Former Toploader guitarist Dan Hipgrave’s quest to experience true flamenco puro led him on a journey to some unexpected corners of Seville.

WHEN I SET OFF TO SEVILLE in southern Spain on a quest to learn more about the country’s cultural phenomenon of Flamenco guitar, I couldn’t have dreamt just how involved I would become. I’d been made aware that flamenco puro – the real deal – isn’t easy to find as there’s been a resurgence in the music’s popularity over the last two decades, causing an increase of the ‘fake’ tourist Flamenco shows. My intention was to blend into the puro scene and witness the jazz-like improvisation with which Flamenco shares an affinity and avoid the ‘tacky’ mainstream.

You see it’s all about the duende – the emotional communication with the audience. This is something I understand from my days in my old band, Toploader. The best moments aren’t scheduled – it has to be spontaneous. Add this to a canvas like Seville – the most handsome of Spanish cities – and you’ll start to understand that this isn’t just music but a way of life, a philosophy.

My first impression of Seville was that it is laidback and fun loving, with people spilling out of the tiny tapas bars drinking and laughing. The grandeur of the Cathedral and Giralda is stunning and the cobbled streets laden with horses and carriages are a sight to behold. But I wasn’t here for that. I had an agenda and it was burning inside me not to fail.
To find the flamenco puro scene I was up against it. Firstly, there really isn’t that much of it going on, and secondly, its spontaneity makes it impossible to predict where it’ll be taking place.

Heading north of the city I made my way to Zaragoza Street, where ‘Juan L Cayuela’, the oldest guitar shop in Seville, is located. To my disappointment the owner had extended his Siesta into a day off. Musicians, hey! I was headed back in the direction of my hotel when a stroke of genius took place. Or, as I’d like to think of it, fate.

I stumbled across a bar called ‘Stu Maria’, tucked away on a quiet road. What was coming from inside was far from quiet though, with all the shutters down and a curtain obscuring vision through the door. I could hear, yes, flamenco. It was three o’clock in the afternoon yet it sounded like the best party in town. The door was locked but I needed in to get in, so I decided to abuse the international success of ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ – a hit record for my band Toploader. I’m not proud of this, but whatever it takes…

A young man came out for a breather and I pounced on him. “Ah this is a private party,” he explained. So there it was. The hit record was mentioned. “Really, I loved that song, wow.”
Manolo explained that this party was a ‘Tuno’ group, a collective of superior musicians who gather to watch previous performances, then play and be merry. Manolo was more than happy for me to join the party – and what a party it was.

By the time I had gained access, the projection had finished and they’d started a full-blown flamenco jamming session. Now, from my experience if you were to give 20 guys guitars, lutes, tambourines and wood blocks, then feed them half pints of brandy – which is what they were drinking (really) – it would be beyond a disaster. But it was something else. I had found it – flamenco puro, duende!

It’s hard for me to describe how it made me feel. It was simply audible perfection. No one was out of tune, out of time or lacked passion. It was how I wanted and expected it to be – electric. These were true musicians; they breathed it and felt it. Feeling satisfied with my discoveries in Seville, I decided to make my way east through Andalucia’s mountains to Granada. I’d heard about the hippy guitar scene up in the Islamic quarter, Albayzin, and the extraordinary skills of guitar maker Daniel Gil De Avelle, who’s built a reputation as the best flamenco guitar Luthier in the world.

After a much-needed cool down in the pool, I set off to visit Daniel’s workshop, Manuel L Bellido, named after his late father in-law who had spent twenty years passing down the family tradition of Guitarrero. Domenico Vene, a very well educated Spaniard with an American accent, greeted me; he would be my translator.

The shop was split into two halves, sales and the workshop, all fronted with glass so that passers-by could admire the sophisticated craft, and it was wall-to-wall with the most beautiful examples of classical/flamenco guitars. You don’t need to play to admire these instruments, in the same way that you don’t need to be a footballer to admire Thierry Henry’s capabilities with a ball; they are simply stunning. Domenico proudly explained to me, “Daniel takes orders from all over the world and each instrument is completely bespoke; he will measure your arm and torso if required. There’s an eight month waiting list and a further 150 hours to build the guitar.”

Daniel arrived back from his siesta; he was a small man who looked a little a little like Phil Collins. He welcomed me into the workshop. There was a crazy amount of tools and pieces of wood lying around. He explained the process of bending the wood into a guitar shape: “This is done by soaking the wood, then heating it at extremely high temperatures. This softens the wood enough for it to be manipulated into shape.”

Some guitars use up to nine different woods, including the almost extinct Brazilian Rosewood. This is a highly skilled process and, of course, you will have to pay for this quality, with prices starting at €8000. I spent two hours with Daniel watching him work and it was a truly unforgettable experience. That evening I made my way by bus to the Albayzin area. I couldn’t have wished for anywhere better to spend my last night. This is where it all began. In the 7th century BC, Muslim rulers settled here before embarking on building the mighty Alhambra.

I made my way to the highest point I could find, Mirador San Nicolas, got myself a beer from a bar and sat on a wall watching the sun settle over Granada, the Darro valley. It was one of those moments that will be firmly painted in my mind forever. I thought about how lucky Spain was to have such a powerful musical tradition, music that sits in the hearts of the people and defines them.