Serious Song:
Classical Guitar and the Duende
by Emma Markham
Set deep in the caves of Sacramonte the cry begins, the stomping of feet and the whirl
of chords sweep up the dust of the earth and send the tears of its people flying into a frenzy of
sound. Serious song has begun. But what is it that makes this music cry, and causes a shiver to
run through all those who witness it? An onlooker from any walk of life who hears this music
and feels its pain and passion rush through their blood knows that it is something special and it
is something that all art longs for. Flamenco is a form of music that is completely dedicated to
expressing the emotions of the individual. It was born from the suffering of a people generally
referred to as the Gypsies of the southern Spanish region known as Andalusia. These people
have experienced an extensive history of being ostracized, underprivileged, and segregated
from the populations that surround them. These experiences spawned a collective trauma
amongst the Gypsy people, and are the fuel that ignites the intense power and passion behind
their music.
This discussion aims to outline the basic pattern of psychological behavior that results in
the serious song of flamenco. The process begins with a seed of emotional trauma, from which
comes an emotional wound within the group or individual. From this wound comes an emotional
struggle with oneself in relation to that wound–this being referred to as the duende. And then,
once the duende exists and the internal tension has festered, there comes a need for an
externalization–this being the cathartic act of song. This moment of catharsis is cherished and
celebrated openly and enthusiastically in the flamenco community through their musical
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practices; however it is something that can be translated into all forms of art, specifically the art
of classical guitar music. If paired with an audience that brings an attitude and atmosphere that
encourages catharsis, then the classical performer is presented with an opportunity to become
a translator for the duende across cultural and musical boundaries.
Flamenco’s roots are generally attributed to the Gypsies of Andalusia, Spain. However,
this music is a result of many different racial and religious groups’ traditions, including those of
Sephardic Jews, the Moorish people who ruled the peninsula from 711 to 1492, and the
migratory Roma people from India who later became known as the Gitanos, or Gypsies of
southern Spain (Pohren, 39). These different cultures undoubtedly had their own folk songs,
dances, and stories that later would meld together into what is now known as flamenco music
(Pohren 49). The first recorded appearance of Gypsies in Spain occurred around 1447 after
large numbers of Indian refugees migrated into the peninsula, later becoming labeled as the
Roma people (Pohren 49). In 1492 the Moors were finally defeated at their stronghold of
Granada and the new Christian monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabel, took control of the country
(Boase). They swiftly began to expunge all minority groups from Spain by forcing them to
convert to Christianity or leave, concluding between 1609 and 1614 (Boase). However, many of
these peoples remained in the mountains and desolate outskirts of the region and began to
draw the attention of the Inquisition, which targeted those who would not abandon their
traditions (Pohren 50). Because of this persecution these different groups, the Jews, Arabs, and
Romanis, united under their hatred for the Inquisition and began to form common philosophies
and lifestyles as they traveled along the outskirts of modern Spanish society.
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This group, now becoming what is broadly referred to as Gypsies, had become a
nomadic people who traveled from region to region and would carry with them only the basic
necessities for survival. They believed that material possessions were futile and unnecessary
and that in holding a daily job, “He [the non-Gypsy] lives in fear and anxiety” (Pohren 43).
Through this commonality in lifestyle the melding of their histories and musical traditions
flourished, culminating in the original flamenco serious song.
Traveling in clans made up of fifteen to twenty members, the Gypsies would perform on
the streets of the cities or sell second-hand items to make just enough money to feed their
families for the day (Pohren 41). This lifestyle was looked down upon by the middle and upper
classes that surrounded the Gypsy people because to the ignorant onlooker they appeared to
be nothing more than beggars, thieves, and lowlifes. This distain created a traumatic wound in
the Gypsy people and consequently created a culture that was obsessed with struggle, pain,
and conflict, which in turn was reflected in their music.
The catharsis of serious flamenco will be the foundation of this discussion because it is
what can enable other forms of music, specifically classical guitar music, to elevate their
passion and emotional impact. The light flamenco, which developed as a commercialized offshoot of serious flamenco has strayed too far from this idea of catharsis to be of any
importance in this discussion other than to prove that without the duende, traditional flamenco
is conceptually altered into an entirely different musical practice.
This shift occurred during the cafes cantantes, a period beginning in the 19 century,
when flamenco became commercialized and performed as entertainment instead of catharsis.
As Andalusia became more industrialized the Gypsy people started to lose their nomadic
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tradition and were forced to adopt a more capitalist lifestyle. They began to use their unique
musical style as a way to make money by forming groups that would perform in the tabloas of
the middle and upper classes. During this time technical virtuosity and upbeat dance music
became the desirable style because it was more impressive and entertaining to those who were
paying to see an evening of music in the nightclubs. This is how the light category of flamenco
was created. Light flamenco is flamenco that does not contain the duende, does not require the
voz afilla (the unique singing style of traditional flamencos), and does not deal with such
somber themes in the text of the coplas (the verse of flamenco song) (Pohren 67). Because of
the lack of these elements, light flamenco cannot be considered a form of catharsis; it has
become a monetary means of survival instead of an emotional one. This shift in the motivation
behind flamenco is evidence that the duende, and the artist’s commitment to accessing and
expressing it, is what creates catharsis in flamenco and in turn creates the truly moving serious
song.
The need for catharsis stems from the collective trauma of the Gypsy people. Because of
the mandates of the Inquisition, the religious intolerance of their government, and the resulting
stigma attached to their culture, the Gypsies of Andalusia were living in the sixteenth century as
an extremely traumatized people. It is this trauma that spurred a need for catharsis. This idea of
trauma and catharsis, and how the two are linked, is outlined in Writing History, Writing Trauma
by Dominick LaCapra. The serious song is a natural result of this process because of its physical
relief, its communicative words, and its ability to evoke spiritual emotions. These songs were
originally sung as a way to work through struggles and to find the strength to live another day
with the traumatic wound. This wound, and the individual’s relationship with their wound,
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would later be defined as the duende, which is the centerpiece of all serious flamenco
performances and will be discussed in detail shortly.
An example of music born from suffering that may be more familiar to non-Spaniards is
that of the African-American slave and their music, the blues. They were a people who existed
within a society that did not accept them and turned them into social outcasts. These themes of
pain and struggle are prevalent in the songs of the blues and to this day are critical to the
success of any blues performance. The idea of suffering is the seed of many folk genres because
the goal of the music is to act as a form of catharsis for the people who created it. Catharsis is
possible only when proceeded by strong emotional tension, a condition we identify as suffering.
This process of catharsis can be identified by examining the lifestyle and history of the
Gypsy people, the similarities found during flamenco performances to religious cathartic acts,
the text of flamenco coplas, and the bodily acts which occur when the duende is accessed by a
performer.
The traditional setting for flamenco cante was the late night Gypsy juerga (small gettogether or fiesta), when clan members would gather at the end of the day, drink wine, talk
about their days and their lives, and when words failed to express their pain, eventually begin
the serious song. The song would start as a sort of moan by one member of the clan, usually not
containing any sort of text but sung on a nondescript syllable, which would grow into the
singing of a copla. These verses were never written down, but were passed down aurally from
generation to generation, as is common in most folk music traditions. This song would be
accompanied only by the cries of “ay!” or spontaneous rhythmic clapping from audience
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members known as palmas. These contributions would be added when the singer had
expressed an emotion that resonated in an almost religious way with the listeners.
In a religious setting these cries are done in a desire to purify the soul, as is the goal of
any cathartic act. Another common exclamation from the audience is “Ole!,” which traces its
linguistic origins to the cry of “Allah!” during Islamic religious experiences, hence illustrating the
Moorish influence on the music as well as the connection to religious passion and enthusiasm
(“Play and Theory” 46). These exclamations signify the moments in which a cathartic experience
is reached and the performer has done their duty within the community. During the juerga the
cantaor (singer) is taking the role of preacher. He is speaking to his congregation, who are
prepared and open to experience this purification that the preacher, or cantaor, is building
towards.
Through looking at the text of the flamenco coplas it becomes clear that the singer
wishes to express in words that which they cannot say. In The Art of Flamenco, D.E. Pohren
translates many coplas including a siguiriya (139),
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I’m not afraid of dying,
dying is natural;
what bothers me is the huge list of sins
that I have to present to God.
I climbed to the top of the wall,
and the wind said to me:
what is the use of sighing
if there is no remedy?
One stormy night
I felt death
like a black shadow
upon me.
I cry for death
but it will not come;
even death
finds me unworthy.
Don’t hit my father,
for God’s sake release him
that crime of which you accuse him
I myself committed.
From the Polverita
to Santiago
the anguish of death
surrounded me.
This verse exemplifies the themes of loss of hope and submission to a life filled with pain and
struggle. This is only one example of countless coplas, both transcribed and unwritten, that
express similar ideas. The Gypsies dwell on these themes so relentlessly in an attempt to
understand them and to come to some sort of acceptance of them by communicating these
ideas to one another, this being the ultimate cathartic goal.
Catharsis is universally associated with bodily images of physical torment, tears,
screams, acts of rage and moments of submission, all of which are brought to the stage in a
performance of pure serious flamenco. This moment is illustrated by Federico Garcia Lorca in
his speech Deep Song, “The Gypsy siguiriya begins with a terrible scream that divides the
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landscape into two ideal hemispheres. It is the scream of dead generations, a poignant elegy for
lost centuries, the pathetic evocation of love under other moons and other winds” (4). In many
societies to scream and to cry are merely ways of letting one’s pain out, however, in flamenco
these acts are elevated to the status of art. The duende is again described in conjunction with
physical symptoms in William Washabaugh’s Flamenco: Passion, Politics, and Popular Culture,
“Eventually, one or another of the singers produces a texture of sound that sets teeth on edge,
induces chills, and raises goosebumps. This is the quintessential moment of flamenco song” (2).
In the moments when the duende is expressed in a flamenco performance, performers and
audience members react in extremely physical outbursts. Artists and aficionados have been
known to rip their clothing, shed tears, and even bite people around them. In Richard Wright’s
narration of his first encounter with flamenco while attending a Gypsy woman’s dinner-party he
says (201),
Then a miracle happened. Lita turned to me and opened her mouth; her eyes were blank,
hollow; her throat quivered and I could see a bluish vein throbbing in her throat; and out poured
a stream of pure, drenching, melancholy song. The others came to attention, looked at me with
moist eyes, and joined Lita’s singing. When the last tremor of song had died, we sat and joked
about how to make oneself understood without words.
This song was spurred by a previous conversation that had brought up the death of Lita’s
husband, and hence a flood of very painful memories and emotions. It is clear that this scene
possessed a physical quality that involved the body, as well as the spirit of these women in
extremely cathartic acts. In this moment Wright embodied the critical role of the audience to
witness this woman’s performance. Because he possessed the ability to recognize her emotion
and was open to understanding it, both parties were able to find a release from this suffering
and communicate on a more intimate level.
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Lorca states that, “All arts are capable of duende but where it finds greatest range,
naturally, is in music, dance, and spoken poetry, for these arts require a living body to interpret
them, bring forms that are born, die, and open their contours against an exact present.”(“Play
and Theory” 47). He is stating that the duende is expressed, most naturally, through a bodily
outlet. In William Washabaugh’s section “The Body” within Flamenco: Passion, Politics, and
Popular Culture, he quotes Franko, “[in flamenco] the body is not responding directly to its own
sensations of harmony but rather imitating those of the soul, which cannot move of itself.” (90).
If in flamenco the body is imitating the soul and, as stated in the film series about flamenco
“Rito y Geografía del Cante,” cante is the song of the soul, then it must be true that flamenco
cante is inextricably linked to the actions of the body in its expression of catharsis, therefore
lending further evidence that flamenco song exists as a form of catharsis for the human soul.
The cathartic act in flamenco music is the expression of the internal, emotional
experience known as the duende. The duende is an extremely abstract idea that eludes
definition though many aficionados, critiques, and artists of all kinds have attempted to
describe it. Washabaugh asks the essential questions that many, including himself, have tried to
answer; “What pleasure does one derive from hearing a brawny man wail in public? Why does
one’s spine tingle in direct proportion to the speed of a guitarist’s fingers?” (54).
The duende is in part a result of Spanish culture and its fascination with death. Death is
made into a spectacle across all of Spain whether it be through flamenco or in forms of
entertainment like the bullfight, which blatantly taunts death and pain. Many coplas deal with
death as though it is inevitable, freeing, and in the end the ultimate release from the suffering
of life. Three short soleá coplas exemplify this theme (Rubio 10; 13; 20),
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Let her come and go
To the well for water
It could be that one day
In the well she’ll fall.
What does it matter
If there are so many good doctors
If I must die.
Like the dead don’t speak
Not hear, nor see, nor understand
I am living in the world
Without anyone to govern me.
These images of death and suffering are so pervasive in Gypsy song and the duende is so
ingrained in their daily lives and philosophical spirits that many believe that the duende is a part
of “the biological heritage of Gitanos” (Washabaugh 35). In The Art of Flamenco Pohren
describes the quintessential voice of a true flamenco singer, a voice that is labeled as the voz
afilla. This voice is necessary, according to some flamenco aficionados, in expressing the duende
and reaching the catharsis of serious song. Many believe that this voice is a genetic trait that
only runs in Gypsy bloodlines (Pohren 50). It is a sound that is unique to the flamenco song,
having a very rough, raucous timbre. This kind of sound is only natural to the ear of those who
have grown up with it, making this voice and style of singing unique to the Gypsy people.
Federico Garcia Lorca, as a middle-class writer from Granada, suffered from a great deal
of ostracism due to his homosexuality, which in turn became his own personal emotional
wound. He became infatuated with the duende through his contact with flamenco performers
and aficionados, and eventually he became extremely respected within the flamenco
community. One of his presentations entitled Play and Theory of the Duende attempts to
demystify the idea of the duende. In the beginning of this discussion he says that, “the duende,
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then, is a power, not a work; it is a struggle, not a thought” (43). He then goes on to compare it
to the ideas of the muse and the angel. These images are familiar to non-Spaniards in
association with the creation of art and the inspiration of God. Lorca explains how the muse
and the angel are forces that come upon an artist, whereas the duende comes from within.
“Angel and Muse come from outside us: the angel brings light, the muse form…while the
duende has to be roused from the furthest habitations of the blood…Reject the angel, and give
the muse a kick in the seat of the pants, and conquer our fear of the smile of violets exhaled by
eighteenth-century poetry and of the great telescope in whose lens the muse, sickened by
limits, is sleeping. The true fight is with the duende.” (“Play and Theory” 44). Lorca states that
“the duende wounds. In the healing of that wound, which never closes, lies the invented,
strange qualities of a man’s work” (“Play and Theory” 50). Here the duende is directly linked to
the idea of the wound, which is a result of some sort of emotional trauma.
The duende can also be analyzed on a more psychological basis. Washabaugh quotes
Grande, “cante is an instant that ‘literally takes us out of ourselves, separates us from our
history, gives us a push towards reintegrating ourselves with our lost innocence, a push that
raises us up to recover our own wonder…This self-reflection enables us to know that pure and
absolute air of liberation’” (qtd. in. Washabaugh 54). It is this “absolute air of liberation” that is
the ultimate goal of being able to purge oneself of suffering through the battle with the
duende.
To compare the duende to broader philosophical ideas Washabaugh speaks of Gonzalez
Climent’s description of flamenco, “[Climent] described flamenco as a mysterious song, an
“intuitive metaphysics,” an embodiment of the fundamentals of human experience, a musical
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realization of what Unamuno described as ‘the tragic sense of life’” (qtd. in. Washabaugh 32).
Pohren also attempts to define the duende that is reached in a flamenco performance, saying
that in a perfect moment of flamenco “raw emotion” is experienced by all present; the players,
dancers, singers, and onlookers. In this moment tears are shed, shame is forgotten, and a truth
is spoken without words; “everything had been said” (Pohren 43).
Many writers have also tried to paint pictures of the duende in more abstract, creative
writing styles such as narrative and poetry. Lorca’s collection of poems Poema del Cante Jondo
is an entire work devoted to the exploration of this mystical quality, which drives the serious
song. The themes that pervade these poems are those of the land, death, loss, and music as
exemplified in the following poems from Poema del Cante Jondo (61; 59),
Six Strings
The guitar
makes dreams cry.
The sobbing of lost
souls
escapes through its round
mouth.
And like the tarantula,
it spins a huge star
and tracks down the sighs
that float in its black
wooden cistern.
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Road
A hundred horsemen in funeral attire,
where will they go
in the laid-to-rest heavens
of the orange grove?
Neither Cordoba nor Sevilla
is reachable.
Nor Granada, which sighs
for the sea.
Those drowsy horses
will take them
to a labyrinth of crosses
where the song shudders so.
Pierced by seven ays,
where will they go,
the hundred Andalucían horsemen
of the orange grove?
These images are all used to help the reader create an emotional connection to this idea of
duende. Lorca describes daggers going into hearts, murders on the roadside, heartache,
expansive deserts and rolling countryside blanketed in olive groves. All of these poems come
together to form an emotional atmosphere that is evocative of the land and lifestyle of the
Gypsy people and their ineffable yearning to access the duende.
Along the same creative lines, Wright, in his narrative account of flamenco and its
people, uses a personal essay format to frame this idea. As Wright was watching a small,
intimate performance of flamenco song he became able to recognize (though at the time he
may not have known what it was he was recognizing) a shift in emotional energy that is in
essence the experience of the duende. He describes this moment from a first person
perspective, “I sat and brooded. They sang and baptized me in their sorrow. I was glad that we
could not talk freely, for words would have profaned what they communicated to me of their
hurt and dejection.” (Wright 202). In a later scene, set in the most public of places, on a train
station platform in the middle of the day, these same women began to sing their song to Wright
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and he was captivated, realizing that, “In Spain song was a special language with special
privileges. I stood before the singing women, conquered by their sorrow.” (Wright 205).
These are different creative angles from which one can begin to examine the idea of
duende. They are examples of how those of us to whom the duende is a foreign concept can
begin to relate it to cultural and human experiences that are more familiar to us, and thus
hopefully start to integrate it into our own emotional and artistic understanding. However, in
the eyes of a native Gypsy, or someone who has grown up surrounded by this energy and
passion, the duende is merely a fact of existence. Southern Spanish culture has organically given
birth to this idea throughout its history and therefore, in a true flamenco’s eye, it need not be
defined.
However, this does not mean that the expression and understanding of the duende
must remain unique to flamenco music or to the Gypsies of Andalusia; it is only more prevalent
in their society as compared to others. Lorca makes this clear in his explanation, “Every art and
in fact every country is capable of duende, angel, and muse. And just as Germany has, with few
exceptions, muse, and Italy shall always have the angel, so in all ages Spain is moved by the
duende, for it is a country of ancient music and dance where the duende squeezes the lemons
of dawn–a country of death, a country open to death.” (“Play and Theory” 47). He explains
how the duende is born in Spain, and will forever be a part of Spanish culture, but that does not
mean that its inspiration is confined to Spanish artists, just as the inspiration of the muse and
angel are not confined to the artists of their associated geographic regions.
The duende is a universal human experience that can be accessed by any artist who
devotes him or herself to conquering it. Many artists from different walks of life have been
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recognized as expressing their duende; the most iconic within the flamenco community being
Lorca himself. He used writing, as opposed to music, as a medium to express his internal
battles. For Lorca this internal battle was caused by his struggle with his sexuality, which he
addresses and confronts in much of his work. This personal trauma acts as the wound from
which Lorca’s duende is born and drives him to search for catharsis. His devotion to this struggle
and the battle to live with this intense pain and suffering is what makes the duende
recognizable in his work and respected by the most authentic flamenco performers and
aficionados. However, one does not have to be as closely associated with the Gypsy community
as Lorca was to find a personal connection to the duende.
Richard Wright immediately identified with the passion of the flamenco singers that he
met on a train in Spain. Wright’s internal battle stems from being an African-American and the
social and moral conflicts that arose throughout his lifetime in the United States. Much of his
work explores this internal struggle, and therefore he found an emotional connection to the
songs of the Gypsies by relating to their internal suffering. He was able to recognize the duende
during his first trip to Spain because he was able to act as an audience who was familiar with
this trauma and open to the act of catharsis through music.
One view of flamenco cante presented by Washabaugh suggests that “Cante’s
passion…does nothing more than mask reality” (55). However, the cante and its passion are the
direct reflection of how reality has affected the individual. The internal battle known as the
duende is something that all human beings experience, and therefore through cante’s acting
out of this universal truth, it is in fact a direct reflection of reality. American society teaches us
to “get over it” and to mask the reality of emotional suffering, whereas the flamencos have
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embraced the duende, and the reality of suffering in human life, and brought it into the public
sphere. They have taken something that scares many non-Spaniards, the blatant acting out of
pain, and have turned it into something beautiful. This is where the universality of the duende
comes into question: the question is not of the duende existing universally, but rather how it is
received by different cultures. Spanish Gypsy culture is unique in the way that it handles the
duende. Even though all people have it within them, those raised in a Gypsy culture are
naturally inclined to express and revel in this emotion, which therefore makes them more
inclined to utilize it in their music.
All examples given to define the duende, whether they be poems, cultural analyses, or
musical moments, are examples of universal human emotion, though those emotions may be
triggered by different cultural or personal experiences. If the idea of the duende is understood
and studied enough by any artist from any country, they will be able to create this catharsis,
and thus enhance their connection with their listener.
The classical musicians who are most inclined to participate in this process are classical
guitarists. They already have the ability to speak the language of the flamencos because their
instrument has been developed technically by both styles, and therefore the translation of the
duende is more idiomatically suited to their craft.
Classical guitar music is marketed today similarly to that of a symphonic orchestra or
string quartet, as a form of entertainment, as opposed to an emotional event. The idea of the
duende can bring more passion and meaning into the performance of classical music via an
instrument that is present in both forms: the guitar. Those musicians outside of the Gypsies of
Andalusia who try to learn flamenco from recordings and technical guidebooks are not well
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received by the true flamencos because they possess no duende and are “not saying anything”
with their music. The key to anyone, including native Gypsies, becoming a true flamenco is to
be in constant search for and contact with the duende. If a classical player can find this duende
and apply it to their own classical techniques and repertoire, the resulting music would
communicate something that can be appreciated by flamencos as well as any receptive
audience.
The expression of the duende by the performer necessitates a certain role for the
audience as well, and once this role is filled by the audience then the full cathartic, emotional
experience can exist. Catharsis cannot exist without dialogue between performer and audience.
This means that not only must a classical musician explore a new part of their personal
struggles, but the audience member must also access a new part of themselves in the role of
spectator to fully achieve this dialogue. According to Pohren the sets of contradictions that
distinguish serious flamenco from the commercialized light flamenco are primitive vs. polished,
warm vs. anonymous, creative vs. rigid, emotional vs. intellectual, instinctual vs. schooled, and
fun vs. formal (63). These are the same elements that often distinguish flamenco from classical
guitar music. If these distinctions can be shifted in the classical guitar world then it will appeal
to a much broader and excited audience, which, if they bring the energy associated with
primitivism, warmth, creativity, emotion, instinct and fun, will change the atmosphere of the
audience into one which is capable of communicating with a performer in the throes of the
duende.
In the current world of classical music the audience is kept at a distance and expected to
know certain guidelines such as not moving or making any sound until the end of a piece,
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applauding each time the artist enters the stage, etc. These unspoken rules build a wall
between performer and audience, which is the exact opposite kind of relationship that is
necessary when one is trying to communicate the duende. The ideal audience for a classical
guitarist trying to communicate these emotions would be made up of people who desire some
sort of spiritual purification. The presence of the duende necessitates an audience looking for a
religious cleansing, as opposed to an evening of entertainment.
There are those who feel that classical music is a genre that is defined by qualities of
complexity and polish and that it is impossible to infuse something as free-form as the duende
into classical repertoire. Pohren states in The Art of Flamenco, “Readers who, after having
experienced both forms [light and serious flamenco], find themselves disagreeing with this
point [that it must remain primitive to retain its authenticity] are very likely those that hypercivilization has left with an appreciation for only the polished. In that case, I respectfully suggest
they turn to the more refined classical fields” (63). However, because it has already been stated
that the duende is a universal emotion that can be accessed by all artists, then it must be true
that classical music, with the addition of the duende, can break free of this “appreciation for
only the polished” and utilize its repertoire to transmit the duende to an open audience (Pohren
44). There is nothing in the framework of classical music itself that prohibits this. Classical
repertoire can be minimalist, simple, depressed, tortured, and full of abandon, all of which are
elements that can also be used to describe the serious flamenco. All people are capable of
exploring the duende, and therefore, since the duende is the vehicle for these musical
characteristics, any style of music is able to embody these serious flamenco qualities.
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This idea has been explored in the classical guitar world already with artists such as El
Duo Duende, made up of AnnaMaria Cardinalli and Craig Alden Dell. Cardinalli and Dell are both
classically trained players who also have experience with flamenco and have devoted their duo
to playing music which “opens the doorway to the duende” (El Duo Duende). If classical artists
make a concerted effort to emote the duende, and they are paired with audiences who are
open to communicating with them, then classical music can indeed embody these elements of
the serious flamenco, as El Duo Duende is already exploring.
The genres of flamenco and classical music have crossed paths many times in the past,
reaffirming the fact that they are both able and supposed to enhance one another. Ramon
Montoya, one of the founding fathers of the flamenco guitar, was greatly influenced by classical
artists such as Tarrega and Llobet (Pohren 109). Montoya was the first guitarist to bring his
instrument into the foreground of the Gypsy flamenco group, and even begin to elevate it to
the status of a solo instrument. This was in part due to his introduction of classical techniques
such as the arpeggio, tremolo, and fast picado into the flamenco guitar style. Without
Montoya’s efforts, and the combining of classical and flamenco techniques, the guitar likely
would have remained in the shadows of flamenco cante and not be recognizable as an
individual musical entity.
Even before guitarists began combining elements of classical music into their playing,
classical musicians were experiencing the duende and recognizing it as a crucial musical idea. A
young Claude Debussy heard a group of Gypsies sing their serious song at the Spanish Pavilion
of the Paris Exhibition of 1900 (“Deep Song” 10). After hearing them, “His soul was wide open
to the four winds of the spirit, and he was soon made pregnant by the ancient Orient of
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[Andalusia’s] melodies” (“Deep Song” 10). After this show Debussy began to compose pieces
which reflect the pathos of flamenco music, including the third Prelude from his second book of
Preludes L. 123 (1913), La Puerta del Vino, as well as his second piece from L. 100 Estampes
(1903), Soirée en Grenade (“Deep Song” 11). La Puerta del Vino is a doorway in Granada’s
famed Moorish castle, La Alhambra, and is a pronounced symbol of Andalusia and its culture,
including its flamenco music. In this piece, titled after such a quintessential Andalusian image,
Debussy uses musical elements to give reference to southern Spanish music traditions. He uses
the habañera rhythmic pattern throughout the piece in the left hand of the piano. He also uses
elements of the lydian mode to create an atmosphere of foreign exoticism, in this case to evoke
images of the Moorish elements of flamenco music. He even composed sweeping, strum-like
moments for the pianist to embody the voice of a guitarist, the instrument most culturally
associated with Spanish music.
It is clear that the duende, as an individual entity, reached Debussy, and inspired a new
musical path for him even though Debussy himself never visited Granada. Debussy, as a French
composer, is an example of how far-reaching the duende can penetrate. However, the most
significant influence that the deep song has had on classical music exists closer to its home.
Spanish classical composers from Isaac Albéniz, Manuel de Falla, and Enrique Granados to
Adolfo Salazar, Federico Mompou, and Angel Barrios have been inspired by, and have utilized,
many serious song characteristics (“Deep Song” 12). These artists, as well as those from other
times and other genres, have accessed the duende in a way that is recognizable to the most
critical audiences.
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As the famed flamenco dancer La Malena listened to Brailowsky play an excerpt of Bach
she exclaimed “Olé!,” the quintessential Gypsy shout of approval (“Play and Theory” 43). When
Manuel Torre, an extremely respected and admired flamenco singer, heard Manuel de Falla
play his own Nocturno del Generalife he said, in reference to the performance, “All that has
black sounds has duende” (“Play and Theory” 43). These are moments of classical musicality
that have expressed the duende and been recognized by extremely knowledgeable listeners.
This is evidence that classical music has achieved this expression of the duende in the past, and
therefore it is not the musical style itself that inhibits this passion, but it is the culture and social
stigmas that surround it that make the duende less accessible.
The ideas of technique and emotion are often polarized by critics of certain genres of
music. For example, Pohren compares flamenco post-classical techniques to flamenco preclassical techniques saying, “It is…virtuosity and effects on one side, emotion and depth on the
other” (70). However, this is not always true: the two are not mutually exclusive, because if a
technique is utilized in the proper way then it is acting as a translator for another part of the
human spirit, not as a showy crowd-pleaser, and therefore it enhances the depth of emotion in
the music. This is why the balance of technique and emotion is the most critical skill to develop
for an artist of either flamenco or classical guitar. This is also a skill that the two can greatly
learn from each other. Pohren states that, “…flamenco, above all, the jondo [serious] flamenco,
is basically an emotional art, and the artist needs only enough technique to enable him to
transmit his emotions to himself and to his public” (44). This argument is true in stating that
serious flamenco is an emotional art, however it is naïve to the fact that technique also expands
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the artist’s capabilities to express their emotions and therefore is equally as important for the
artist to study as the duende is.
Just as one must build certain faculties in order to achieve a more complex and
meaningful emotional pallet, one must also build the physical capacity to be able to
communicate these emotions through the medium of a musical instrument. Pohren puts it,
“The true flamenco grande artist may, or may not, have an outstanding technique, but it is
imperative that he possess the abilities of identifying himself with the duende that he is
unfolding, and of equal importance, of being able to transmit this emotion, or series of
emotions, to his audience” (Pohren 44). These two elements cannot exist without each other; a
passionate buildup of emotion would have no outlet without the necessary technique to
transmit it, and technique would have nothing to communicate without access to emotion.
This is a balance that is ignored by many classical players. Technique, though crucial, is
merely a vehicle for emotion, whereas many people feel that an achievement of the ultimate
technical limits will guarantee artistic success. The most beneficial system for any guitarist
would be a check-and-balance between these two extremes. One must access the emotional
core, which in this case is the duende, and be sufficiently prepared to execute these emotions
on their instrument. Classical and flamenco guitarists can take cues from one another on this
subject without fear of contaminating their own genre because both emotion and technique
are universal musical elements that can enhance any player’s artistry. They should never be
elements that are monopolized or polarized by any individual genre.
The guitar is ideally situated in the classical-music world to transform into an interpreter
of the duende. The guitar is an individual body, which communicates the essence of the artist,
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versus the symphonic body, which communicates the essence of the composer. Classical groups
such as the symphonic orchestra, the string quartet, and the wind ensemble are formed into
one musical body that has an overall goal of communicating the ideas and emotions of the
composer and the story that he or she is trying to tell through the piece they have written. This
is not the same for classical guitar because the guitar is the musical body in itself and the
overall goal is to express the ideas and emotions of the artist as triggered by their piece of
choice. This transition from the emotions of a person who is not present at the time of
performance to the emotions of the present artist is what enables catharsis to happen in the
moment of communication between performer and witness.
Cathartic music exemplifies that which makes music great: it is raw and honest and
constantly in dialogue with its audience. These characteristics ideally exist in any form of
communicative music. The emotions of flamenco’s duende, if studied, dwelled on, and
eventually accessed, can be brought to the artistry of any musician, especially those of the
classical guitar. The guitar is an instrument which already has found its place in the serious
song, and therefore is idiomatically inclined to achieve this emitting of the duende. There are
those who have already begun exploring this connection. However, even those who have not
yet come in contact with these complex ideas behind flamenco music would be able to elevate
their art to an emotional level that would enrapture both performer and witness if they opened
their minds and souls to the duende and the long battle of life that cuts its profound wound.
The duende is an elusive idea, however it is also one that undeniably resonates in the
mind of anyone who is, “engaged in the fight all of us young artists must carry on, the fight for
what is new and unforeseen, the treasure hunt, in the sea of thought, for inviolate emotion”
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(“Deep Song” 10). The notes that one plays, the techniques that they possess, or the social
history of their music are irrelevant. Music exists to communicate what lays inside of us, deeper
inside than the shallow desires for glory and brilliance, and so when an idea is born that serves
this purpose, all must open an eye to examine it. Serious flamenco has been experienced and
recognized by people from all different walks of life, and it has been examined from various
different points of view–that of the novelist, the poet, the analyst, and the musician. However,
all of these perspectives have arrived at the same conclusion; the duende is universal, it is
provocative, and it is essential.
Serious song is an art that grew out of the souls of humans, the earth that lay beneath
the hot southern sand of Spain, and the hearts of those who have suffered. It is more than a
genre of music and it is more than a form of entertainment; it is a means of survival for all
artists who devote themselves to its passion and its duende. The serious flamenco is an
emotional outlet for the people of Andalusia, built out of a need for catharsis from lives that
caused them great pain, and so over time it has become entwined with ideas of loss, love, and
death. These dark emotions give birth to dark sounds, and give an importance and respect to
the deepest parts of the human spirit which can set any listener on edge and can weep the
tears of all those who have the boldness to cry.
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