How Flamenco Went Pop

The Spanish star Rosalía has made the harrowing music of Andalusia into a global phenomenon.

- By James Parker

God must have made Camarón de la Isla weak for a purer display of glory. Camarón was small and pale—his name means “shrimp” in Spanish— and he sat on a wooden chair and sang. His pained and primitive voice roared through him, with no concern for his person; his fragility increased its power. Camarón was Romany and his art was flamenco, the elaborate and harrowing music chiefly associated with the Andalusian Romanies of southern Spain. In his lifetime he was flamenco’s first superstar, and a divinity to his people. Rock-and-roll habits depleted him; lung cancer finished him off at the age of 41. His body was taken back to his hometown of San Fernando, in Cádiz, where his coffin bobbed and tilted delicately on the surgings of a massive, stricken crowd.

Why am I telling you, now, about Camarón de la Isla, a heroin-snorting flamenco singer who died 28 years ago? Because of Rosalía: the Hispanic Beyoncé, the Iberian Björk, the Catalan Sinead O’Connor. A 26-year-old Spanish avant-pop artist with global reach, Rosalía is topping charts, winning awards, and finding a vast audience for her unique sound. And she loves Camarón. She was 13, and he was her first exposure to flamenco, his voice emanating hoarsely and shatteringly from a nearby car stereo. “Me explotó la cabeza,” as she told El Mundo: My mind was blown.