I don’t know if being born into a family where the grandfather was used as a rattle, rocking chords to the beat, had an influence on me, leaving me spellbound by the playing of the “Lele de Osuna”, as he was known in the world of flamenco. It didn’t take him long to infect me with his passion for the guitar, for its sound, for its forms, and for what intrigued me the most, its construction.
How could those melodies that made my hair stand on end come out of pieces of wood glued together like a jigsaw puzzle? That really kept me awake at night and no rattle or lullaby could help me; I had to find out what it was like, I had to feel in my hands how the sound was engendered, how it was pampered, how it was gestated and how it was born.
