Before I even really knew what Flamenco was, I knew the name Paco de Lucia.  He is considered one of the greatest Flamenco guitarists (arguably one of the greatest guitarists all around) and many of my generation of guitarists credit him with being the reason they dedicated themselves to Flamenco guitar.


One of the beautiful things about Paco as a person, was that he chose to honor his mother by choosing the stage name, de Lucia.  He was born, Francisco Sanchez Gomez, in 1947.  His mother was Lucia Gomez and his father was Antonio Sanchez, a laborer and a guitarist himself.  If you want a more detailed biography of Paco, please visit his website: www.pacodelucia.com

What can I say about Paco?  He was a virtuoso, but his playing went beyond technique.  It was amazing technique perfectly fused with soul.  This combination, and his willingness to explore new terrain, while staying true to his Flamenco roots, were what enabled him to take Flamenco to the world.  He has given so much to the world of music, though his collaborations with international artists, and he is also credited with bringing the world back to Flamenco.  One of the biggest examples of this is when he and his Brazilian percussionist, Rubem Dantas, brought back and adapted the Peruvian cajon to Flamenco.  This box-like drum is now a fixture in most Flamenco shows, so much so, that newbies are always surprised when they find out how recently it was introduced into our art form.

For me personally, because I love cante so much, some of his greatest collaborations were with the legendary singer, Camaron de la Isla.  Together they brought Flamenco to new heights and to the world, including me.  I am forever grateful. 

Paco passed away from a heart attack last month, on February 26th, 2014.  His heart stopped and the hearts of all other Flamencos broke that day. 

We will miss him greatly, but his music lives on.  Below are some clips for you to enjoy.  Have a beautiful day, surrounded in music.

Back in 1995, I picked a dance class out of the UCLA schedule simply because it was the only class that fit my schedule.  The class was Introduction to Flamenco, taught by Liliana De Leon-Torsiello. 

As soon as I stepped into the class, I was hooked.  Liliana was funny, charismatic, and exuded a confidence I wanted to emulate.  I still have this image of her standing straight, shoulders back, long curly auburn hair flowing while she told us all about the ancient history of this dance form we were about to learn.  There was such a mystique around it all, especially to my young 19-year-old mind.

Sometime during that first quarter, she introduced us to Carlos Saura's short film, Sevillanas.  Sevillanas is a folk dance from Sevilla.  As teachers often explain, it is not necessarily Flamenco, but every Flamenco must know it because we perform it in most traditional shows.

Well, we were watching the film because of course, we were about to learn the Sevillanas.  I loved every moment of it.  Like I said, I was already hooked.  However, I didn't know what was about to hit me.

The singer in the video is José Monje Cruz, better known as Camarón de la Isla.  Now, Sevillanas, because they are a folk dance you learn as a beginner, are often taken for granted by those of us who have been doing them for a really long time.  In terms of cante, or singing, they are not necessarily the thing you gravitate toward when you're looking for real, deep Flamenco. 

However, here, Camarón reminds us not to take anything for granted.  I was immediately wrapped up in him, wanting to know who this pained man was and what was the cause of his pain.  Little did I know at the time (I didn't yet know his name nor realized that he was a Flamenco legend) that he filmed this shortly before he died of cancer.  In fact, he died the same year the film was released.  This also meant, he was already dead when I first laid eyes and ears on him.

The dancer, Manuela Carrasco, another Flamenco legend, also captivated me with the fierceness of her gaze and movement.  Her Sevillanas didn't look like anybody else's Sevillanas in that film.  Not only did she change them up and make them her own, she was expressing his pain.

This scene, which I played over and over once I had my own copy of the film, is what finally did it.  From that moment on, Flamenco was my life. 

Sometimes I want to slap myself when I take Sevillanas for granted.

There are highlights to all of this in my more recent years.  During my time in Madrid, I got to see Tomatito, the lead guitarist in this video, play live.  It was gorgeous and he was gorgeous.  A little over a year after I returned to the States, I got to tell Manuela in person about how this scene made me choose to be a Flamenca.  That was 2010.

Some progress, eh?  From seeing her on video to taking her master class was a span of 15 years.  It took incredible patience, but it was totally worth it.

Hope the video calls to you to.

Love,

Mercedes