That nickname was given to me by the gentleman Juan Verdú Back in the 1990s, when I began my career as an editor and compiler of booklet collections. Over a period of ten years, I produced a total of six collectible books. I'm sure some of you have one. Generally, you won't know who I am, since the names of those who produced these types of literary-musical works are usually, when they appear, very hidden. Understandably, since it's not about promoting the work through its author; marketing focuses on the content. The record label Universal, so PolyGram, with whom I made all those works, should give me a trophy for having made them a fortune. But you know that generosity isn't what characterizes that guild, the record industry, which should be called "For the Interest I Love You Andrés" or "Let's Get Along... Whatever We Have to Get Along," although it could also be called "The Ta'precio Phenomena" (Cascana dixit), giving you a hug while holding a dagger in one hand ready to stab you in the back.
The collectibles were, first Great music step by step (1995), an International Book Club and PolyGram edition, consisting of fifty copies in book-on-disc format, which was translated, without my permission or any additional compensation, into nine languages and, according to a chart hanging in the office of the head of Universal's classical music division, sold ten million copies worldwide! For this collection, I devised a formula that I later applied to other collectibles. It was based on what I called "listening guides," indicating the time code before the commentaries. This way, while listening to the disc, you can follow the music by "reading" what's playing. A publishing success that was subsequently copied on several occasions.
With the same publisher I published another best-selling collection, Los Palos from a to Z (1998), in ten volumes and with an initial disc that I titled Keys to flamenco music (also widely copied, remember that book with the same title The key to flamenco music, which is not the same but it is the same). On that record appeared for the first time the much talked about and used clock flamenco.
Sales of that collectible boosted the next one, the third with the CIL. All the Music of Cuba (2000), another ten installments sorting the musical genres of the Cuban repertoire based on EGREM's repertoire. Another hit. I think that's when Verdú gave me the nickname that titles this article.
"I've been working in and with the record industry for over twenty years, and I know everything that goes on in that crocodile swamp inside out. There are good people in that industry, but there tend to be plenty of unsavory ones. Deaf people, who don't have a clue about music, and they're there because of their proven vulture streak."
So I started a series of collectibles flamencos with my dear friend Jose Manuel GamboaThese were made in Barcelona with the powerful publishing house in the sector Altaya. The first was All Camarón (2000), twenty installments that ordered the work of Camarón by style. Another publishing success: seventy thousand collections (one million four hundred thousand records), I suppose it generated a fortune in royalties. Not a single word of recognition, ever, from anyone for a job well done. Never mind, poor José had it worse, bless him.
Success Camarón led Altaya to commission us with another one, this time with thirty-five deliveries, The new Flamenco (2000). It wasn't bad either. We then made a final collection for an Englishman from Barcelona that we titled Paco de Lucía, source and flow of the flamenco (2005), fifty discs in twenty-five releases. Another publishing success, this time for Global Rhythm Press.
Then came the record crisis, massive free downloads began, and the industry burned down. The Spanish company Universal, which in its PolyGram days was located in a six-story building on Madrid's Calle Suero de Quiñones, moved to a new location on Calle Torrelaguna, where I believe they remain.
With the CD crisis, the CD-ROMs died, and with them, El Niño was left without a job. Well, not without a job, we Galicians don't know what it means to be unemployed. On to something else, butterfly. Those were years of hard work, poorly paid for the profits of the companies involved, who were making a killing, but hey, that's the law of the cultural worker, as my teacher liked to call himself. Antonio gades.
I've been working in and with the record industry for over twenty years, and I know everything that goes on in that crocodile swamp by heart. There are good people in that guild, but there tend to be plenty of unsavory ones. Deaf people, who don't have a clue about music, and they're there because of their proven streak of being a complete vulture, something like the lead band in The wolf of Wall StreetBy the way, haven't you seen the movie? The PlaylistI highly recommend it. Very enlightening regarding this sector of culture.
I owe a lot to the world of fascicles. I learned a lot from making them. It forced me to thoroughly analyze the repertoire. jondo, a comparative exercise when designing albums that has been very useful for me to understand, in ten years, what a lifetime's work is all about. I was lucky to fall into that field of work, which I also began shortly after leaving, by olfactory prescription, the very well-paid position as marketing director for Spain of the prestigious German classical music label. Deutsche Grammophone, a PolyGram brand then owned, and now Universal. When I left, I thought I was leaving the industry for good. Little did I know my departure was the beginning of a long, professional friendship. And I thank heaven for providing me with a more or less stable livelihood during those years. The things.
