So, last night Steve and I went to a large theater to hear a performance by “Rodrigo Y Gabriela,” the married couple who have been popularizing the venerable style of guitar called flamenco. Until late last week, I had no idea who these musicians were or what they sounded like, despite having a Grammy to their credit and developing a large, loyal following.
Steve invited me to join him because he knows I have a deep and abiding love of music of all sorts and am a competent guitarist with many years’ experience. He was interested in my feedback.
And I do enjoy attending guitar recitals and competitions. When I retreat to Tucson each winter, I try to take in one or more such events at the University of Arizona’s School of Music. Most of these involve a classical or modern classical repertoire in which a solo player sits on a stool or a chair and uses a small footstool for support corresponding to their dominant hand.
There is a lot of technique involved; for example, because the neck on a classical or Spanish guitar is thicker than most other guitars, it is necessary to keep the left thumb below the neck, which facilitates the other fingers to play across the strings. Unlike other types of guitarists, one will almost never see a classical guitarist’s left thumb peer over the top of his instrument.
No flat-picking, only finger-picking. No amplifiers. No special effects. In the sedate world of classical guitar, apart from the music itself, the only sounds you’re likely to hear are the squeaking sounds made by fingers flying across nylon strings.
***
Immediately, it did not feel like a typical classical recital. For one thing, the theater was not an intimate venue, but one better suited for rock bands or big orchestras.
Steve and I arrived a bit late following a leisurely dinner. I was concerned that the show would already be underway since live classical music tends to be a bit rigid about things like adhering to advertised starting times. It would be bad form to disrupt such quiet music.
We arrived in plenty of time, however, located our seats and settled in for an evening of music. To my ears, the pre-performance sounds of heavy metal playing through the theater’s speaker system was completely incongruous. So was a young, raucous crowd. Some were dressed down in T-shirts, jeans and gym shoes. I saw a couple guys slugging down bottles of beer. As things turned out, I was in for a surprise.
***
According to their story, the duo known today simply as “Rodrigo Y Gabriela,” were self-described metalheads who were rejected by the music conservatory in their hometown of Mexico City. A Billboard article reports, “while playing Slayer and Metallica covers for unsuspecting tourists … their signature sound was formed.”
This sound combines the flourishes and rhythms of flamenco with a heavy metal sensibility. They break rules: Whether it was standing, sometimes even sitting casually on the floor of the large stage, while playing their flamenco-infused brand of music, wildly waving their arms in the air, enthusiastically jumping up and down, or urging their audience to get up to dance, the show seemed more like a rock performance than a classical music recital. They tastefully incorporated limited amplified electrical sounds, utilizing loops, delay, and wah-wah to good effect.
We weren’t close enough to the stage for me to say with any certainty, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Rodrigo occasionally broke a cardinal rule of classical technique by employing a flat pick to execute some of the incredibly fast single note runs that I heard.
But I was amazed to learn that Rodrigo has no formal training in reading or writing music. As he told Billboard, “We didn’t get into that classical training, and I’m happy now [that] we didn’t.” Gabriela herself is no slouch on the guitar. Her strumming hand was a blur, and she supplied most of the duo’s exhilarating flamenco rhythms.
***
I was around nine or ten when I first began studying classical guitar at a music conservatory. I can still recall the thrill of performing a scaled-down version of the famous flamenco standard, Malaguena. Over the years, I moved on to more popular guitar music. Now, after witnessing last evening’s performance, I am sorely tempted to pull out the tattered sheet music that still resides somewhere in my basement, brush up on my finger-picking skills, and do a little street corner busking. Who says the thrill is gone, B.B. King?
