Carlos in Salamanca, Mexico, May 2012

I have just finished a five concert tour of Guanajuato and Queretaro in Mexico. I enjoyed every moment. The only problem was sleep: not enough of it, and what sleep I did have happening at the wrong time. Just imagine arriving in Mexico on an 11 hour flight from London. I set out at 1.30pm and arrived at 12.30am the next day, except I wasn’t arriving in UK time but Mexico time, so it was 7.30pm instead. My first concert was 48 hours later at 8pm. That is 8pm Mexico time, but 2am UK time!

The priority when I am on tour in a different time zone is not practice but sleeping at a time which encourages me to be wide awake to produce my best playing. I arrived in Queretaro for my first engagement by car, went out for lunch, and still not having touched the guitar that day went to sleep, waking up in time to have a shower, be collected and taken to a magnificent patio where the concert took place. A large crowd turned up, lively and excited. I stayed awake and played my best.

My next concert was a few days later so I planned to adjust to local time no problem, except my body was having none of it. I could hear my body think:
“Why should I adjust to a new time zone when there is no urgent need to do so for a few days?” And so it turned out!

Still, my body did behave and I was wide awake for my next performance in San Miguel de Allende, an old town in the province of Guanajuato which has largely been populated by Americans. At the beginning I asked the audience:
”¿Quienes de ustedes no comprenden el ingles?” Not a peep from anyone! Everyone understood English. I refrained from asking the more searching question “how many of you cannot understand Spanish?” So I spoke in English to a largely American audience in a picturesque town in the depths of Mexico – a rather surreal experience.

A couple of days later I drove to the bustling city of Irapuato near the capital of Guanajuato. Here a large theatre in the middle of town awaited me. Rather like Queretaro a well kitted amplification system was provided and fine tuned expertly. By this time I was almost well adjusted to a regular sleeping pattern, except for the extreme heat which invited one of the greatest pleasures known to man, or at least to me: the Spanish siesta. I love siestas so I am not complaining.

By the time of my Irapauto recital I had presented two different programmes in three concerts: Magical Mystery Guitar Tour and 400 Years of Music for Guitar. The first programme centres on my arrangements of music by the Beatles and Queen and Spanish music. The second programme includes the Villa-Lobos preludes, a Bach suite, music by Weiss, and Smith-Brindle’s El Polifemo de Oro as well as some Spanish pieces . Yet in spite of having to provide more than two and a half hours of music on tap from memory, I had little inclination to practice, instead - yes you have guessed it – I just wanted to sleep! After each performance as is customary there was a late supper with the organizers and friends, and this most necessary, pleasurable and beneficial activity takes precedence over sweet dreams. But forget the idea of a lie-in, early each morning I was summoned by eager students to listen and advise and issue supposed words of wisdom.

My last performance was in Salamanca. As I drove into town I saw large posters of my person at almost every bus-stop – very flattering indeed. Not surprisingly given such a publicity campaign the concert was sold out in advance and still people clamoured to get in on the night. This concert too took place in the magnificent patio of a huge ex-convent. This time I played a programme called Los Beatles, Queen y Música Española and I believe a good time was had by all including me. The contrast between the styles of music worked beautifully.

The day after this last performance I briefly considered doing some playing on a splendid brand new guitar I had just acquired from Vicente Barajas Martinez, but yet after a few notes I tucked the guitar back into its case and myself into bed, and slept for the best part of ten hours on and off. I am still in Mexico and now feel quite good and rested. The problem now is flying back to London and going through the whole thing all over again in reverse. It will be a 10 hour flight starting at 9 in the evening and arriving at 7 in the morning the next day, but since I will be in London and not Mexico it will be 1pm. The advantage of that hour is that it is so very close to siesta time. What bliss!

And so I am about to wave good-bye to Mexico once again – that marvellous culture where the Spanish, the European, and the pre-Spanish Aztec compete for prominence, each clearly delineated, each contributing to create something very special.

Guanajuato, Mexico, 12 May 2012

Carlos at a radio interview in Monterrey, Mexico, 2009

The perils of performing and how to avoid them

I have frequently been asked by students and guitar players for advice as to the stage craft of everything to do with playing in public. I have been reluctant to give it for a simple and selfish reason: that anything I say could be held against me about the way I carry on myself although I am the first to admit I am not perfect! As long as you bear this in mind, and because I have learnt so much from observing others' mistakes, I have decided at last to speak on this matter.

Here below is my not always serious list of negative comments, together with a score for hate factor out of ten and advice for improvement. I have written it in a chronological sequence from the artist's walk onto the platform at the beginning, to his triumphant withdrawal from it at the concert's conclusion and his subsequent dealing with fans.

Allow me to set the scene: the hall is full. There is an excited buzz of conversation. Old friends and acquaintances greet each other, yet to take their seats. The house lights begin to dim. Everyone hurriedly sits down. Lights now focus on stage centre. The conversation is stilled and an expectant silence replaces it.

1/ On in a flash
The artist walks onto the stage the moment the lights have dimmed.
Hate factor: 5 / 10
Advice: wait, create more tension and expectation. Count slowly to six and then walk on.

2/ The artist's appearance
He (not usually she) is dressed casually, with ill matching top and trousers, and scruffy shoes.
Hate factor: 6 / 10
Advice: do not confuse casual informal with elegant casual. Take sartorial advice, and not just from your mum or girl-friend who adore everything you do.

3/ The artist walks to centre stage
Aided and abetted by the inappropriate clothing, I can scarcely suppress a laugh as I perceive the artist walk more like a penguin than the graceful mammal we humans claim to be.
Hate factor: 6 / 10
Advice: look at how singers walk on because they have good training in this. Watch yourself on video however painful! Take advice.

4/ The artist sits down
Instead of launching straight in, he starts tuning the guitar. Why? Has it gone out of tune in the ten seconds that have elapsed from the last-minute tuning back stage? The tension goes out of the hall, and members of the audience sit back just when they should be on the edge of their seats.
Hate factor: 8 / 10
Advice: tune up to the last moment before walking, or waddling on. Don’t use brand new strings if you can help it.

5/ The artist begins to play
You would think that from now it would be plain sailing. But no, the first note is preceded by a nasal sniff and the rest of the piece punctuated by loud breathing, and yes, do I hear some humming too? All this is often complemented by face-pulling worthy of a medieval prisoner recollecting a tortured time spent in the Tower of London.
Hate factor: 9 / 10
Advice: relax and enjoy yourself. Keep your emotional reactions away from your face. The pit of your stomach is a better place, and it's invisible.

6/ The artist stands to take applause
At the end of the first item he stands to take applause although you wouldn’t think so from his stance. Feet apart, he leans over so far that he seems more interested in checking whether his flies are zipped up.
Hate factor: 5 / 10
Advice: check your flies before the start of the concert, not during it.

7/ The artist plays item 2
More endless tuning before the start....what´s more, why is it so loud? Is he hard of hearing?
Hate factor: 8 / 10
Advice: speed up your tuning. Practise at home tuning quickly.

8/ The artist tunes up between movements
Why? It sounded fine to me. And again, why so loud? It ruins the mood.
Hate factor: 9 / 10
Advice: If you have to tune, especially now, do it quietly.

9/ The artist stands to take applause again
This time, certain that his flies are done up he stares glumly at the audience. Suddenly at the last moment, he leans over alarmingly, as before.
Hate factor: 0 / 10 - I am not annoyed at all, it is the funniest thing I have seen since I last watched one of Buster Keaton´s silent movies.
Advice: look up, not down.

10/ The artist plays item 3
Yet another tuning session beforehand which this time sounds more like a total mechanical overhaul. He pulls and yanks at the strings, and just when I think he has finished he starts all over again.
Hate factor: 9 / 10
Advice: yank if you must in private, but in public treat your strings with respect.

11/ The artist speaks
He has a voice, but what a voice! Cracking with tension and unscripted, he launches into a boring speech delivered in an unintelligible monotone full of hesitations and repetitions.
Hate factor: 10 / 10
Advice: contemporary fashion dictates that the artist must “relate” to the audience by speaking to show “he is human”. This of course is all a load of rubbish. Nevertheless, we are all stuck with this assumption, and that includes me. Speaking to the public is an art in itself which needs thought and practise. It should be clear, informative and entertaining.

12/ The artist leaves for the interval
I am getting ready to laugh again at his bowing, but this time he only leans forward enough to check his shoe laces. That´s better, but where is the smile of thanks for the waves of applause?
Hate factor: 5 / 10
Advice: show your gratitude with a smile. Whether you think it is deserved or not is your business not the clappers' whose clapping deserves your grateful acknowledgement.

13/ The artist returns for part two
Now feeling more confident, he springs onto the platform and nearly trips on the last step. He proceeds as if nothing has happened. This of course is pure Groucho Marx.
Hate factor: 0 / 10 - not annoyed at all for this show could become a great comedy act.
Advice: turn all stage mishaps to your advantage by smiling or laughing or making a funny gesture.

14/ The artist begins to play, part two
Similar factors to part one begin to work their magic or not: loud tuning, silly speaking, awkward bowing and more.
Hate factor: 5 / 10
Advice: take care otherwise your audience will begin to think you are odd rather than endearing.

15/ The artist speaks again...and again
As he becomes more relaxed, his mouth goes out of control. What’s he saying now? I can’t make out a word of it, and those in the front who can, look bored.
Hate factor: 9 / 10
Advice: look at your audience, do they look interested and entertained, or are they fidgeting and restless?

16/ The artist reaches the end
Believing that a final bow must be worthy of the name, I now watch the back of his head as he cranes forward. He holds this ridiculous posture long enough for me to study every uncombed hair on it.
Hate factor: 0 / 10 - this bowing is an art form all of its own.
Advice: not sure whether he should keep his present style or not – it is so hilarious. Since you would be horrified if anyone thought this of you, you might decide to go to great lengths to improve it.

17/ The artist plays his first encore
Anxious to prove himself in his party piece and dreading the humiliation of going home without having done so, he steps out too quickly.
Hate factor: 9 / 10 - the audience sees straight through this artifice.
Advice: hold your nerve. Take a bow without the guitar, return backstage, count to ten and return to play.

18/ The artist plays his second encore
With the audience nicely warmed up, he now blows it by playing the wrong piece.
Hate factor: 5 / 10
Advice: think this one through. Do you want your audience keen to get home for a cup of tea, or do you want them jumping up and down with excitement screaming for more?

19/ The artist retires back stage
The last applause over, he goes back to the dressing room. He starts to change into his ordinary clothes in a hurry to catch last orders in the pub with his mates who have come to the concert. A member of the audience shyly knocks on the door. Our artist opens it with his unbuttoned shirt hanging out of his trousers.
Hate factor: 9 / 10
Advice: wait, the show isn't over until the last punter has left the theatre. You the artist are the first in and the last out.

20/ The artist signs autographs
With his shirt tucked back into his trousers he steps out to greet the hordes of fans screaming for autographs and a photo. “Sorry, I don´t have a pen, do you?” says he, quite unprepared. As for the photo, why did he allow theToilet sign to show in the picture, and why oh why is he looking so serious?
Hate factor: 7 / 10
Advice: bring a nice pen and check the photo background. This is show-business time: hug your fan and smile.

So there you have it, my top 20 list of pet hates. Classical artists, not only guitarists, have a lot to learn from singers, dancers, actors and even rock artists. The show is not just about playing the music. It´s a lot, lot more than that.

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, 5th May 2012

Watch films by: Buster Keaton, who never smiled whatever the circumstances

Watch films by: Groucho Marx in the Marx Brothers, who turned a silly walk into an art form

Carlos in Taxco, Mexico 2006

To Mexico I fly, with Mozart somewhere in the background

The brain decides what we hear and to what we listen, not our ears. This startling thought connected to music was forming in my mind as I entered Terminal 5 at London's Heathrow Airport to take a plane to Mexico.

My check-in proceeded smoothly. I heard and listened to everything said to me by the charming official. Subsequently, I heard and missed not a beat of singer Billie Holliday while I simultaneously sipped my coffee and read a newspaper. I listened gladly to the re-mastered tapes of her voice, as if recorded yesterday. Almost immediately, an earnest couple nearby caught my attention as they talked too loudly without once glancing at each other. Each in turn delivered a brief monologue, to which the other responded with another. Clearly they did not wish to listen, although their hearing seemed fine. Frankly I would have preferred not to hear them at all, but as I became engrossed in my reading, their conversation receded into the background. I could hear it but I was no longer listening.

Now we are in the air, I have one of Mozart's beautiful Prussian String Quartets playing through my headphones. As I consider how to phrase the next sentence my mind half shuts out the music, but no sooner have I reached a full-stop and I relax momentarily than it switches back to listening to the Mozart. While my hearing of it is constant, my listening fades, returns, and fades again.

My airport experience was not unusual. But consider it again for a moment: drinking coffee, reading a newspaper, Billie Holliday singing, overhearing a loud conversation and listening to departure announcements all at the same time! This should produce a chaotic overload of information, but such is the nature of our brains that it steps in and, as if by magic, creates order out of chaos with a hierarchy of importance - foreground, middle ground and background. And so, too easily, uninvited, the brain does the same to our own playing, it creates different levels of concentration and listening attention. This is not surprising if you consider the task in hand: getting the right notes, phrasing, mood, playing in time, good tone, and rhythmic accuracy to name a few. Managing these quite often leads to selective hearing of only what is our uppermost concern at that moment.

To avoid a chaotic overload of information, our brains try to stop us listening simultaneously to all aspects of our playing

In our practise the natural tendency is to concentrate on one quality more than others, and this is good. But it does have a disadvantage, which is the tendency to become used to, even immune, to negative aspects still bubbling away, relegated by our brain to the background. We no longer listen to them, all thanks to our brain trying to be helpful by creating foregrounds and backgrounds. The ultimate goal is to listen to our own playing as an integrated whole. This means encouraging every part to the foreground on demand, becoming aware even of what we don't want to hear, for example poor tone.

So my advice is to give your brain a good talking to, and insist that it forces the ears to listen completely to everything you play, and put an end to a selective process which is its wont. By doing so you may be most pleasantly surprised: your playing may sound a lot better than you previously thought, or of course, it might mean back to the drawing board!

Now I have nearly finished writing I am hearing again the aeroplane engine noise, nearby passengers giggling (maybe at my manically concentrated look as I type this), and the Mozart quartet, which has been playing on a loop. I think it has gone round eight times, but I am not sure. You see, my brain was looking after me while I concentrated on writing this article, forcing everything else into the background. I am pleased to say the time has arrived to enjoy the Mozart and its ever-so-strange modulations.

And yes, this time, ninth time round, I will really listen to it, and not just hear it.

Estado Mexico, Mexico, 28th April 2012

Read more: Lateral Thinking: Creativity Step by Step by Edward De Bono,1973
www.amazon.com

Carlos at the Latin Quarter Guitar Festival, London 2004

There are three questions which always arise when talking about interpretation. Why are some interpretations of the same piece so different one from the other? What do good players do to make their playing so recognisable? How do you arrive at an interpretation of your own?

To help answer these three questions I suggest there are five key points which unlock the key to interpretation:

1.
Listen to music and compare
2.
The overview: from the outside looking in
3.
The detail: from the inside looking out
4.
Intuition and spontaneity
5.
The final mix

1.
Listen to music and compare
This is the start and end point of all learning. Start by listening to good players, and end by listening to your own playing - how do they compare? Remember the why - what - how test [w - w - h]. Why is one better than the other? In what do they differ? How to improve?

The great scientist Isaac Newton said "if I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants". That is how we should approach devising an interpretation: with both confidence and humility. At the beginning it matters not that you may be copying a master performance. On the contrary, that is a good exercise. The great pianist and teacher Artur Schnabel said "once a student can play exactly like I play, then he will be able to play it any way he likes".

2.
The overview: from the outside looking in
Now set aside listening to other players' versions. Consider the following: what is going on in this piece, why does the composer compose what he does at any given moment, how best to project your conclusions in your playing. Subject each of the following too, to the same w - w - h questions:
- mood/character
- tempo/s
- harmony/harmonies/modulations
- texture
- rhythm/s

Your deeper understanding of these over-arching aspects will transmit itself, sometimes without you realising it to your playing, and give the music form and cohesion.

3.
The detail: from the inside looking out
With the guitar on your lap pick and play key phrases. What are key phrases? They are the ones that stand out for you as the most memorable (and probably for the listener too). Enjoy them. Experiment with fingering the same phrase on different strings. Try out if appropriate vibrato, glissando, beautiful tone (always appropriate!) and different colours. How does it sound best?

Sometimes a phrase reveals the essence of an entire piece, and shows you how to best shape your playing of it. For the film The Queen actress Helen Mirren said that she felt the Queen's character open up before her by successfully recreating her manner of walking! And it can be the same for you in music, a detail can illuminate the whole piece, and show you how to shape much of the surrounding musical material.

4.
Intuition and spontaneity
Throw caution to the wind, no matter the mistakes, play through the piece. Allow your imagination to roam free. Exclude nothing. Live in the musical moment: in this phrase, in this change of key, in this chord. Play every note and nuance with beauty and intensity.

5.
The final mix
This is the time to bring together all the considerations from points one to four. Remember what you are trying to achieve: to move the listener with your own interpretation.

Comparison: be neither shy of recalling great interpretations by other players nor cautious of asserting your own ideas.

The overview: a piece delivered with a clear projection of mood, form, shape, texture, harmonies, and rhythm draws the listener into the special intimate world of your interpretation.

The detail: for the listener a beautiful phrase magically played can be unforgettable.

Spontaneity: this is probably the most exciting aspect you can communicate, and yet the most difficult. Each performance for you has to become a re-invention and a re-discovery of the music, in effect much more than a re-creation.

The final mix: shake and stir this heady potion and serve cool, hot, or somewhere in between, but do it your own way.

Personality types and a surprising conclusion

How you mix the four points is up to you, and will reflect your personality, musical and otherwise.

At one extreme we have the cool, rational, forward-planning type who will probably give much more time to points one and two. At the other the excitable, emotional, spontaneous type who will probably give much more time to points three and four. Both may come up with very good insights and performances, quite different one from the other.

Hang on, I think we have just answered the very two questions I posed at the beginning! Let me remind you of them: why are some interpretations of the same piece so different one from the other, and what do good players do to make their playing so recognisable. We may have an answer to both:

- good players are recognisable because they shake and stir all the elements we have discussed in their own distinctive way, and thus inevitably create a personal interpretation -

And what about the third question: how to arrive at an interpretation of your own? My answer is that if you have followed me this far you now hold the key to developing your own interpretations. It will surprise you to learn that you may already be doing so without you knowing it. Why? Because your striving for perfection makes you think you still have a long way to go.

And maybe, that's as it should be.

London, 21st April 2012

Read more: Principia by Sir Isaac Newton, published in 1687 in which he formulated a theory of gravitation and stated his three laws of motion
www.amazon.com

Watch the film: The Queen directed by Stephen Frears, starring Helen Mirren

Listen to: Artur Schnabel, pianist
www.amazon.com

You may not believe this when I tell you, but I find it hard to do any practice when I am on tour - that is, any practice at all. Why? Frankly, I cannot bring myself to play scales on my guitar in an aeroplane while fellow passengers around me are trying to sleep. It's the same with hotel rooms: I think twice before practising in them too, mindful of the numbing effect it would have on me if I were the occupant next door. And if I were to have my own tour bus, I couldn't possibly sit at the back and get on with it either.

You see, I regard scales and arpeggios and ligados and continuous slow repeats of passages as being a very private business. I don't want anyone to hear me. It's like the difference between getting dressed and going out all dressed up. Playing scales is getting dressed, playing music is going out all dressed up.

With my guitar leaning uneasily against the chair I could swear its one eye was pleading with me to have a strum

So how am I to resolve this problem? I would like to feel free to practice. I know it's good for me. I realise it's about time I worked out how to do so on tour without feeling self-conscious and shy about it.

Yesterday I was in my hotel lying down mulling over the matter, my guitar leaning uneasily against the chair. I could swear its one eye was pleading with me to have a strum. To please it I got up, perched on the edge of the bed, held the guitar to me, coaxed a sound or two out of it, and yes, gradually I saw the light. No, I don't want to take all the credit because it wouldn't be fair. It was my fingers rather, who stumbled upon a solution.

I sat there and found them searching for melodic variations within the scale patterns, rearranging the sequence of notes in a most pleasant manner. It felt as if my brain were not involved, they (the fingers) did it all themselves. On the other hand my mind completely directed the reshaping of the arpeggios. For a long time I have advocated 1, 1V, V, 1 sequences in a continuous rhythm as in my Technique Builder book. They sound good, both to player, and importantly, to the listener. What's more they are fun and beneficial to play. As for slurring exercises they are so quiet they cannot easily be heard from another room. They don't disturb anybody. It is a pity I can only keep them going for sixty seconds or so without my hand aching. I assume it is the same for you - sixty seconds and that's it, otherwise either I am seriously deficient or you are taking special finger steroids.

An agreeable limbering up in public places will keep me and any involuntary listeners relaxed

How about the slow repeats of phrases, is there a way around that to make them more listener-friendly? No, but yesterday I took particular care to play them musically and improve them with each repeat, all this not to annoy eavesdroppers trapped in the vicinity.

So there you have it, an end to practice as I know it, and from now on a new and altogether more agreeable limbering up in public places will keep me and any involuntary listeners relaxed. The only drawback is that I may acquire a whole new closet audience, hunched up on the other side of partitions, ears glued to the doors and walls, following my progress. This rather defeats the purpose since I still want to keep my practice to myself.

I know, I have just had an idea. I will hang up a notice on the outside of my hotel room door which reads:"if you like what you hear come to my concert tonight. Just slip $20 under the door and I will reserve you a ticket."

The sight of dollar bills gliding silently across my hotel room carpet will surely encourage me to play joyfully within the confines, and stimulate further creative thinking about how to transform my embarrassment into a tidy profit. As for private practice, that can always wait until I get home.

Venice, Italy, 14th April 2012

Read more: Carlos Bonell: Technique Builder (1998)

The path to instrumental accomplishment is strewn with obstacles, whereas the one to virtuosity eases the nearer you get to the finishing line. What this means in straight language is this: if you have an average talent you will have more difficulty getting by, but if you are a whizz kid you will have a clearer pathway ahead.

Consider for a moment the difficult situation, even plight, in which an average child finds him or herself. She loves the sound of music, the feel of the instrument, the idea of making music. She follows instructions (often over-reaching and poorly explained) and achieves reasonable, but not outstanding results.

The sceptical parent makes an obstacle course of learning music

Obstacle number one is already upon us, for some sceptical parents now openly tease the child on the screeching sound of the violin, or the slow progress on the guitar (or whatever instrument they have chosen). Soon they question the expense of paying for tuition since the results are not in accordance with their expectations.

Let us assume these same parents are encouraged by the teacher, and by the insistence of the child to continue the lessons. Now looms obstacle number two: the teacher himself, who can scarcely disguise his impatience with the slow progress. He may insist on a tedious set of exercises in the mistaken belief that the child will benefit and improve as a result.

And still the child persists, now approaching her teens. The parent has one more blow to deliver. "You should be spending more time on your homework and build up something which might be really useful". By "really useful" is meant "your future job".

The parent may draw aside the teacher confidentially and ask the question: "is she good enough to be a professional player?" Needless to say anything short of a ringing endorsement will fuel the belief that the offspring is wasting her time, regardless of the fact that the youngster has yet to consider a profession. Faced with this pressure many youngsters throw in the towel.

Some people think they are Mozart's dad

So far we have discussed the sceptical parent. Now consider the opposite effect: that of the doting parent. This type usually has no first hand knowledge of playing a musical instrument, and may even be living vicariously through the child. The slightest fluency and ability to play a simple tune is greeted with exaggerated praise. The child soon becomes aware how to best please the parents: by playing, either badly or well, it seems to make no difference. Disturbingly soon the parent begins to imagine a glittering future for his or her imagined little genius, and assuming the role of a Leopold Mozart, but with none of his expertise, begins to become more demanding: "why don't you learn more pieces? And how about that Vivaldi music so-and-so plays on the CD, why don't you learn it?" Our little one makes an appalling hash of it, and still the once-doting parent (now more manipulative) cannot see that he is making unreasonable demands, frustrating his offspring, and undermining her true potential.

Why should an average child endure all this? If a child at the age of seven shows an interest in science do parents immediately start considering her a future brilliant mathematician?

If a child loves drawing or fire-engines or running around the playground, is she considered a future Picasso, or fire-engine driver or an Olympic athlete?

Maybe in their dreams parents may wish so but they are unlikely to visit upon the child the sort of pressures I have described above.

Only the performing arts - music, acting and dancing - seem to bring out the extremes in parents' expectations. Most children are talented in an ordinary way in music just as they are in other subjects. Being partial to music myself I would say that the benefits to a child of playing music ordinarily are as great, and sometimes greater, than ordinary accomplishment in other subjects.

Once a child has enjoyed in a relaxed and joyful manner making music to the best of her ability she will never forget that experience and will quite likely return to, or wish to return to it in later life. But if the parent makes unrealistic demands of her, she will remember her experience of music making with hurt and sadness.

So grow up, parent person, let your child enjoy playing music to the best of her limited ability, and you over there, yes you, take off those rose-tinted spectacles and calm down. Remember this, music like all precious human achievement is worth doing for its own sake and for the pleasure of learning. The journey is as worthwhile as the destination, and quite often more so. Please don't confuse the two.

Where does all this leave the whizz kid? Onwards and upwards - but that's a story for another time.

Cadiz, Spain, 7th April 2012

Finding myself in Italy this week, the land of good food, my thoughts have turned to an interesting connection. A guitar recital programme is not very different from a good lunch or supper: you have your starter, main course and dessert. What's more, food and music complement each other. One satisfies a physical need, the other a spiritual one.

So imagine your physically satisfied audience awaiting in the foyer the start of your concert. They have just had a good supper. They are expecting now a lovely musical complement to it.

You, the artist, has planned and practised the programme, a new programme. For you it feels like a first night at the theatre. In many ways it is just the same. You have those butterflies in the belly, our old friend the nervous system is having its say.

There is an excited buzz of conversation in the foyer. Ushers attend to last minute details. There are thirty minutes to go. You have tried out the sound on the stage, decided the lights, run through some of the pieces. You retire to the dressing room to change into your concert clothes, or already in your attire, sit and rattle through difficult passages.

Here is the perfect scenario. You kick off with some easy music, easy for you to play and for the audience to settle. You continue with something more extended, and continue to win over your listeners. So far you have said nothing. Now, half way into the first part, if you have the confidence to do so, you speak to introduce the main course of the first part. The audience are curious, involved and expectant. You lead them to the interval by playing something which demands less concentration but which will encourage the audience to imbibe interval drinks with delight. As you can see comparisons with food and drink are creeping in.

The second part is now upon us, and the danger zone

You may decide a change of mood is required. You present something in a different style from the first part. Why? Because your audience with the taste of a glass of wine or beer still uppermost in their palate need a new stimulus. After this comes the danger zone. The listener has been listening to you for close to an hour of music. Concentration is under threat, vying with enthusiasm, which is still strong.

A second stimulus in this part of the recital is required. Turn up the emotional heat or play something guaranteed to please. The audience will now be either relaxed or on the edge of their chairs, no matter which. What does matter is that you have them feeding from the palm of your hand.

You are now on the home straight. Your wildly enthusiastic audience knows there are only two or three more pieces to go to the finishing line. Do you have the stomach to lead them there? Notice my discrete reference to food there. Now serve them the musical dessert they have been craving, with dollops of cream and melting hot chocolate.

Of course there are other ways of presenting a programme. I have tried many. But my recipe here is well and truly tried and tested. I know it works.

This has been my rough guide to planning a programme menu or programme, whichever you prefer to call it.

Celano, Rome, Italy, 1st April 2012

On Wednesday I found myself in a rare mood. I was neither under any obligations nor wishing to make myself busy. I took a day out and ended up at the Royal College of Music in London listening to various guitar recitals by students as part of their degree courses. Sometimes it is good to just do as you please, and to decide so as the day progresses. I had no idea whether I would wish to stay long or not. But I did, for five consecutive recitals. In the process I found myself too. When I say I found myself I mean I came to various conclusions which were more or less confirmations of what I have been thinking since I too was a student in the same establishment. In the meantime – that is, between 1969 and the present day - I have vacillated between quite different views. It is good to come to a firm opinion at last. But first let me tell you what I heard.

The music I had the pleasure of hearing included three performances of Benjamin Britten’s Nocturnal Op. 70, two performances of Alberto Ginastera’s Sonata Op. 47, and one performance each of Magnus Lindberg’s Mano a Mano, and Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s Caprichos de Goya numbers 1 and 2 from his 24 Caprichos op. 195. I also listened to Fernando Sor’s La Calme – caprice Op. 50, Isaac Albeniz’s Sevilla from Suite Espaňola Op. 47 and J.S.Bach’s Partita BWV 1002. The weakest piece by far was Sor’s La Calme. Of the others Bach and Albeniz are the odd men out. How’s that, I hear you ask. Odd only in that theirs’ are the only pieces not composed for the guitar.

And once we are at it, let me continue to find links or exceptions in the rest of them. Britten, Ginastera, Lindberg and Tedesco were, or are not guitar players. At least three of them hardly knew anything about the guitar before they composed for it. My first conclusion of the day was this: good composers do not need to be able to play the guitar to write good pieces for it. I know this view flatly contradicts frequent assertions but I am sticking to it.

All of the works were of a duration in excess of 13 minutes. They go against previous trends of composing short miniatures as for example, Frank Martin’s Quatre Pièces Brèves and Manuel de Falla’s Homenaje. That’s my second conclusion: long works work on the guitar too!

I leave two more - and for me important - conclusions to last. The first is that all four of these works are tremendous additions to the repertoire. The Caprichos by Castelnuovo-Tedesco are endlessly lyrical and inventive. The Britten Nocturnal is a hypnotic evocation of the composers’ dream world, culminating in the unforgettable musical gesture of ending the work with Dowland’s great song Come Heavy Sleep. Ginastera’s Sonata alternates extremes of lyricism and rhythmic excitement as no other piece of guitar music. Magnus Lindberg’s Mano a Mano is a composition on a grand emotional scale embracing a kaleidoscopic musical language.

And what is my last conclusion? Three of the works were composed in the 1950’s, ‘60’s and ‘70’s. They are admired by musicians and regarded by them as emblematic pieces. With time they may become accepted as essential listening by lovers of guitar music, guitar aficionados and concert goers. They may even inspire an evening’s outing to hear the music in all its nuances as only a live performance can do. I hope to be present to share in just such an occasion. Why, I would even do more than change all my obligations and take the whole day off to witness such a thing: I would invite everyone I know to it too.

24th March 2012, London

Four, six, eight, ten even twelve hours per day – these are just some of the random, even wild figures put forward by some teachers and players as necessary for technical advancement.
With their advice in mind respectful and dedicated students embrace these targets with determination and enthusiasm, sure that their guitar-playing aim of supreme control will slowly but surely come into view.

With time, and more often than not with youth on their side, here is one medium and long term goal which will underpin and assure their instrumental ambitions. The logic is irrefutable: without technique they cannot play much of the guitar repertoire; once they have it they are free to roam and forage through its abundant pastures.

Roll on four, six, eight, ten and twelve hours per day practise-sessions, inching the diligent forwards to the technical paradise, and an essential springboard onwards and upwards. Teachers are right to insist on constancy, patience, and long term planning, without which even the most talented player will get nowhere. But are they right to clutch at such figures and make generalised assertions about daily commitments? Are we not all different, some of us more nimble than others? And is it not so that some players are more artistically and musically minded and less inclined to practise technique, while others are the opposite?

Each of us needs a personal development plan rather than receive unsubstantiated catch-all advice
Let us encourage the brilliant young virtuoso with bags of technique to spare to spend more time developing artistic maturity with and without playing the guitar. Let us encourage the expressive player with insufficient technique to spend more time developing it. Four hours spent on technique by the one could be more wisely spent differently, whilst for the other they would be a sound investment.

As for practising more than six hours per day I think the law of diminishing returns begins to take effect. I have rarely exceeded six hours since both my hands and brain can take no more, and of those six never more than two on technique alone.

But then I follow my own personal development plan, and nobody, so far, has suggested to me anything to the contrary.

18th March 2012, London

Read more in previous blogs:

Play The Guitar, Naturally (click on February 2012)

Guitar Practise: Brain Rules All (click on May 2011)

To sit with your guitar and make music may be your idea of heaven, but are there any other requirements necessary, apart from technique and musicality to reach that exalted state, and to be accepted within the divine threshold? Sheer practise and determination bolted onto talent may be a good starting point but St Peter at the Pearly Gates may be looking for other qualities too, and yes, I am still referring to musical ones.

Music goes further than technique and expression, for the whole, at its very best, is greater than the sum of its parts. It touches our emotions in a way no words can describe and sets free our imaginations since it comes with no images. No description of it is ever adequate, and no two people describe the effect of listening to music in the same way, for the same music can mean completely different things to each of them. In spite of this ambiguity, there is no doubt that music goes from the heart of the player straight to the heart of the listener, whether a meaning is agreed or not - that is, if it has any meaning at all, for Stravinsky said music has none:
“I consider that music, by its very nature, is essentially powerless to express anything at all, whether a feeling, an attitude of mind, or a psychological mood.”
Leonard Bernstein wrote:
“Music, of all the arts, stands in a special region, unlit by any star but its own, and utterly without meaning ... except its own.”
And here he is again, a little more romantic perhaps:
“Music . . . can name the unnameable and communicate the unknowable.”

We can move our listeners to tears but know not why
So where does all this leave the contemporary guitar-player? We can move our listeners to tears but know not why because our music may have no meaning! Maybe we can all agree that music simply triggers a powerfully emotional response, leaving any meaning for the listener to decide.

But it was not always so. Pythagoras (6th century BC) believed that music was part of a great cosmic significance. Numbers and mathematical proportion governed the laws of the universe. The beauty itself of music was explained by its mathematical divisions into the 4:3:2:1 ratio which underpins the entire edifice of our harmonic language. Music is not just an art but a science. He went further: the entire universe vibrates to a giant harmonic sequence as do the laws of nature. This may all seem quite fantastic, but in recent times the scientist John A. Newlands in his work with atoms and elements discovered properties repeat themselves at every eighth element (referring to their atomic weights). Music repeats its properties at the eighth interval: it is called the octave. Newlands’ scientific discovery is called the law of octaves.

It is but a small step to deduce that if the basic intervals of music that determine the beauty of music are rooted in natural laws, then beauty itself could be the ideal – and so it was for Pythagoras and the ancient Greeks. Following this path we may be a little closer to finding whether there is an inner meaning to music through the pursuit of beauty, nor would we be alone in doing so. The Arabic philosopher Al-Farabi writing more than a thousand years after Pythagoras in the 9th century AD was also convinced of the cosmic significance of music, and of its therapeutic powers too. The Romantic poet John Keats concentrated on the ideal of beauty elevating it to a moral status, thus giving it a psychological spin:
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty —that is all”

Back to our guitarist, poised to play, does he need to think of music's inner meaning? No. Does he have to agree with Bernstein or Stravinsky or Pythagoras? No. Does he have to make a thing of beauty (whatever that is) of his playing? Yes. Does he have to create a union of spirits with his listener? Yes. Maybe by these means, and these means alone, he will add that extra dimension to his music that will persuade St Peter to swing open the gates and point him in the direction of enlightenment and eternal bliss.

London, March 2012

Read more:

Igor Stravinsky 1882-1971: "Chroniques de ma vie" (1935), reproduced in Morgenstern, "Composers on Music" (Pantheon, 1956)

Leonard Bernstein: 1918-1990: The Joy of Music

Kenneth Sylvan Guthrie: An Anthology of Ancient Writings Which Relate to Pythagoras (570 – c. 495BC)

John A. Newlands 1837-1898: On the Law of Octaves

Al-Farabi 872-951: Meanings Of The Intellect

John Keats 1795-1821: Poem - Ode on a Grecian Urn

Some of these books available from:
www.amazon.com