Interview by:
Juan Toro Barea
sirocosanmiguel@
wanadoo.es

Interview photos by:
Amigos de Andalucía

The rebel spirit

I have always admired those people who, from a life of ease, encourage the awakening of conscience and do not give the least quarter to dejection and resignation. They are mainly people marked by a harsh childhood, victims of a society which survived by dint of imposition and whose lives created an indomitably rebel spirit. Without doubt, in the Flamenco firmament, the figure of José Meneses Scott (La Puebla de Cazalla, 3 December 1942), like few others, fulfils this black and white thumbnail portrait whose dark recesses store a well of rarely explored histories; squatting even today between the cracks in reality. Because José Menese comes from a world scourged by inequality and marginalisation, and from a childhood whose inner landscape is marked by a series of inescapable references, which have acted acutely on his sensitivity and forged his ungovernable rebel spirit.

Of a frank, passionate and, at times, disarmingly sincere nature, Menese is more persistent than ambitious, because it is the personal and affective aspects which constantly demand his attention and create the horizon and yardstick of his life. On occasion rebel, because rebels are tender, and José does not find it hard to get emotional when trawling through his memory, a memory immersed in an immense landscape of chalk and olive trees, of olive oil mills, cobbled streets and neighbourly patios. A memory redolent of damp earth and old corrals. With a flavour of country stew and split olives, bread soaked in olive oil, and buttermilk. And a memory filled also with rasping voices and wailing guitars, and, inescapably, with the unyielding arrogance of the omnipresent and tormenting lord of the manor, one of the social scourges of the age to the misfortune and exasperation of the labourers.

In effect, many are the merits which combine in Menese as an artist and as a Flamenco singer, and many the praises which come from all quarters. Praises for his being, among many other things, one of the most personal, rounded and great non-gypsy voices in the history of Flamenco. Always, in any reference to his career, his courage and sense of dignity as a Flamenco artist stand out, as do his social commitment, always imbued with strong left-wing ideals, and his acclaimed prestige, not just within Flamenco but among a healthy layer of Spanish intellectual society.

Memorable dates, events and moments of unique relevance for Menese and the art he represents, such as his two performances at the Theatre Olympia in Paris, his participation with Montserrat Caballé, Alicia de la Rocha and José Carreras in "United Nations Day" at the headquarters of the UN, in New York, or when, in 1993, he was awarded the "Compás del Cante" (Flamenco Rhythm), the highest accolade Flamenco awards its artists. In all, an endless string of merits and accolades which provide the work and professional development of Menese with its unique character.

But even so, another side of his great good fortune, another of the great pillars which support José Menese's pace of life, as we said earlier, is the affective side, his family: his five children, his three grandchildren and Encarnación Gil, his wife, for whom he feels genuine veneration and whom we should recognise for her sacrifice and her all-encompassing contribution to the creation of one of the most brilliant lives to illuminate our Arte Jondo (Flamenco Art). Never did Menese have a more inspired moment than when he met her - "imagine putting up with me for so many years" - perhaps because she understood that to be who he is, he had to put his private life before his professional life, and so be saved from the false and uncertain paths the Jondo circus serves up on a plate.

We shared a morning with José Menese, the family man. We delved into the exceedingly rich inner world he shelters in his enormous, if at times tired, heart, a world which has lately given us a worry or two, and we have been witness to the strong contradictions created by a complex and passionate personality such as that of this giant Flamenco singer from La Puebla, the leading light in today's Jonda world. At a stage of splendid maturity, with forty years in the profession behind him, José Menese clings firmly to what he seems to need more than ever: having his loved ones around him, the shelter of his homeland and everything to which he has always been spiritually attached, that intimate and calm space which only has room for his whole way of being, his whole sentiment, his whole Andalusian passion and, in short, everything that identifies him and singles him out as a thorough Flamenco artist and conscious Andalusian.

JT: José, since those early days when you left La Puebla, still very young, and your friend, Álvaro Triguero, recommended that you paid heed to Francisco Moreno Galván - "that poor guy who knows everything" - until today, what about your personality has changed?

JM: Well, more than anything, age has changed me, which doesn't pass by in vain. I'm fifty-nine now and I'm obviously more experienced, I've learnt very many things and, in effect, as you say quite rightly in your question, I paid heed to my friend Álvaro. I think I still love people the way I did as a lad and that I'm basically the same, that I haven't changed substantially.

JT: Apart from trusting others, what does a simple country boy from La Puebla (when you were still Pepiyo el de la Remedios) who turns up in Madrid on the back of a motorbike ridden by Chumy Chúmez in the sixties do?

JM: Exactly that. Trust people. That way, in life the knocks hit you harder, but it makes you and helps you face life with more inner strength.

JT: Pepe, what does someone who at the age of twenty-five sees their name in the Larousse Dictionary think of themselves?

JM: I have to admit that I didn't know about it until Génesis García revealed it in my biography; quite recently in fact. Well, the fact of being in Larousse at that age is important, since it's the only time it's happened to a Flamenco singer at such an early age. But I'd like to say that not that or any of the many important things that have happened in my life, such as the Olympia in Paris and so on, have ever gone to my head.

JT: Was the idea of getting involved, of taking on a social commitment through Flamenco singing forged in Madrid at the request of the people who were running your career or was it a consequence of your ideology, your demanding spirit and that character so indomitably you?

JM: Well, my upbringing played a fundamental role there. There were nine of us kids at home. My father was a shoemaker, and you know those fundamental lines I sing:

At the shoe shop, talk was always of the injustices of the time, of communism and so on, and at fourteen that maps out your life. And if you add to that my intrinsically rebel nature, I'd say the question answers itself. But all that about my character, which is effectively indomitable, my social commitment through my singing, and so on, has sometimes been a help and sometimes a hindrance. I've got friends who say to me: "José, if you weren't the way you are, you wouldn't sing the way you do." And I think that's true. You always end up speaking of what affects you and everything you feel in your soul.

JT: How far does your involvement and responsibility in the social and cultural change in the appreciation of Flamenco in recent years go?

JM: There's a question here that's fundamental, and that's the contribution of Francisco Moreno Galván when he set about changing the meaning and content of the lyrics.

JT: Yeah, but that switch in message, in the meaning of the lyrics, was something you put to Francisco Moreno, not the other way around.

JM: That's true, it's very important and I'm very glad that you said it, as people think it's not like that. Francisco gets the shakes when he has to record: he goes to pieces, he panics and he doesn't stop asking himself what we should do. And I'm the one to suggest that he speaks of our environment, of the everyday things we all go through. And that's when they started to label me a communist, a red and so on. Something that's never meant the least thing to me because, apart from anything else, that's my political ideology and that's what it will continue to be, because I'm a man of set ideas.

JT: Do your demands for classical or pure Flamenco, devoid of designs of dubious authenticity, become a personal question of honour?

JM: I'd say they weren't. That would be vanity on my part. This defence of the classical or the pure is natural and doesn't go beyond the limits of the strictly professional, although, without doubt, one thing and the other are often closely linked.

JT: What do you miss the most about the Flamenco of your early days in La Puebla, Morón, Osuna and so many meetings, fiestas and festivals?

JM: I'd say everything. Between what I lived then and what there is now, there's an abyss. I started out as an artist at the Bar Central in La Puebla at the age of fourteen, next to people like Álvaro Triguero and so on and so forth. And what I see nowadays, all this fusion and contamination, it's obviously another world.

JT: And what about the Madrid you knew forty years ago compared with today?

JM: It's a mess. That's all there is to say. Madrid is the most inhospitable city in the world. I'm not about to start singing the Catalans' praises, but when I go out for a walk in Barcelona with my wife, I breathe culture, I breathe good taste, class. I don't live in Catalonia, but it's a question of being aware of what's around us.

JT: On the cover of his last album, Antonio Núñez "Chocolate" says: "I feel that Flamenco's leaving us. I'm being left on my own." What does that suggest to you?

JM: I've been with Chocolate many times, and we have a lot of respect and affection for each other. When he says that, he's completely right, but I'm sure Antonio won't be angry if I say that I've been saying that for the last twenty years: I'm being left on my own.

JT: I remember a Pringá de Osuna, at the end of the seventies, Lebrijano and you on stage singing tangos. What's happened? Where's that sharing between Flamenco singers?

JM: I remember it very well. Sharing doesn't exist. These days we take our money and go home. It's a pity but that's the way it is.

JT: What would you say to those people who think it's out of sync to turn to people like El Nitri, El Planeta or El Fillo?

JM: To hell with the them. They can go and …

JT: In your opinion, what parameters should govern the evolution of Flamenco singing?

JM: Flamenco evolves and renews itself. You don't have to force it. I don't sing the way I did thirty years ago, which means I've moved with the times. If we artists move with the times, according to our circumstances and through our own era, then Flamenco will move with the times. Silverio Franconetti didn't sing the same as El Nitri, or Mairena like Silverio, or any of us like Mairena. They've all been witness to different eras and have conveyed a Flamenco in tune with their day and their historic and personal motivations.

JT: Pepe, I'm going to play Devil's Advocate. Do you think that the human motivation which determined your life in Flamenco and that of your contemporaries is the same as that of young people today? And if it isn't, how can we expect them to sing what they have neither experienced nor felt?

JM: A mí me han encasillado en la escuela mairenista hasta la saciedad, tanto que incluso me ha llegado a irritar, porque era demasiado. Yo efectivamente soy mairenista, y he convivido con Manolito María, Juan Talega, Antonio Mairena, etc., pero a la hora de la verdad yo me he formado mi propio criterio sobre lo que debe ser el cante. Hay que convivir, escuchar, aprender y luego ser tú, sin perder tus referencias. Es así como el hombre se hace hombre y profesional. Si se pierde la raíz, se pierde todo.

JT: Pepe, tell us a little about your latest project "De mis soledades vengo" (I come from my solitudes) - classics and Flamenco - based on texts by Góngora, Quevedo, Calderón and other sixteenth- and seventeenth-century classics. How did that come about?

JM: It came about thanks to José Menese, no more no less. These text fell into my lap and I decided I had to do something with them. So we did all that we had to do and we finally opened at the Teatro Real in Madrid with a house full to overflowing and the audience on their feet. I'm very satisfied and I hope to tour Spain with it.

JT: And was the inclusion of Ginesa Ortega in this project also your decision?

JM: No, that was nothing to do with me. I proposed Carmen Linares but she had commitments, so then Ginesa came up. He's a Flamenco singer from here in Barcelona, he sounds good and has fitted into the show perfectly.

JT: Isn't it difficult to transfer the thinking of people who weren't moved by Jonda passion to Flamenco?

JM: Not at all. Everything that's in it, in literary terms, fits in perfectly with Flamenco. The issue of adaptation was never complicated, the opposite in fact. It's something that is exceedingly enriching.

JT: Is this the first time you've moved away from Francisco Moreno's texts?

JM: Yes, it's the first time, and although it wasn't intentional, but something that arose spontaneously, I feel very good, very comfortable.

JT: On the subject, is your latest album, "A Francisco" (To Francisco), more a tribute to a friend or the sincere payment of a "debt" run up over the years?

JM: I don't owe a thing to Francisco. We owe each other. I believe that without Francisco, José Menese would not have taken off, and neither would Francisco without José Menese.

JT: Who owes more to whom, Moreno Galván to Menese or Menese to Moreno Galván?

JM: According to Antonio Burgos, José Menese to Francisco Moreno Galván. I believe that Francisco won't go down in history as a painter, but he will as a poet. Thanks to whom? Thanks to José Menese, who sang and conveyed his work.

JT: Imperfection and mystery or safety and preparation? What do you prefer in Flamenco?

JM: Imperfection and mystery, every time.

JT: I'm going to reel off a list of names and you say the first thing that comes to mind.

Juan Talega.

JM: Wow. That's what, wow.

JT: Antonio Mairena.

JM: More wow, but a wow the size of a rainbow.

JT: Diego del Gastor.

JM: I was fortunate enough to share a time with him. As a guitarist, he's my father.

JT: Melchor de Marchena.

JM: The ultimate.

JT: Juan "El Lebrijano".

JM: One hell of a Flamenco singer and one hell of a friend.

JT: Enrique Morente.

JM: A man who has sought new paths, which I respect. But he lives in one world and I live in another.

JT: Camarón.

JM: Camarón, a legend.

JT: Paco de Lucía.

JM: Another never-to-be-repeated legend.

JT: And, finally, Enrique de Melchor.

JM: He started out with his father, so he's my brother, he's my son, that's all. And that apart, he's a superb guitarist.

JT: One final thought, José?

JM: Well, I wasn't expecting this, and I'll be sincere with you. I have a terrible fear of interviewers, for many reasons you'll be well aware of. But today I've felt tremendously at ease, and I'm overjoyed and grateful for this interview. I mean that most sincerely, and I'm very happy to have been with you today.

Juan Toro