Return to Andres Segovia Caricature

If there was one man who can be said to have elevated the guitar from its rustic folk origins to today's classical concert instrument, it has to be Andrés Segovia Torres. Oh, yes, some people like to take potshots at the great man, claiming that this view denigrates the contributions of men like Fernamdo Sor, Julian Arcas, Francisco Tarrega, and Miguel Llobet (and in some ways this is true). And it's increasingly popular to say his performances weren't up to snuff with this or that younger whippersnapper who came later. Most of the differences, though, between Andrés and the younger players is stylistic, and anyone who claims Andrés was second rate should try listening to recordings he made between 1927 and 1939 when he was in his prime and before tape or digital splicing could put together a "perfect" (and quite artificial) performance. Magnifico!

Early on Andrés recognized that recording was the tool of choice to spread the message that the guitar was a truly classical instrument deserving of the highest respect. Oddly enough, he, like fellow classical guitar pioneer Emilio Pujol, didn't particularly care for the sound of the recorded guitar. But unlike Emilio (when once he heard his own records refused to make more), Andrés kept making recordings well into his eighties.

This distaste for the electronic sound prompted Andrés to perform unamplified even in large auditoria (when he was once surrepitously "miked", he was furious). Although few criticized the practice at the time - this was Andrés after all - more recently people who remember such concerts have gone on record that it was really kind of silly, sitting in the audience and mostly hearing a few plinks. Perhaps that's what Sharon Isbin, chairman of the guitar department at Julliard, meant when Garrison Keillor mentioned he had once heard Segovia play. "You mean you actually heard him?" she asked.

It was, of course, quite an honor to be selected as a student of Segovia, and his master classes were filled with students as varied as jazz guitarist Charlie Byrd to an 11-year old John Williams (Charlie remarked on what it was like having a kid in short pants blow you out the door). But like many great teachers Andrés could be pretty tough on his students, both professionally and personally. His first impression of Italian guitarist Oscar Ghiglia was the amount of hair on Oscar's face and the fact he didn't care too much for the way Oscar played Bach's Gavotte en Rondeau (this story, by the way, was told by Oscar himself). And one time Andrés learned that John opted not to enter a guitar competition. He called John on the phone (John was still a teenager and living with his parents) and started shouting and calling John various and sundry names in Spanish (which John didn't repeat).

This doesn't mean he couldn't also be a kind and encouraging teacher, and perhaps it was simply that Andrés didn't quite appreciate the effect of being publically flayed by a living legend could have on an aspiring guitarist. And sometimes Andrés himself realized he went too far. Once Andrés was listening to a young guitarist named Gustavo, and in exasperation he exclaimed, "Your thumb has a terrible tone! If necessary cut it off. Perhaps a better one will grow!"

Later that day one of his friends saw Gustavo sitting alone at an outdoor table knocking back drinks. He asked him what was the matter. Gustavo said at three o'clock he was going to climb to the top of the clock tower and throw himself off. Why, his friend asked. "Because of my bad thumb," he replied.

Gustavo's friend went to find Andrés who, duly concerned, hurried to the cafe. He arrived just as Gustavo was getting up. "Wait, Gustavo," Andrés said, "don't cut that thumb off. Perhaps a new one will be even worse."

Andrés died in 1987 aged 94. But for all his ability, fame, accolades, and musical immortality, his death came under sad and tragic circumstances. He was watching television.

For a little more on Andrés' career and his relationship with the (at the time) famous guitarist Miguel Llobet, click here.

References and Further Reading

Oddly enough, literally decades after Andrés died, there has never been a full length proper biography written. What there is is a bit sketchy, and this list is by no means comprehensive.

Andrés Segovia: An Autobiography of the Years 1893-1920, Andrés Segovia, (Macmillan), 1976. This is Andrés' own autobiography first published in Guitar Review magazine as "The Guitar and I". It covers his earliest years and ends after he had begun to make a more or less living at his concerts but before he had achieved his true international reputation. Of particular interest are remarks about contemporary guitarists. His first encounter with Daniel Fortea was not particularly positive, and his description of Miguel Llobet is contradictory. On the one hand, he calls Miguel a great artist but then speaks indifferently about his technique and calls his tone rasping and metallic. The latter claims were disputed by Cuban guitarist (and Llobet student) Jose Rey de la Torre, who ascribed such conclusions to Andrés' really not having much contact with Miguel.

Andres Segovia Obituary, Donal Henahan, The New York Times, June 4, 1987. This gives a good outline of Andrés' life particularly after Andrés' own biography breaks off. An interesting point is that it was Pablo Casals arranged Andrés' famous Town Hall recital in New York in 1928. Their friendship ended with the outcome of the Spanish Civil War. Both were "Republicans" (anti-Franco) but once World War II was over, Andrés' returned to Spain and eventually resettled there. But Pablo refused to return as long as Franco was in power.

"John Williams", Guitar Player Magazine, 2005, John was interviewed by Mark Davis. A nice article. Regarding Andrés playing without electronic enhancement, John said, "Once you get past the magic of the great old man walking on the stage and all the history that goes with it, it was ridiculous, to be honest. You'd be sitting in the back of the festival hall and you'd hear the odd little plink and plonk. It was magic but it wasn't music." John went on to add, he didn't knock the decision Andrés made to play completely acoustic, but that's not the way he himself wanted to communicate.

But to be totally fair to Andrés, when absolutely necessary, he would go with a mike. When he performed in Philadelphia in the mid-1980's at the (sadly) now defunct Valley Forge Music Fair, he performed on a rotating theater in the round. Naturally he had to be wired into the system. But when he first started playing, the sound was turned off and the engineer slowly increased the volume.

So the audience - briefly - got a taste of the unamplified Andrés. It was quiet, but not impossible to hear if you were to the front of the guitar and everyone sat very still. However, as stated, VFMF was a theater in the round and even the back rows were reasonably close to the stage. Sitting in the back of a massive and classically designed hall, it is most likely all you would get would be a few plinks and plonks. [This information is from a First Hand CooperToons Reference]

"Ten Years Near the Maestro", Guitar Review Magazine, 1983. Oscar Ghiglia. This is Oscar's reminisces about Andrés. It also includes the story about Gustavo.

Also for those of us fortunate to have bought the first three bound volume of Guitar Review, hang onto those suckers. They're getting hard to come by.

Actually many subscribers from bygone years will remember with a wisttful sigh the early days when GR was a small shoestring magazine put together by Bobri (real name Vladmir Bobritsky) with help from fellow artist and guitar aficionado, Gregory d'Alessio (it was their well-placed artistic connections that made it possible for them to get Salvador Dali to provide them with an ink drawing for one of the covers). It was in the 1980's they changed to a more polished format. Of course, the changes are only fitting due to the success and skyrocketing prestige of the instrument. But there was still nothing like those early issues.

Also note that some of the references used in this commentary are not currently in hand and can't be cited specifically. For instance, the account of Andrés being miked to increase his volume (he claimed he'd never play at that theater again) was from a magazine article. It was probably Guitar Review in the 1980's, if memory serves, but a diligent search through the CooperToons archives (i. e., the attic) have not yielded the copy. Also Charlie Byrd made his comment on attending a master's class with the young John Williams in an interview Charlie gave a number of years ago (read but not found), and Sharon's remark about the audibility of Andrés was made, obviously, on an appearance of A Prairie Home Companion. If memory serves, it was in the mid- to late 1980's, and is also a first hand CooperToons reference.