Camarón Lives

The popular cult for Elvis has its own equivalent in the world of flamenco in Spain, and its deity goes by the name Camarón de la Isla. Camarón was greatly responsible, along with guitarrist Paco de Lucía, for having changed the sound of flamenco in the 1960s and '70s by introducing a bass line, electronic mixing and orchestra, as well as the hollow sound of the cajón, a box-drum of Peruvian origin. But Camarón's signature voice is, like Elvis', his most distinguishable feature. In his later years, with a throat lashed by tobacco and heavily scarred by heroin, Camarón may be likened to the Viva Las Vegas Elvis, a star audibly burdened by the excesses of stardom and drug abuse, yet somehow never past his prime. Maybe this is why the "rawness" of his sound may be said to resemble what was, within the discovery of Elvis by his first audiences, a sensuality that had never been heard before, at least in the mainstream range of pop music. After his death in 1992 the cantaor became elevated to legendary status, the kitsch object that most exemplifies this: the "Camarón Lives" bumper sticker that immortalizes his fame. And then last year, a movie. The photo at right below is a still of Jaime Chávarri in Camarón (2005) for which he won a Goya, the equivalent of an Oscar, for best actor interpreting the role pictured here as glam gitano Camarón of the late 1970s.

This campy excess -both in the singer's image and evident in his voice- is the stuff of what makes Camarón so appealing, at least for me. As someone who long ago developed an allergy to all things "traditionally Spanish" -and flamenco did fall into this category of essentializing stereotypes of Spain- I thought listening to flamenco required a sort of initiation to understand what the hell it was about. For me, it required a love of Andalucía and an acquired ear to descipher the flamenco singer's disonant wailing. Since then I've become more interested accidentally, entering (very superficially) first through the electronic "chill-out" sound of Chambao, or the pop-R&B fusion of Ojos de Brujo. Then came an attraction to the kitschy appeal of traditional music -though not flamenco- of divas like Rocío Jurado and María Dolores Pradera. Which then passed through the more traditional sounds and bawdy appeal of María Jiménez, and the mourning of Mayte Martín. The trajectory of my interest in flamenco, if it can be called that, reaches Camarón as a sound that appeals to all of these interests-- at times decadent, sometimes melacholic, at once a parody of itself and yet so deeply original in his sound that it refuses to be categorized simply as any one of these things.

Which is why I want to share the song "Soy Gitano" ("I'm a gypsy"). (Click the song title to download.) When Camarón gets to the part "A mí me gusta saborear" after the third chorus, he goes crazy, and this is exactly the kind of appeal I'm talking about. I hope you like. He is, after all, the King...

Que ya no puedo aguantarme,
y ni vivir de esta manera
porque yo no pueo,
porque yo no quiero
ni aunque dios quiera
porque ya no puedo,
ay porque yo no pueo,
ay porque ya no pueo
vivir sin ella

Soy gitano y vengo a tu casamiento
a partirme la camisa
la camisita que tengo
yo soy gitano
y vengo a tu casamiento
a partirme la camisa que te tengo

Me retiro
del esparto yo m’aparto,
ay que del olivo ma retiro
ay del sarmiento m’arrepiento
de haberte querío tanto
ay que del olivo
ma retiro

Soy gitano...

A mi me gusta saboreá la hierba la hierba buena
un cante por soleá
y una voz clara y serena
y una guitarra y tus ojos ay al laito duna candela

Soy gitano...