El Pollito de California may be the only American in history to not only make a living from flamenco, but also to make a name for himself within the flamenco community. The story begins when a boy from San Jose, California named John Lane, 19, left the States in 1967, to learn flamenco guitar with Spanish gypsies at the world-renowned Cuevas de Sacromonte in Granada, Spain. Later he was called "El Pollito," (baby chicken due to his bright-blond hair) from California while under the wing of Spain's flamenco greats.
After touring around Castilla, Burgos, Segovia, Cataluña, Valladolid, and León, I sat down with the always-humble-and-often-humorous "Pollito" in one of our favorite flamenco bars, El Burladero (see MAP review), to talk about his past and present.
MAP: Why did you decide to come to Spain when you were only 19 years old?
Pollito: Well, I came because I wanted to hear flamenco so I went down south to the Cuevas de Sacromonte to get involved with the flamenco scene that I'd learned about through the records I'd heard in the United States.
MAP: How did you gain acceptance in the gypsy community? Because it's a well known fact that gypsies don't let just anyone into their community. So how did you gain access, how did you gain their trust?
P: Well, I don't know. I went there, I entered the caves and they took to me right away. They took me from one cave to another, and then to another, and I wanted to play a bit, and I was invited to take classes with them, so I stayed. It was great from the start-no problems. Maybe it was because I was alone and because I had a personality that they found entertaining.
Something like that, I don't know.
MAP: Tell me a little bit about Sacromonte. What's it like?
P: What are the caves like?
MAP: Well, not the caves themselves…
P: They're caves, they're like holes in the side of the mountain, but they're very pretty, very well painted, and they are residences and they [gypsies] live there. They're very pretty, very comfortable… . Cool in the summer and warm in the winter...
MAP: And the atmosphere?
P: Well, the atmosphere was one of dancing, like a tablao flamenco, for tourists of course. Almost all of the caves were flamenco dance halls. And later, after some time, with the tourism, they changed a bit, and then fewer of them [gypsies] went and so they changed the caves into flamenco taverns.
They're bars but with a flamenco atmosphere, and there are still a lot of parties... . Flamencas! And with all of the dancing and parties, I learned a lot of things, you know, things about how to get by.
MAP: You've befriended a lot of important musicians in the flamenco world, out of whom the most notable is Camarón but also Enrique Morente.
P: Yes, I had the privilege of knowing Camarón, and well, we were very close, and later, Enrique Morente, as well. I met him because he's from Granada and I'd see him here in Madrid and Granada, so we're like family.
And Paco de Lucia, the greatest guitarist in flamenco history, I have a great friendship with him and all of his family.
MAP: And how has knowing these people impacted your music and you, personally?
P: I took a little bit from everything I heard, and later I did everything my talents would allow. Of course, I wanted to play the guitar seriously, like Paco, but I knew I wasn't going to be a guitarist of his caliber. I was just going to be another average guitarist, if that, so I said, I'll be a cantaor like Camarón, a serious cantaor that sits on a wicker chair, but I couldn't picture myself like that either because I was just an American flamenco enthusiast. So I combined everything and created my own style, I guess.
MAP: So do you believe that one has to be born in Spain or better yet in Andalucía, in order to be a serious flamenco musician? Or can you come to Spain with a lot of love and enthusiasm and become just as good as someone born here?
P: Yeah, you can be from anywhere just like jazz is played all over the world. There are Spanish jazz musicians, Brazilian jazz musicians and Americans, of course, but jazz was born in the United States. But flamenco is a different musical phenomenon. Of course, the best are from Spain, but a foreigner can create serious flamenco. There are many who do-some better than others, but … I wanted to be a kind of No. 1, so I said, I'm not going to be No. 1 playing or singing seriously so I combined it all and created my own style, and I am No. 1 in my kind of music.
[Those in the bar who have been listening to the interview erupt into an "Ole, ole, ole."]
MAP: You've been quoted as saying that you perform "abstract flamenco." Can you explain that?
P: I do that so that when people come to see me perform, they think, "Ok, this is going to be flamenco." And then the people in the audience look at each other questioningly and think "Well, let's see what kind of flamenco this is." So when I say abstract flamenco, the audience listens to me with an open mind and is more capable of accepting what I throw at them. And when I say "abstract flamenco" in English, well, it sounds good, too. It sounds very cultural. Like abstract art. My God, my God, does that sound cultural.
MAP: In our opinion, your flamenco is very accessible to foreigners. For many of them flamenco is something so different from anything they've ever heard before that they're not quite sure what to think of it. But you mix in humor and play more upbeat flamenco and that seems to make the introduction to the music smoother.
P: Well, I don't know, I suppose a foreigner might like my art because as you say, it's easier to understand. It's more of a spectacle than a concert.
In that sense, I am like a performance artist within the flamenco world. So of course I move, sing, and dance.
Above all foreigners seem to like the moments in which I show a lot of emotion. So when they see that and later listen to other musicians singing and playing a more serious flamenco and see that same emotion, they are capable of better understanding flamenco.
It's not like not knowing anything about flamenco and going to a very serious flamenco recital with only a singer and a guitarist, and not having any idea what you are listening to. If foreigners hear me first, they're introduced to new sounds, and later when they hear more serious flamenco, they accept it more easily, understand it, or better said, they appreciate it more.
MAP: Your show is almost entirely comedic. Why do you include so much physical humor, tell jokes, and write such funny songs?
P: Hey, the humor comes later. I start out semi-serious. Well, not in Lagasca because they're all drunks there so what else am I going to do? I have to show them a good time, right? But normally, in my concerts, I start with soleas, bulerías, then tangos, then rumbas, then cathouse rumbas, so it's a progressive degeneration.
MAP: And what attracts you about this degeneration?
P: Well, it goes well with drinks because I normally work in places where alcoholic beverages are served. So I want to be at the audience's level. And the later it gets, the more drinks people have.
MAP: And the more they degenerate.
P: Right, and I degenerate with them.
MAP: Tell me how you got your stage name, "El Pollito de California." I guess it's because of your hair, right?
P: No. I used to play with a flamenco group, but I wanted to stand out from other guitarists. I had to offer something more, a solo or something. And I knew how to sing bulerías so I began singing "El Pollito que piaba." [The chick that peeped]. It's from the song "El Camino de Jerez" [The Road from Jerez]. The only words I knew were "el pollito que piaba / el pollito que pió / sopa de vino le daba / sopa de vino le dio." So I sang that every night, and people would say to us, make the American sing "El Pollito" [The Chick]. And as that was the only song I sang, they came to know me as "El Pollito." Maybe it was also because of the hair. A combination.
I didn't like it, but later I realized that flamenco stage names always have to do with food and animals, right?
[The onlookers begin to call out names of famous flamenco musicians: El Camarón (the Prawn), Tomatito (little Tomato), La Habichuela (the Bean), etc.]
And then in Granada there was "La Coneja" [the Rabbit], "La Rana" [the Frog], "La Perra" [the Bitch], "La Ratona" [the Mouse], "La Golondrina" [the Swallow]. Well, lots of times I'd be referring to the gypsies and people would think I was talking about a zoo. So being called "Pollito" helped me fit in perfectly.
El Pollito de California plays at Lagasca 80 (both the name and address of the bar), Serrano or Nuñez de Balboa, Tuesday through Saturday from 11:30 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. when he's not on tour. He can also be heard at around 10 a.m. on La Jungla 100 FM, the Spanish radio station's morning show. The artist's first book of anecdotes and songs is now being published and is expected to be released in the near future.