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Hailed by critics and peers as the greatest living flamenco guitarist, Paco de Lucía’s name elicits reverence among musicians and guitar fans from nearly every musical genre. Ever since his recording debut in the early 1960s, de Lucía has been venerated for his commanding technique, as well as his ability to play with a profound sense of jondura (emotional depth and feeling). The guitarist, who grew up as Francisco Sánchez Gomez up in Algeciras, a port city in the southern province of Cadiz, Spain. He first learned flamenco guitar from his father and older brother, as well as a close family friend (who happened to be a great guitar master of his generation), Nino de Ricardo.
When he was only twelve, the young musician was awarded a special prize at a flamenco contest in Jerez. He soon took on his mother’s name as part of his stage persona, christening himself “de Lucía.” In 1961, he began touring the Americas, Europe, Africa and Australia as an accompanist with Jose Greco’s troupe. It was another flamenco guitar genius, Sabicas, who de Lucía met while touring the States, who encouraged him to begin composing his own music.
For years, de Lucía’s guitar supported dancers and singers, and he was consistently cheered for his sensitive accompaniment, as well as his stunning solo playing. Still, he felt restless performing in strictly conventional contexts, and began to seek out extracurricular activities. One of de Lucía’s most notable domestic releases—the album that introduced him to a wider North American audience, and helped him to step away from pure flamenco—was the legendary concert document Friday Night In San Francisco, recorded with fellow guitar virtuosi Al di Meola and John McLaughlin at the Warfield Theatre in 1980. The disc captures these three monster talents (an overused adjective, but in this case entirely apropos) jamming, trading solos, and fi ring up their respective fretboards. The trio’s subsequent studio project, Passion, Grace And Fire was just as impressive, and equally well-received.
Working with noted jazz artists like keyboardist Chick Corea further inspired de Lucía to explore non-flamenco sounds and styles. Showing a pioneer spirit, de Lucía sought to expand flamenco’s breadth by interweaving elements and instrumentation from jazz, rock and world music, even introducing electronic effects (via Carles Benavent’s innovative approach to the bass guitar) into his otherwise all-acoustic ensemble, the legendary Paco de Lucía Sextet.
“The Sextet came about from improvisation and experimentation,” the now 60-year-old de Lucía recalls. “It was not something that was premeditated on my part it was more spontaneous. I was on tour in Europe and saw it was very exciting to play with other musicians from other parts of the world and backgrounds. Before that, I had played mostly solo, or sometimes only with one or two other guitar players or singers. So it was kind of like a game, like going to parties and playing with different people there. My approach for the sextet wasn’t formal. We never rehearsed our material in advance.” Given the group’s astonishing interplay, collective and individual instrumental prowess, and often breathtakingly tight arrangements, that comment seems incredible. It’s safe to say, even 23 years later, that hardly any Nuevo Flamenco group, from Spain or any other country, has ever matched de Lucía’s Sextet for sheer verve and virtuosity.
“We only rehearsed during the tours,” de Lucía continues. “We mostly played improvisations. And we changed things nearly every day. If I saw that something wasn’t right, I’d say, ‘No, this part I don’t like, we have to do this,’ or ‘we have to do that.’ In that regard, we never got very serious with the Sextet, it was something very informal in that things were always so fluid musically.”
His woodwind player, Jorge Pardo, came from a jazz background, and de Lucía’s bassist, Carles Benavent, was experienced in rock, blues and fusion styles. “I think if you have a group with musicians of that caliber, you can not have the other musicians always there to accompany you. I felt that all of us had to be standouts, like dancers, but the music had to be flamenco, or something that was challenging for me. So I would make a tune where the sound, the rhythm, and the spirit were flamenco, but at the same time I’d leave parts of every tune for freedom, for improvisation. That way, when I’d let Jorge or Carles or me be free, it was very exciting.
“Because when you discover improvisation, it is something very nice, it is quite exhilarating. In the flamenco, we improvise in another sense, in another way, not like in jazz music where the improvisation is more organized. There you have a cycle of chords and this repeats while the soloist creates parts over the changes. But in flamenco, we don’t have this. We don’t have something prepared. We know that we are in bulerias, or siguiriyas or solea, but it depends on the dancer or the singer. We have to look at each other, to create in that moment what is happening, and we improvise with that.”
While de Lucía has received numerous accolades for his fusions of flamenco, jazz and other styles, he is not without detractors. Some felt he was bastardizing their art form flamenco puros (traditionalists) bemoaned his departure from the fold. “When I first started out playing as a young boy, you could not move nothing,” he recalls. “It was very strict. If you went outside of the norm, you were ostracized. It was regarded as nearly blasphemous. But I never agreed with that idea. I always wanted to explore and move the music in new directions. I grew up with the flamenco traditions and I knew them very well, but at the same time wanted to approach things from a contemporary standpoint. However, I still wanted to be regarded as a flamenco musician.”
Having successfully expanded flamenco’s borders countless times during his celebrated career, de Lucía states, “If you are a good flamenco musician, it doesn’t matter. You can do anything. But it must always be with the sabor, with the taste of flamenco.”
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