Guitarist.com – Blog

Manuel Ponce is known to classical guitarists as the composer of many popular works for classical guitar, but he is known to the world for this love song, Estrellita:

Estrellita del lejano cielo,
(Little star of the distant sky,)
que miras mi dolor,
(you see my pain,)
que sabes mi sufrir.
(you know my anguish.)
Baja y dime
(Come down and tell me)
si me quiere un poco,
(if he loves me a little,)
porque yo no puedo sin su amor vivir.
(because I cannot live without his love.)

¡Tu eres estrella mi faro de amor!
(You are my star, my beacon of love!)
Tu sabes que pronto he de morir.
(You know that soon I shall die.)
Baja y dime
(Come down and tell me)
si me quiere un poco,
(if he loves me a little,)
porque yo no puedo sin su amor vivir.
(because I cannot live without his love.)

This performance is from Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show in 1974. One of the YouTube comments is especially worth quoting:

Even more than her exquisite singing, what always strikes me is Sills’ simple and moving commitment, which goes straight to the heart of the listener with no affectation, no easy dramatic tricks. She simply communicates emotion through her voice and her face, what is a very difficult thing to do without sounding or looking artificial.

If there’s a more beautiful classical guitar video on YouTube, I haven’t seen it. The music is Julia Florida by Agustín Barrios. The guitarist is Berta Rojas. She is from Paraguay. So was Barrios (1885-1944). And so are the people in this video.

When I first approached Bach’s ‘cello suites, I listened carefully to Janos Starker and Pablo Casals. I tried to use their ideas as best I could on the guitar.

But the results weren’t good. I couldn’t reproduce the great-hearted sound I was hearing from the ‘cello. I gave up on the project after a few weeks.

Then, several months later, I heard Walter Gerwig delicately play some of the ‘cello music on lute. “That’s beautiful!” I thought. “How can that music work so well on the lute — an instrument that is even less gutsy than the guitar?”

The answer came: He’s not trying to make his lute sound like a ‘cello, of course!

It was a milestone lesson for me: Don’t try to make the guitar sound like a ‘cello, or a piano, or a lute, or anything else. Go to what is most beautiful about the guitar and bring that forward. Play as if Bach had written the music to showcase how beautiful a guitar can sound.

Here, Julian Bream performs with and discusses Ali Akbar Khan, whom he describes as “just about the finest musician” he’d ever met. Great footage for Bream fans.

One of the best highlights of my guitar-playing days was the time I played for Victor Borge. I was playing a Sunday brunch at a hotel in Los Gatos, CA. Mr. Borge had performed nearby the night before and had spent the night at the hotel.

His entrance into the dining room was a lesson in stagecraft. He came in through the french doors and just stood there a moment and looked around. Then he simply raised an eyebrow and caused half the room to start laughing. It doesn’t sound like much in the retelling, but it was very impressive in the moment.

He took a seat at a table near me. I’d been playing for quite a while and was due for a break. So I wondered what would be a good piece to finish with. I wanted something sophisticated, but short. Something a little different, but familiar. Something from the piano. Something charming.

Aha. It occurred to me. Debussy’s Maid with the Flaxen Hair. Perfect.

So I played it. And when I finished it, he gave me a nice smile and a nod. Then I put my guitar away and sat with him for a few minutes. We chatted awhile. But I remember only one thing he said, which was about the Debussy. He said, lightly and with a smile, “You got the harmony right. That’s important!” It sounded just the way you’d imagine.

It’s not much of a story. There’s no punch line. But the meeting left me with an enduring, happy memory. And maybe that’s the point: In the end, when you’re dead and gone, what’s left is the way you are remembered. What’s left is the way others feel when they remember you.