Have a listen to this pretty terrific performance of the Gigue and Double from the Lute Suite, BWV 997 by Marcelo Kayath:
I know Marcelo Kayath from the Toronto Guitar Festival way back in 1984. He won the competition that year against some pretty spectacular competition. He was then and is now a strong, muscular, very consistent guitarist with a lovely warm sound. So why haven't you heard of him? Why haven't you been buying his records? The answer is he gave up the guitar for many years, did an MBA at Stanford Business and was an executive at a Brazilian bank. This recording represents his return to the music world.
4 comments:
Yet another link ... here is Marcelo Kayath as a younger man going through the blast furnace of an up close master class with the great Segovia.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRuKXNRC86Q
I count about three places in the class where Segovia's disdain would have had me running out of the room crying, smashing my guitar to pieces and never playing again. Well, maybe not ... I had some severe lashings from teachers here in Seattle, in front of the whole class, etc and I survived, but, this is like guitar Marine boot camp - only the super strong survive ... Marcelo Kayath is one cool dude ...
I saw this, but didn't watch it. My girlfriend at the time was encouraging me to go to that master class, but I really didn't want to. I have long had reservations about Segovia as a teacher (as does John Williams) and I don't need to hear him rake someone over the coals. I got an exposure to some of that in Oscar Ghiglia's master class in Banff. I went two summers in a row. It was an excellent musical experience. But on one occasion, when I played a piece by an Argentinian composer, Ghiglia didn't react well. Admittedly, I realize now that the piece is not terribly good, but what Ghiglia did was tell a really awful Argentinian joke. Then he started on a rant. I just stared at the audience for a bit. Ghiglia, realizing I wasn't reacting as he expected said: "You don't believe what I am saying, do you?" I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "nope." That ended that and he did't do that to me again. By that point I was a professional myself and confident enough to ignore a pointless rant. I just watched the first part of this clip and stopped where Segovia is talking about the ornaments in the Granados. Segovia is absolutely correct, of course. They were unclear. In Spanish music, this kind of ornament is accented and very clear. You just have to slow it down a tiny bit.
Pepe Romero was, in this regard, a better teacher. He NEVER sought to humiliate a student publically (or privately for that matter). He was always respectful and tried to give students more confidence, not destroy their confidence. Tomas was the same.
Good on you standing up to Oscar G's snark (I bought his Villa Lobos LP waaay back) ... I studied under two of Seattle's best classical guitar teachers ... each gave me a good thrashing ... but, I have to admit, they were deserved, and, fortunately, my teachers stayed on point, that is, they did not impinge my character or future prospects on the guitar (my sin= student laziness). I've had the good fortune to sit in on 1/2 dozen David Russell master classes (auditor, not hot seat) during the 1980s when he came through Seattle with some regularity (one of my teachers was/is a close friend of his). David Russell was unfailingly a gentleman and a very good teacher. He even has a touch of poetry when he teaches; I always remember him saying, "create or make shapes in your phrases." Anyway, during a break in one master classes I found myself talking to David Russell one-on-one. I think I was asking him about the beautiful folk music of Galicia, Spain where he lives; I had just seen a PBS special wherein the music was featured. As we were talking a Pacific NW luthier came up and joined us. A propos of nothing, the luthier said to David, "Yeah, I've pretty much been doing what you've been doing," and he went on to describe a luthier shop class he had held the week before. David just smiled and nodded. I wanted to tell the luthier, "No you haven't. You haven't traveled to Seattle from California or wherever and played an amazing concert for 2000 people last night and now, early Saturday morning, given a master class at the highest level of achievement. You arrogant jerk." But I didn't. Alas, I am not immune to jerkdom. At a different master class, during the break, I snagged David Russell's attention and asked him with fervor, "In Antonio Lauro's 'Maria Luisa', when you play the ascending 3rds and 5ths with your little and ring fingers, do you hold the barre on the 9th fret or let it go?" David Russell said sharply, "I don't know," and walked away. I thought about it afterwards and figured he was probably too tired to say, 'Look, I recorded the Lauro LP 6 years ago and if you're going to ask such questions get your butt up here and perform the piece in front of me so we can go over it the right way...' so, amid the wide field of jerks and bores that must come his way, David Russell, I believe, remains a first class gentleman ....
Yes, from all indications, David Russell is indeed a gentleman as well as being a fine musician and guitarist. I think that he had the misfortune to come along in the generation after Bream and Williams when the field suddenly became crowded with a host of very able guitarists. He is a bit of a conservative when it comes to repertoire, so he was treading much the same ground that Bream and Williams had already plowed. I attended a master class he gave in Quebec City once and still remember the suggestion he made about bringing out the melodic line on the top string in a chordal context. There are three ways, he said: roll the chord, ending with a bit of an accent on the top note; depress the top string a bit more, which will give it greater amplitude when released or, the most novel; play the melodic note slightly before the chord. There is one more that he didn't mention: turn that finger slightly to give the melodic note a different color.
The going backstage to speak to the artist after the concert practice is always just a bit awkward. The solution is to realize that it is a courtesy. You go backstage for the sole purpose of making a courtesy visit. Even if you don't know the artist personally. The visit is not, emphatically, to toot your own horn! Once I went backstage to congratulate Julian Bream and my girlfriend was so terrified at the prospect that she refused to go with me. Another time, when Pepe Romero was playing the Aranjuez with the Montreal Symphony, felt I had to go back afterwards because we were personally acquainted. My fiance was very nervous at the prospect. But when we got backstage, Pepe was standing in the door of his dressing room by himself, just looking around--not a lot of Romero fans in Montreal! As soon as he saw me he said, "hello Bryan, what are you doing here?" He associated me with British Columbia where I was living the last time we met. Pepe was the soul of graciousness with my future wife and she was very impressed that I knew Pepe. So there you go.
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