Island Shrimp he called it "the chicken sound" and yesterday Rosalia, three decades later and before the most important and media showcase of the world music industry, it made that complaint of the most groundbreaking of flamenco artists can be remembered as something of the past. From the distant past, but not therefore decisive to see how the story has changed. Our tale of Spanish music.
In 1990, Camarón led a group of Spanish musicians to make themselves known in New York. Among them were The last in line and Ketama. Under the protection of the General Society of Authors (SGAE) and the Ministry of Culture, they participated in what became known as the spanish night within one of those professional fairs in which, normally, there are more invited journalists to publicize the artists than the public. There, while headlines proliferated "to the conquest of the Americas" or "to eat the Big Apple", all had to fight against the disinterest of many of the attendees.
Imagine: the singer of San Fernando breaking his shirt and the others at canapés and drinks in a New York disco. Shrimp got annoyed. An anger that was adding more fuel to the fire of his general malaise because of the conditions in which he used to act. Just a year later, everything would be better at the Montreux jazz festival, but it wouldn't take away so that before I left a definitive phrase: "I'm tired of singing around with the sound of chicken."
Sound of chicken and flamingos seen with a lot of showy air, of simple anecdote with which to decorate the landscape. However, it was not only the evil of Camarón. From all fronts, Spanish music has sought to transform that image into a more professional one and live up to the great number of very good artists that have been feeding it. On the way of flamenco, great ambassadors have been seen, beyond Camarón, such as Enrique Morente, Tomatito, Vicente Amigo, Diego El Cigala and, above all, Paco de Lucía. Outside of cante, the impulses have been varied from pop and other territories: Joan Manuel Serrat, Joaquín Sabina, Mecano, Heroes of Silence, Alejandro Sanz, Bunbury, Vetusta Morla ... And Rosalia represents everyone, as long as, as a talent creator and daughter of her time, moves without prejudice between styles and legacies.
Last night, the Catalan singer culminated the transformation in the most difficult stage to reach. Also, surely, in one of the most dreamed. Like those adjectives he runs out, his historical performance at the Grammy gala wine preceded by more. More immediate history. By the time he jumped to sing and dance, he had already become the first Spanish artist to win an international Grammy. They had given it two hours before. If last year he took the Latin Grammy to the best record of the year for Evil want and the best urban song by With height, last night he took the Grammy to the best rock, urban or alternative Latin music album for Evil want.
Vigorous and magnetic, his performance was one of the last of the ceremony and filled the Staples Center in Los Angeles with palms. It was started by tangos with I swear that, its most recent composition, released just four days ago. Already then with this premiere he sent a clear message: he was becoming flamenco again for the world before the arrival of his great televised moment. Dressed in white with fringes and stylized with her characteristic false nails, she clapped her hands and stomped her huge platforms. Palms and more palms in this tuned flamenco that, after its past experiments with reggaeton and electronic pop, return it to the universe of The bad want. Palms that did not stop taking the filmmakers from the gala on the screens. Some of Rosalia, but also more of the accompaniment band. A slap to which the public added, which broke into more jubilation when it spliced with Badly and stopped being alone to appear surrounded by dancers, all male and dressed in red, choreographing their recess on the stage. Everything measured perfectly and with the sense of the show for the occasion.
La Rosalía, a global star, got bullshit at the big planetary pop party. That chicken sound that Camarón complained last night was more buried than ever in the last century.