Jerez’s toque continues to show that it is alive and well. Santiago Lara joins the long list of tocaores, who beginning with the traditional school of Jerez, are broadening horizons in search of their own personality. Discovered at the mere age of sixteen by the prize of Bienal de Sevilla 2000, he began his professional career with the help of Manolo Sanlúcar, who instilled in him “respect for the essence of flamenco”. Following several seasons as the maestro’s second guitar, he launched into the world of accompaniment and composition for baile, joining the Mercedes Ruiz Company. And now he wants to defy fortune tellers with ‘El sendero de lo imposible’, a début album which makes his dream of being a soloist come true.

How does your love of flamenco guitar begin?

I started playing when I was eight. My father is a real cante enthusiast and my brother Paco, who’s ten years older than me, started to play the guitar. I got keen on it through them, and in fact my first teacher was my brother. That’s how I learned the styles and the foundation of the Jerez school of toque. Then when I was fourteen, I went to learn with José Luis Balao, who’s taught everyone. I acquired more knowledge of classical guitar, my first solfeggio lessons and he really opened my mind to composing.

You soon make contact with Manolo Sanlúcar...

The next stage comes when I start composing, when I meet Manolo Sanlúcar, who’s the one who gave me the little secrets. The relationship comes from the contest of Bienal de Sevilla 2000. He must have found out; someone must have told him about me. And it so happened that the following summer I registered for a course he taught in Sanlúcar, where he listened to my stuff... and he liked it. When he needed a guitarist, he called me up to work with him. That year I’d finished Selectividad (a standardized exam in Spain taken at the end of high school) and I didn’t know which way to go; I saw that there weren’t a lot of opportunities for guitarists. My father always used to joke with me that Manolo Sanlúcar had called. Until one day, he really did call. It was a nice surprise. His son, may he rest in peace, acted as the middleman. He gave me the recordings of the second guitars in ‘Locura de brisa y trino’ and I spent a month living like a monk, learning it all by ear. I rehearsed a couple of times with him and with the group, and the first performance was at the 2002 Mont de Marsan Festival... trembling.

What teachings did he instill in you?

There are so many... The truth is that Manolo’s courses are more spoken than played. Mainly, he instills in you respect towards the essnce of flamenco and flamenco guitar. He always repeats that you have to respect the styles, that the seguiriya has to sound like a seguiriya, that the taranto has to sound like a taranto. And after that, you can do whatever you want. As far as composing goes, he opens your mind unbelievably. He has a prepared thesis. And he doesn’t make it up like most people do; he has it written down. And he starts to talk about it and he doesn’t let up. On more than one occasion, listening to him, I’ve stayed at his house until the wee hours. You’re not ready to follow him. I’ve also learned to work with an orchestra. I did ‘Medea’, both live and in the recording. Then he even gave me lessons on orchestration, about how to treat the guitar with an orchestra behind it, on the behavior of orchestra musicians. And it’s really complicated. You can’t fight against sixty people; you have to make a sacrifice yourself.

Moreover, you’re finishing up your training at the Conservatory...

To be honest, I entered the Conservatory to get a title, a degree, training. I aspire to be able to do orchestrations... some day far away. You learn a lot from classical authors, especially in composing, in the way they use the melodies and refrains to make the pieces nicer. It’s really good for flamenco, especially for composing, but flamencos are somewhat closed-minded. Mozart, Beethoven, Bach... Manolo Sanlúcar draws from there a lot. I’d point out Bach’s harmony and Mozart’s ability to synthesize; with three notes, he can turn a theater upside down.

Are formal music and flamenco toque incompatible?

They have to coexist. There are all kinds of guitarists. There are people who want to play for singing and to preserve the traditional toque of Jerez is really worthwhile and respectful; if not, it’d be lost. But someone who wants to be a soloist has to study, has to enrich himself, go beyond that. It isn’t a must, but I think that way the music might have better quality.

And is a guitarist reproached in Jerez for jumping the rules? For example, it happened to Daniel Méndez in Morón...

I don’t think I’ve been listened to here in Jerez. Every opinion’s good, but typically there’s some mistrust; they say I’m a virtuoso. But the truth is that there are colleagues I admire like Diego del Morao who tell me the opposite, that it’s also the road they’ve taken, that we’re keeping up the school from here, that we haven’t lost it. At any rate, we camouflage it, but it’s still there. Even Manolo Sanlúcar used to analyze my compositions and told me to highlight the stuff from Jerez, from Rafael del Águila, from Morao... They’re things a guitarist from somewhere else would never do. Besides, the school of Jerez isn’t just strumming; it’s much richer than that. Right now there’s an incredible generation of guitarists here in Jerez, including Javier Patino, Alfredo Lagos, Juan Diego... And each one has his own style; we’re not like each other.

Has that guitar boom in Jerez been a coincidence?

It’s not a coincidence. They went to Madrid to make a way for themselves when the heart of it all was there. In my case, I’ve made a way for myself differently, with the contest... and with what I’ve been able to.

Do contests help?

I think it hurt me at first. But I’ve seen that it has helped me afterwards. Back then I wasn’t aware of what was happening. I was just sixteen when I won at Bienal de Sevilla. And I flip out watching myself on video; I stand firm at the Lope de Vega as if I were here at this terrace. I was a lot more insolent than now. I wasn’t alert to people’s regards; I was on my guitar. It hurt me because everyone wondered who that kid was... to give him the prize. At a contest a moment is evaluated, not a career.

The next step is that of composing for baile in the Mercedes Ruiz Company. How do you manage in that facet?

The relationship with Mercedes Ruiz came to me at the right time. My career is a continuous final exam. After winning two really premature, really important awards, I had to start from scratch. I’d never played for dancing... And it’s not that I didn’t know how, it’s that I still hadn’t had time to get down to it. You learn everything. The zapateado I’d composed since the Bienal reached Mercedes and she took it to do a choreography she wanted to present herself with at the Córdoba Contest. She called me up, I played it with her and she won. Afterwards, we got together professionally. She started to call me to do second guitars with Javier Patino and one day when he couldn’t come, I was there by myself. The truth is that it’s work which imposes on you the demand of rhythm; the baile has to have a clear rhythm. That’s why it’s fundamental to know the discipline of baile. It’s a really complete world. And at the same time you have to know cante, because indirectly, you’re playing for cante. I love playing for baile; I don’t want to stop doing it. If I were ever a soloist, I’d always take baile with me and not to draw a larger audience, but because I love it. I like baile as music, the percussion of footwork. And I’m lucky to work with someone who masters that aspect perfectly.

What does composing for baile require?

It depends. There are pieces which stem from a request. If she asks me for bulerías, I compose thinking of that style, giving it musical motifs. I also like composing the other way around, when she shows me some shuffling steps and I have to adapt myself to the rhythm she marks for me, giving it musicality at the same time. It turns out that adapting to the footwork without being bothersome and for it to make sense is a complicated task, but it’s really gratifying.

What are your references?

All of them, maestros. Especially the ones from Jerez. There have been geniuses, creators such as Antonio Chacón, Manuel Torre and El Gloria; strong artists like La Paquera... And even more recent ones.

In a recent interview, Cañizares said he recommended young people to get to know the sources better...

We have different references. He’s worked with Paco de Lucía, who’s an immediate reference. They’ve overcome their predecessors, so they’re our reference. And then there’s the interest for the accompanying group. I know very well that the farruca by Sabicas is the essence.

And now speaking about the album, how do the compositions come about?

They’ve come about since I was sixteen. There are ideas which have been there since I started composing and which are the fruit of six years of work today. They’re songs which don’t come from joining loose falsetas, but rather I’ve always had the idea of composing for an album, of shaping things up as a whole. It isn’t a summary of my career, but rather I’ve always hoped to record an album; I had the need to record. And I did so surrounding myself with musicians such as Paquito González and Perico Navas on percussion; David Palomar, Londro and Carmen Grilo on cante; my brother José on choruses; Manolo Nieto on contrabass, José Amosa on keyboards; Mercedes Ruiz on footwork.
Obvious criteria of legibility can be appreciated throughout the album...

The guitar has to sing. If it doesn’t sing, it’s hard for it to reach out. Then there’s the harmony, which your intention can be appreciated in... Manolo Sanlúcar sings. I sometimes see him apply cante techniques, even quejíos. If we aren’t legible, who are we making music for? There are musicians whose message I don’t grasp.

As was seen at the Festival de Jerez, it’s ready for the live show.

I’m really happy after the premiere in Jerez. I was quite scared. I’ve tried for it to be as faithful to the album as possible. And I’ve had to work on the adaptation. For example, it had many percussion tracks by Paquito González and we had to synthesize that for the stage. You have to be careful when you make an album for it to be possible to do it live. It’s always a shame that not everything can sound live, but it can be replaced. I’m surprised by that ability in Vicente Amigo, who reproduces an album faithfully on stage with three people. He uses very few instruments and has really exact production and musical directing.

What is your goal now that your first album is out?

I want to be listened to; I trust in my album, in my music. May anyone who listens to it do so freely, without thinking about doing a critique, about whether it’s like this or that. I want them to listen to the music, to forget about technique, since technique isn’t there to race along, but to make the music grow.

你快成复制大王了,呵呵
翻译,翻译
青蛙跳进水井里,扑嗵-----------不懂:a30:

苦了大师了

这段让楼主自己来吧，太长了.......

LZ第二张图贴歪了....