He has a certain reputation as a somewhat sullen man, but the truth is that from the first contact, when he agreed to be interviewed by video call for expoflamenco, Al Di MeolaMore It is an outpouring of sympathy and affection towards the main object of the conversation, who is none other than his friend Paco de LucíaBorn in Jersey City in 1954, this jazz guitarist was drawn to Latin sounds in the 70s, when he recorded his album Elegant Gipsy with the collaboration of the genius from Algeciras. It was the beginning of a friendship that led them to tour and record, together with his colleague John McLaughin, historical records such as Friday night in San Francisco (1981) Passion Grace and Fire (1983) and The Guitar Trio (1996). Along with Larry Coryell, they were the ones who introduced Paco to the language of jazz.
Do you remember your first approach to flamenco?
My introduction was probably to Sabicas, who was a friend of my next-door neighbor when I was a kid in New Jersey. Sabicas came to our backyard party, and I enjoyed listening to him and experiencing the world of flamenco Through a man who, as I later learned from Paco, was a great inspiration to him, the greatest of all. He always mentioned him. And it was a complete coincidence that I had met Sabicas when I was just a teenager.
What was this music to you at that time?
After that meeting I heard flamenco often, always admiringly. It's a completely different way of playing, but with beautiful expression, with a musical aesthetic different from classical music, which is very scholastic, very structured, focused on a specific repertoire. flamenco It was a street music with tremendous rhythmic possibilities. So I exposed myself to those two different worlds. Then, when I was 19 and played on my first European tour with Chick Corea, upon landing in Spain in 1974 everyone was talking about that new sensation, Paco de Lucía. I had a natural curiosity to hear his records, and I started looking for them. I went to El Corte Inglés and bought everything they had by him. When I returned home, I couldn't get enough of these records by someone who was taking the language of flamenco to another place.
Was this the first time you heard about Paco?
Yes, the first time.
And then you called him for the first time to record Mediterranean Sundance, was it like that?
The idea began to form in my mind that he was technically competent and rhythmic in musical forms that I could relate to perfectly, because I was very influenced by Latin rhythm. He was by no means a musician. flamenco, but we could communicate through what in Latin music is called play against the keyWe understood that feeling of the ascending rhythm, as opposed to rock, which is more descending. If I improvised, his accompaniment was amazing. When he improvised, he played against my rhythm, and he felt completely comfortable with that because I understood the essence of Latin rhythm. And that's how we got along incredibly well. Plus, there was a great connection between us. We came from different worlds, but with a common understanding of rhythm.
«When you hear Paco play, you know it's Paco. Not just because of the incredible technique. It's that there's a sound in his fingers. There's a sound of his own. Another person playing the same guitar will have a different sound, a different feeling, a different touch, a different technique. But to the critics of flamenco They didn't like it when it came out of the box.
So you were very attracted to Spanish culture, to the sound of the flamenco guitar, right?
Yes, it is something extremely profound. When you think of Spain, you think of flamencoWhen you think of America, you don't think of the guitar as the most important thing.
Were the “Spanish” albums of artists like Miles Davis and Chick Corea a strong influence on your approach to the Spanish sound?
Yes, because Chick was a great admirer and a musician who absorbed Latin music very early on. He had played with Willie Bobo and really had the ability, which other jazz pianists don't have, to play against the clave and handle various forms of Latin rhythms in his compositions. But Chick Corea was the complete package because he was equally a great improviser, and also a composer with a full understanding of rhythm, and that was a huge advantage for me as a young musician, to have this kind of idol to look up to. In fact, the reason I composed music is because I was involved in a group that was a songwriting band.
Do you remember the first time you met Paco in the studio? You were very nervous, weren't you?
He was very nervous. He had been to New York, I think, in 1974, and then returned in 1977 for this project together. The companies contacted us to bring him back; they thought it was a good opportunity for him to become better known in the United States, since my first two albums were selling very well. So, when he arrived in New York, he went into the Electric Lady studio, Jimi Hendrix's studio. I could see that he spoke very little English at that time, but he had a friend who acted as an interpreter for him. Paco wasn't comfortable yet; he was looking to expand his musical horizons, his vocabulary, beyond the classical cadence of flamencoI felt like I wanted to grow, and that takes a lot of courage. Any musician needs a lot of courage to step out there, outside of their comfort zone, to a place they're not comfortable in, just to expand, so I always admired the courage he had.
You, on the other hand, were in your element?
For me, it was completely different. There was no way I could become a guitarist at 19, 20, or 21. flamenco, but he had a Latin sensibility. Paco, on the other hand, had this great gift that still keeps him as the best flamenco of all time even if we lost it and it's in another universe.
But you were telling me earlier how that first meeting was…
Yeah, he came in quietly, smoking very nervously. When we started recording it, he wasn't flowing at first. I don't think he really felt comfortable until we gave him some marijuana [laughs]. He seemed completely connected, did one magical take, and that's the one that ended up on the record. Elegant Gipsy. You know, he was brave in his playing, but also in crossing his mental boundaries, because for the people of the flamenco There is a very, very strict boundary, and he dared to go beyond it. That was his reason for wanting to do something with me, and then it turned out that the Sundance Mediterranean It became a popular song around the world, especially in Spain, France, Italy, and Germany. It was also a huge hit here in the United States, even on pop radio, where you listened to the most mainstream music. Our song was played all the time; you heard it in taxis, everywhere.
What did Paco think about all that?
I was really surprised by the success, because it was so big, and we talked about doing something live at some point, maybe in a few years. We contacted a famous impresario in London named Barry Marshall, a young man who was just starting out in the business as a promoter, and he had the necessary vision. He was obviously a fan of Paco, and also of John McLaughlin and me, but really of Paco, and he thought it would be great to put those three guitarists together. So he called me and asked if I wanted to do it, and I said, “My God, that would be phenomenal,” and it was beyond phenomenal. He ended up designing a two-month tour, which we started in Scandinavia and then went all the way down south, to Spain, Italy, a lot of shows in Germany, Belarus, Holland, Italy, France, of course, England, and then we crossed into the United States, doing New York, jumping to the West Coast to end up in San Francisco, where we recorded our album. We recorded everything, not just in San Francisco. We played for two months. Our playing technique, our ideas, and our exchange improved and improved without any distractions, and it was a magical moment in history, or at least in this era. Because we didn't have these damn things [picks up his cell phone], or computers, so we weren't distracted by the phone. Now it can take 5 to 7 hours of our day to look at the phone or the computer, but back then, in those extra 5 to 7 hours, all we did was rehearse in our room, because we knew that that night we would be against ourselves to show our best side, not only to the audience, but to ourselves. We wanted to impress ourselves, and the audience got the benefit of seeing us out of our comfort zone and stretching ourselves. That's why the Friday night in San Francisco It was the epitome of all the time we spent together in those first two months. I don't think any of us could reach that level without that two-month preparation and that kind of inspiration.
What was the audience like at those concerts? Were they music lovers? flamenco, lovers of world music, jazz?
They were a little more familiar with Paco on the European side, a little more… Certainly, maybe 15 or 0 percent had heard of Paco, in America maybe 20 percent had heard of Paco, and those 5 percent were Spanish. So Paco became very well-known after playing with John and me, who already had a large audience in our country. It was a very good thing for him, but it was also very good for us, in many ways.
And did success come from the first minute, or did you have to fight for it?
No, we didn't need to fight it out. It was a healthy, good, fun competition between us, because we somehow wanted to impress each other. I wanted my solo to impress Paco and John. Of course, Paco would play his solo and think, oh my God, now it's my turn, I have to do something. And the same with John. Some nights we weren't happy, but the audience always was. They always said, "Wow!" But there were many nights when we left the stage thinking, ah, I could have done better. We were completely absorbed in giving our best, and very rarely were we completely satisfied. But I'll tell you, in San Francisco, maybe because they were the last two sets or for some other reason, we were very happy. And the audience played a big part in that. They were alive and animated, and they reacted to everything we did, so they inspired us to go even further. That was the reason that record sold 7 million copies. That's a lot of records for a live album.
Did you ever relax, all those days on tour?
It was like this every night. Of course, as time goes on, you get a little more comfortable. In the beginning, it was like I was a baby in a bathtub—I had to swim no matter what!
Did you spend a long time without playing together?
We made a second album in 1982, I think, Passion, Grace and FireWe made the first studio album in London, and I think it's a great album.
But then you distance yourself from each other, practically until '95, why?
Because we were all very busy with our own projects. Most of the reasons are just that. We were extremely busy. Yeah, it should have happened sooner, it could have happened sooner. It's the same as when I played with Chick Corea and Return to Forever. We could have made two or three more records, we should have. That's life. Paco, instead, made some good records on his own. And the same thing happened with John, and I made a total of 35 records on my own. It's a lot of legacy that we created for ourselves.
"He was brave in his playing, but also in crossing his mental boundaries, because for the people of the flamenco There's a very, very strict boundary, and he dared to go beyond it. That was his reason for wanting to do something with me, and then it turned out that Mediterranean Sundance became a hit song all over the world.
And they still had to record The Guitar Trio…
We decided to record the album through Universal in France. We recorded it at Peter Gabriel's studio outside of London, in a place called Bath, England. We lived in the same facility, and they had an incredible studio. And, again, I prepared the album in a way you can't imagine. I was completely off the road for a few months before that project because I was very serious about writing something substantial. Writing parts for Paco, writing parts for John… Maybe I wrote too much because I had a lot of time, and I really wanted to make something I could be proud of. John did the same thing too; he and I went in with three pieces each. Paco didn't have anything because he was on tour, and he really wasn't prepared for anything. He wrote two pieces right then and there… And they were great. In fact, I love one of them, I think it's called Tiny. It was a great record that didn't get the attention it should have. And the reason is that there wasn't a name for the record. It should have been a completely different title, instead of Guitar Trio. Because also Guitar Trio had the same colors on the front of Friday Night in San Francisco. So most people thought it was supposed to be a remix or a reissue. And I think we lost that, except in France, where it sold a lot. Well, the French were the ones who put up the money. I think a lot of people in the United States, in particular, still haven't heard the record.
And it's a great album.
Yes it is.
The bond with Chick was very strong, wasn't it? Paco adored him…
I loved him too, he influenced me a lot as a composer. His music was very syncopated, so if you're a flamenco or a Latino, if you understand how to feel and play Latin music, be it Brazilian, be it flamencoWhether it's Latin or Caribbean, you'll simply adore Chick's syncopated feel. And that's what we all did.
In Spain everyone thinks that Paco de Lucía is the greatest guitarist flamenco of history, but every time I ask them why he was so great, people's answers are completely different. What would yours be?
You know, it's hard to talk about this, because nowadays friends, the new guitarists, who are so good, so good... But there's a difference. When you hear Paco play, you know it's Paco. Not just because of the incredible technique, and you can ask any guitarist; it's that there's a sound in his fingers. There's a sound of his own. Another person playing the same guitar will have a different sound, a different feeling, a different touch, a different technique. That sound had something to do with the success of the guitar trio, which was the most important thing he did. But to the critics of... flamenco They didn't like it when he stepped out of the box. Astor Piazzolla, the new tango composer, had the same struggle in Argentina with critics, because he wanted to bring tango into the classical world, and take it out of the clubs and into the concert halls, and expand the compositional aspects to the limit. That's why he had to go to Europe to broaden his vision: he too stepped out of his comfort zone. But we, John or I, didn't say that Paco was expanding the flamencoHe was just expanding his vocabulary, and he was open-minded about doing other things. I've tried to do things with Vicente Amigo, but he's too fearful. He won't do it because he doesn't have the courage. Now, Antonio Rey is a great guy; he's eager to do something, and maybe we'll do it. We're trying to figure out how it would be possible. How can you do something better than the project with Paco and John? It takes a lot of time, and we don't have much time, because this has taken up a lot of energy and attention. We have too many options, too many. When we grew up, we had three or four television channels. Now we have 300 or 400.
At first, everyone talked about the speed of their guitars. Was speed important to you, Paco, and John?
It was one of the most important aspects, because if you hear it in your head, and then you try to play it and it sounds bad, it's the worst thing imaginable. So having the ability to play what you hear in your head, which can be tremendously fast, and play it cleanly and articulately, and also rhythmically and articulately, was what made the guitar trio very important. There weren't many guitarists who had what we had. Now there are hundreds, if not thousands, of guitarists with tremendous technique, but very little songwriting, you know what I mean?
"I made two tribute albums to the Beatles, whom I love. I don't think the world would have been as great without them, but I also don't think the world would have been as great without Paco, Chick, or Piazzolla. So I think about them very often."
Sure, everything on YouTube is incredible, everywhere. But tell me, do you remember any conversations with Paco that weren't about music?
Paco and I were more like friends and brothers. It was completely different with John. It was very difficult to get close to John, but with Paco I felt much closer. We did things outside of music, let's put it that way.
Do you have any funny stories to tell about your adventures with Paco around the world?
There are too many I've never told, I can't go into that. But on the first tour, which was very fun and challenging, we played a card game every day, with money. We liked gambling, so throughout our trip, sometimes on the train, sometimes on the bus, sometimes in a car, or sometimes in the hotel after a show, we played like we were in a casino. Paco taught us a game, and of course, he was the best at it, and we lost a lot of money, John and I. But every time John lost—this is the funny part—every time John lost, he went crazy. Ugh! And just watching John and his anger was so funny. I was laughing my head off, but at the same time, I lost a few hundred euros… Although that was before the euro. Let's say the equivalent of many hundreds of euros. And Paco laughed and claimed he was making money to buy clothes for his little girls [laughs]. He was very good at cards, indeed.
How was the end of the trio?
It was terrible; it became an unhealthy competition. You know, when the trio started, I was the younger guy. I was twelve years younger than John. There was a certain contempt, a certain disrespect in him, like he looked down on me. But we were equal in popularity, in how we divided the money, in everything… Except for that lack of respect for me. At first, I accepted it, but as time went on, well, John wanted to become a bit of a dictatorial boss. We had a certain confrontation, and that carried over onto the stage. We did the whole last tour, and he didn't look at me once.
You said goodbye and that was it?
Well, no, I would have continued playing anyway, but I think the audience could see what was happening, and many were wondering, what's wrong with John? So we went our separate ways, years went by, and we didn't speak until the year of Covid, 2020.
What happened then?
I went up to him and said, “John, you know, we’re in a scary year. We don’t know what’s going to happen. We don’t have our whole lives to live, and it would be nice if we could, you know, try to make peace. And I really want to apologize for anything that might have been taken the wrong way. And there are certain things that you did that, you know, I feel, you know, you should say the same thing. We’re going to agree to disagree or just move forward, or whatever.” And so, we reached out. We acknowledged that fact. Now I want to mention that when we mixed the Friday night in San FranciscoWe went there with all the tapes from the 1980 European tour, but we only picked the San Francisco tapes. But when we finished mixing, the studio asked, what do I do with this wall of tapes? Because John lived in Europe, Paco lived in Spain, and I lived across the river in New Jersey. And we were mixing in New York and White Plains. And I said, well, you know, if you want, I have a big house. I could put them in the basement and everyone would be fine. Nobody cared about the other tapes. So I went through the tapes in 2020. I had a lot of time because of Covid, and I found out that we had played two nights in San Francisco. I listened to the Saturday recordings, which were great. And I found out there were other pieces, not the same pieces that we had already released, you know? So I called John, and he was shocked; he'd forgotten that we'd had a second night in San Francisco. And I said, "Look, I'm going to let you hear everything." I'd rather mix it with you, but I know no one can travel. But there's a record label that would love to put this out, so trust me. And I had to edit a little bit to make it fit on the sides of the vinyl. And when he heard it for the first time, he was like, "Oh my God." And he agreed too. That's how it happened.
"There weren't many guitarists who had what we had. Now there are hundreds, if not thousands, of guitarists with tremendous technique, but very little songwriting, you know what I mean?"
Do you remember how you received the news of Paco's death?
Like everyone else, we were completely shocked and sad. And, you know, I wish I could have been there, but I had the chance when I played at Paco's festival. What's the name of your hometown? I keep forgetting.
Algeciras
That's right, Algeciras. The people at the hotel told me that right across the street was the cemetery where Paco is buried. And I said, "Oh my God." So I went there and saw where his remains were laid to rest, in a coffin above the ground, which is totally different from how it's done in the United States. But it was beautiful how they honored him and how everything was set up. They took a picture of me. It was quite a moving moment, of course.
Everyone knows that Paco learned a lot from you, from Larry, from John. But what did you learn from Paco?
Well, what did I learn from Paco? I learned that this music, fortunately, is further removed from classical music—and that's in a good way—because it had a lot of bounce, a lot of rhythm, but with good feeling. A lot of rhythm that I felt very comfortable with. So I think I developed what I already had further, I took it to another level, without a doubt, thanks to Paco. You can say he was an important part of my life.
How often do you remember it in your daily life?
Every day, in some way, every day. It's like him and the Beatles, every day, because they—and Piazzolla too—because they and Chick inspired me a lot. They gave me a lot of inspiration, and, well, except for the Beatles—I didn't have a personal or musical relationship with them—but I made two Beatles tribute albums, which I love. I don't think the world would have been as great without them, but I also don't think the world would have been as great without Paco, without Chick, or without Piazzolla. So I think about them very often. ♦
