FLAMENCO AND DECADENCE

Introduction
The numerous posts in various forums concerning the alleged 'war' between 'traditional' and 'modern' flamenco guitar have made interesting reading, not least because of their occasional confusion. Assumedly, contributors who believe that Sabicas played a traditional or 'old style' flamenco guitar, whilst Paco de Lucia plays a modern style, are young, and are therfore inexperienced and forgivable. Similarly, it is amusing to see videos, recorded in the 1970s, posted on websites and described as 'antiguo'. Accordingly, in my twilight years, I feel impelled to pen this essay, with the sole aim of clarifying what is, at core, a very simple argument. In so doing, I need to unite what appear to be disparate concepts, including decadence, duende, the cante gitano, the toque concierto, and some human brain function. We begin.

Until around two decades ago, and especially north of Andalucia, few Spanish payos wanted any part of flamenco. Flamenco was associated with the gitanos, who were considered to be a disreputable underclass. For example, decades ago in Seville I sought-out a flamenco guitarist who had earned money in Australia and then returned to Spain, where he had bought a bar and proceeded to dispense cerveca. I asked if he might give me some lessons. Hastily glancing about, he requested that I not mention flamenco within earshot of his customers. Clearly, he wanted none to know of his bygone association with flamenco, or that his beer font was its fruit. Needless to say, he didn't give guitar lessons.

Paradoxically, non-Spaniards were initially far more intrigued by flamenco than were the natives, primarily due to performances by concert guitarists, touring dance companies, movies featuring Carmen Amaya et al, and increasingly available recordings. Useful as these performances were in broadening flamenco's audience, they gave little or no hint of true, substantial flamenco: the cante, baile and toque gitano (aka cante grande, cante jondo, flamenco puro). Understandably, yet regrettably, most payos assumed that what they heard and saw in these endlessly rehearsed performances was the only flamenco. The obscure, deep, emotional well, the source of flamenco puro, remained hidden to them.

Decadence
Strictly speaking, the term decadence is not a moral one. It has garnered some moral connotations, but these are purely artificial. In the arts, decadence refers to a falling-away from a recognised standard of excellence, a loss of stability, a decay of values, a slide into spurious, inferior or pretentious modes of expression, collectively called kitsch. Some artistic ages are described as decadent, such as the European 1880s and 1890s (during which Oscar Wilde prospered), and the regency of George IV. However, decadent and renascent periods can often be difficult to distinguish, other than retrospectively. Both can be characterised by tremendous artistic energy, verve, creativity, iconoclasm, a burst of novel expression. But decadence in the arts and society has a fundamental diagnostic feature: a relentless straining after increasingly intense sensory stimulation, culminating in exhaustion and futility. Experience, in the form of sensory saturation, is sought for its own sake, regardless of any lingering value or damage the experience might offer. This is the essence of Wilde's novel, the Picture of Dorian Gray, in which the main character indulges in increasingly intense experiences, culminating in murder. The objective of decadent consumers is temporary stimulation and distraction, not aesthetic growth. Since habituation occurs at each level of stimulus intensity, the consumer is motivated to seek more intense stimuli, until none is available, at which point it becomes evident that nothing of enduring value has been gained. The process resembles the habituation characteristic of drug addiction. External motivators play a large role in decadent ages: turbulent economic times, wars and threats of wars, devitalised social norms, rejection of discomforting truths born of rational thought, rapid technological change, industrial upheaval, social restlessness, etc. The quest for sensation, however brief and unsatisfying that sensation might be, attenuates the disquiet and anxiety wrought by a turbulent world; it is a kind of analgesic. And so life, for the consumer of decadence, becomes a sequence of distractions: football tournaments, tennis tournaments, political elections, media melodramas, celebrity scandals, Olympic games, pop concerts, TV sitcoms, internet blogs, action movies, and on.

Modern cinema, especially of the North American variety, affords clear examples of decadence. In the 1930s and 1940s, thrillers and gangster movies included many car chases. As these became commonplace, producers demanded that more dramatic extremes be added: cars colliding, exploding, falling off cliffs . . . until, in the Blues Brothers, dozens of cars combine in a massive pileup. There it is: straining after increasingly intense sensation. Sex in the cinema has followed a similar path. Initially, it was implied or symbolised, as with a train entering a tunnel, then shown covered with bedsheets, then without bedsheets, then as softcore porn, then hardcore porn, then gangbang, then rape, then sadomasochism, then murder and dismemberment, all of which can now be found in videos on the internet. Or consider modern bodybuilding, the exhibition physique cult. In the 1940s and 1950s the ideal male physique consisted in 'proportional and symmetrical muscular development', epitomised by such bodybuilders as John Grimek and Steve Reeves. Gradually, inspired by the ideology of more is better, advocates began adding more muscle mass, and resorted to drug stimulants such as anabolics, growth hormone, EPH, etc. The result, as cheered-on by ecstatic audiences?--drug-saturated monstrosities, many of whom move like large primates, the very antithesis of the erstwhile ideal. Psychologists describe the condition as "Compulsive obsessive disorder compounded by narcissism."

In these and many other social 'developments' we can discern a clear pattern: the upper-limit of extreme sensation is reached, more intense sensations are unavailable, excess finally exhausts itself, nothing is gained, nothing affirmed, nothing of value or substance grows to nourish the future. The warped logic underlying decadence is that more is better, no matter how ridiculous the outcome. Unfortunately, every acknowledged feature of decadence is now evident in our current Western societies and, for practitioners and enjoyers of the serious arts, this is cause for alarm.

You might now legitimately ask: what has this to do with the flamenco guitar? To explore this, we need to understand the core of serious flamenco: duende.

Duende
In flamenco, duende refers to deep feeling, as experienced in the 'dark', profound or sombre emotions: grief, loss, unrequited love, pity, sadness, isolation, melancholy, bitterness, regret and lamentation. These emotions have, since the earliest times, held primacy in flamenco, and the ability to authentically express them, whether in song, dance or the guitar, holds the highest esteem. Contrasting or contrary emotions, such as joy, excitement, gaity, etc, are valued as part of the emotional spectrum, and find expression in many flamenco forms, but they are not valued as avenues to duende. The primacy of the dark emotions in flamenco has historical roots in the poverty, persecution, exile, imprisonment, social discrimination and hard labour experienced by Spain's gitanos. The earliest songs, undanced and unaccompanied by the guitar, emerged in the fields, forges, slaughter houses, workshops, prisons and mines of Andalucian Spain. The lamentive nature of these songs found pure expression in the sombre, Oriental sounds of the Phrygian mode, which the migratory Romani brought from the Punjab and coincidentally found in the religious music of Spain's mosques, synagogues and churches.

Several flamenco forms developed as the canonical means of expressing duende: martinetes, serranas, siguiriyas, cana, soleares, and their variants. Together, these constitute the cante jondo (or 'deep chant'). Its companions, in dance and on the guitar, are the baile jondo and toque jondo respectively. Several forms of the cante and toque intermedio also lend themselves to intense, profound duende: media granainas, tarantas, tientos, solea por bulerias, rondena, some fandangos, etc. By contrast, the cante and toque chico is the mode for expressing joy, inebriety, recklessness, excitement, frivolity, humour, overt sexuality, etc, and here shine the bulerias, tangos, rumbas, zapateado, alegrias, sevillanas, colombianas, guajiras, chuflas, and on.

Since the development of formalised flamenco more than a century ago, the exponents of cante jondo have intuitively sensed, and openly stated, that it must be subject to strict constraints or limitations if it is to serve duende. To my knowledge, the rational basis of this belief has not been clearly explored, and to do so requires us to make a brief but unusual diversion.

Duende and human brain function
The action potential in the average human neuron is brief (about 2 msec), and the conduction speed is relatively quick (30-120 m/sec). Although these rates permit quick reaction times to various stimuli, the neuro-processing of, say, music, is amazingly elaborate, especially as it ceases to be purely excitatory (eg. rock music, rap, urban, much of jazz), and becomes profoundly emotional. Since ancient times, musicians have intuitively known that the dark emotions can be served only by slowing the rate of musical stimuli, whereas the joyful, festive emotions require no such restraint. This tradition is particularly evident in American blues music. More distantly, J.S. Bach and Mozart penned abundant joyful, pacey music, but severely restrained themselves in (Bach) the B-Minor Mass, and (Mozart) the Requiem. So, too, for the cante jondo. Here, words and music must be processed by different parts of the brain in unison. Following auditory reception and transmission to the thalamus, the musical stimuli must be processed in both the wordy left hemisphere and, via the corpus callosum, the wordless right hemisphere, wherein tonality, emotion, inflections, etc, are interpreted and processed. Since the life-situations sung about typically involve visual memories, or imagined ones, the visual cortex is also involved. To this must be added the human brain's innate response to certain musical sounds, such as the primary chords of the Phrygian mode, major versus minor chords, harmonies and discords, and why we tune down to D for the rondena. From all of this elaborate neuro-processing a seminal truth emerges: there is a finite limit to the brain's capacity to combine, in real time, processing in distinct and separate cortical association areas in both hemispheres, all to elicit a specific emotion. Or, stated in the context of our thesis: the cante and toque jondo, and therefore duende, is critically time-dependent. It simply cannot be rushed, and it cannot, for precisely the same reason, be over-loaded with a rush of notes or musical complexity. The siguiriyas and soleares evolved from centuries of musical experimentation, as slow rhythms, raw chords and musical simplicity found suitable for expressing the primal, time-dependent dark emotions, known to be most poignant when protracted. In summary: The structure, physiology and limitations of the human brain dictate the musical form of, and strict conditions for, the cante jondo, toque jondo, and duende.

But this assumes that flamenco duende remains relevant in contemporary Western societies. Is it?

Duende and affluence
It can be strongly argued that the increasing affluence of Western countries has rendered flamenco duende irrelevant in our societies. That is, the gradual defeat of slavery, racial discrimination, poverty, illness and hard physical labour, reflected in the increasing abundance of entertainment pleasures in Western societies, has largely negated the many miseries that generated serious flamenco. There is probably much truth in this argument. To see this truth we need only compare the comforts we now enjoy with the miseries endured by millions of workers during the industrial revolution. Or, compare the living standards of latter-day Irish and Italian Americans, with those of their migrant ancestors during the 1920s. So the argument is difficult to counter. But I make several points. First, the scores of entertainments and attractions serving the festive emotions, alluded to above, are largely indistinguishable from those characterising decadent societies. Second, in all probability, every human experiences the Dark Side, meaning grave and serious emotional traumas that fill moments, days or even years of their lives. Flamenco duende reminds us of these, in a musical form that allows us to indirectly experience, reflect upon and adapt to the heart-wrenching moments. This practice of contemplating the many melancholies is an extremely important aspect of living. It strengthens resolve, resiliency, tenacity and fortitude. It teaches us in good times to expect the bad. It can even be life-saving, a resource defeating suicidal thoughts. The bald truth is that, in our boisterous, affluent societies, there remain very few avenues for exploring the Dark Side in a reflective, meaningful and fruitful way. The flamenco guitar, but particularly the toque jondo and duende, is one of those few avenues.

Toque jondo
Historically, the flamenco guitar's primary function was to accompany singers and dancers. The original guitar style, often nowadays defined as 'primitive', was essentially thumb-driven and characterised by rasguedos. There were few of the fingerboard elaborations and techniques we now associate with the modern guitar. Given the primacy of the cante, the traditional guitarist always occupied, in real terms, a backseat to the singer, and especially to the even more visible dancer. Although the gifted accompanist was prized by singers and dancers alike, he remained practically unrecognised by the audience; he remained an incognito source of the music. He was subject to severe constraints. He was not permitted to compete with the singer for attention, to corrupt the cante with unnecessary virtuosity or complexity, or to lead the singer. He had to possess a vast knowledge of the cante and baile, be able to anticipate the singer's moods and actions, and to play all night if circumstances demanded it. Above all, he had to master the toques jondo conducive to duende, and be able to express duende in his playing.

The so-called 'primitive' style was not necessarily simple. Many guitarists gained fame for their ability to weave amazing effects with the strumming thumb and ligardos. In more recent times they included Luis Maravilla, Antonio Sanlucar, Manolo de Huelva, Roman El Granaino and Victor Rojas. All, to my knowledge, were dedicated to the toque jondo, and to duende. In Seville, in the early 1970s, the aged (and very poor) Antonio Sanlucar spoke to me about duende:

"You might play for weeks," he said, "and nothing. Then, like from nowhere, in a soleares or siguiriyas, the singer's face will change, and all seated there will sense him: the ghost has come. Your guts tighten, the guitar plays itself. Even tough businessmen there have tears. He never stays long, that ghost, but it's enough. You cannot force it--never try. He leaves like he came, suddenly, and you feel drained, finished for the night. As for all those other things--castanets, noisy palmas, pitos, drums--nonsense, rubbish for payos."

Of course, there is no ghost, though it remains a picturesque metaphor. Rather, there is a distinct, gut-wrenching yet indefinable emotion that appropriately sensitive aficionados experience. Sanlucar went on to say that the toque jondo is entirely about duende--grave, serious, deep emotions--and on the guitar it is mostly thumb-derived. In his experience of scores of guitarists, he never saw duende produced by picado, plucking, arpeggios or tremolo--an observation that left me both bewildered and intrigued. I wondered if it was a prejudice born of envy, born of an inability to compete with the complex, elaborate techniques displayed by concert guitarists. Then, the more I compared the two distinct styles, compared the actual sounds and related them to brain processing, the more I understood Sanlucar's assertion. Let's inspect that other style.

Toque concierto
The transition of the flamenco guitar from its erstwhile simplicity to its current complexity properly begins with Ramon Montoya, who studied and adopted Segovia's classical guitar techniques. Atop a vastly expanded musical repertoire, Montoya showed how arpeggios, tremolos and plucking could be combined with the traditional picado, rasguedo and thumb-work. In my only vinyl LP of his gut-stringed guitar, Montoya sounds like a slow Sabicas. The latter, and Montoya's nephew Carlos, took this new flamenco to the concert stage, particularly in North America. Others soon followed in the concierto style: Mario Escudero, Bernabe de Moron, Juan Serrano, Serranito (Victor Monge), Paco Pena, etc. The direct lineage from these performers to Paco de Lucia, Manolo Sanlucar, Jeronimo Maya, Tomatito, Vicente Amigo, etc, remains unbroken, and the proposition that this group is divisible into 'traditional' and 'modern' categories is simply false.

A schism naturally developed between the concert guitarists and those committed to the toque gitano, the toque jondo, including Diego del Gastor, Paco del Gastor, Juan Habichuela, Juan Maya, Triguito, Paco de Antequerra, Araceli Vargas, Melchor de Marchena, etc. But this division was neither clear nor simple nor unbridged. Sabicas, famed for his musical creativity, concerts, complex technique and solo recordings, was one of the ablest accompanists who ever lived. The magic he wove with Carmen Amaya has rarely been equalled. Meanwhile, Nino Ricardo (Manuel Serrapi), a dedicated accompanist, played a distinctive complicated style using concierto techniques. Ricardo influenced several generations of concierto guitarists, including Mario Escudero and the young Paco de Lucia, but he also inspired many dedicated accompanists, including Eduardo de la Malena and Moraito de Jerez. Somewhat bridging these groups, Pepe Habichuela recently lamented: "I'm too traditional for the moderns, and too modern for the traditionalists." And, to finally complicate the matter, the combination of Paco de Lucia and Cameron is now the stuff of flamenco legend. What are we to make of all this?

The seeds of the toque concierto existed long before Don Ramon hatched them into modern complexity. They initially lay dormant in the cafe cantante period, during which flamenco flourished and acquired most of its defined forms. Then, solo guitarists began to play in the breaks between the cante and baile. They gradually earned more recognition, fame and pesetas than the accompanists; they could practise many hours alone, independently of the group; when hired as independent artists they did not have to share income with the group; as flamenco's hardest workers their efforts were belatedly appreciated; and they no longer had to serve in a subordinate role. It soon became evident that, whereas the cante and baile greatly depended upon the guitarist, the solo guitarist could survive without them, even though he rarely chose to do so. But danger lurked in the very nature of the toque concierto, because the concert guitarist's primary objective is to entertain, and to be paid for entertaining, whereas the primary objective of the toque jondo is not mere entertainment--it's duende.

Is that a significant difference? It is, very. The audience at a guitar concert does not pay money to be made sad, or to feel grief over the loss of a child, or to contemplate exile, or to depart the concert in a depressed mood. They do not come seeking profound emotion, duende, from a guitar concert. Most there have never heard the cante other than in a theatrical setting, and likely would not understand it in any setting. For most non-Spaniards, the Spanish language is a fundamental barrier, but is not the only one. Flamenco is an obscure art. It requires years of listening and participation to distinguish its many modes and rhythms, and to acquire the compas. Its Oriental sounds render it strange and exotic for most audiences; the dancers' costumes render it colourful; the overall effect is of a hugely entertaining distraction. We need only view audience behaviour at a flamenco guitar concert to understand the conflicting objectives of our two contrasting styles. Lightning-quick picado, a stream of scales and notes, inspires rapturous applause; the tinkling arpeggios give way to thunderous rasguedo; the left hand flashes over the fingerboard like so many eels; the soleares and siguiriyas are as technically complicated as the bulerias and alegrias; the modus operandi is excitement, not sombre feeling. But there is more.

Each generation of guitarists naturally seeks to surpass its teachers, and each guitarist seeks his individual style, his propio sello. This quest for individuality is traditional in flamenco and practically a necessity. Any guitarist who plays another's music, or in another's style, is held to be of little account, regardless of his technical proficiency. There are at least two primary exceptions here: 1. The recording of bygone material for archival purposes, as Paco Pena has done for Sabicas and Nino Ricardo; and 2. The performance and recording of set-pieces composed by past masters, such as the Sabicas' 'Zapateado in D' (again by Paco Pena), and the Escudero bulerias, 'Impetu', (by Paco de Lucia). That aside, given the hundreds of competent guitarists jostling for jobs and attention, the pressure on each is to do more on the guitar, to increase its complexity, to display greater mastery, to perform pieces that others cannot, to become a fenomino. In other words, we witness a straining after increasingly intense sensation, and we already know the word for this: decadence. The disease worsened several decades ago upon the incorporation into flamenco performances of decidedly anti-flamenco instruments: flute, electric bass, bongo drums, piano, clarinet, saxophone, etc. Doubtless, the moderns rationalise their decadence by claiming to take flamenco to a wider audience, to be widening its vistas. But true flamenco, the cante jondo, never was, and never will be, for the wide audience. It flourishes only in very limited conditions: a relatively small room, intimate surroundings, knowledgable aficionados, inspired singers, dedicated accompanists, and (usually) wine.

Does this imply that toque jondo is the only genuine flamenco? Of course not. The festive toques are a valid portion of the emotional spectrum, but they have secondary importance, despite being especially suited to guitar virtuosity. After all, when the old timers gathered to display their skills, they could expect the challenge to play 'por bulerias.' But the grave emotions, and the music expressing them, are and always were the primal stuff of flamenco. Moreover, danger lurks in guitar virtuosity, in the decadent impulse to cram more and more notes into a bar. It too easily becomes a display of virtuosity for virtuosity's sake, an exciting performance rather than a profound experience, an attempt to please and charm and beguile. In this atmosphere there is no place for sober emotion and reflection. And so we hear soleares and siguiriyas corrupted with fingerboard gymnastics, jazz chords, diminished sevenths and their ilk, all absolutely inappropriate, and all illustrating the decadent impulse to fancify every toque, at whatever cost. As such, theatrical flamenco becomes merely another addition to the entertainment mainstream, another forgettable diversion. But if we be tempted to believe there is a simple, moral, black-and-white operating here, we should pause. The conflict between toque jondo and toque concierto is a kind of flamenco tragedy involving all aficionados, a tragedy in which all lose. The bald truth is that the toque jondo simply cannot compete with theatrical flamenco in the modern commercial, theatrical world. Meanwhile, aficionado gatherings seeking duende are so few as to be near invisible against the populist landscape. Moreover, as argued above, the increasing affluence of European societies has largely negated the generative emotions of flamenco duende, whilst the abundance of distractions in our decadent world inhibits the pursuit of meaningful emotional experiences.

The flamenco guitarist's dilemma
The tocaor who confines himself to accompanying singers and dancers cannot expect to attain wealth, at least not from flamenco. Exceptions to this observation might exist, but I expect they are rare. Genuine accompanying in pursuit of duende places severe constraints upon guitar virtuosity, and this poses gravid problems for both professional and amateur tocaors.

We have earlier noted the natural, innate and valid need of guitarists to excel at their art, to attain instrumental mastery. We have also noted that, in flamenco, the standard of techique, nowadays very complex, has been set by guitarists of genius. Clearly, the young tocaor envisaging a professional career cannot confine his technique to an elementary level--he must suffer in comparison with contemporaneous virtuosos. Almost by decree he must advance his technique to a high level, and thereby immediately face the challenge of--as Don Pohren long ago wrote--'controlled virtuosity'. As my previous arguments assert, this guitarist--if he is to have any meaningful experience in the realm of toque jondo--must restrain his virtuosity, avoid all guitar gymnastics when playing the toques grande, and seek duende in guitar simplicity and purity. All of the dazzling technique that wins him applause on the concert stage becomes an impediment in the realm of toque jondo, wherein expert simplicity and genuine feeling denote mastery. As known since the earliest times, musical beauty consists in simplicity and uncompromised feeling. Pohren also wrote that, in his experience, controlled virtuosity was exceedingly rare among his contemporaries, and we must admit that this remains true today.

My collection of video clips of professional tocaors now exceeds 150, and repeatedly I find myself frowning as festoons of notes render a soleares or siguiriyas or taranta meaningless. As I write, I am watching and listening to a siguiriyas by Jeronimo, and the only descriptive word I can muster is 'ludicrous'. Somewhere in this mess there is a compas of sorts, but the maze of weird notes produced by fingerboard gymnastics totally guts this most serious rhythm in the toque jondo. His ensuing piece, a soleares, is equally flawed. Next, a guajiras by Serranito. Again, the technique is awesome, and decades back I admired it, but now I hear the melodic line straining to escape from a maze of arpeggios. Next, a bulerias by Paco de Lucia. The creativity and technique will always amaze but, again, the falsetas near-drown in a whirlpool of complexity. More alarmingly: at least two generations of guitarists have sheepishly followed Sanchez into this vortex. Then, a rondena by Tomatito, in which blistering picado and weird discords obliterate whatever melancholy and beauty this toque must express. But the worst aspect of these performances is the realization that I’ve felt nothing pleasant. In fact, I’ve felt dismay at witnessing so much remarkable talent gone astray. For me, their performances are as emotionally voided and meaningless as hearing an aircraft pass overhead. And remember, we’re talking about flamenco, reputedly one of the most emotional musics the world has produced. Still, perhaps it is unfair to cite these four from a host of offenders, especially when one can acknowledge fine and even great music that they have created. As for their performances in the videos cited above: they are far from alone in the pursuit of meaningless virtuosity; many others are as culpable.

So what is the professional tocaor to do? My suggestion is that, on stage, he discipline himself and embrace controlled virtuosity in the toques jondo, whilst unleashing his digital pyrotechnics in the toques chico. Whether this philosophy is practical and possible for our contemporaries remains open to question. Certainly, I recommend it for non-professional tocaors. Admittedly, I have observed concierto guitarists who restrain their virtuosity when accompanying the toque jondo. But then, in solo performances, they corrupt the same toques with unbridled virtuosity. And what of the toques chico? Repeatedly, when listening to our latter-day virtuosos playing these, I find myself straining to detect the music, the melodic line and compas, which lie buried somewhere within a labyrinth of notes produced by fingerboard complexity. Finally I ask: Why work and practise for years to attain a virtuosity that says nothing beyond ‘Watch My Fingers Fly’? You see, I want to hear the music, not be awestruck by a guy on the flying trapeze.

Something must also be said about the poverty of stylistic alternatives in the modern concierto guitar. For example, what became of the many sophisticated, right-hand variations created by Sabicas? Why have our renowned virtuosos mostly confined their technique to speedy picado, pulgado and arpeggios, and why do their rasguedos share a relentless similarity, regardless of the dozens of variations available? In brief: why, despite their speed and the vortices of notes, is their technique so limited? The answer is the clonal uniformity that plagues disciples of the Sanchez concierto style. Something like this happened decades back when flamenco novices slavishly adopted Sabicas’ falsetas. However, many other masters also shone at that time, each with a propio sello distinct from the Sabicas style. I’ve already named some of these: Melchor de Marchena, Nino Ricardo, Juan Maya, Juan Habicheula, Diego del Gastor, etc. But there were others, such as Pepe Martinez. Lampooned by aficionados as a genial classical guitarist who messed with flamenco, Martinez was nevertheless a master of certain forms within the toque chico, especially guajiras and colombianas. Martinez’s technique—light years removed from the toque gitano— pivoted about basic arpeggios adorned with grace notes, and it perfectly suited ‘pretty’ flamenco. Martinez played softly and—yes—slowly, allowing the music time enough to weave its effect. Obviously, no guitarist seeking to play toque jondo would model his style on Martinez’s. The point here is that, decades back, a dozen or more distinctly-styled masters had much to offer novices seeking musical inspiration. They ranged through the simple toque gitano of Diego del Gastor, the driving, heavy-duty toque gitano of Juan Maya, the complex toque gitano of Marchena and Ricardo, the elaborate concierto toque of Sabicas and Escudero, the bumblebee busyness of Serranito, and the pretty toque chico of Martinez. You could learn something substantial from each master, without being stylistically ensnared. You could search through a dozen contrasting styles to find one with which you felt comfortable, and use it as a guide. But few of the ensuing generations of tocaors chose this path. Most wanted to be fenominos, to be like Paco. Nowadays, to paraphrase Paco de Lucia in a 1994 TV documentary: “They all play like me.” Indeed they do, and we who value the toque jondo are the worse for it.

Arguably, the most serious abettor of flamenco decadence is the dearth of learned criticism in the mainstream press. Our concert guitarists have largely avoided the kind of criticism applied to classical music, opera, stage and cinema performers. Why? Because the reviewers, the music critics that I have noted, lack knowledge of flamenco. And, for reasons stated above, they cannot be expected to possess it. They review what they see and hear--a theatrical performance, the precise contrary of flamenco puro. And so they write of "a fiery and colourful spectacle" and "amazing fingerboard mastery" and "guitar wizardry" and "the full gamut of emotions". But they know not of what they write--you can discern this from their language. Hence, our celebrated virtuosos speed merrily along, happily avoiding the critics' bullets to which even rock musicians are subject. The regrettable truth remains that our celebrated virtuosos should have been shot with learned criticism decades ago, whilst their decadence was in its ascendency. That is, before their repertoires revolved around rumbas, bulerias and alegrias, and before the emergence of pollutants such as the Gypsy Kings. Now, it is probably too late. The disease is too deeply entrenched in audience expectations gestated in a decadent, populist world. It is safer for a soloist to launch into an elaborate rumba or bulerias than to risk confusing the crowd with a simple, honest siguiriyas. In their reviews, the music "critics" advise that the audience can expect "amazing fingerboard wizardry," and almost certainly they will receive it.

For my part, I adopted flamenco simplicity by necessity, when in Spain it became clear that I would never achieve guitar virtuosity, of the kind then demonstrated by Sabicas, Escudero, Serranito and Paco de Lucia. I began too late, had little time to devote to the guitar, and naturally suffered regret. But, as the years passed, regret diminished, and increasingly I found myself enjoying unembellished falsetas in the toques jondo, whereby the guitar had space and time to sing in its unique voice. After all, this is why we choose to play a flamenco guitar rather than a classical guitar, violin or harpsichord. It's why we save for years to buy a guitar fashioned by a craftsman--there is something magical and profound in the voice of a quality flamenco guitar. Why on earth would we then stifle its voice with an avalanche of notes--simply to show how quickly our fingers can move? Given that simplicity is the soul of beauty, there is no need or forgivable reason to corrupt the toques jondo, or indeed any flamenco, with punitive virtuosity.

Adrian Shortall

Adrian, thank you for your most excellent analysis of the state that flamenco finds itself in today. I have argued in several posts on several forums that flamenco is dead, but lives, as the music of Bach (and so many other now extinct musics) is dead, but lives. None of these musics is being created as a living and ongoing art today, but we have and will have the recordings and videos of the authentic flamenco of the 20th Century. In that sense, aficionados can compensate for the fact that, unlike "classic" flamenco, Bach is performed by musicians all over the world today, though nobody writes such music anymore.

A few random thoughts: In another context, Ortega y Gasset wrote, in Notes on the Novel: "In the great hour of the decline of the genre..., the opportunity of achieving the perfect work is excellent...when accumulated experience has utterly refined the artistic sensibility." This may help us understand why the flamenco, both cante and toque, of the Moron school is/was so widely understood to be so powerful.

I also share your enthusiasm for Sabicas as an accompanist.

For a penetrating analysis of the future of all of the arts (which he believes will inexorably revert to, essentially, Brownian motion), you might enjoy Leonard B. Meyer's classic 1967 book, Music, The Arts, and Ideas. Few have written as well as Meyer, the former chair of the University of Chicago music department, on the esthetics and evolution of music and the arts.

Again, thanks for your contribution, and welcome to this forum. I expect there will be much comment on your essay.

Carlos

Adrian, It will take me several readings of your post to absorb it all, but your ending statement summarizes my feeling about judging a flamenco guitarist. Recently while working on polishing my eclectic Soleares, I omitted several notes out of a falseta simply because they had to be played too fast and I was losing the feeling by not being able to accent proper notes. I practiced hard to get the falseta up to speed and when I finally got there, it was meaningless even though it was on compas (or was it ... the timing was right, but without accents was it really on compas?).

I define a difference in old school and modern flamenco simply by sound, not by the player. It is a personal thing and no hard and fast rules can ever be drawn to apply to all.

Is solo flamenco guitar really flamenco? IMO it is flamenco played on a guitar, but not flamenco in itself.

Is a choreographed and staged performance really flamenco? IMO it is people performing flamenco, but not the essence of flamenco. Flamenco is improvisational and spontaneous IMO!

I think the subconsciousness mind is where one experiences duende.

Fastado's article is excellent, but I do have some scattered comments -not in temporal or order of importance-that are somewhat at odds with some things he wrote;
A
1. The history of Spanish appreciation of flamenco is not new. In George Borrow's book "Zincali" (available for free download at gutenberg.org-bu if you want to print it get plenty of paper ready) written in the 1830s, he describes the word "aficionado" as applying to gadje who hung out with and (sort of) adopted Gypsy ways-including writing letras. Borrow gives in this book a number of letras which he insists are genuine Gypsy (and some of those are still sung)
2. Music making for money is a traditional Gypsy occupation. From the "get-go" they didn't just do cante jondo, they performed, danced in the streets, and later (early 1800s) in hired fiestas for money. In the "embryonic pre-flamenco " days they did the pre-flamenco forms zerrembeques, zarabandas, and "fandangos indianos" [The term "Indiano" in those days was close to what we call "ida y vuelta" except it was usually used to refer to Spaniards who had gone to the New World, made a bundle of money, and then returned to Spain) But even then, as in stage shows today, Gypsies often performed in public what they thought will be popular among a nonaficionado audience {Though I can vouch, for example, when Flamenco Puro was in NY, the audience went crazy over the "pure" cante of Fernanda and the "pure" baile of Farrruco ) Though Fastado is right at least about US critics- The vast majority have NO understanding of flamenco.

2. The general "position" of flamenco in Spain is mixed
a. Spain is very chauvinistic in the original sense of the term- they consider themselves almost as tied to the regions they were born in as t the country they live in. Flamenco is from Andalucia. Thus if a foreigner comes up to a Gallego or Asturiano and talks about flamenco, the Asturiano or Gallego doesn't wwant to her about it an might even be annoyed.
b. Flamenco went through cycles of fame and hate in Span. For example, very popular in Spain in the 1880s (eg Demofilo), a whole school of poets and writers (the so-called "Generation of '98) spent half their time writing poems and stuff against flamenco. That negative attitude turned around in th 1920's when the "Generation of '27" tried to elevate the status of flamenco- Alberti, Machado, Lorca etc

c Yes, flamenco often found disfavor in Spain because of its association with Gypsies (This was not true in the 1830s and 1840s when the Romantics fell in love with the Gypsies in general, and any intellectual in Europe or the US worth his salt had to take a trip to Sevilla to see the gitanos perform flamenco) And of course the rise of cafe cantantes around that time gave a wider range of people the oportunity to hear great cante

d Later on and up until recently, Spain was trying desparately to leave the 'Third World" Spain didn't want to just be a tourist spot. Flamenco was associated with tourism to a "primitive" place. Moreover, juergas that might last two days with participants "a gusto" on liquor did help Spain build an image of 9-5 6 day a week workers

e. The chauvinism still lasted

f When flamenco started to get world recognition recently, it has gained respect in Spain (After all, if Americans like it, t must have some value- No exaggeration-look at flamenco studies that get prizes in Spain- many many are Americans)

B Guitar solos
Guitar solos were there from the pre-flamenco days 5 double-course string days. The composer Santiago de Murcia, etc. Later on if you look at "programs" for Cafe Cantantes , they often listed guitar solos as part of the night's entertainment. As I posted in another spot, classical guitarists like 19th century Arcas played and wrote flamenco as well as classical- He is reputed to eb the composer of of "Ramon Montoya's" "rondena" Presumably Arcas wrote it or worked it out with flamenco guitarist Miguel Borrull sr
Though again, if you go to a fiesta, people there don't want to hear more than a guitar solo or two- They are there for cante, fiesta baile

C Fastado's neurological description of duende is fascinating, however....
In decades of hearing and seeing flamenco in Spain, I can count on one hand the true experiences of "duende" I have had
"Duende" of course translates as "elf', but it is really closer to "spirit possession"(not that I believe that in a literal sense) In Nietzcshes separation of art into "Apollonian" (Intellectual) and "Dyonysian" (Bacchian)(more "emotional" to use a lousy descripion) Duende is like the Dyonisian or Bacchian- in the original ancient Greek celebrations of which, people went into a sort of 'frenzy" or sort of "possession" and ripped other people up. It's no wonder or lie that the stories of duende in flamenoc include people tearing their clothes or tearing moles off.

"Duende" is more than simply a very moving flamenco performance. The quoted description that Fastado gives is closer to it It happens rarely and is unpredictable and doesn't even require that a great artist be the one who "calls it up"

Adrian, I enjoyed your anylisis, and I agree with you on many points. Yet, I don't believe that the flamenco is dead by any means, I believe that it is just going thru a phase in it's development and history. It's not constructive to rule out an artform and deny possibilites in the future. People enjoy the flamenco as you and I and that is what it's all about. The modern masters are simply giving the audience what they want to hear.

It's a great democracy embellished by the mass media and huge record companies. If there is blame to give it's simply not constructive to place your judgements on blame, rather, look for the ideals in the records that you buy that suit your tastes and leave it at that. We cannot expect everyone to understand nor comprehend when society doesn't operate that way. People follow the trends and the myths. It's a great sleep. Consider yourself lucky to understand, and leave it at that.

As for the future, anything is possible, and true, it could get worse and it could get better. But the flamenco truth is out there for people to hear and enjoy. And sometimes it's just a matter of time. Movements in the arts tend to come full circle, and the classical form is revived, but as for now, it's just the way it is and there is nothing we can do about it. If you have respect for something and you can share it with others it is not dead. There is no rule that says that you can't enjoy the true art. And a lot of people still do, the flamenco is out there and it's not against the law. You've got to live and let live, and know in your own mind, and hopefully everything else will get better.

As for me, I don't go around with worries like that, it's just a burden that I can't carry. But I do know what I like, and I don't change it or say goodbye to it because everyone is lost in the common era.
Gary
I really enjoyed your essay.......

C Fastado's neurological description of duende is fascinating, however....
In decades of hearing and seeing flamenco in Spain, I can count on one hand the true experiences of "duende" I have had
"Duende" of course translates as "elf', but it is really closer to "spirit possession"(not that I believe that in a literal sense) In Nietzcshes separation of art into "Apollonian" (Intellectual) and "Dyonysian" (Bacchian)(more "emotional" to use a lousy descripion) Duende is like the Dyonisian or Bacchian- in the original ancient Greek celebrations of which, people went into a sort of 'frenzy" or sort of "possession" and ripped other people up. It's no wonder or lie that the stories of duende in flamenoc include people tearing their clothes or tearing moles off.

"Duende" is more than simply a very moving flamenco performance. The quoted description that Fastado gives is closer to it It happens rarely and is unpredictable and doesn't even require that a great artist be the one who "calls it up"

What I have heard about duende from those that claimed to have experienced it, agrees with Jacinto above statement. It is considered a spirit possession. I define it as a hypnotic state where the subconscious mind reveals information and unleashes feelings that the conscious mind cannot. It is akin to the experiences of religious groups where after moving sermons or singing occurs, one is caught up in the moment, their conscious mind resting and their subconscious takes over giving them transformations mentally and sometimes physically, IE a hypnotic experience IMO. America Indians during their rhythmic dancing and chanting also at times "contacted spirits" or IMO were in a state of hypnosis, finding courage and feeling things that the conscious mind cannot.

I think many flamenco aficionados use the term duende carelessly. I find the most common use or misuse to be among solo guitar players many whom have never listened to Cante or if they have turned it off pronto.

Hi guys:
Many thanks for your replies, interesting suggestions and civilised critiques of my little essay. It's heartening to know that a few connoiseurs of the old-time duende still breathe! I'll not address your many issues because, for the reason stated below, we could go on forever. However, this topic concerning musical quality is simultaneously fascinating and maddening, purely because it is ultimately subjective and relativistic. Still, as a dedicated empiricist, I repeatedly find myself asking: Why? I mean, if the topic is subjective and relativistic, why, throughout centuries of music in the West, has a specific pattern repeated itself? Allow me to explain this by way of some examples.

I'm minded of the movie Amadeus, which opens with the aged Antonio Salieri (F. Murray Abrahams) attempting suicide. Later, asked by a priest why he did it, Salieri declares that he can no longer endure watching himself become extinct. In previous decades he was the court musician and most popular composer of his day. But a young man arrived and, gradually, his music replaced Salieri's. Today, very little of Salieri's music survives in manuscripts, no-one plays it, and my Dictionary of Music does not mention him. The article on Mozart runs to 3 pages, and his music is practically universal. Why?

In the decade preceding, during and following World War 1, George M. Cohan's music was the most popular on Broadway and in American homes. Today, no-one plays it. The music now sounds hilariously cornball, and George M. Cohan interests only historians of popular music. Why?

In the 1930s and 1940s, a singer was so celebrated, and his music so popular, that his contemporaries couldn't imagine him or his music ever waning in popularity. Today, his music is all but forgotten. In a recent musical about his life, the lead performer sank to one knee and began to sing 'Mammee..." Young folk in the audience roared laughing. Aged contemporaries of the famous singer, also in the audience, were shocked and appalled. The singer was, of course, Al Jolsen, whose music is well on the path to oblivion. Why?

In the 1950s and 1960s, a singer was so celebrated, and his music so popular, that his contemporaries couldn't imagine him or his music ever waning in popularity. The singer was Frank Sinatra, and today his music is rarely heard. Why?

In my bones I know, with absolute certainty, that the music of Elvis Presley, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Bee Gees, will wane in popularity and eventually vanish. Why? Because pop music dies with the generation that adores and buys it. But why? If musical appreciation is so subjective and relativistic, why does mediocrity always sink and the cream rise? Why do music critics, after decades of appreciation, rate the music of Debussy and Ravel lightweight against that of Beethoven and Mahler? And why has the music of all four composers endured, whilst the popular music of their day has vanished almost beyond trace?

I believe that the answer to all my questions resides, as suggested in my essay, in human brain function. It cannot be otherwise. Brains alone judge musical quality, as they judge all quality. And when we speak of 'subjective' and 'relativistic', we're talking about right hemisphere function, and that's where our difficulty begins, because language is posited in the left. But I believe that the right hemisphere is an even more ruthless critic than the left, even when it lacks words to express itself. It must resort to left hemisphere language when expressing itself, and the left loves to mess about with logic, semantics, alternatives, whatnot. That's why we can argue about music till the cows come home, and never reach a conclusion. However, Beethoven, Mozart and Mahler press on, whilst their popular contemporaties have become dust. So I stick by my guns. I believe that the atomic flamenco now ruling our concert stages will sink into oblivion. Yes, flamenco is still developing, but never in history has a decadent development done anything but fail. Meanwhile, often very slowly, the cream rises.

It's curious that Sabicas' music, after almost three decades in obscurity, is being reappraised and winning reappreciation. So too for Diego del Gastor and Juan Habichuela. Or not so curious. In the early 1980s I predicted it would happen.

Although not stated in my essay, I directed it at the young, still-developing flamenco guitarists, as a caution. The knowledge you respondents evince demonstrates that you've lived through the post-modern era of flamenco, experienced the substance versus the froth, and 'subjectively' decided where the true substance is, was, and will always be. The young lack this experience and knowledge. As an oldie, all I can do is offer them some reasons why they should pause and judge our latterday fenominos in the light of history, and via the history of musical appreciation. As for the rest--what flamenco is, and when does a solea cease to be a solea--that is for left hemispheres to mess with. My right hemisphere knows what
flamenco is, and what a solea is, and is adamantine in its opinions!

Cheers,
Adrian.

Adrian
Just a quick comment.
I am not sure "decadent" is the right term to describe things like pop songs that don't last through time, or (to be redundant) bad flamenco fusion.

Some in the past claimed flamenco became decadent once aflamencado songs were "flamencoized" and added to flamenco (eg libre fandangos, malaguenas, tarantas) I don't hold with that.
But do think the clear example of decadence in flamenco was cante bonito- which somehow is different than guitar technique for the sake of guitar technique, or adding jazz into flamenco in ways that just don't fit, etc.

Decadence
Strictly speaking, the term decadence is not a moral one. It has garnered some moral connotations, but these are purely artificial. In the arts, decadence refers to a falling-away from a recognised standard of excellence, a loss of stability, a decay of values, a slide into spurious, inferior or pretentious modes of expression, collectively called kitsch.

This is a clear, understandable definition of decadence by Adrian. However, when Adrian states that the moral connotations are artificial (I agree with this), the very terms he uses, or quotes(?) to define decadence are themselves ripe with overt expressions of moral disfavor--falling away from standards, loss of stability, decay, slide into spurious, inferior, etc. How to discuss esthetic matters without wandering into discussions of good vs. evil? I always attempt (often without success) to confine my discussions of the arts to what I like and don't like, rather than whether things are good or bad--de gustibus..... Over the years, I've evolved the phrase, "I'm not the intended audience for.....", to gently explain that I don't care for, say, Rap or Mahler or whatever it is that you like. It's another matter, though, to properly point out whenever an art has "evolved" out of the name by which it has been identified for years or decades or even centuries. Hence my often-expressed notion that flamenco is dead (but lives, as does Bach, etc.).

I agree with Jacinto that Cante Bonito does fall within Adrian's definition of decadence, and probably in a different sort of way than guitar hypertechnique, or flamenco jazz. What are we to make of Pastora Pavon's statement that, aside from her brother Tomas, her favorite cantaor was Pepe Marchena? While acknowledging the phenomenon of decadence, we need to struggle to keep value judgments either out of the discussion, or to clearly indentify them.

Carlos

Carlos
Probably Pastora said that because she and Pepe Marchena were working together at some place or show at the time she said it.