age for the sextet. In his Jerez, with a glass of oloroso, he is ready to share his memories of that time, and once again demonstrates that he always speaks openly.

 

–You have been the great absentee in the tributes that have been paid to Paco de Lucía this year. Why is that?

–You would have to ask someone else. The truth is that we lived together for quite a few years, almost seven years, from 94 to 2000. Also, when there was the great sextet, which had a lot of experience and transformed everything that is today flamencoThey have not counted on me, I was alone in what was done at the Teatro Real, with a touch of Mary of the OBut what really hurts me is not that they don't call me, but the way they are paying tribute to Paco. He is the great teacher, our reference, and things are not being done well.

–What do you think is being done wrong?

–The way it is done, I do not think it is adequate or appropriate for a character like Paco: the magician, the source from which we have all drunk, all his works are masterpieces and all his works have a different perception of what the magician is. flamencoAnd that is very difficult, not plagiarizing oneself is very difficult. I think that no musician has had that ability, neither inside nor outside the flamenco.

–It's difficult to live up to the honoree's standards, isn't it?

–That is why it must be thought through very carefully. Things must be said: a day dedicated to Paco de Lucía was going to be held, and is going to be held, at the Bienal, and everything was organised so that Isidro Muñoz would do it. Overnight, they got rid of Isidro and counted on other people. When I thought that Isidro was going to do something very interesting, counting on many people and doing things well. We cannot get together a little while before to pay tribute to Paco de Lucía, because his music is at an incredible level. And then there is the way of organising it, I have seen things in New York with a white light, now you come out, now I come out… What is this about? Are we going to make money, or are we really going to pay tribute to a person we love and cherish because he has left us such an immense wealth? And the tribute at the Real was a disaster. That has to be planned, and you have to know what you are doing. Farruquito can't be dancing and behind him all the technicians with flashlights taking things away and putting them back, and making noise. There should have been a great tribute at a world level, but with people of world-class importance in the organization. I feel sorry for the maestro.

–You started dancing when you were very young, you were successful on TV with Young people, then he was with Luisillo, Rafael Aguilar… At what point did he meet Paco?

–Well, it was in a place where all the flamencos, in Japan. I was with a group in El Flamenco, what is now the Garlochí, with Alfredo Lagos, Sara Baras, a lot of people. As you know, it's six and a half months there, when you go a lot they give you a visa for one more month, so we were there for seven and a half months, and every morning we went to class. One day, on my way back with one of the guitarists who came, that day I had bought a football to play for a while behind the apartments. Well, going down the avenue, I hear the guitarist say “Paco, Paco!” and I see him hide the guitar. And I thought he was referring to my brother Paco, who was a cook and I had managed to bring him with me. Paco, my brother? “No, no, Paco, Paco!” And we see Paco coming with Cañizares and José Mari Banderas, who were making up the trio. We saw him coming and it was like a slow motion movie, the hair, everything, buah! And I was with the ball like an idiot. Well, Paco comes and gives us two kisses. "What's up, you're Joaquin, right? You're there in El FlamencoI saw you there, we are in the hotel a little further down… You like football! I love it, I'll bet you a meal, us against you. And I was like, “Sure, Paco, whenever you want.”

 

«They didn't count on me, I was alone in what was done at the Teatro Real. But what really hurts me is not that they don't call me, but the way they are making the tributes to Paco. He is the great master, our reference, and things are not being done well»

 

–Did you admire him a lot already?

–He was my idol, I knew all his falsetas, all his things, that was what I listened to day and night. And he told me: “Tomorrow I’m going to the tablao and we’ll meet up, we’re going to be here for a week.” And we made an incredible run to the apartments, euphoric, imagine, I was 19 years old… Paco! We knocked on all the doors, and everyone was like, “What’s going on, what’s going on?” “We’ve seen Paco and he’s coming to see us tomorrow!” “What are you saying?” Look, Alfredo got up to get the guitar, the other one was dancing somewhere else, that one was rehearsing… We went to the tablao super excited. We told Orihara, the maître: “Let me know if he comes, so we can be on the lookout”… But he didn’t come. Not the next day. Not the next. But when we least expected it, Orihara came out: “Paco de Lucía is there.” What do you say! There I was with Cañi and José Mari. And we were like, “Paco, how did you do this to us?” and he was saying that he really liked us, “Stop messing around!”, but he took us to a disco, we stayed up all night with him. We met up the next day, we played football, he took us out to eat fried eggs with potatoes!

–When did they see each other again?

–Then we started seeing each other in Madrid, we went every Friday to play football, and with the Banda del Tío Pringue we went to eat at La Latina, a bar that he liked. Then I started to collaborate with Vicente Amigo for his first album, From my heart to the air. And one of the times I came to Jerez to see my family, and my girlfriend who is my wife now, my father happened to tell me to listen to my sister Carmen sing, who was seven years old. And I heard her sing soleá in a way that I couldn't believe. So we took the whole family and went to a vineyard to enjoy it. I came back with a few glasses of must, and when we got home my girlfriend said to me: “Vicente left a message on the answering machine, that he wants to talk to you.” I heard him and he said: “Joaquín, I have the best job of your life.” I called him immediately, “Vicente, what is the best job of my life, if I'm already with you?” “Listen to this,” and he puts Paco's message on the phone: “Vicente, find me Grilo, I want him to come to Quito.” They were in Costa Rica, and Manolito Soler had suffered a heart attack and said he was coming. “Please, find him for me and have him pack his bags for Madrid tomorrow, Caturla [his promoter] will give him the tickets and money for Quito.” When I heard that, I threw myself on the floor like a cockroach, my girlfriend asking me what was wrong and I said, “I'm going with Paco, I'm going!”

–And he left, of course.

–Imagine Quito, 3.000 meters above sea level, arriving with that pressure… I was confident that I knew what that spectacle was like, because I had seen it, I had absorbed it, but of course, there was the fear of facing the master face to face.

–But hadn’t you rehearsed?

–Nothing, nothing, but I also got there and spent three days in Quito waiting for Paco. And the pressure was incredible, I remember myself in the room looking at myself in the mirror playing palmas by La Barrosa, and wondering, do I know how to play the palmas, or I don't know how to play the palmas, what the fuck? Those were three endless days for me, I called the office, “When is he coming?” Don’t worry, kid, eat there, stay calm, we’ll let you know… Until they called me: “Paco will arrive in an hour.”

-At last!

– I went downstairs two hours early to wait for him. And he came with the whole troupe, he arrived with his red tracksuit and his cap, and I said, “Paco, my soul and my heart, you don’t know what this means to me.” “Let’s go have a beer, come.” He asks me if I know what I have to do. “Perfectly: the bulerías, the alegrías later…” “Well, we’ll see each other there tomorrow without any problem. The only thing: do you know how to play the cajón?” “Look, Paco, what I play at home are some bongos that I play at parties, but I’ll play the maracas for you if necessary.” And he fell to the floor laughing, before saying to Berry: “Find him a cajón.” And he gave me a small Peruvian cajón. They put the microphone on me, he started playing, and I knew everything! Because I had it, I didn’t do it on purpose, it’s just that I always heard him, I knew perfectly where everything was. The audition started, he did a song, and I said to him, “What do I do, Paco, where do I go?” “Wherever you want.” “Well, then, in everything! I want to be with you on stage.” “It’s just that people who come later say that their legs go numb…” “I’m too young for my legs to go numb.” “Do you think you’re going to need oxygen?” But I didn’t need anything. That’s how we started, and that’s how we continued for seven years.

 

«I knew a 50-year-old Paco who was a world-beater. I made my debut at the Villamarta, I made a few comments in his memory, but I couldn't go where everyone was going to pretend: to the funeral to fight over the box, or to be seen... He knows perfectly well what we've been through. I keep things to myself»

 

–Once you were on stage, did you feel comfortable, or did it take you a while to adapt to the group?

–No, because I got rid of the dancer-bailaor chip, and I wanted to be a sponge, I wanted to live that, learn that. I didn't want anything else. I wanted to do what a person does when they join a first division team: learn, adapt to them. And that has taught me a lot, it has filled my backpack with beautiful things.

–You had already danced for some great guitarists. Was it different in any way to do it for Paco?

–Paco, apart from being a great concert performer and a great composer, had an energy on stage… Imagine that you enter Real Madrid, or Barcelona. You have played with very good people, but that is where the elite is, and you have to be at that level. And it is very difficult. Also, I entered when Pepe de Lucía was still there, but on one of the later tours that we did in Europe, on the first day in Germany he got into a fight with Pepe. Coincidentally, we were doing Samaruco with Cañizares and Duquende, and Paco knew it. And he asks me, “Do you have Duquende’s number? Do you think he’ll come?” That was at three in the morning in his room, drinking a whiskey! “Are you capable of calling him?” And so I did, I called Duquende, he didn’t believe it, and I said: “Wait, I’ll put it on for you.” “Are you coming?” “Am I not going to leave, Paco? Right now.” “Come on, then come to Germany.” The truth is that he was a character on stage and off it: a joker, he gave you advice… I have never seen him talk for the sake of talking, like with the guitar: he didn’t play for the sake of playing. That is the difference with the others. All paths are important, but he had the right one. On tours he would say “let’s fix the bulería,” and he would ask everyone for their opinion. Imagine, Jorge, Ramón, Cañi, they all contributed, all those guys… But at the end he would say, “What do you think of this one?”, he would make an arrangement with two beats and everyone would look at each other saying, what is this? That’s why he would release a new song and you would recognize it as the soundtrack of your life, being new. It’s like when you read a book and it tells you something that you know, but that you couldn’t have written yourself.

–Did you have a good relationship with Pepe?

–Very good, the thing is that Pepe is a great kid at heart. I have had many disputes with him, with him and with Cañizares. When I arrived I was the youngest, the boy of the company, I had a lot of energy and an immense joy to be there, and Paco would take me a bit to do things, pranks… Paco really liked being the neighbor of the neighborhood. He would stir up a lot of trouble. He would make me say to Cañizares, for example: “Don’t move your little foot anymore, now.” Because Cañi imitated Paco, the movement of his foot, the way he marked. But Cañi doesn’t have the weight… For Paco, time was always running out, so he would say to me “your foot, say something”… And I would say it to him. “Do you play?” flamenco?”, and for what, he would say… “I’m going to put you like this…” And Cañi would say to Paco, “I’m leaving, I’m leaving the group.” And Paco would say to me: “Go to the room and apologize. And I would say, “I swear, Cañi, forgive me, hugs.”

–He liked to bring everyone down to earth, didn’t he?     

–Yes, but look, we have talked about it in the group when we have had a day off and we have met in a room, and it is that you went on tour for a month and a half, you went home for a week, and when you came back you saw him like Paco de Lucia, with the aura up, with that story that you couldn’t get used to… Look, I have seen him cry, we have been on many occasions that I can’t tell. That stays with me. But we have been in incredible places, incredible things have happened to us, that is for life.

–Do you think Pepe was crushed by Paco’s shadow?

–Absolutely, that was what brought him down. He was the child prodigy, he wasn't Paco. The thing is that Paco got the better of him, and he didn't have the ability to learn from that. That family has incredible energy, Pepe too, and Paco knows how to control it, but Pepe loses it. Energy, all the energy in the world, and he's an important creator. But what we're talking about got to him.

 

«Look, I've seen him cry, we've been there on so many occasions that I can't tell you about. That's for me. But we've been to incredible places, having incredible things happen to us, that's for life»

 

–And Ramon?

–He was the one who ran the show, he was the father of all. He was the one who led the group. If not, it wouldn’t have lasted so long. He was the one who charged and gave, the one who said, the one who had… When we wanted to do something “abnormal”, we had to wait for Ramón to go to bed, at half past ten or eleven. Then it was our time; if not, nothing could be done. But it was essential, because in every place we went to there were three parties to choose from. Many days, after the concert, we said “today we’re not going anywhere”. But of course, you finished with the euphoria, and you thought, am I going to go to bed now? It was incredible. And one was old enough to be able to do it.

–And Paco signed up?

–Yes, but he was much more measured. He had to show his face, one day he felt like it and if the next day he didn’t have anything, he would have a great party, that’s for sure. He was the one who liked a party the most in the world, and with a lot of charm, because I have never seen a person with more grace… But we were like rock stars. I have worked with Paco on the beach of Ipanema, and we were escorted by the police because the concert was free, subsidized by Coca-Cola, and the beach was packed, a huge beach. You couldn’t see the end. And you went out and people ate you up, and I said, what is this? What a level, Paco’s. I had fortunately traveled the world many times, but in a different way. When I go with a group of world stars… If you don’t have your feet on the ground, you can go crazy. When I came, to my mother, may she rest in peace, and to my father, I saw them as green. I didn't live during the day, I lived at night. It was the best of the best, the hotels, the parties... I remember in Mexico, an older woman with a lot of money invited us to a party. You took an elevator, it took you to the top floor, the doors opened and there were beautiful people everywhere, people lying on the floor, mariachis everywhere, four or five rooms with different atmospheres... I was like saying to Almodóvar: boy, put the camera here.

–Paco, did he play at the parties?

–He must have been very comfortable. In small groups, yes, in a restaurant in Vienna owned by a friend of his, who liked to go there, he would close for us and for whoever we wanted. And there he would take an old guitar, put a pen with a rubber band on it and always make me sing, to laugh, of course.

–And what did he sing to her?

–Something he later recorded: “On New Street,/ there is a store/ where it sells herring, butter and coffee.” And I asked him why he always made me sing the same thing. Later, when he recorded it, I thought, is it because of me? For me, just thinking about it gave me great joy, even though it had already been recorded by Terremoto and other people.

–Did you know your predecessors, Juan Ramírez, Manolito Soler…?

–I think that Paco had the most fun with Manuel Soler, because he was a great percussionist in every sense, even in dance. Today there are dances that we still do that he brought out, the tran-tran bite… Juan Ramírez has been an indisputable figure in dance. In Madrid I have spent incredible times with him, at the Candela. He was different, he went out just to dance, the bulería came on, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr… But he didn’t fit in, and he had problems when travelling, because he never went by plane. He always went by car or train, and for Paco it was a handicap, he told me: “I swear, how Ramírez’s feet sound. It’s pure mathematics, he puts his foot in the right place where he has to put it.”

 

«He wasn't God, he failed, and he had problems with the sound, like everyone else. When he was good, everything flowed, you listened to him and it was like the record, but when he failed and he was struggling, that's when he raised your hair»

 

–And what did you see in yourself?

–He would have to say it, but surely the youth, the admiration I felt for him. I have always been devoted to him. He thinks that I didn't just dance, I also played the guitar. palmas, with Rubem on the podium, only 14 minutes at Paco's level... I think he saw my Jerez stuck there, with a shoehorn [laughs] and with all the emotion in the world.

–Did you have a weakness for Jerez?

–He always talked to me about Morao. He always told me, “I curse Morao, Joaquín, who plays two notes, two thumbs and a strum with those tortoise nails, and they say ole to him! And I have to play three scales for them to say ole to me!”

–Tell me about your sound. Because you took your sound engineer with you afterwards, didn’t you?

–Yes, I think that giving Paco the sound was easy and difficult at the same time. It depended a lot on his condition. Paco's guitar for concerts was not the one he used for concerts. It was a harder guitar, where he had to push. It was already chipped, I think it wasn't Esteso, it was Ramírez... A fat guitar, when he was with the group it would collapse a little, but when he was alone, it wasn't normal how he pushed. Paco wasn't normal, but of course, we're talking about someone divine, who was touched by the magic wand and also had an impressive discipline. He was sitting on the bed, smoking with the kimono, and it was already impressive how the guitar sounded to him. You have to live all that.

–Is there anyone who doubts this?

–Look, I have discussed with many people, because Jerez is very local, it is a great land of guitarists and very different from everything else. In art you can't compare anyone, but whoever says "Parrilla takes Paco..." Sorry... I love Parrilla, his personality, his way of composing, of doing things. But we are talking about very different things. There are things about the land, which with two details give you the atmosphere of the land, the smell of bulería, of tangos. But being a concert performer, taking music to that state... is something else. How do you explain that to a purist fan, to a member of the Jerez club? They don't get to that.

–Were you close to him when he died? Camarón?

–I was very touched, very hurt. Because of the death of Camarón and because of everything that was formed around it. He would say to me, “Joaquín, do you think I could…?” And I would tell him that I didn’t believe a word of it because I knew what he was like. It was very hard for him. And in fact I think that Paco’s last sextet had to do with his desire to make peace with the entire gypsy clan.

 

«He always told me: Morao plays two notes, two thumbs and a strum with those tortoise nails, and they say ole! And I have to play three scales for them to say ole to me!»

 

–I'm interested in that point of view, can you elaborate on it a little? Do you think Paco became more of a gypsy than he already was?

–Paco had already spoken in interviews about his taste for gypsy things, about how his parties are where he really lives. flamenco, but there is more. It is true that the gypsy has a special way of living the flamenco, but in creation for me there has been only one great creator, who has been Camarón de la Isla. Paco was very clever, he thought about everything he did. He only took the plunge when it came to improvising on stage, in life he had everything very well done. I remember Guayasamín when he made that big painting that represents him with a cathedral in his head. I have been to his house with Paco, in Ecuador, he told him that he wanted to make a big painting, and there is a documentary where Paco is smoking and Guayasamín paints it. Well, that cathedral was Paco's head. But anyway, with the thing about Camarón He had a terrible time, many people betrayed him. I have lived through a Biennial in which Paco came and the press gave him a terrible review, at the Maestranza, when people were sneaking in through the dressing room windows, they had to set up steps between the boxes. And I remember that Paco was angry with Tomate, Ramón saw him coming and he didn't talk to anyone, "Where are you going?" "I'm going to say hello to Paco." "Paco is studying, you're not going to see anyone." And then Paco put his ass in a way... That I didn't understand, but it's all because of the whole thing. CamarónI have seen him cry, ask if he deserved all that. I know everything Paco has done for me. Camarón, when he got sick. “How much do you miss him, how much do you want him?” Doesn’t anyone remember that?

–In the recording of Luzia, how was it?

–So, totally hurt. When my father died, we were on tour, we cancelled several concerts, he came to Spain, we stayed there, and he came back to continue the tour. And it was to see him play. Whenever he played and started the rondeña, or the taranta when he did it, it was to listen to him between drums. Because Paco made mistakes, and when he made mistakes, that's when the human appeared and said "that's it, it's over," he turned his face back and got the audience on their feet in two seconds, out of rage. He wasn't God, he made mistakes, and he had problems with the sound, like everyone else. When he was good, everything flowed, you listened to him and it was like the record, but when he made mistakes and he struggled, that's when he raised your hair.

–In the studio, what was it like?

–He had it crystal clear. He didn’t doubt anything. That’s why he took Limones and said to him “show me how this works”, to set up the studio in his house and do everything himself. He was a very disciplined guy, everything came together in his head, everything had a reason. He told you a story. And the last thing he did, I have never seen more beautiful arrangements in my life with Spanish songs. It’s a work of art, with four things.

–Do you remember how the sextet broke up?

–We knew, because he had already suggested it before, that he wanted to change history. What we didn’t know was who was going to go. But when we talked about it, we thought it was great. Anything to object to? No. It’s true that when we see the approach, we say yes, they are magnificent, but there is an underlying theme. He also needs other people to see it. For other musicians to come, because he wants young people. Carles is leaving with grey hair, Rubem with dreadlocks full of grey too… He wanted to show himself as a real maestro, and he needs new people. We are not going to discuss the quality of any of them.

–The truth is that the stage of creative ebullition is yours, the others arrive when the work is done, right?

– In fact, when they arrive, there are other circumstances, and another way of playing by Paco. Paco has been very intelligent in maturing, he looked for his resources so as not to use himself as he used to before, because logically his abilities were diminishing. He looked for the rhythm, he looked for the bare notes, but where to place them. It was no longer the impetus, the force, it was something else. He needed people of that stature, young, who would push him in another way so that he could show himself. In fact, he has put all of them in their place many times, I know that. He was used to the perfect photograph of Carles, now he finds himself with another who has all the swing in the world, but where is the one in the photograph? And look at Serrano, a great musician, but that was not Jorge's thing.

 

"I wanted to do what a person does when they join a first division team: learn, adapt to them. And that has taught me a lot, it has filled my backpack with beautiful things"

 

–And Piranha is a completely different story from Rubem’s…

–Nothing to do with it. Piraña is more technical, but the one who plays the cajon first, and the one who plays with his shoulders is called Rubem. The one who plays here [touches his shoulders] is the Brazilian. Yes, he can have a bad day, but if you get him right, you'll be in for a treat. Because I've seen him with the congas and four gadgets he was carrying, and that wasn't normal.

–Do you think there is a before and after Paco’s meeting with Javier Limón?

–Well, I don’t think Paco did anything for no reason. Everything had a reason. I don’t want to say the word “use,” but I know that it was his time to learn how all that new technology worked. Limón was very well informed in that sense, he takes it to his house in Playa del Carmen, buys everything they need, and Paco learns to use it. And that broadens your vision of what you have. Imagine, now Paco doesn’t have to play in front of anyone. He set up a studio there, another in Mallorca, another in Toledo. That was the needle and the wool, he didn’t have to rely on anyone anymore.

–Did you ever visit him in Mexico?

–Yes, we have been there twice, almost ten days between tours. We finished South America and then we had North America. “Going there for one day, and another day here, that’s two, and you’re only going to have a week off, I’d rather get you a house next to where I live and we’d have a great time.” And we, what do you mean no? Wow! That tour was attended by Viejín, who was very nice, a piece of cake. He was always next to Paco, Paco sat there, and he sat next to him. Or we would go to play football, and he would sit next to Paco, and the nails, Paco? And this other thing, Paco? He was very annoying, but Paco really liked the way he played.

–During the famous accident in which he almost lost a finger, were they with him?

– There we were, on Miracle Island, in Colombia. We were on tour and he said “I’m going with Gabriela to an island where I’m going to go fishing, with a black guy who rents me a boat” and I don’t know what else. And the next day, man, we got a call, “Paco has to run to Madrid.” He had gone in without gloves or anything, because he was that wild, he had caught a grouper or something like that, he had gotten into a rock, and when he stretched it out… his finger was hanging. But look at life: one doesn’t want to believe much in those things, but it’s called Miracle Island, the man pulls him out of the water, the tendon cut, the blood, there are also sharks there… Well, the first thing he thinks is that he needs a doctor, but where do you find one on a little island with four fishermen’s houses? They tell him that one lives there, but they don’t know if he’ll be coming today. They take him to the shore, and the doctor appears on a bicycle, on the beach! He looks at the tendon, he can't do anything, but he ties the tendon and says: go quickly to a hospital. He arrives quickly by plane to Madrid, the doctor sees him and asks him: "Who did this to you?" "A guy who was passing by on a bicycle." "Well, he saved your finger." "Don't tell me that, I already thought I was going to give up the guitar." When it happened, a weight was lifted from his shoulders. It was the perfect excuse to rest. And the doctor told him: "Well, you're not going to rest. I'll operate on you and in two months you'll be playing." How? Indeed. And we started on tour again. "And I thought, Joaquín, you should die, that I already had the excuse to retire."

–Have you ever seen anyone rejoice at this possibility? In the sense of seeing Paco as an obstacle to full development.

–Surely there was, but they are people with very little light. The important thing is to look for another way. We have Vicente there, who has found his way. Naturally there is Paco, and that is a full stop, not a full stop. But you have to find a formula: you cannot get there, neither as a composer nor as a concert performer nor as a guitarist. It is impossible. He is a wise man, a magician who came to earth. If it had not been for that, flamenco, wherever I had fallen I would have done something similar. If I had been born in Hungary or in America, I would have done something important, because I had that thing.

 

«Paco would release a new song and you would recognize it as the soundtrack of your life, even though it was new. It's like when you read a book and it tells you something you know, but that you couldn't have written yourself.»

 

–Since you mention Vicente, I think they were estranged at some point, although he ended up carrying the coffin…

–And the one who has made the most beautiful tribute, the RequiemThey are compadres, but there is no comparison. In Paco's last album, where he invited Tomate to play, that was for Vicente. The thing is that he feels so much respect for Paco that he put one obstacle after another in his way so that he wouldn't go. And Paco, are you going to come or aren't you going to come? But a bulería by Paco with Vicente is not the same as a bulería by Paco with Tomate. You can put yourself in the position you want, that's the reality. And in fact, look at what Vicente has done throughout his career. Tomate is a guy who has a certain sound, a way of playing, but he is more of a guitarist than a concert performer.

–Have you spoken to Vicente about Paco?

–No, and I don't think he will ever speak to anyone. But the truth is that they had a very good relationship. Paco came to Cordoba to his house, he loved him very much and spoke very well of him. He was his first apostle.

–Do you remember how you received the news of Paco’s death?

–I am going to premiere a show here in Jerez with Remedios, Makarines, Dorantes, Juan Requena… little things of mine, it was called. I was rehearsing, I was going to take my girls to school and I always turn on the radio. “Paco de Lucía dies.” What? This is wrong. It can’t be, what are you saying? A bucket of cold water in the morning. I make two or three calls and yes, indeed… It’s like your father dying, your musical father, with what I have lived with him. At a time that I know that the others who have been with him have not lived. I knew a 50-year-old Paco who took on the world, he would kick a glass and it would fall down whole. I premiered at the Villamarta, I made a brushstroke in his memory, but I couldn’t go where everyone was going to go to fake it: to the funeral to fight over the box, or to be seen… He knows perfectly well, and I know, what we have lived. I keep things to myself. I preferred not to go to Algeciras.

–How many times do you remember him?

–One day yes and another day no. Yesterday I was listening with my sister Carmen watching how to make a bulería, and I remembered something that he is doing with Turronero and Paco Cepero and Camarón, and he plays there bulerías which is an outrage. And Camarón He was there in high spirits. He was always giving advice, and he said: if an artist hasn't achieved anything by the age of 35, he's not going to achieve much later. At 35, a person has to have his life sorted out. It was the limit to start shaping what he had accumulated in his backpack. If you had nothing, you were shit. And every time I came back from tour, he asked me, "What's out there, what new artists are there?" There was a time when I was very busy with Borrull and Cojo de Málaga, and I arrived on tour with my records and my CDs. We always traveled around Europe in a double-decker bus, and we had our little joint upstairs with our sound. Paco always sat downstairs with Gabriela, came up and said, "What's that you're listening to?" "Borrull with Cojo Málaga." I put it on. "Play it again." "Play that part, turn it back!" In fact, the CDs disappeared, I never saw them again [laughs]. ♦

 

 

 

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