Nowadays, I seldom attend the summer festivals or the theaters in Seville in order to write a critical flamenco review. I’ve done this for over forty years and that’s more than enough. However, something I’ll never stop doing is writing about flamenco. I pride myself in having given flamenco a regular section in newspapers. I don’t usually write reviews of flamenco albums or books, because it gets boring having to say if such album or book is good or bad.

The last time I wrote a review about an album of flamenco guitar, the author asked me, tongue in cheek, which was the conservatory where I had got my music degree from. If he wasn’t interested in the opinion of someone with forty years of experience who had listened to some of the greatest flamenco guitarists in history, what was the point of talking at all? Is it more important the opinion of someone who has studied music theory, but who has no clue about flamenco? In that regard, I remember that when I wrote a review about Tauromaquia, one of the most important albums of Manolo Sanlúcar, he wrote me to give me thanks and told me that never any music critic with a conservatory background had mentioned the things i had noticed in that album.

When I started working as a flamenco critic, in the early 80s, there was a rumour that some critics would accept kickbacks from artists. One of the leading critics at that time once told me that his first car was purchased by a well-known cantaor, “although it was second-hand”. Good thing. Nowadays, I don’t think the agents or the artists themselves hand out envelopes stuffed with money, but there are many ways to buy a critic, such as offering them opportunities to give lectures or present festivals, for example.

Two summers ago, Seville’s Federation of Flamenco Entities asked me to present the Festival de la Velá de Triana, for 500 euros. I agreed, since that was a job as any other. However, two weeks before the festival, I wrote in my newspaper that the Federation was quite a mess, and they cancelled my appearance in the festival without event telling me. Another colleague took my place, who didn’t even bother to call me to ask what had happened. That’s the state of flamenco critic these days, although I know its unfair to generalize.

Obviously, I told the Federation that I’d never get involved with them ever again. They didn’t care, of course, because if I don’t do it, some one else will. It’s a good way to keep blunders and scams under wraps. One day I’ll tell you the way that institution handles public money, having completely politicized the peñas flamencas, helping some artists and ignoring others, and how they put themselves at the service of the ruling politicians.

Naturally, I’m not claiming to be a perfect example to follow, because I’ve also presented festivals and then written reviews about them, particularly to leave a written record in the public media. Last Saturday, July 7, I presented the 15th Noche Flamenca de El Cerro de Coria but didn’t write a review about it in my newspaper. It’s the most honest thing to do, even as I’ll never be bought in exchange for the opportunity to present a festival. Yet, you can rest assured that whenever money is on the line, objectivity suffers.

I’ve said this already, but I repeat it. Flamenco critic barely exist these days, because, besides the fact that it’s not well-paid work, nowadays the artists themselves do their own reviews in the social networks. “Yesterday I was visited by duendes!”, a well-known cantaor wrote one day. After such claim, what else can be said about such cantaor? And what is left to say when the wife, brother or son of the cantaor also write in the social networks about how amazing he performed in this or that festival? Perhaps the best thing is to step out and say that everyone is great.

Translated by P. Young