When I began to teach myself to play classical guitar I only had a few resources. Yeah, I know this is starting out like "we used to have to walk to school in a snowstorm....uphill....both ways." But this was in the dark ages before the internet and all of its wonders. Anyway, I was able to find a couple of method books and some LPs (you kids may have to visit an antique store to find out what those are) and got to work.
There were two artists specifically that captured my heart - Julian Bream from England and Andres Segovia from Spain. I played their records repeatedly listening to every nuance. Trying desparately to figure out how they got "that" sound. After a few years of really hard work and listening to additional LPs I started to make some progress.
During the 1970s classical guitar enjoyed a huge increase in popularity and I was lucky enough to get in on the action at the beginning. I began to teach it in 1976 and joined a college faculty in 1979. I really wasn't that good but I was pretty much the only guy in town. There's a lot to be said for being the only horse in the race.
In the early 1980s I met a "real" classical guitarist. He was about 10 years younger than I and fresh out of college with a degree in guitar. He played great and knew lots of stuff. I was (and still am) very impressed. I admitted to him that I was self-taught in much the same way you might admit to shoplifting. But he was generous and complimented me on my playing. However he had a piece of advice. Stop using Andres Segovia as a role model! "His style of playing is very old-fashioned. No one plays that way anymore." I was very insecure about all of this. I would like to tell you that I took his advice, but it was more like I did what I was told.
And so, as I graduated from LPs to cassettes (same antique store kids), I was able to find a greater selection of recordings by new artists. To be sure, they were awesome and played far better than I ever have. But something was missing. Although their technique was dazzling the music didn't seem to be as much fun to listen to. And as I tried to assimilate their artistic vision my playing seemed to be artificial. Correct but cold.
With the advantages of the internet, I now can watch a wide variety of artists on YouTube. I see a lot of artists from my generation as well as many young artists. And I get to revisit the artists that I listened to when I was starting out. Comparisons are unavoidable and inevitable.
And as I reflect on that conversation so many years ago I understand why he said what he said. I can now make a very good case for not being influenced by Segovia. There's just one problem. Segovia's artistry is, in my opinion, light years beyond nearly everyone else. He could play a simple piece in a very compelling way. By comparison, most players today are dry and unimaginative. Even beautiful pieces become a boring succession of notes.
The fashion of the 1980s seemed to be on technique and academic correctness. It's as if the guitar had to prove itself to the professors. (Actually it did. But that's another blog someday.) It's only a matter of time when the new artists will revisit the old-timers and discover what I've always known. Technique should always be used in service of the art. I teach my students that the second best compliment you can receive is "You're a really great guitarist!" The best compliment is, "What a wonderful piece of music!" This means that your technique is so good that it became invisible and only the music remained.
Several years ago I abandoned the fashionable approach and returned to my roots. A sign in my studio reads "Our goal is to play beautiful music beautifully". A client recently said that she had listened to some of my recordings and that I played just like Segovia. I don't of course. I'm not that good. But I accepted the compliment with humility. I am perhaps a dim reflection but it's an honest attempt to be an artist.