Siroco finds Paco de Lucía pushing flamenco into electric territory without losing its soul.
Siroco arrived in 1987 when Paco de Lucía was already a legend, which made it a curious move—not a retreat into comfort, but a sideways step into new ground. This album plants flamenco firmly in electric and fusion territory, with synthesizers, electric bass, and production that feels distinctly of its moment. If you're coming to Paco expecting pure acoustic tradition, Siroco will surprise you. It's slick, it's produced, and it sounds like the 1980s. That's not a criticism; it's what makes it interesting.
The standout is "Mi Niño Curro (rondeña)," which exists in both a clean version and other takes—the song shows Paco's ability to make electric arrangements swing without sacrificing the rondeña's underlying grace. What works here is that beneath the synth washes and studio polish, you can still hear his fingers moving across the strings with that unmistakable precision. The album doesn't feel like a cash grab or a lost bet; Paco sounds engaged, curious about what electric production could do for his music. Tracks breathe and have room, which keeps them from sounding overstuffed.
Where does Siroco sit in his catalog? It's not where you start if you're new to Paco—reach for his 1970s work first, where his acoustic playing defined modern flamenco. This album is for people who already know him and want to see what he was thinking about in the late '80s. It's solid, occasionally inspired, and honest in its ambitions. Not his peak, but not a detour either—just Paco de Lucía doing what musicians do: moving forward.