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The first time that
Anthony Reyes (Chiclana de la Frontera, 1977) saw Camarón when he was only 6 or 7 years old. His uncle, guitarist Diego Montoya, was a close friend of the legend of San Fernando –whose death marks 30 years this Saturday– and they went together from Cádiz to listen to Ojén sing. “He was such a good person that he went there to participate in a tribute to a boy who was not an artist or anything, but very loved in that town in Malaga,” the singer told ABC. The memory, of course, stayed with him forever.
This is how he relates it: «When we were in the dressing room, Camarón started playing the guitar with Tomatito, who was also there, just before they both went on stage.
My uncle, who was also the nephew of Jarrito (Roque Montoya Heredia), a very important singer of the 60s and 70s, knew them all. Then Camarón told me to start singing something while he played. It’s been forty years since that, but I remember perfectly that I did a cante of his,
‘I will live’ [del disco del mismo nombre de 1984] and it was the best.
“I remember quite a bit…
—I’ll never forget it… just imagine! I have the photo hanging here in my house like gold on cloth.
“What did Camarón tell you?”
“That he liked it a lot.” He also told my uncle to take care of me and never stop studying and practicing flamenco, because he had many qualities. At that time I was already pointing out ways, but I still hadn’t given a concert. In fact, that day was the first time I got on stage.
After that dream baptism, Reyes never left the tablaos, like Camarón always in the head, as he points out. All his friends and all the children of Cádiz and Andalusia adored good José as if he were a God. Having him close for a few minutes was like a dream… and he fulfilled that dream a few times, going to see him sing as soon as a performance was announced by the province. And he saw them all.
Already consecrated in the flamenco world as if he were a prince of cante, and also possessing one of the purest voices of his generation, Reyes has been growing more and more with his albums, shamelessly defining himself as a “shrimp man to the core” . With the latest album, ‘Que sone el cante’, it seemed destined to capture the attention of a much wider audience, but a few days after its release the pandemic arrived and everything stopped.
—We could say that his career began almost in that dressing room he shared with Camarón in Ojén.
—From then on I began to form clubs throughout the province of Cádiz; later, they began to call me from festivals, and then guitarist Manuel Morao took me to Jerez, where he began to introduce me to the world of other historic singers, such as Terremoto, Juan Mojama, La Perla de Cádiz… and I began to learn. Although the truth is that cante is not learned, it is perfected! With cante you are born.
—Do you remember the last time you saw Camarón?
-Yes. I went with a cousin of mine to see him at his house in San Fernando shortly before he died. We had many ties with him, because as a young man Camarón went to Chiclana a lot and knew everyone there. Also, the mother of La Chispa [mujer de Camarón] and my grandmother were first cousins. When we arrived he was sitting on his sofa, wearing a tracksuit, watching television. He was never one to talk much and the only thing he told us in two hours was if we wanted to have a snack and little else [risas]. He didn’t ask me anything about flamenco, although at that time I was already singing, but we didn’t care. We were satisfied with staying there looking at him.
—What stands out most about Camarón?
-All. In flamenco he didn’t have any bad points, but what surprised me the most, when I went to see him sing, was his intonation. He had a piano in his throat… it was pure honey. It also caught my attention that, despite the fact that he hardly spoke at all, he had an overwhelming personality. As soon as he saw him, he imposed you. For me it was the best in history. He revolutionized flamenco and gave it the status it has today.
—As Aurora Carbonel recently commented on ABC Cultural, her husband, Enrique Morente, also highlighted Camarón’s tuning. She said that she had never seen anyone sing like him.
—If Morente said it, that they could have been rivals at that time, imagine. It’s just that that tuning of his was impressive. The echo of his voice, the metallic tone he had…everything. Camarón could not put a but.
[Encuentro con la familia Morente: «Nuestro padre era un kamikaze, no le tenía miedo a nada»]
—When you recover your cantes, do you perceive that tuning is impossible to achieve?
-Well of course. There are many singers who tune very well, but Camarón doesn’t have the tune, nor has anyone else had it. To that extent…none. It’s something that is noticeable even if you’re not a fan of flamenco. The quality is there, as it can happen to me if I listen to the best rock guitarist, even if I don’t understand rock.
—José Manuel Gamboa, guitarist and National Prize for Flamencology, also said on ABC Cultural that «Camarón was not a disrupter of anything. He was a singer with an incredible ear, a genius, but a classical singer».
—I believe that Camarón did not try to be a revolutionary, but God wanted it that way because it was in his blood. It seems that he was born to be a myth. In fact, I have many home recordings of him, from parties, and what he liked to sing was, effectively, orthodox flamenco. He always remembered Manolo Caracol, Antonio Mairena, Tomás Pavón, La Niña de los Peines… Later he revolutionized flamenco without realizing it.
—Is it true that you are one of today’s most ‘shrimp-oriented’ singers?
—I’ve been in love with him since I was little and I pay close attention to him in an almost innate way, but I don’t try to imitate him, because it’s impossible. Shrimp was unique. I sing with my voice, because no one can get close to him. And yes, I am a shrimp farmer through and through, really.
—The curious thing about you is that, unlike other singers, you tend to recover more of your old cantes…
-Exact. The cantes I make of him predate ‘La leyenda del tiempo’, all those early records he made with Paco de Lucía that suit my voice and my way of feeling cante better. The truth is that I have always liked that stage. Everything he did with Paco is jewelry. That matchless couple in the history of flamenco. Almost all guitarists and singers think so. But I also love the after. For example, ‘Como el agua’ (1981) and ‘Calle Real’ (1983). And ‘Potro derabia y miel’ (1992) is for me one of the best albums in the history of flamenco.
“You were 15 years old when he died. Do you remember how she found out about his death?
—On TV and… uf!… It was a blow that you didn’t see! When I heard the news, it seemed like a lie to me. I was in shock’. Me and all the kids on my farm were ‘shrimp farmers’.
“Did you go to his funeral?”
-Of course! It was outrageous. All my friends and cousins went to San Fernando and I remember those 50,000 or 60,000 people… and everyone crying. He was the god of flamenco… the king of cante.
www.abc.es
George is Digismak’s reported cum editor with 13 years of experience in Journalism