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Ramon Montoya, 1973
This appeared in the Argentine newspaper "La Nación", on May 11th, 1937,
but did not include the name of the journalist
ANDALUSIAN POPULAR
ART
Ramón Montoya remembers great singers of "cante jondo"
The adventurous life of the cantaor Antonio Chacón
In the early hours
of yesterday morning, the celebrated guitarist Ramón Montoya arrived in
our city aboard the steamship Campana, from Marseilles. He is considered
to be the most complete performer of popular Andalusian music, and has
come to our capital, contracted by the owners of the Maravillas theater,
where he will perform in tonight's presentation of regional art, as part
of the show being offered by the dancer Carmen Amaya. Montoya has been
involved in performances of the art of cante jondo for over a quarter
century, and his skillful playing has been compared to important figures
in flamenco expression such as the Macarronas, the Niña de los Peines,
and Antonio Chacón. In an interview held in the Maravillas theater, the
famous guitarist remembered all the "greats" that have venerated the
popular singing styles of the Andalusian people. He offered many
colorful episodes, some picturesque, and others sentimental, and others
involving the actor Manolo Vico, linked to the artistic life of Montoya
through several adventurous performances on the peninsula. At plain
sight, Montoya offers no clues as to his place of birth, nor does his
accent when he speaks. Upon seeing him, with his face lit up, one would
say that he was from the north of Spain; and speaking, he seems to be
perfectly Andalusian. But from the very first questions, Montoya speaks
at length and in detail on all things that one may ask about him.
What region are you
from ?
I'm from Madrid,
from the Avapiés district, that silly neighborhood that defines the
capital of Spain so well. On occasion, I've had to present my personal
documents just to demonstrate that I'm a native madrileño.
I was supposed to
come to Buenos Aires about seven years ago, when García Malla invited me
to perform in the Casino theater, but the fear of being at sea-after
all, I'm gitano as well as madrileño-kept me from acting on those
tempting offers. I remember that Manolo Vico, who knew about this
country, told me on several occasions: "Don't be silly, Ramón. Go over
to America, you're going to earn piles of money!" But I have to confess
that those interesting contracts lost all their appeal at the mere
thought of so many days at sea. Montoya began
playing in the cafés cantantes of Madrid.
How did you become
a guitarist ?
In the cafés
cantantes of Madrid, many, or most of which don't even exist any more.
From that period, I have warm memories of the Marina café, where I
started, located in Jardines Street, number 21. I also worked at the
famous Naranjeros café, in Cebada Square; the Gato café, in the street
with the same name, the owners of which responded to the colorful name
of las hermanas Higorrotas (the Brokenfig sisters); the Magdalena café,
also in the street of that name, between the squares of Antón Martín and
Progreso; and also the Pez café, in Ancha Street, of San Bernardo. In
the Marina café, I got to play with the famous Macarronas, with Malena
de Salud, the daughter of El Ciego, who, for me, is the greatest female
performer of men's dancing. She would come out in a short jacket with
chaps and a calañés hat, a tiny little thing with a great big voice that
went perfectly with her art; Anita Caña, who has very good artistic
qualities; la Mejorana, one of the greatest performers of classic
flamenco dance; and Antonio de Bilbao, whom they met in Buenos Aires in
the San Martín theater, in Eulogio Velasco's group, several years ago.
That reminds me of the unusual way in which Antonio de Bilbao came to be
known in Madrid. It happened on one of those memorable nights in the
Marina café. After the performances of several artists, and encouraged
by several of his friends, Antonio stepped onstage and asked me to
accompany him. Judging from the way he looked and dressed, no one could
have suspected what a great dancer he was. He wore a beret that revealed
his Basque origin, and when I asked him what he was going to dance, he
told me, "Por alegrías". I looked at him and thought that it was all a
joke, so I responded by playing the same way, but he reacted, and told
me confidently:
"No, play it right;
I know how to dance!"
And he certainly
did know. He was so good that he put all the dancers, guitarists, and
the public right into his pocket. He caused such a sensation that the
owner of the café came straight over and made me contract him. That used
to be part of my job at the time, as the official house guitarist. I
asked him how much he wanted to earn, and he said, "Two pesetas." That
was a good salary back then, but if he'd said fifty we would have given
it to him. I was earning seven pesetas, which was also quite good, but
because I was playing outside the café, I was earning over twenty duros
(100 pesetas) a day.
The only thing I can say about Antonio de Bilbao is
that not long afterwards, he was the king of the Marina café, and all of
Spain began to praise him. I also have to mention Faico, an excellent
interpreter of the farruca. He went to perform in Paris, and had a big
hit with the La Giralda pasodoble. Ramírez de Jerez put on some great
shows there, too, with farrucas and tangos, as well as Monijón, the
cousin of Faico.
Which bailaoras do
you remember as the best ?
Mariquilla, la
Flamenca, in classic styles, on the same level as Macarrona; and
Encarnación Hurtado, la Malagueñita.
He considers Chacón
to be the most complete performer But in cante jondo
-Montoya continues- the greatest artist to have been born in Spain is
Antonio Chacón, or, better said, Don Antonio Chacón, because if anyone
deserves to be called Don, it's him. For me and many others, Chacón was
the master of all the cantes flamencos. It can be said that he was not
only a cantaor, because he could talk about painting, literature, and
medicine. He took his singing seriously. He could start at eight o'clock
in the evening, and go on until the same time the next day, with the
same enthusiasm and effect. He'd overshadow everyone, and wherever he
went, nobody could compete with him. For fifteen years, I accompanied
him with this guitar that's been with me now for twenty-seven years, the
one that the flamencos call la leona de Montoya (Montoya's lion). Chacón
was the greatest singer of the gitano style of seguidilla, and, at the
same time, he was a gentleman and a friend. When he died he didn't leave
behind a penny, after having earned over two million pesetas. He used
all his money to live as the great man that he was. In the levante
styles, Manuel Torres was great, also. He was a magnificent singer of
the murciana and the cartagenera. Manuel Escasena was another great
singer, and Antonio Chacón admired him. Escasena's head was strangely
shaped, and people used to compare it to a cucumber. I remember that
Chacón once said to me about him, "Montoyita, have a listen to this
"cucumberhead", he's extraordinary". And on more than one occasion,
Chacón himself saw to it that a hundred-peseta note was given to
Escasena at a juerga in Villa Rosa, pretending that some other person
had meant for it to be given to him. Good old Antonio Chacón was a kind
man. I remember when Chacón introduced me in Seville at a party, at the
time of the fairs. The biggest names in cante of that period were there,
and it was me, the great unknown, who accompanied Don Antonio. When he
introduced me, he just said, "First, you're all going to sing, and then
I'll sing, accompanied by Montoya, and I assure you that I'm going to
make all of you cry". And that's exactly what happened: everyone ended
up crying. He admired me so much that he even forgave me at a party of
the Duke of Medinaceli for arriving late because I'd preferred to go on
with a game of pool. He simply said, "Montoya, are you a pool player or
a guitar player?" On another occasion, back in Seville, the admiration
of the Andalusians made them refuse to believe that I'd been born in the
capital, and he replied in a friendly way, "Tell 'em you were born in
Seville, will you?"
In Paris, he
performed in the Opera Cómica with la Argentinita
The conversation
turned to his more recent performances and the events to take place in
the Maravillas theater, and Montoya tells us:
I've just finished
performing in Paris for eight months. After the first three, I was going
to come to Buenos Aires, but my stay there was extended, and they
wouldn't let me come here. I performed several times in the Pleyel, in
Paris, and twice in the Opera Cómica, accompanying Encarnación López, la
Argentinita-she went over really big. That countrywoman of yours is an
excellent dancer! For me, she's the most complete artist in Spain, among
bailaoras, and even with that tiny voice of hers, she sings wonderfully.
She's all art of the finest quality, and the public of Paris could
appreciate that, just as the public of Madrid had done before that.
Then, I performed in Brussels, in London, and in Switzerland, until I
was able to leave for Marseilles, to board the ship, for all those days
at sea. I don't even want to think about that, because I'll need all the
courage I can muster for the return trip.
"In my performance
in Buenos Aires, my repertoire will consist of interpretations on the
guitar -on my Leona- of pure classic flamenco art, such as soleares,
malagueñas, granadinas, mineras, tarantas, rondeñas, bulerías, tango in
major and minor, guajiras, farrucas, seguidillas, and la rosa; and I'll
perform each piece according to the public's wishes. I've received many
references to the Argentine people, and I've been wanting to meet them
for a long time".
Date:
20/8/2009
Research:
meysam amini
Source:
flamenco world
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