Paco de Lucia: Death of a guitar god

I probably would have never listened to flamenco attentively had it not been for the immense talent of two geniuses of Spanish music: Camarón de la Isla and, indeed, Paco de Lucia.

I discovered the genre pretty late, in the mid-80s, when I started working as a language school teacher in Salamanca at the old building in Calle Peñafiel. One of my colleagues, Santiago, was in his office listening on a cassette (those were the days!) to Camaron de la Isla's legendary record, La Leyenda del Tiempo. He asked me if I liked him and I must have replied, quite unenthusiastically I guess, that I had not listened to much of his stuff and in any case flamenco was not my cup of tea. Rather annoyed - or at least shocked - he replied in his funny madrileño accent (and I'm quoting his words in English to the best of my ability) something like: "Are you joking, mate? He's the dog's bollocks!" (Es la hos***! - if you'll pardon my French, ha!)

So he insisted on me taking the tape home and only then did I start to appreciate the real magic of that spiritual music, even if La Leyenda ... was not really a classic example of pure flamenco but rather ground-breaking and revolutionary actually, as it combined the old tradition with many elements of modern music, even a bass and electric guitar! Prior to that "discovery, I must admit I'd always thought that flamenco was second-rate, the weird music of the humble gypsies. How could I be so wrong! And we can claim without a doubt that it was the influence of both Camaron de la Isla and Paco de Lucia that elevated the often underrated genre to the category of art. I've always compared flamenco to the blues - alongside rock, my favourite musical genre - in the sense that they're both deeply spiritual, music with a true "soul". Actually, I used to refer to Black Americans as the gypsies of the USA!

Of course I'd listened to Paco's music before Camarón. I mean, can anyone say they've never heard the familiar tune of arguably the most famous rumba of all time, Entre dos Aguas? But it was that instant fondness of Camarón that years ago made me also interested in the work of other flamenco icons, mainly by the maestro de Algeciras.

There's no doubt whatsoever that Paco de Lucia is one of the greatest, if not the greatest, guitarists of all time. Venerated by his flamenco colleagues, admired by his contemporary fellow performers, his influence is out of this world. He had the technique of a god, with those devilishly quick fingers, and the duende of a one-off artist. My son David, a keen guitarist himself, says it's almost impossible to play like he does, and with the years Paco has become one of his all-time guitar heroes. So much so that he feels devastated by his sudden death.

But rather than my boring words, let Paco's glorious music speak for itself. Firstly, how about a Chick Corea classic tune you may know, Spain, which I particularly love as performed live by three "monsters" of guitar playing, who so many times collaborated with one another: Paco himself, John McLaughlin and Al di Meola. Sheer joy!

But I should not forget, of course, that Paco's roots are Flamenco and Andalucia, so without further ado, I'd like to embed this amazing buleria by the unique, majestic duet of Paco and the long-gone, sorely-missed Camarón back in 1976. Makes my hair stand on end! Puro duende!

Last but not least, there's this fantastic clip featuring Paco with the legendary Ravi Shankar (have you heard of his famous relationship with George Harrison?), a sitar virtuoso, while they discuss (in English) the much-debated connection between flamenco and Indian music. Really interesting!

You must be thinking that Paco's English skills were not that good. Indeed he was not very talkative or fond of TV interviews. That's why you'll find interesting to watch him speak the language (English, I mean) in this rare, very personal interview on Polish television. It feels weird to hear him talk (again in his halting English) about his little house on the coast of Mexico, where he loved to spend long stretches to unwind - and where he eventually found his untimely death.

HASTA SIEMPRE, MAESTRO!