Madrid native from 1982, Israel Suarez Red-bellied piranha embodies the current elite of the cajón flamenco and represents the first generation of percussionists who arrived in a world in which this instrument was perfectly normalized. He was the percussionist who Paco de Lucía signed when he decided to renew the sextet, and the one who accompanied him until the end of his days on tours and recordings. The musician agrees to talk about all this Expoflamenco.
You are born into a world where the drawer flamenco It exists and is quite widespread. Has the drawer been present in your home for as long as you can remember?
Yes, everyone knows that Rubem was the pioneer, but after him came many percussionists like my brother Ramón Porrina, Antonio Carmona… And yes, since I was a child, at home, there was always a cajón at hand.
Was he your first teacher?
Well, we never had a teacher as such, but he was my idol, and he still is. You have to bear in mind that we come from a family of artists, musicians, and so at home there was always a reason to celebrate and to listen to music and play, right? We were bitter about my mother with the pots and pans, with the drums, poor thing…
Hitting things all day long, huh?
You wouldn't believe it [laughs]. As I say, my brother Ramón Porrina was one of the best percussionists, he was a very big school, along with Rubem and Antonio, and, of course, I had him at home. For me, you see, that was a privilege.
What music was played at home?
Always to Camarón, because I'll explain: I had a brother, who died, who was ten years older than me. He had cerebral palsy since birth, so he only heard Camarón. If you took away from him Camarón, it was a scandal. And if you wanted to put someone else in it, he realized that it was not Camarón. And then in my house we listened to it from 10 in the morning until 2 in the morning, but all the records of Camarón. And then, apart from that, you always heard flamencoMy father listened a lot to my grandfather Porrina, or to Sabicas, or to Manolo Caracol, I don't know, always flamencoI was a bit of the weirdest one, because I liked other music. I would go to my brother Paquete's house and steal his CDs, because he always listened to other things.
When do you remember yourself, sitting on the cajón, starting to try your hand at percussion?
Well, look, I did my first tour for my brother Ramón, precisely, because he recorded Niña Pastori's first CD. And I remember that one day I was at home and he told me that he couldn't go to the presentation of a new girl's album and so on, "I told him you should go." And I was 12 years old! I said, "But, what are you saying?" Yes, okay, you're going to go. And in the end I went to rehearse, I did the presentation at the Sala Caracol in Madrid, I still remember. And a few months later they called me to go on tour, and that was the first tour that I did as an adult, as a professional. I remember, I was just 13 years old. Before that I had played sometimes, maybe I had played in Madrid with uncle Pepe Habichuela. And I also went with Nina Corti to Germany, with my uncle Guadiana, who took him. Well, I had done some things, but it was just a tour and all that, with María… She's five years older than me at most. She was probably 16, 17 years old, so she was a kid.
«I remember one day we were at a festival in Puerto Rico. There were Michel Camilo, Chick Corea, Rubén Blades, Abraham Laboriel… A bunch of incredible artists. And Paco arrived, and everyone stood at attention. And I said, fuck, if these people are musical geniuses, each in their own genre, what does he transmit for people to have that respect and admiration for him?»
That generation following Rubem's generation, his brother's generation, Antonio Carmona's, Lucky Losada's, Bandolero's, Chaboli's… Was it very different from today's?
Well, evolution is always good, and I think that young people today have much more information than we do. For example, I am already 42 years old, I am already an old man. We did not have the technology that they have, if you want to see a video of a guy who lives in a town in Cuba who plays I don't know what and is called I don't know what, surely there is a video of him. In the past we did not have access to any of that. There were many people playing, all very good, and each one had a different style, which was what was really cool. I was the youngest of that generation. I learned a lot from Chaboli, I loved him, he was... Well, he is still a great guy, but at that time he taught me many things about the congas. Lucky, for example, about dancing. Bandolero also went with Joaquín Cortés. And Ramón too. It was a very nice time, we were always crazy about playing and crazy about learning. Today's generation plays very well, it has many qualities. And they are very evolved, the truth is that it is wonderful to see them play, the young ones.
I wanted to ask you about two things you mentioned. One is dancing. Do you think it has influenced the cajón, that it has taken it in a certain direction?
Well, there are people who know how to play very well for dancing. They are specialists in that. For example, Lucky Losada, for me he is a percussionist who has created a school within what is dance. I think there is no dancer who does not do a Lucky finish. Do you know what I am saying? Lucky has created a school that still continues, and will always continue. He marked a very strong era. I like to play more, for example, to sing or some guitarist. There are others who like to play more for dancing. It is nice to play everything. These are eras, right? When I was young I played more with Sara Baras. I spent time with many dancers, almost all of them. But I identify more with the singers and guitarists, I feel more comfortable, the truth is.
The other thing is: what influence do you think Latin percussion had on the cajón? Did people who started listening to Giovanni Hidalgo and Changuito incorporate elements into the cajón?
Yes, we were to blame. That's where we were at fault. I think it was for the best. Chaboli and I listened to Giovanni a lot. From the first day I saw Giovanni I went crazy. And the same with Changuito, because I saw a way of playing and a musicality that had a big impact on me. The exercises they did on the cajón were very rewarding, because it's very difficult on the conga, but it's easier to make it sound on the cajón. We got that influence. I do feel a little guilty, in a good sense of the word. Not just me, but the whole generation that incorporated a little bit of the techniques and the way of playing and making Latin rhythms, for example, in the flamencoAs I said before, it is good to evolve and listen to things, but always knowing where you are and where you come from.
Well, no matter how much you take from the Latins, you will feel flamenco your whole life, right?
It's the blood, although I love the sauce, the latin It drives me crazy, I really like Cuban rumba and I really like percussion itself. But what really fulfills me is my own music. I like to eat from other music, but always without losing what one really knows how to do, which is the flamenco, Right?
When you say you discovered Giovanni, was it live, or on record or on video?
The first time I heard Giovanni was with Chaboli. And he had a video somewhere that had been passed to him. Well, that was crazy. And then there were some records that Giovanni was putting out. I used to go and buy records like crazy back then.
Yes, I was also dazzled by it at one time. Villa Hidalgo, Time Shifter and all those great albums…
Yes, absolutely. And the videos… This anecdote is very funny, because I used to play percussion in a shop on Valverde Street, on Gran Via, and there they had Giovanni's videos. And of course, those videos cost a fortune at that time. Until I started working and I bought them all, all the ones there were. That's what I said to the manager, give them all to me. I went home and my father and mother were bitter, they couldn't watch TV. [laughs] You play because you like music, without knowing what the future will bring or where you can get. And what those people have done is play, play, play, without knowing the magnitude of what they were doing. And I think that every percussionist in the whole world always makes some reference to Giovanni or Changuito, or Tata Güines. That is the Bible of percussion.
"Everyone, no matter what they do flamenco or not or whether he is a musician or not, he sings a falseta of Paco, Paco's music is cante. He is a messenger from God to give us joy, to make us happy in our soul and heart.

Well, Diego El Cigala took Changuito and Tata on tour together, did you get to meet them in person?
Yes, of course. Look, I recorded the thing about the Lagrimas Negras, the first one, and then came the maestro Tata Güines, may he rest in peace, and Changuito, and then they did a tour, although I was already with Paco. And my brother Sabu went, the youngest, and we coincided in Madrid in a lot of places. I was crazy about those people, as I repeat, and I liked being with them having a coffee, because they were people of art, and also very similar to flamenco people and they just wanted to laugh and play, and that is wonderful.
Paco, when did he appear in your life?
Paco has appeared in my life since I was a baby, like the newborn daughter I have now. Paco and Camarón, between the flamencos, among the gypsies, it's a thing... how can I explain it to you? It's very funny, I always explained it to him when we went to study. I told him, master, it's that you have created something so beautiful and so true that people who don't know you consider you as family. You ask anyone flamenco, to any gypsy about Camarón or about Paco, and it is something that they feel is their own, not because they are the best artists or the best teachers; it is something of love, of wanting, of feeling it as yours. And I, of course, had always listened to them both at home, and it was crazy. I never imagined, nor did it cross my mind that I could end up playing with Paco, in my life.
Do you remember when was the first time you met him in person?
Yes, I went to pick him up once, but I was a kid then. Chaboli came by the studio to pick up something, an instrument, at Musigrama, and he was there. I didn't even go by, I stood there very seriously, at the door. I was scared and I didn't go by. And then for the thing with good things Javier Limón called me, “Look, Paco wants you to come and record.” And I got really nervous, I really broke down, I got sick. And once we were in the studio, the truth is that the album drove me crazy, but I couldn’t play, I was in a fit, it was impossible. How are you going to play in front of that man? In the end we finished the album and everything was fine, very cool, he was always very nice, a very good person, he loved to laugh.
And that was just the beginning…
Yes, then he called me about a tour, the first one he did when he changed groups, and I got so nervous that I said no. Imagine! [laughs] I said no, I wasn’t going. And Javi Limón says to me, but how are you going to say no… And I didn’t move from there. So I called my brother Paquete and I said to him, look, Paco called me and I said no. “What did you say to him? Look, I’ll give you two minutes to call him, but now! Or I’ll get you and beat your head off.” “Ok, ok, ok.” So I called him, I’ll remember all my life, I was in Seville, I was going to play something at the Bienal, and I said to him: “Maestro, it’s me, Piraña.” “Well, Piraña, look, right now, since you said no, I was calling Tino di Geraldo to come, since you don’t want to do it.” And that was where the joke started, but in the end I went on tour with him to the United States, we came back, he changed the group again and I continued with him, and so I spent eleven years by his side, the best of my life, really.
What was the relationship between Paco and Javier Limón like? What do you think he brought to the maestro?
Well, nothing to contribute, because Paco didn't need anything, really. The thing is that Paco was a very simple person, and Javi made everything easy for him at that time. What is Javi or anyone else going to contribute to Paco musically? That's unthinkable.
So it was simplicity and ease, and then it also opened the door to technology, right?
Yes, he was the one who got him started with ProTools, which Javi handled and continues to handle very well, and of course, Paco was not aware of how it worked, but after 15 days he was already recording by himself, eh? He was a super-gifted person. Javi was there, the truth is that he made things much easier for him, the studio and the comfort.
«There are all those guitarists, who for me are a blessing, and then there is Paco. It is not about playing better, or having more technique, it is just everything. Paco's composition, the way he sings, it has nothing to do with it, it is something else. He was crazy about rhythm, he really liked the time not to move, neither up nor down. Maybe what I am saying sounds a bit harsh, but it is true. That man was crazy.»

When you got into the studio with him and started touring, you had already played with some really good guitarists. What was so special about Paco?
Before playing with Paco, I think that 100% of guitarists flamencoI played with ninety percent of them: with Tomatito, with Vicente, with Gerardo a couple of times too… One that I missed was Manolo Sanlúcar. But I can assure you that there are all those guitarists, who for me are a blessing, and then there is Paco, you know? It's not about playing better, or having more technique, it's just everything. Paco's composition, the way he sings, it has nothing to do with it, it's something else. He was crazy about rhythm, he really liked the time not to move, neither up nor down. Maybe what I'm saying sounds a bit harsh, but it's true. That man was crazy.
We are talking about a musician who was, in fact, obsessed with time and gifted with rhythm, who controlled dynamics like no one else, who had a built-in metronome. How does a percussionist prepare to be on par with someone like that?
Look, on the first tour we did in the US we went to do forty days or something like that, and I had a really bad time. He had been with the old group for 27 years, I think I remember, and for me that group, well… The sound of Paco's sextet was the sound of my whole childhood and that of my generation, and before my generation. That was the sound of Paco's group. I also had a really bad time because I said to myself, "You're losing your rhythm!" Of course, we were the ones who flamencoWe are used to playing the falseta a little faster, when you get to the song you slow down a little bit… And I suffered there, I had a lot of respect for him, and I was scared! I saw him on stage and he would impress me, my body would tremble. Then one day he said to me “Boy, you’re slowing down!”, “What do you want me to do, maestro?”, “You have to study with a metronome, I’m going to give you one.” And I, between how nervous I was, that I was slowing down, I don’t know what… I thought: “This man, when the tour is over, is going to kick me in the ass and throw me out, normal, you can’t imagine what I’m doing for him.” And then when he called me again to do the 2004 tour, I said to myself: “Well, I have two options, either to continue being shy, or to gain a little confidence and play a little more relaxed, because if not it will be impossible. And that was when I started little by little. It is true that the percussionists of flamenco We tend to get off a lot, and no, he liked to go at a speed, and the dynamics were very important, very much. Look, you have to realize one thing: everyone, no matter what they are dedicated to flamenco or not or whether he is a musician or not, he sings a falseta of Paco, Paco's music is canteHe is a messenger from God to give us joy, to make us glad in our soul and heart.
That can be said of few.
That way of composing, that way of transmitting, that rhythm, that sound… There are so many things, you can spend a whole day talking about it without stopping, because there are so many details. At home I don't listen to it because it makes me very sad and makes me feel bad, but the other day I put it on, and I swear I cried so hard, because you can't play the guitar better, you can't transmit it more, you can't be more musical. That's all.
You started with the group El Negri and La Tana, right? What do you think he was looking for at that time?
Well, the truth is, I don't know exactly, because you have to realise that he spent his whole life with his group, and they had a sound, as I told you before. So of course, when the first tour took place, I think he was also a bit confused about the youth scene. Not for nothing, but because he lived far away, he wasn't in Madrid or around here. Then when we came back the group changed, Antonio Serrano came in, Montse came in and I don't remember who else...
Alain?
Alain was already there, Alain and I joined together, we went to record and he took us on the tour in the United States. And when we returned, it was me, Alain and La Tana who stayed. And then he called Montse and Duquende. And Niño Josele, too.
And did you feel like he was trying to connect with new people?
You see, of course, if you've been with a group all your life, changing it is very difficult, man, and even more so when you've already made your sound and your things. But Paco was too great. In fact, the other day when I heard him, I put on a concert, I don't know if it was in Germany or where and without wanting to, the group already had a different sound, they had already introduced elements that... You, for example, right now you hear a harmonica and it reminds you of Paco. So that you can see the breadth that this man had, as a musician, I mean, he made Antonio Serrano, who for me is one of the best musicians in the world, sound great. flamenco. Taking some younger children and giving it a different tone, and suddenly time passes and suddenly a note sounds and you say “that's Paco's group…” It's very nice.
«Paco was a genius as a guitarist, for me the best musician in history, but as a person he was even better. He helped many people that nobody knows about, he didn't want anyone to find out. Always in silence, that says a lot about a person»
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How was the relationship between you, the 'kids', when the tour started? How was that family created from the beginning?
I'll be very honest with you. I'm a very funny guy, I like to laugh a lot, and Paco was worse! He loved to roast people, make people laugh, and I got on very well with him. He also knew my grandfather very well, may he rest in peace, my father, my uncle, I always knew them. flamencoThey all know each other. But I had a very good friendship with him because I like to eat a lot and he does too, and so we were laughing all the time and looking for nicknames, and setting each other up for fights, Alain with Antonio Serrano, Serrano with Alain… Look, my colleagues tell me that I am the one who is the most famous. bloodscorching professional, but I swear to you that I have never seen anything like him. He also looked after us, we were very young, of course, he laughed at seeing us so young there. He really liked the meetings in the hotel rooms listening to music, that was wonderful.
El Negri also told me that he liked everyone to play music. And do you remember conversations with him that had nothing to do with music?
Always, especially about food, me and him. We talked a lot about everything, Paco taught us a lot who were close to him, even without being close! To be humble, because he was a very humble person being who he was. I remember one day we were at a festival, I think it was in Puerto Rico, and there were Michel Camilo, Chick Corea, Rubén Blades, Abraham Laboriel… There were a lot of incredible artists. And Paco arrived, and everyone stood at attention. And I said, “fuck, if these people are musical geniuses, each in their own genre, what does he transmit for people to have that respect and admiration for him?” Paco, I tell you because I have lived with him, he could be in a shack with the most basket-wearing gypsies in the world, and the next day he could be eating with the king of Spain. He had that virtue. In fact, we were going to Eastern Europe, and we had a place for dinner, but there was a place where there were some gypsies, and he said, “No, no, at the gypsies’.” And the restaurant was in the middle of a river, almost a shack, the worst food I have ever eaten in my life. I did it to enjoy how the gypsies played, in rhythms of 5, 9, 11… And we stayed there until two or three in the morning.
What did you like to eat most?
Fish. Anchovies [laughs]. I laugh because on one of the tours I really wanted to eat them, but everywhere we went they were done very badly. And in Italy he went into the kitchen and, standing next to the fryer, he told the cook how to make them. And when they brought him the anchovies the way he wanted them, he was delighted, he said “what a joy!” I remember that I came back from the tour and, as my wife cooks very well, she made me a tray of anchovies with a tomato and I sent her the photo. She was dying of laughter. “The hardships we went through to eat anchovies, and look what awaited me when I got back home.”
Some people think that he became more of a gypsy than ever with the second group. Did you ever talk to him about that?
Look, Paco was like an old gypsy to me. In the first group he had never taken gypsies with him, and in the second he took some young people who were gypsies, but he didn't do it for nothing, just to laugh and have a good time. Paco didn't need to call gypsies or non-gypsies, he called whoever he wanted. I think he was such a great creator that the gypsy and the non-gypsy thing ends there. You can't talk badly to a gypsy like Paco, because he'll take you and hit you. I'm going to tell you another very good and very personal anecdote, so you can see the magnitude of this: he told his family that the day he was gone, that the gypsies should please take him, the flamencoYes, those who really wanted him there. It doesn't mean that we are just the gypsies, but the people who he knew really wanted him. We would go to a concert in front of four thousand people, and if there was an ole on time, he knew there were two flamencos there. And he played for those two flamencos. Paco was the flamenco really.
Did you see him having a bad time before going on stage?
Yes, he got nervous. And I talked to him about it, “But maestro, are you nervous?” “It’s just that it’s a lot of responsibility.” That’s normal too, but no way, once he went out and played the rondeña, it was wonderful.
Do you remember a night when you were more of a failure than expected?
Yes, of course, I spent eleven years with him. Look, I liked Paco more when he made mistakes than when he did well. You see Paco when he was young and he was super fast, but in his last period everything was more rhythmic, more sung. When he made mistakes he tried in a different way, he improvised, and I liked that a lot. And when he got angry and went on a rampage, you'll see. He brought out the lions, as he said.
«I told him, master, you have created something so beautiful and so true that people who don't know you consider you family. You ask anyone flamenco, to any gypsy about Camarón or about Paco, and it is something that they have as their own, not because they are the best artists or teachers. It is something of wanting, of love, of feeling it as yours.

Was he very strict with you?
No way. He just wanted to laugh and have a good time. He would kill himself with me sometimes, he would arrive five minutes late and say, “Kid, you are a scoundrel, I am going to talk to your father. Who do you think you are? I have been waiting for you for five minutes?” [laughs] And then I would play jokes on him, and we would go on like that all day. Paco was a genius as a guitarist, for me the best musician in history, but as a person he was even better. He helped a lot of people that nobody knows about, he didn’t want anyone to find out. Always in silence, that says a lot about a person.
Have you ever encountered guitarists who were jealous of you?
The guitarist who thinks that has a serious psychological problem. It's like if I wanted to compare myself to Giovanni, I would be a complete idiot [laughs]. If they think that, they will have a very big trauma.
At the time you shared this experience, Paco was already travelling with his family. Was Paco a more relaxed person, too?
I think so, he always traveled with Gabriela and with Antonia and Diego, he really liked being with them. And then there were tours when they couldn’t come, and we were there, of course. I remember a very good anecdote, when Rubio came, because Duquende couldn’t come, Antonio Sánchez and El Farru recommended him. And he says to me, “How does this kid sing, Rubio de Pruna?” And I tell him “he sings very well.” “No, tell me the truth.” “He sings very well, maestro, I don’t know how you’re going to like him, but he sings very well.” “I know that El Farru is calling him, because as he is his singer, I’m sure he wants him to say a lot of oles when he comes out…” [laughter]
Any more anecdotes from those times?
Look, another one is when we were in the Canary Islands one day. He grabbed a friend of his, Luis from Algeciras, and said to him: “Luis, scare this new manager we have.” And Luis called him on the phone without saying who he was, skirting around him, and you wouldn’t believe the mess that this made: the poor manager telling us that he had been threatened… And he was laughing, it was his friend who was sitting next to him at the table. [laughs] And another time we arrived on tour somewhere, and he started telling us that another friend of his who lived in Mallorca, Juan, who made guitars with him, had been put in jail for groping someone in a movie theater. He spent a month laughing about that.
He had strong jokes.
Very heavy, very heavy, but he loved them.
Did you play football with him?
Yes, in Brazil, in Rio de Janeiro. I remember that one day Farru didn't come, and you can't believe it, I hadn't played for twenty years, the next day the same... So they beat us up. The next day, his nephew Antonio had gotten excited, "the flamenco"They're against us, Tito." And what I didn't know is that Farru runs like a hare, so when he came, we beat him up. I remember that I accidentally charged Paco and he fell to the ground, and I asked him "Boss, are you okay?" "You're all soft and worthless." We started to beat them, and every time we scored a goal we would throw ourselves around in the sand, laughing. And he would say, "Antoñito, put your foot in Farru's foot, nothing will happen!" From then on he would call Farru the repulsive child“This annoying kid who does everything well, dances, sings, plays soccer, plays the guitar…” [laughs]
«We went to a concert in front of four thousand people and if there was an ole on time, he knew there were two flamencos there. And he played for those two flamencos. Paco was the flamenco really"
Did you ever spend time with Paco in Cuba?
Yes, of course, I was with him. Paco really liked salsa, he loved Van Van, also Gran Combo de Puerto Rico… and Parrita. Before going to sleep I remember that he would play Parrita for the kids. And sometimes when we were on tour, he would say to us, “Let’s call Vicente, we’re going to laugh a lot.” And he would call Parrita and ask him “Vicente, what have you eaten today?” “Paco, today I made rice with three or four rabbits that came out really good” [laughs]. It was very nice.
In the Canción andaluza album there is already that possible turn of Paco towards Latin, with Oscar d'Leon.
In Puerto Rico they threw a private party and Gran Combo came to sing, I remember, we had a great time, a great time.
You were also on his last album, Andalusian song, Right?
Yes, yes, I recorded three albums with Paco, and that was the last one. One day, Alain and I went there. I laughed a lot, as always, he served us some delicious fish and some delicious wine. It was crazy, you looked at the computer and there were twenty digital tracks. “But maestro, how do you know where each guitar is?” But he was excited, he said to me: “Look, listen to this thing that Melchor de Marchena played, and I tried to do it exactly the same so that it sounds like it was from the same period.” He played me the original, and he nailed it.
Did he talk to you about the concept of that album?
He had a memory of a gypsy who used to sing at his house, I don't remember his name. El Tuerto, I think it was.
Raphael the One-Eyed.
That's right! And he said that he had that voice in his heart. And it also came from Marifé, from the time when so much copla was heard in Spain. He said that he loved the two of them above all, El Tuerto and Marifé. “When we were little, my father brought a man called Rafael El Tuerto, who had a very deep voice, and I have never forgotten him.”
Do you remember how you received the news of his death?
Yes, I was working in Barcelona, we had been talking all night about him, Barullo, the Farrucos, Camarón from Pitita… And when I got home, I fell asleep and in the early morning they told me. Antonio Serrano called me. I had a really bad time, I was very attached to that man, I felt very sorry for the way they did it here in Spain, what that man was like and the way they had to do it to bring him… It hurt me a lot. Such a tragedy, being so far away, they should have given the family other facilities.
«I don't listen to it at home because it makes me very sad and upset, but the other day I put it on, and I swear I cried so hard, because you can't play the guitar better, you can't transmit it more, you can't be more musical. That's all.»

How many times do you remember Paco in your daily life?
[He pauses for a long time] I remember him every day. Anyone who knew Paco must remember him every day. It's something that's already part of your life, if not for a meal, it's for a song, if not for an anecdote... Or you hear a new musician and you remember him.
Have you been very moved by this year's tributes?
I always have the feeling that I will see him again, I tell my wife, or that he will call me at any moment. It is something that is there. It has been very nice, very emotional everything that we have been doing, with the musicians contributing everything they can. It has given us so many good things. I play the cajón because he saw the cajón at a party one day and said “give it to me”. And he gave it to Rubem, they came to Spain… And now I live off of that. I wear a size 47, as a dancer I wouldn’t have been able to [laughs]
Rubem told me that he met you in his mother's womb. Is that right?
Absolutely. Rubem is very good, he is never angry, he always has a smile. And I used to watch him as a child in the sextet videos, and then my father would take me to the Conde Duque and he would often go, and I would see him playing the cajón with those braids… It was crazy.
Did he ever give you any advice?
He was a very good friend of the family, you have to realise that we all came from him, he is the tree and all the branches come from there. He would see me play and laugh, he would die of laughter.
How would you say the box is today, who interests you in the current panorama?
There are some very good ones, I really like Juan Carmona, Camborio's son, for me a superfine percussionist. I like Ané, I like Paquito Vega, I like my nephew José, I like Manu Masaedo, Kike, Montaña…. There are many very good ones, some more flamencos than others. And I love watching them, I'm learning, eating from the new generation, which is what it's all about. Realize that the cajon is an instrument that can be used in many types of music, but one has to identify with the flamenco, which is where we come from. And percussionists are guilty of playing too much and listening too little. I am the first to blame for putting in too much technique and doing too many drum rolls, and for percussionists being so annoying, but the most beautiful thing is to listen and accompany.
Don't you think that after acquiring an advanced technique, the difficult thing is to open spaces, to create silences?
Absolutely. There are people who have the technique by nature, others who acquire it by studying, in any case something that can be picked up. And the same goes for speed. But as you say, silences are very important. If we manage to have that balance, it can be a very beautiful instrument. ♦