I took the train in and then went to Plaza Pelicano to meet Concha, but it was Curro who had driven her in, not Rafael. On the way back I learned about the Jackson Five. From Curro, a 24 year old flamenco guitarist born into a half gitano, flamenco family in an outpost of Andalucia. "Who is this?" I asked. Michael Jackson, when he had "ocho años". Well, and his family of course. Curro said that of course this music is popular in Spain, he is "numero uno en todo el mundo." I am sure that people know Michael Jackson, but from the 60s? Concha said she didn't know much about this music either, but called it a "maravilla", obviously loving it.
I told them I was 12 when Thriller was popular and asked if they knew the "Anda de Luna". They kind of looked blank.
When we got home I asked Mai. We communicate always in Spanish, but her English pronunciation is excellent and her English reading was at one point, prize winning. I asked in Spanish if she knew the kind of walking that Michael Jackson did; a dance move. "The Moonwalk," she said immediately.
Anyways, either the Spanish didn't get the videos or they have a different name for it. Actually I think Frasci knew, but not from the name.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Anti-sweat math
Sevilla was strikingly cool today. Cool enough to walk on the sunny side of the street. That has not been possible since... early May, perhaps? It was still probably about 30 degrees. Maybe 28 or something.
Normally, as heat loving as I am, I take the absolute shortest route possible to any scrap of shade. Walking along a narrow street, if you want to walk on the other side you would cross diagonally (there is only room for 1 car going slowly, there is no such thing as j-walking, and you have to cross, many times, because the sidewalk - whose width varies - is too narrow for the car to pass safely, besides there are no proper corners from which you would or should make your crossing). So you walk diagonally continuing in roughly the same direction, so you don't needlessly waste steps. If you were intending to go straight, you would not walk at a 90 degree angle for a few steps and then continue straight. Nobody walks in a perfect square or even a backwards diagonal, unnecessarily. What I'm trying to say is that the absolute necessity of getting your body into shade makes me do that here. I never knew what a B-line really meant (I mean from experience. The term seemed kind of useless before).
Fine, I have to cross bridges sometimes in full sun. If you have to do it, you do it. I am used to sweating. Here, it is different. You don't freak out about a little sweat. But you really don't want to end up dripping if you can avoid it, and if 3 steps at a 90 degree angle to your path get you into the shade faster than 5 steps at a 60 degree angle, that is probably half a second difference, but I am going to take advantage of it!
Normally, as heat loving as I am, I take the absolute shortest route possible to any scrap of shade. Walking along a narrow street, if you want to walk on the other side you would cross diagonally (there is only room for 1 car going slowly, there is no such thing as j-walking, and you have to cross, many times, because the sidewalk - whose width varies - is too narrow for the car to pass safely, besides there are no proper corners from which you would or should make your crossing). So you walk diagonally continuing in roughly the same direction, so you don't needlessly waste steps. If you were intending to go straight, you would not walk at a 90 degree angle for a few steps and then continue straight. Nobody walks in a perfect square or even a backwards diagonal, unnecessarily. What I'm trying to say is that the absolute necessity of getting your body into shade makes me do that here. I never knew what a B-line really meant (I mean from experience. The term seemed kind of useless before).
Fine, I have to cross bridges sometimes in full sun. If you have to do it, you do it. I am used to sweating. Here, it is different. You don't freak out about a little sweat. But you really don't want to end up dripping if you can avoid it, and if 3 steps at a 90 degree angle to your path get you into the shade faster than 5 steps at a 60 degree angle, that is probably half a second difference, but I am going to take advantage of it!
I wish I had someone that could teach me how to live, like Concha teaches dance. You do a move that is pretty dramatic, and she says, "No. Con fuerza!" (force). You thought you were doing it with a lot of force. You try again. She says no. Then she demonstrates. "Tu lo haces asi:" and she plods along. You try again. "No, pareces un robot," she says, frustrated. ("rrrobo", both o's long.)
I was really trying to have force, and I was trying not to look like a robot, but it doesn't work. "No." She says again, and shows you over again how she would do it. One thing I have learned is that if you are actually lost in what you are doing, and you are executing these moves with honest to goodness "fuerza", your face automatically takes on an intense expression that is not superficial. She has taught us this. Finally I do it with "fuerza" and she says, "Bien!! Bien, Ana, Bien!"
It always happens that I think I am doing it but I am not. My mind has decided to try to make it look all forceful or move my body with a certain speed, but something doesn't jibe. I am sacar-ing something from dentro, somehow in the end, though I am not quite aware initially that I am not doing that, and I am not quite aware that it is happening, when it starts to happen. Partly, I am scared of her. But when I practice later, I know my dancing is different, and has never been like this before.
I was really trying to have force, and I was trying not to look like a robot, but it doesn't work. "No." She says again, and shows you over again how she would do it. One thing I have learned is that if you are actually lost in what you are doing, and you are executing these moves with honest to goodness "fuerza", your face automatically takes on an intense expression that is not superficial. She has taught us this. Finally I do it with "fuerza" and she says, "Bien!! Bien, Ana, Bien!"
It always happens that I think I am doing it but I am not. My mind has decided to try to make it look all forceful or move my body with a certain speed, but something doesn't jibe. I am sacar-ing something from dentro, somehow in the end, though I am not quite aware initially that I am not doing that, and I am not quite aware that it is happening, when it starts to happen. Partly, I am scared of her. But when I practice later, I know my dancing is different, and has never been like this before.
Monday, August 15, 2011
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDcnI4MojkQ&feature=player_embedded#at=21
I want to educate people that flamenco is not about ruffled skirts, and about guitar and dance on a stage. This rivals rap for coolness, and the atmosphere of kids hangin out on the street.
I want to educate people that flamenco is not about ruffled skirts, and about guitar and dance on a stage. This rivals rap for coolness, and the atmosphere of kids hangin out on the street.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
fiesta con que otros fiestas no tienen nada que ver; fiesta de fiestas
flamenco will never be the same for me. i have known about this second hand, but that is not a substitute for experiencing it.
flamenco has morphed into a lot of different things, and has evolved. but the core of it, the heart, is what I saw tonight. this is difficult to find, and difficult for a foreigner to see. a private party with families that have had this art passed down for generations, and for whom it is part of their everyday lives.
there was a bowl of salmorejo and a huge pot of gazpacho, and quite a few kilgrams of meat of all kinds that was barbequed over the course of ... many hours. there were about 20 - 30 people in the patio, and one little girl to entertain Mai and I and Miguel Funi's partner, Yukiko.
The little girl's grandmother is Ines Bacan, a stout lady, with an unusual soul. her art is subtle. I cannot move my eyes from her while she is singing, and the world pretty much stands still. on the outside she seems to react slowly, and be unphased to the point of indifference. there are very few people who i've seen sing like this. it seems like nothing else exists for her, and there is a direct line from the depths of her soul to her vocal chords. she doesn't sing loudly like many flamenco singers. it is one of the most pure things I've ever heard. she appears like a rock on the outside, but there are no walls around this lady's heart. her heart and soul seem like they would be washed clean and fresh as a child's, by the way painful things flow out freely. her "letras" (verses) are from her family, as were the letras of Miguel Funi. they are stories or outpourings of the heart that are personal. without knowing this, I felt during the evening, that their cante was actually alive, something I have never experienced listening to flamenco singers before. you cannot get the same idea from a CD, nor from a performer on a stage. something changes. also, these people don't just sing for anybody, at random parties. they sing in this way when they are in the house of extended family, with whom they are comfortable enough to do this all night, until the next afternoon.
the only reason the party stopped at 5 am was because Curro had to drive his girlfriend and her parents back to Moron. And Curro...Dios mio de mi alma (my new exclamation) It's possible that I might have heard somebody play guitar this well before but I don't think so. The kind of flamenco guitar that is popular (including with those in the flamenco world and its professionals) is beautiful. it is virtuoso often, and impressive, full of feeling, and worthy of solo performances. but the kind of guitar playing i heard last night is rare, and apart from the other. It's aim is not viruosity but "sentido" I don't think the english translation "feeling" comes close to what I have come to understand as sentido. It is an extreme sensitivity, in a split second, at times, to what the singer is singing in the moment. and the way flamenco is sung... this is an art worth more than virtuosity to me.
flamenco singing, dance and guitar consists of contrast. there are sudden stops and outbursts, and sweet, quiet sections, and the most violent, gut wrenching parts. then there is the 12/8 rhythm, which can take on quite a few different patterns of accents. the simplistic way flamenco is often done outside of spain requires accenting in a similar way with every group of 12. the only way that bulerias truly comes alive is that the pattern changes usually with the singing. this can be subtle, if you are trying to listen consciously and understand it mentally. if you simply feel it and respond with your body (clapping for example)... that is what this art is all about. this is not as easy as it sounds if you are from an anglosajone background, as it requires being in touch with yourself, your body, and not being inhibited.
Anyways, the guitar not only has to respond in split seconds to the singer changing the length of the phrase, but to sudden changes in volume, and to the overall but subtle rhythmic feel within the 12/8. Curro plays with the most unbelievable sentido, and seems like the reincarnation of Diego del Gastor, one of the greatest flamenco guitarists ever.
It seems like the best flamenco artists are those without big names. You will only arrive to hear about them when you plant your feet in andalucia and talk to people that have something to do with flamenco in a serious manner. The local festival in Lebrija, something renowned that has existed for decades, has come to be headlined by names that are big here in Andalucia, in the flamenco world. But even these people don't do flamenco like it used to be, living the culture in private family parties, and singing or playing with the kind of sentido I heard last night. That is something the people born inside this art tell me, and i've heard from others who know it well.
Last night I understood flamenco to be a way of life that is nearly lost. it is similar to a folk art form that has existed the world over: telling stories among close friends and extended family, before TV and before the ability to jump in a car and drive across a city in order to escape reality, change scenery or drink a glass of wine in a trendy and impersonal restaurant. that is what their singing is, but in andalucia it is done in an unbelievably compelling, rhythmic way, accompanied by guitar and all the people gathered clapping along as they are moved by the music and song (in a very specific way!) Along with this, what comes out naturally as the story moves them, is movement. in last night's fiesta, it was the singer himself who danced. the kind of dance that happens in fiestas is again not about technique, but sentido. it is a response to the story and rhythm, each movement containing subtlety and often humour.
Miguel Funi is a phenomenon. Concha's godfather, and godfather of her daughter as well, he is about 70. If you would rather partake with other human beings in something deep, but often funny, or even witty, if you would rather take pleasure in tranquility, and enjoying life and others without pressure, such that you could stay up all night just to be with them and joke around, or say what you really mean... if you prefer this to being "entertained" passively, with speed and hype and show of technical prowess, and slickness then you would understand Miguel as a phenomenon.
He uses all the flamenco cante (singing) techniques as though he is just playing with them; they roll out of him. the complaining, voice breaking thing that they do, the sudden changes in volume. he doesn't seem very serious about anything; there is a sly sparkle in his eye or a chuckle. But somehow it is food for the spirit. after a bunch of letras he gets inspired and gets up with his arms moving slowly, while snapping his fingers loudly, off the beat (exactly between main beats). then moves his feet slightly awkwardly but accurately marking the beat, and emphasises some part of his story with a humorous lunge or twist, and a flip of an arm. this isn't mean to look polished like a ballet dancer. it is an average person, but one who has this rhythm built into him, expressing himself freely. THAT is flamenco.
There were two others who sang twice, who were also awesome, and several people who were particularly vocal yelling out when the urge hit them, how "genio" (genuis) something was the guy singing or dancing just did, or yelling their name, or some of the other words or exclamations typical to flamenco, to encourage the singer.
Mai and I didn't know what to do with ourselves. We were practically beside ourselves loving it. She is a 21 year old Japanese girl, one of the cutest, sweetest, most awesome people I've ever met. Unusual in her knowledge of and appreciation for this little known, traditional and very un-showy part of flamenco, which is the only "real" flamenco for her. She understands much of the sentido, what is really going on here, and what is happening to me and her as we learn this, more quickly and profoundly than I do.
flamenco has morphed into a lot of different things, and has evolved. but the core of it, the heart, is what I saw tonight. this is difficult to find, and difficult for a foreigner to see. a private party with families that have had this art passed down for generations, and for whom it is part of their everyday lives.
there was a bowl of salmorejo and a huge pot of gazpacho, and quite a few kilgrams of meat of all kinds that was barbequed over the course of ... many hours. there were about 20 - 30 people in the patio, and one little girl to entertain Mai and I and Miguel Funi's partner, Yukiko.
The little girl's grandmother is Ines Bacan, a stout lady, with an unusual soul. her art is subtle. I cannot move my eyes from her while she is singing, and the world pretty much stands still. on the outside she seems to react slowly, and be unphased to the point of indifference. there are very few people who i've seen sing like this. it seems like nothing else exists for her, and there is a direct line from the depths of her soul to her vocal chords. she doesn't sing loudly like many flamenco singers. it is one of the most pure things I've ever heard. she appears like a rock on the outside, but there are no walls around this lady's heart. her heart and soul seem like they would be washed clean and fresh as a child's, by the way painful things flow out freely. her "letras" (verses) are from her family, as were the letras of Miguel Funi. they are stories or outpourings of the heart that are personal. without knowing this, I felt during the evening, that their cante was actually alive, something I have never experienced listening to flamenco singers before. you cannot get the same idea from a CD, nor from a performer on a stage. something changes. also, these people don't just sing for anybody, at random parties. they sing in this way when they are in the house of extended family, with whom they are comfortable enough to do this all night, until the next afternoon.
the only reason the party stopped at 5 am was because Curro had to drive his girlfriend and her parents back to Moron. And Curro...Dios mio de mi alma (my new exclamation) It's possible that I might have heard somebody play guitar this well before but I don't think so. The kind of flamenco guitar that is popular (including with those in the flamenco world and its professionals) is beautiful. it is virtuoso often, and impressive, full of feeling, and worthy of solo performances. but the kind of guitar playing i heard last night is rare, and apart from the other. It's aim is not viruosity but "sentido" I don't think the english translation "feeling" comes close to what I have come to understand as sentido. It is an extreme sensitivity, in a split second, at times, to what the singer is singing in the moment. and the way flamenco is sung... this is an art worth more than virtuosity to me.
flamenco singing, dance and guitar consists of contrast. there are sudden stops and outbursts, and sweet, quiet sections, and the most violent, gut wrenching parts. then there is the 12/8 rhythm, which can take on quite a few different patterns of accents. the simplistic way flamenco is often done outside of spain requires accenting in a similar way with every group of 12. the only way that bulerias truly comes alive is that the pattern changes usually with the singing. this can be subtle, if you are trying to listen consciously and understand it mentally. if you simply feel it and respond with your body (clapping for example)... that is what this art is all about. this is not as easy as it sounds if you are from an anglosajone background, as it requires being in touch with yourself, your body, and not being inhibited.
Anyways, the guitar not only has to respond in split seconds to the singer changing the length of the phrase, but to sudden changes in volume, and to the overall but subtle rhythmic feel within the 12/8. Curro plays with the most unbelievable sentido, and seems like the reincarnation of Diego del Gastor, one of the greatest flamenco guitarists ever.
It seems like the best flamenco artists are those without big names. You will only arrive to hear about them when you plant your feet in andalucia and talk to people that have something to do with flamenco in a serious manner. The local festival in Lebrija, something renowned that has existed for decades, has come to be headlined by names that are big here in Andalucia, in the flamenco world. But even these people don't do flamenco like it used to be, living the culture in private family parties, and singing or playing with the kind of sentido I heard last night. That is something the people born inside this art tell me, and i've heard from others who know it well.
Last night I understood flamenco to be a way of life that is nearly lost. it is similar to a folk art form that has existed the world over: telling stories among close friends and extended family, before TV and before the ability to jump in a car and drive across a city in order to escape reality, change scenery or drink a glass of wine in a trendy and impersonal restaurant. that is what their singing is, but in andalucia it is done in an unbelievably compelling, rhythmic way, accompanied by guitar and all the people gathered clapping along as they are moved by the music and song (in a very specific way!) Along with this, what comes out naturally as the story moves them, is movement. in last night's fiesta, it was the singer himself who danced. the kind of dance that happens in fiestas is again not about technique, but sentido. it is a response to the story and rhythm, each movement containing subtlety and often humour.
Miguel Funi is a phenomenon. Concha's godfather, and godfather of her daughter as well, he is about 70. If you would rather partake with other human beings in something deep, but often funny, or even witty, if you would rather take pleasure in tranquility, and enjoying life and others without pressure, such that you could stay up all night just to be with them and joke around, or say what you really mean... if you prefer this to being "entertained" passively, with speed and hype and show of technical prowess, and slickness then you would understand Miguel as a phenomenon.
He uses all the flamenco cante (singing) techniques as though he is just playing with them; they roll out of him. the complaining, voice breaking thing that they do, the sudden changes in volume. he doesn't seem very serious about anything; there is a sly sparkle in his eye or a chuckle. But somehow it is food for the spirit. after a bunch of letras he gets inspired and gets up with his arms moving slowly, while snapping his fingers loudly, off the beat (exactly between main beats). then moves his feet slightly awkwardly but accurately marking the beat, and emphasises some part of his story with a humorous lunge or twist, and a flip of an arm. this isn't mean to look polished like a ballet dancer. it is an average person, but one who has this rhythm built into him, expressing himself freely. THAT is flamenco.
There were two others who sang twice, who were also awesome, and several people who were particularly vocal yelling out when the urge hit them, how "genio" (genuis) something was the guy singing or dancing just did, or yelling their name, or some of the other words or exclamations typical to flamenco, to encourage the singer.
Mai and I didn't know what to do with ourselves. We were practically beside ourselves loving it. She is a 21 year old Japanese girl, one of the cutest, sweetest, most awesome people I've ever met. Unusual in her knowledge of and appreciation for this little known, traditional and very un-showy part of flamenco, which is the only "real" flamenco for her. She understands much of the sentido, what is really going on here, and what is happening to me and her as we learn this, more quickly and profoundly than I do.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Jerez last night. I met Manu y Pati at their casa and a French friend I met last summer, Brice, came along with us to the Alcazar for "Viernes Flamenco", a series of Friday night concerts Jerez has every August.
In the world of flamenco you are liable to run into people. I wouldn't say it's small community but if feels like it once you get to know a few people. Whether fellow students or artists, they show up places, or they are friends of other friends. This time it was Hiro. When you are in a foreign place, which it still is here, and still feel insecure, it is good to know someone you can run up to and give a hug, and be excited to see. Granada is pretty far away, and I haven't gotten back there since February to see Hiro. I would love to see him dance, after a year of studying with a renowned, older teacher from times past, and practicing 6 hours a day.
I have met so many awesome French guys in Andalucia. Genuinely nice, very cool ones. Last night I met two, and even got to dance with one, and the other made it clear he would have if he knew how. Manu and Pati's Argentine Tango skills, which were pretty top notch to start with, have improved even more. They danced on the balcony, where we were having the party, Manu in bare feet and Pati in Japanese socks that fit around her toes like a pair of gloves. I also had a rather humorous turn around the balcony with a local Jerezano, who was more used to flamenco. We also had a great talk about studying flamenco, and as I have not spent a lot of time talking to local gitanos, and expect that they might not always want to listen to what a foreigner thinks or feels about studying flamenco, it was a pleasant surprise.
There were several girls I also spent some time talking to, who are new to flamenco and completely sucked in by Jerez, like everyone who visits.
We only managed to get in a bit of guitar by Manuel and a bit of cante by Brice, before a neighbour started yelling at us to shut up. He and Arneau both play guitar but are really taken by cante and studying it as well. Arneau wants to relocate to Jerez, as did Anna, and Clara. Really anyone that has eyes to see and ears to hear what is really there can't resist it.
Ah, Jerez... I have not spent many evenings like this in Sevilla. I have not managed to end up at parties and meet a whole bunch of awesome people, like I do when I go to Jerez.
In the world of flamenco you are liable to run into people. I wouldn't say it's small community but if feels like it once you get to know a few people. Whether fellow students or artists, they show up places, or they are friends of other friends. This time it was Hiro. When you are in a foreign place, which it still is here, and still feel insecure, it is good to know someone you can run up to and give a hug, and be excited to see. Granada is pretty far away, and I haven't gotten back there since February to see Hiro. I would love to see him dance, after a year of studying with a renowned, older teacher from times past, and practicing 6 hours a day.
I have met so many awesome French guys in Andalucia. Genuinely nice, very cool ones. Last night I met two, and even got to dance with one, and the other made it clear he would have if he knew how. Manu and Pati's Argentine Tango skills, which were pretty top notch to start with, have improved even more. They danced on the balcony, where we were having the party, Manu in bare feet and Pati in Japanese socks that fit around her toes like a pair of gloves. I also had a rather humorous turn around the balcony with a local Jerezano, who was more used to flamenco. We also had a great talk about studying flamenco, and as I have not spent a lot of time talking to local gitanos, and expect that they might not always want to listen to what a foreigner thinks or feels about studying flamenco, it was a pleasant surprise.
There were several girls I also spent some time talking to, who are new to flamenco and completely sucked in by Jerez, like everyone who visits.
We only managed to get in a bit of guitar by Manuel and a bit of cante by Brice, before a neighbour started yelling at us to shut up. He and Arneau both play guitar but are really taken by cante and studying it as well. Arneau wants to relocate to Jerez, as did Anna, and Clara. Really anyone that has eyes to see and ears to hear what is really there can't resist it.
Ah, Jerez... I have not spent many evenings like this in Sevilla. I have not managed to end up at parties and meet a whole bunch of awesome people, like I do when I go to Jerez.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Tonight I learned about Quintin.
I could go live with him in Sevilla in September if I wanted.
Yesterday they showed me their apartment on the outskirts of the city, and we all hung out while Concha taught class. Quintin was sleeping, as he does during the day.
This evening Jose came over for dinner. He is typically gitano looking: really thin, curly hair slightly long, very bright eyes, brown skin, sparkling earring in one ear. He sings, "Ayyy..." and then echa-s a bunch of palmaditas in a quick bulerias rhythm, slapping thighs, stamping feet and clapping, all effortlessly as it rolls out of him. He's really personable and a genuinely nice person. Another sobrino (nephew) of Concha.
After we all eat outside, including Curro, we watch a TV show which is a rundown of a ton of people in flamenco these days, all the way from Agujetas, who is one of the purest of the pure, to stuff Concha calls barbarism, because it is cheesy fusion. Then we discuss Quintin, for about an hour. I should say they discuss Quintin, and while they are discussing and arguing among themselves, they turn to me quite often and emphasise certain situations or things he's done, so I understand for sure. (This has nothing to do with them offering to rent me a room in the apartment, it's just that they are so excited about what they are saying about him, they have to make sure whoever is sitting nearby knows).
I believe that Concha treats her sons quite specially, as I've heard a lot of Andalucians do, but I thought it was a bit overboard, when they brought all his clothes from the apartment to do them for him, and a new sheets to put on his bed, and Concha explained that she brings him home cooked food once a week or he wouldn't eat.
Normally Concha is a person that seems quite out of the ordinary, but seeing her talk about her sons brings her into the realm of a normal person.
I know already that he works in the evenings at a hotel where he speaks English, and that he works all the time on his music and just stays in his room with his computer, probably mixing or engineering or whatever. He loves the Beatles and dresses and has his hair like them. He lived in London where he had a second hand, long jacket like the kind the band Oasis wears, apparently also like a police jacket (I have no idea what this is like), but his was red.
Quite a bit of time was spent trying to figure out why he wouldn't, and how to make him go see Raimundo Amador, a very famous Spanish rock guitarist, one of the best in the world, apparently, who probably would help set him on the road to grand success. Jose knows Raimundo, who has repeatedly asked to meet Quintin. Quintin doesn't care one whit about important people, or about money. He once took his guitar and sat on the street for a week busking just to try to understand what it would be like to be poor. They say that for sure he will "arrive"; anyone quite as crazy and intent on what he is doing, has got to. Concha described how when the whole family went to Japan, they all did flamenco and he played his rock music. To hear a flamenco person like Concha, a woman who knew some of the greatest people in the recent history of flamenco, be surprised and impressed by intensity in a musician is something to take note of. She says he shakes with the intensity of what he is trying to get across. She showed us pictures which were impresionante (can't think of English descriptive words right now...) She describes how her and Frasci went to see him in concert once and how he jumped really high off the stage, landed on the floor and was laying there with his body curled around his guitar playing it still. She described her own reaction which seemed to me how most mothers would react to a son carrying out such antics - slightly traumatised. Jose spent some time trying to convince Concha to get Quintin into the car and just take him to Raimundo's place, without telling him where they were going, while Concha shook her head.
What is clear to everybody is that he is really fuera de normal (out of the norm), and has quite a heavy dose of genius. The way they describe him, none of this seems like an act, or a marketing thing. He seems like a sweet person, not like a frightening 70s or 80s rock musician. He doesn't seem to care what people think, he can stay in his room for days just working. He doesn't want to work for or maybe even with anyone else, he refuses to play what other people want, because he wants to do what comes from him. The first time I heard his music was tonight when Curro handed Jose his phone, which was playing a song of Quintin's. I could hear it well enough to know it was no amateur stuff. Pretty "duro" - hard rock.
They all talk about him with a sort of awe and wonderment. This is from a mother who has been famous in her youth and has half the famous flamenco artists in Spain listed on her cell phone (I saw the names rolling past over her shoulder yesterday), a brother who plays on stage all the time, and with known people. They don't understand how he plays hard rock and sings in English, when he comes from a family steeped in traditional flamenco. They shake their heads to think how phenomenal he would be if he did flamenco.
Rafael gets up every once in a while to help narrate some anecdote about him. Like the time they were in Japan and some girl asked him to take her bracelet off, and then asked him to breathe on it. Then she took it back and said she was the happiest girl in the world.
Anyways, it seems like more than just laziness and rebellion that he doesn't wash his clothes, change his sheets, or even eat properly unless someone helps him.
Maybe not the greatest idea to live in the same apartment - lol! Though it might be fascinating.
I could go live with him in Sevilla in September if I wanted.
Yesterday they showed me their apartment on the outskirts of the city, and we all hung out while Concha taught class. Quintin was sleeping, as he does during the day.
This evening Jose came over for dinner. He is typically gitano looking: really thin, curly hair slightly long, very bright eyes, brown skin, sparkling earring in one ear. He sings, "Ayyy..." and then echa-s a bunch of palmaditas in a quick bulerias rhythm, slapping thighs, stamping feet and clapping, all effortlessly as it rolls out of him. He's really personable and a genuinely nice person. Another sobrino (nephew) of Concha.
After we all eat outside, including Curro, we watch a TV show which is a rundown of a ton of people in flamenco these days, all the way from Agujetas, who is one of the purest of the pure, to stuff Concha calls barbarism, because it is cheesy fusion. Then we discuss Quintin, for about an hour. I should say they discuss Quintin, and while they are discussing and arguing among themselves, they turn to me quite often and emphasise certain situations or things he's done, so I understand for sure. (This has nothing to do with them offering to rent me a room in the apartment, it's just that they are so excited about what they are saying about him, they have to make sure whoever is sitting nearby knows).
I believe that Concha treats her sons quite specially, as I've heard a lot of Andalucians do, but I thought it was a bit overboard, when they brought all his clothes from the apartment to do them for him, and a new sheets to put on his bed, and Concha explained that she brings him home cooked food once a week or he wouldn't eat.
Normally Concha is a person that seems quite out of the ordinary, but seeing her talk about her sons brings her into the realm of a normal person.
I know already that he works in the evenings at a hotel where he speaks English, and that he works all the time on his music and just stays in his room with his computer, probably mixing or engineering or whatever. He loves the Beatles and dresses and has his hair like them. He lived in London where he had a second hand, long jacket like the kind the band Oasis wears, apparently also like a police jacket (I have no idea what this is like), but his was red.
Quite a bit of time was spent trying to figure out why he wouldn't, and how to make him go see Raimundo Amador, a very famous Spanish rock guitarist, one of the best in the world, apparently, who probably would help set him on the road to grand success. Jose knows Raimundo, who has repeatedly asked to meet Quintin. Quintin doesn't care one whit about important people, or about money. He once took his guitar and sat on the street for a week busking just to try to understand what it would be like to be poor. They say that for sure he will "arrive"; anyone quite as crazy and intent on what he is doing, has got to. Concha described how when the whole family went to Japan, they all did flamenco and he played his rock music. To hear a flamenco person like Concha, a woman who knew some of the greatest people in the recent history of flamenco, be surprised and impressed by intensity in a musician is something to take note of. She says he shakes with the intensity of what he is trying to get across. She showed us pictures which were impresionante (can't think of English descriptive words right now...) She describes how her and Frasci went to see him in concert once and how he jumped really high off the stage, landed on the floor and was laying there with his body curled around his guitar playing it still. She described her own reaction which seemed to me how most mothers would react to a son carrying out such antics - slightly traumatised. Jose spent some time trying to convince Concha to get Quintin into the car and just take him to Raimundo's place, without telling him where they were going, while Concha shook her head.
What is clear to everybody is that he is really fuera de normal (out of the norm), and has quite a heavy dose of genius. The way they describe him, none of this seems like an act, or a marketing thing. He seems like a sweet person, not like a frightening 70s or 80s rock musician. He doesn't seem to care what people think, he can stay in his room for days just working. He doesn't want to work for or maybe even with anyone else, he refuses to play what other people want, because he wants to do what comes from him. The first time I heard his music was tonight when Curro handed Jose his phone, which was playing a song of Quintin's. I could hear it well enough to know it was no amateur stuff. Pretty "duro" - hard rock.
They all talk about him with a sort of awe and wonderment. This is from a mother who has been famous in her youth and has half the famous flamenco artists in Spain listed on her cell phone (I saw the names rolling past over her shoulder yesterday), a brother who plays on stage all the time, and with known people. They don't understand how he plays hard rock and sings in English, when he comes from a family steeped in traditional flamenco. They shake their heads to think how phenomenal he would be if he did flamenco.
Rafael gets up every once in a while to help narrate some anecdote about him. Like the time they were in Japan and some girl asked him to take her bracelet off, and then asked him to breathe on it. Then she took it back and said she was the happiest girl in the world.
Anyways, it seems like more than just laziness and rebellion that he doesn't wash his clothes, change his sheets, or even eat properly unless someone helps him.
Maybe not the greatest idea to live in the same apartment - lol! Though it might be fascinating.
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