In the mid-seventies the flamenco He pecked me and made me his, inoculating me with the sweet poison of pellizco. I had just arrived in Seville from Paloseas of the River and I knew nothing about this art that today occupies my days and nights. I began to go to the famous Flamenco talk show on Radio Sevilla, which was directed by the doctor and friend Rafael Belmonte, the brother of the great Sevillian bullfighter.
In that gathering he ruled Antonio Mairena, as in almost all the flamenco from that time, and they used to be on the table Matilde Coral, Luis Caballero, Orange from Triana, Miguel Acal, Palomy cow o Jose Nunez de Castro, among others. I think one day I saw the singer from Triana there Emilio Abadia and I remember that as he spoke of Silverio y Ramon the Ollero, and Mairena hated the singers clowns, it seems that he never came back.
One day someone told me that he was there, in the audience, Emilio Jimenez Diaz, the critic from Triana whom I read in Nueva AndalucíaMy reference then was Miguel Acal, director and presenter of With Andalusian flavour, the beloved program of La Voz del Guadalquivir. If I'm not mistaken, it was the first time I saw it physically.
I also listened to National Radio Jose Luis Montoya already a young man Paco Herrera on Radio Vida, then Radio Popular, whose studio was on Vírgenes Street, by Alfalfa. When Paco left for Radio Sevilla, Emilio Jiménez took over a program, Being from the south, which changed my life and attracted thousands of young people, some of them outstanding flamencologists.
Yes, my friend Emilio, that program, which I listened to every afternoon no matter what happened, served as a model for me to choose the path of flamencology. I read and listened to you because I immediately understood that it was the best path, given your independence, honesty and knowledge that is not typical of a young person.
«When one day in Montellano you told me that if I wanted to collaborate in the Correo Flamenco, the supplement of El Correo de Andalucía, everything changed for me. Not only did you open the Seville newspaper for me, where I still work thirty-seven years later, but also the door to your own house.
I saw you at the festivals, at the peñaFlamenco dancers from the city and the towns, in theatres and at events flamencoof all kinds. Until one night you gave a lecture at the now extinct Peña Flamenca Nino Ricardo, from Cuesta del Rosario, in Alfalfa, and we shook hands for the first time. I was with a very young man Paco Robles, another crazy person from flamenco that I heard and read you daily.
I remember that that night they were in the aforementioned peña Luis Caballero, Matilde Coral and her husband Rafael, the great dancer from Triana, as well as Naranjito, Manolito Armero, Antonio Bonilla, Jaime del Pozo and other great fans. It seemed to me that talking about flamenco in that peña and before such artists and experts it was a feat.
Emilio Jiménez Díaz, during the interview at his home in Cordoba. Photo: perezventana
I began to admire you to the point of idolatry, and when one day in Montellano you told me that if I wanted to collaborate in the E-mail Flamenco, the four-page supplement of Andalusia Post Office, with other people like Luis Caballero, Joaquin Herrera Carranza, Manuel Martin Martin, Manuel Rios Vargas and others, everything changed for me.
You not only opened the Seville newspaper for me, where I still work thirty-seven years later, but also the door to your own house in Triana, that lovely apartment in Santa Ana where I had so many coffees with you and Loli, always under the clean and kind gaze of Azulón, your Siamese cat, and your three children, who have now made you a grandfather.
I remember the sweetness of your mother, now on a blue balcony in the sky. Sometimes I park the car near that block and when I look towards the windows of your apartment I am overcome by a longing that hurts like a gypsy seguiriya in the voice of ChocolateSo far from Córdoba, where you now live with Elena, another great woman in your life.
«You were a very renowned and award-winning critic, but I think Seville is indebted to you. Seville and, of course, art flamenco. You already know the apathy of this city, ours.
One of the things I like about the artists of yesteryear is the respect they have for their teachers. One night I saw how Mario Maya knelt before Pilar Lopez in a restaurant in Cordoba. And how the great master's eyes lit up at the gesture of her disciple. It is true that when you went to Cordoba we became quite distant, but I want you to know that I have always boasted that you are my master, the man who saw in me something that he liked and that others did not know how to see.
You were a very renowned and award-winning critic, but I think Seville is indebted to you. Seville and, of course, art flamencoYou already know the apathy of this city, ours, although you are from Triana and I am from Arahal, which is no small feat. Seville can erect a monument to a clown with grace and bury a Silverio under the heavy slab of indifference.
Let this audiovisual letter serve as a tribute to you and your immense flamenco work, which is what concerns us. I will always be faithful and loyal to you, and I will try to continue defending tooth and nail everything I learned with you during those beautiful years that I remember today with a mixture of joy and sadness. Of joy, because I owe everything to those years. And of sadness, because they will not return and today the circumstances and the films are different.
Long live, my friend and dear teacher. Take care of yourself. And never stop being the kind and generous man that I had the immense good fortune to meet on the path of life.
The Guadalquivir River,
the one that passes through Triana,
Sometimes he goes to Sanlúcar
and others don't feel like it.
The writer and speaker from Triana, Emilio Jiménez Díaz. Photo: perezventana
Happy meeting of flamencos in Cordoba: Jose Luis Jimenez, Domi de Moron, Emilio Jimenez Diaz, Manuel Bohorquez and Jose Antonio Rodriguez. March 2021. Photo: perezventana
The writer and speaker from Triana, Emilio Jiménez Díaz. Photo: perezventana
