Montse Cortes (Barcelona, 1972) already knew what it was like to work with great musicians and companies when his phone rang and he heard the voice of Paco de Lucía on the other side. However, it took time before she could be recruited for the group of the genius from Algeciras, and with him she traveled the world discovering not only an extraordinary musician, but also a very special person. She recalls all this in this conversation with Expoflamenco.
–Who was Paco for you before working with him?
–Imagine, an idol. As a child, when I came home from school, I would sit on the floor with my bollycao, and I would put on the videos of Camarón, de Paco, del Tomate… For me he was the best in the world, I would never have imagined that I would be able to be on stage next to him.
–Were you already an artist then?
–According to people who have known me since I was little, they say that I sang in tune and rhythm when I was two years old. What I do remember is that my family was very good friends with the one from Camarón, because my brothers and he went to the same school, his mother and mine lived next door to each other. And when Camarón I was working at the El Cordobés tablao. He would come to my house to eat and I would say to him: “Tito José, I sing better than you.” And he would say, “Oh, really? Let’s see.” So I would sing him “A la flor del romero, romero verde,” and he would laugh and say: “Well, it’s true.”
–Your family is from Granada, you were born in Catalonia. But did you live in San Fernando?
–They went to live there because my mother sold copper amphorae and took them to Gibraltar. That's how we met. Juana, may she rest in peace, was already a widow, and my mother felt sorry for her, a single woman to feed so many children... And now in Barcelona, Camarón He came to see us when he was 16 years old and was with Juanito Valderrama's company, where he worked, and he rekindled his relationship with my family. My brother also took me to see him perform, but at that time he was already with Tomate, I hadn't seen Paco live. Anyway, my parents listened to him a lot, he was heard at home.
–When did you start making yourself known?
–I started at the El Cordobés tablao when I was 14 years and 10 days old, I remember perfectly. And then I was with Sara Baras, with Canales, with Joaquín Cortés, with La Yerbabuena, with Merche Esmeralda, with Tomate, with Vicente… I was very lucky because they all called me to sing, and they were all very good people. Word of mouth works, “there’s a girl in Barcelona who sings funny,” and they call you. Canales, for example, didn’t even listen to me before hiring me. He trusted one of his guitarists who told him about me. That’s how it works.
«We once performed in Cordoba, in an open-air venue. And Chonchi said, look, Paco, there's Vicente in the audience! And she got upset... Why are you telling me this before we play?!»
–And Paco’s call, how did it go?
–I remember it with shame. He called me when I was with the sextet, I was with Antonio, my son, when I was four or five years old. Now he is 31. He called me directly on the phone, “Hello, I am Paco de Lucía.” And I said, “Huh?” It turns out that he wanted me to go on tour for six months, but for me it was too much. “I’m sorry, I’m a single mother, I can’t,” I replied. Then he called me a few more times and the same thing, I couldn’t. “Forgive me, maestro, please, I just can’t leave my child.” Until the last time came, with good things, so that I could go on tour in America again… And this time, when I told him I couldn’t, he got kind of angry. I could see that he was thinking, well, well, you’re missing out… “My God, this man is never going to call me again in my life.” But he came back from the tour in the United States and called again: “Now don’t tell me no anymore, it’s Spain and we’re not going to be here for that long!”
–At what time was Paco?
–I wanted to make a change in the group. He was a person who had an impact on me from the first time I sang with him, which I went without rehearsing. He seemed very serious, and I was always afraid that I would think, “Listen to this girl, it took me so long to convince her and she’s not worth anything.” But nothing could be further from the truth, he was the complete opposite. The kindest person in the whole world, and the one who didn’t believe it. And he really liked to laugh and joke.
–And chop them up amongst yourselves…
–Yes, look, the first rehearsal we had I was supposed to go from Barcelona to Madrid, but I got a call from Paco who said: “Why aren’t you here?” “Maestro, but the rehearsal is tomorrow.” “No, it’s today.” And it was true, they had given me the wrong day! I didn’t know how to apologize, when he added: “Besides, La Tana told me that she’s going to kill you.”
–Did you believe it?
–No, no [laughs]. I knew it was his thing, because I knew La Tana from Joaquín’s company, and I was never going to say that.
–Where was your first concert?
–It was in Germany. And he told me “thank goodness we’re out of Spain” [laughs]. But between one pass and another, I had a heart attack because I was so nervous.
«One of them said to Paco: can you give us some advice? They were referring to advice for guitarists, right? But I was struck by the answer he gave them: Do you want some good advice? Make sure the pot boils every day at home. That's what he told them. He wasn't presumptuous at all, even his clothes were very normal.»
–Without rehearsing, how do you know the dynamics of the concert…?
–They had sent me recordings that I had listened to on my cell phone, I had watched everything. Things are seen when you are in the thick of it, but everything turned out well.
–The lyrics, did he have to do them as they were recorded, or did he let him do his own?
–Normally he told us the lyrics, but look, in a documentary that comes out on September 27 along with my new album, I tell things like this: when we were recording good things, in a bar next to Javier Limón's studio, we would go for coffee and he would tell me exactly not only the lyrics, but how I had to sing them, the moans, everything. And I say to him, "Maestro, why do you tell me how I have to do things and you leave La Tana alone?" And he: "Because you listen to me." [laughs]
–Paco knew a lot about cante?
–Yes, as much as anyone. Once he made a big deal of me about the Girl with the Combs, I remember that. He also loved the cante Gypsy. Look, he really liked El Capullo, who is not a Gypsy but sounds like one when he sings. And he himself said that what he liked most was singing. “I wish I had been a singer,” he said.
–And have you had contact with Pepe?
–I only did backing vocals for Tijeritas once, where he was the producer. But very little else.
–Have Paco’s choirs changed the way you sing?
–I think so, especially when we went from having just one singer to three. Paco made a contribution to that as well, as to everything he played. In our case, always with a lot of freedom.
«Once he made a lot of emphasis on the Girl with the Combs, I remember that. He also loved the cante Gypsy. Look, he really liked El Capullo, who is not a Gypsy but sounds like one when he sings. And he himself said that what he liked most was singing. I wish I had been a singer, he said.
–How was Paco different from other great guitarists with whom you have sung, such as Tomatito or Vicente?
–I was struck by how crystal-clear his guitar sounded. I have never heard that sound from anyone else. And his musicality was very special, very creative, both in the studio and on stage.
–What other conversations do you remember having with him?
–One time we were working outside Spain, I don’t remember where. And there were some young kids who played guitar. And when we went to dinner after the concert, they came to where we were. They came over to listen to him and one of them said to Paco: “Can you give us some advice?” They were referring to advice for guitarists, right? But I was struck by the answer he gave them: “Do you want some good advice? Make sure the pot boils every day at home.” That’s what he told them. He wasn’t pretentious at all, even his clothes were very normal.
–Did you ever see him nervous before going on stage?
–Yes! We once performed in Córdoba, in an open-air venue. And Chonchi said, “Look, Paco, there’s Vicente in the audience!” And she got upset… “Why are you telling me this before we play?!”
–I felt enormous pressure.
–That's right. Although he could have been cocky, he wasn't at all.
–Why didn’t you collaborate on his album?
–We suggested it to him, but he couldn’t. However, he did something that I liked even more. He made me an introduction for a television program that, oh my god… I loved it. He was very affectionate. He always told me “you’re stupid, you’re very stupid.” He wanted me to be smarter, not to be fooled, you know. He was angry that I was so modest and naive, he told me to wake up. Now I’m just as stupid, a little less so.
«I was once making a record called 'Divas of the flamenco', jazz standards but performed by flamenco dancers. On a plane I played them for him, and he advised me that when I sang something that wasn't my thing, that wasn't flamenco, I didn't try to make it flamenco, I didn't make any moans or anything like that, because it's just vulgar. "Your voice already sounds flamenco, don't force yourself to sound like that." That's what I did.
–And how did you fit in with the group?
–We were a family, we went everywhere together. In the end we also went to America, Europe, Japan… Three or four years without stopping, because with him there was no stopping.
–You had already performed on international tours with other artists, was it different in any way with him?
–Wherever he went, he was the one who formed it. They knew him everywhere. He would go out to do the rondeña, and wherever we went, they would start shouting “Paco, Paco!”, and it was very funny when he would answer “what?” [laughs]
–Tell me some anecdote from traveling with you.
–You see, my son Antonio, since he was little, whatever he did, he did it well. Once I went to Barcelona for a while to look after my father who was ill, and I put the boy in a little football team at La Mina, there in the neighbourhood, so he could keep himself entertained. One day they called me, “Are you Antonio Cortés’ mother?” “Tell me, what’s going on?” “I’m a scout for the Barcelona Football Club and we’re very interested in him. If you want, I’ll pick the boy up at your house and take him back after training.” My son was very young and the children his age looked like his father, he played goalkeeper and they always had him with his fingers drawn back, always in a cast… And I didn’t want to. At La Mina I knew the coach, who was a gypsy, and I told him: “Cousin, put me with children a year younger, because at this rate they’ll kill me.” And he said, “OK, but don’t say anything.” So when Barcelona called me, I asked him: “Are you going to put me with younger kids too?” “No, ma’am, we put him with kids his age.” And I refused, of course. And on a plane I told Paco that, and he started shouting at me all over the plane: “You’re crazy, you’ve ruined your kid’s future!” [laughs] Then other teams called me, but I didn’t give in.
–Have you ended up dedicating yourself to sport?
–No, he makes sushi. He was the head chef at a place in Triana.
–How did your departure from the group come about?
–I was pregnant with my daughter when the change happened, so I didn't feel bad about it [laughs]. He met with everyone and told us that he wanted to change, I think he was looking for a way to sound different.
«I was struck by how crystal-clear his guitar sounded. I've never heard that sound from anyone else. And the musicality he had was very special, very creative, both in the studio and on stage.»
–To what extent has your career been boosted by working with Paco?
–Going with him leaves a mark on you forever, wherever you go they tell you “that's a singer who was with Paco”. And personally, he taught me a lot. One time I was making an album called Divas of the flamenco, jazz standards but performed by flamenco dancers. There was Lole Montoya, a girl from Seville called Vicky Luna… Well, when we recorded, I had to do four songs. On a plane I played them to her, and she advised me that when I sang something that wasn't my thing, that wasn't flamenco, I didn't try to make it flamenco, I didn't make any moans or anything like that, because it would be vulgar. "Your voice already sounds flamenco, don't force yourself to sound like that." That's what I did, and it turned out really cool.
–How did you receive the news of the teacher’s death?
–Oh, yes. I had a message on my cell phone from my daughter's father, telling me. I couldn't believe it, it was something that my body couldn't assimilate.
–Do you remember it often?
–He is a person that you have to remember. Many moments I lived with him come to mind. There is one that I remember especially. When we did the tour in the United States, the first day we went to Boston. I was sleeping and suddenly I noticed a lump in my breast. It was the first time in my life and it made me feel very bad, and I decided not to talk to anyone about it. Look, Chonchi was there, I could have talked to her, but I didn’t. And it was eating me up inside: “You’ll see, now when you go back to Spain, there will be no remedy…” I thought of the worst. Nobody noticed, I hid it very well… Except him. “What’s wrong with you?” “Nothing, nothing’s wrong with me.” “You don’t want to tell me, do you?” “No, really, nothing’s wrong with me.” “Look, tomorrow we’re going to Chicago, there I know a place that serves very good meat. We’ll both go to eat, and you tell me.” That’s how it was. I told him what had happened to me and he reassured me: “Come on, woman, if you are very young, it is surely nothing. When you come back you can have your mammogram or whatever, but I tell you that it will be a little lump of fat.” And so it was. He had great psychology. And he was very approachable, a very good person. He was not a boss. ♦
→ See here the installments of the series THE CHOSEN ONES, by Alejandro Luque, about Paco de Lucía's collaborators:
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XXII) Pepe Pereira: «Paco had a lack of musical self-esteem»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XXI) Juan Ramírez: «When Paco died, the oil ran out, now there are only puddles»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XX) Antonio Sánchez: «Paco was not the only creator, but being anti-Pakistan is being an idiot»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XIX) Bobby Martínez: «When Paco told me that in flamenco "You can't read music..."
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XVIII) Joaquín Grilo: «I am hurt by the way Paco is being honored»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XVII) Domingo Patricio: «The level of Paco's tours was not there before and is not there now»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XVI) Enrique Heredia 'Negri': «A conversation with Paco was equivalent to ten years of career»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XV) Toni Aguilar: «I left Paco de Lucía's group because I didn't want to cheat on him»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XIV) Jesús Pardo: «For Paco it was inconceivable to release an album and for people not to be amazed»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XIII) Juan Manuel Cañizares: «Every time we pick up the guitar, Paco is there»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XII) Álvaro Yébenes: «Paco de Lucía was never able to get out of the flamenco»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (XI) Rubio de Pruna: «Paco de Lucía spoke wonders of his companions, he never boasted about himself»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (X) Chonchi Heredia: «Paco de Lucía has left all guitarists frustrated»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (IX) / Rubem Dantas: «In Russia, Germany or Japan everyone became flamenco"listening to Paco de Lucía"
# THE CHOSEN ONES (VIII) / Rafael de Utrera: “Thanks to Paco I ended up singing ten times louder than I could before”
# THE CHOSEN ONES (VII) / David de Jacoba: «The first time I saw Paco write a story next to me, I wanted to cry»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (VI) / Niño Josele: «Paco de Lucía's music was like my natural language»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (V) / Antonio Serrano: «Paco got nervous before concerts, because he didn't study anything»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (IV) / Duquende: «Paco de Lucía's group was like a spaceship»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (III) / El Viejín: «Each falseta by Paco de Lucía can take you in a different direction»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (II) / Dani de Morón: «There are still those who believe that not studying Paco is the same as having personality»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (I) / With Alain Pérez in Havana (and II): «Paco de Lucía had everyone waiting for him to fail»
# THE CHOSEN ONES (I) / With Alain Pérez in Havana (I): «Enrique Morente was a true visionary»
