Well, Joe, I recall vividly a performance review, and a pithy appreciation and summary, written by a Village Voice journalist.

The idiom was the flamenco cante jondo,
and the artist went by the name Agujetas
(elsewhere, I learned that that word
refers to a symptom of arthritis -- stiff cramped joints or something)

He turned up in New York City, this man from Andalusia,
and sang after hours in someone's small premises,
and word of mouth in advance brought in all these
North American "aficionados" in order to hear the real thing.

Agujetas, if I recall right, has by now been dead for some time.
But the article, which was decades ago, ended with the two sentences:

"Agujetas is still young.
When he sings,
you can measure his age in centuries."