The Art of Playing the Guitar and its most Prestigious Interpreters

This article and these interviews come from the great resource of the Biblioteca Nacional de España. It was written by Vicente Del Olmo.

There are interviews with Daniel Fortea, Pantaleón Minguella and Román García.

The guitar, a classic Spanish instrument, occupies our central page today. It was born with the people, and the people worship and venerate it. They love it, they venerate it in such a way that, even in the midst of their misfortunes, the common people have it as a companion. The soldier who goes to war, to brighten his hardships in the camp, carries it on his backpack; In days of drought or scarcity and lack of bread, when those long lines of the hungry multitude form, or of people dying of thirst, as a contrast to the pain, the guitar emerges. The guitar, which in the trenches evokes longing for the homeland or intones the war song that leads to victory... The guitar, which in public calamities lifts the heart and overcomes misfortune with the joy of the jota and the jingle of popular songs!...

Daniel Portea, Pantaleón Minguella and Román García, each in their style, are three masters of the vihuela, the Spanish "sistro". Pedagogues in their art, as teachers they possess a mastery. And, kindly and respectfully to the readers of HERALDO DE MADRID, they have gladly lent us their assistance for this information that we have. 

A GUITAR AND A KISS!... THE GUITAR IS THE ONLY INSTRUMENT THAT CAPTURES WITHIN ITS STRINGS THE EXPRESSIONS OF THE SOUL. FATHER BASILIO, THE SIXTH STRING, AND MARÍA LUISA:

A Galician fado: A guitar and a kiss— oh, what beautiful things they are! The guitar sings to the soul, and the kiss speaks to the heart. Old ballads speak of the Hispanic sistro. The sistro, as is known, possessed neither the shape the guitar has today nor the number of strings it boasts nowadays. In a recent study, in which...

We have discussed the way music is recorded in Spain—in these very columns, in fact—and we have noted that Spain has always had a passion for this beautiful art. Judging by the most ancient historical accounts, the guitar has been known in our homeland for over twenty thousand years.

The sistro—or primitive guitar—originated among shepherds. Like the flute, the horn, the conch shell, and other wind and string instruments, it served a purpose; our people likely needed the *sistrum* for their cantatas and rustic melodies. There are expressions of the soul—such as those found in the Galician fado—that only the guitar can capture within its strings, externalize, and make felt.

The fateful chest in the Cave of Hercules in Toledo foretold the Moorish invasion to D. Rodrigo. Upon their violent entry into Spain, the Moors paid tribute to only three things: the beauty of Spanish women, the valor of our knights, and the guitar.

Our ancient vihuela—the sistro mentioned by the Romans—caught the interest of the Muslims and adapted to their musical tastes and preferences, leading to the creation of the "Moorish guitar," a three-stringed instrument somewhat akin to the lute.

The vihuela consisted of four strings. It underwent its first modification in 1581. The poet Vicente Espinel, while performing his famous "espinelas"—ten-line poetic compositions—introduced the fifth string.

From the 16th to the 18th century, as far as we know, the vihuela underwent no significant change. Many believe that the addition of the sixth string must have occurred during that period; others, however, attribute the addition of this final string to Friar Miguel García—known as "Padre Basilio." Padre Basilio, a guitar teacher at the court of Charles III, transformed the guitar into a solo instrument and introduced the *punteado* (plucking) technique—even if he did not add the sixth string itself. For prior to the reverend father, the instrument was played primarily by *rasgueado* (strumming). It is often said that Tárrega modernized this resonant string instrument in the second half of the 19th century; yet, in truth, if we consider the plucking technique, that modernization should be credited to Padre Basilio. Furthermore, if the guitar triumphed over the harpsichord and became a favorite of the palace; if noble ladies and princesses of that era held it close to their hearts to confide their romantic sorrows to it—then this leap for the guitar, moving from plebeian hands to the coffered halls of our beautiful aristocrats, is owed to the guitar-playing friar.

Fernando Sor and Dionisio Aguado—the two great guitar theorists—were, it must be said, pupils of Father Basilio and carried on his teachings. Among the noble ladies who studied under Friar Miguel García, we must include María Luisa, the wife of Charles IV and patroness of Godoy. 

In medieval Spain, the instrument was known as the guiterna; later, through the works of J. Osma, Espinel, and Velasco, it came to be called the vihuela.

Speaking of Osma and Velasco, and to enlighten the reader on this point, the earliest treatises on this Spanish instrument are: *Declaración de instrumentos* by J. Osma, published in León in 1555; and *Guitarra española y vandola, en dos maneras de guitarra, castellana y catalana, de cinco órdenes* by Velasco, published in Naples in 1640.

THE GUITAR IS THE COMPANION OF ROMANTIC PRINCESSES. I WOULD PREFER, LIKE MARIE ANTOINETTE, TO BE TAKEN TO THE GUILLOTINE RATHER THAN END UP A DETHRONED QUEEN! "...THE PRINCESS OF WIED, DUE TO HER MYSTERIOUS AND RESERVED NATURE, BELIEVES THE GUITAR IS CORDIAL.

When the guitar moved beyond mere strumming to become a solo instrument, it rose from humble circles to the highest echelons of the aristocracy. It was not only the romantic and passionate Maria Luisa who embraced it with delight—using it for moments of intimate solitude and to shake off the tedium of her illustrious spouse's company; many foreign princesses, too, adopted the guitar as a companion and a discreet confidante for their melancholic moods. In more recent times, a picturesque example is found in Princess Sophie of Schönburg-Waldenburg—wife of the Prince of Wied and Queen of Albania.

In 1914—as reported by Italian newspapers and as we ourselves recounted in a chronicle about the poet—the Spanish bard Pedro Luis de Gálvez served as Generalissimo of the naval and land forces in the Principality of Albania.

To recount in minute detail the poet's adventures leading up to his elevation to the rank of Generalissimo is beyond the scope of this text. But, for what..." As the poet Pedro Luis explained, we can give a glimpse of the soul of the Princess of Wied.

When, abandoned by the European powers at the outbreak of the European war, Prince William of Wied found himself alone, with no resources other than his gilded "luises" and the forces commanded by General Pedro Luis de Gálvez, a war council agreed that the prince and his august wife, if they wished to save their lives, had to leave Albania.

"Oh, no!... Absolutely not!" cried Princess Sofia.

"Your Highness!" said Gálvez. "The Turk is coming with a formidable army, and the precious lives of your august children and the serene Prince of Wied are truly in danger!" —Oh, no, I repeat! I prefer, like Marie Antoinette, to be taken to the guillotine than to remain in the position of a dethroned queen!... As you can see, Sophie of Schönenburg-Valdembourg, Princess of Wied, is a great romantic. Such a sensitive lady, with such a delicate spirit, she must necessarily be one. And, as a romantic, she is passionate about the guitar. When she was in Madrid this past spring, staying at the Palace Hotel, the reporter asked her:

"Madam: Do you still enjoy playing the guitar?"

"Oh, very much so! In moments of intimacy, the piano, the violin, or any other instrument are not discreet enough! They proclaim those moments of abandonment to the whole world! The guitar, mysterious and silent, playing for us, is the most cordial!"...

The photograph illustrating this center page, showing the Princess of Wied and one of her daughters, was taken in Albania. When Sophie of Schönenburg-Waidembourg, on the throne of the principality, would retreat to her rooms and give herself over to dreaming, to holding a lively conversation with the instrument of strings.

Beautiful, enchantingly beautiful, the Princess of Wied embraced the guitar. The literary trope, the poetic image, by its forms, compares the guitar to the woman. Probabaly one is a continuation of the other. More than a "pendant of diamonds" and more than a rich necklace of pins. With the harmonious of its lines and its ornamental aesthetic, the guitar embellishes the woman. The Princess of Wied, as will be seen in the photo, is a lovely woman; ..pressed against his chest, the Spanish instrument looks even more beautiful.

WHO IS LEFT AMONG THOSE WHO PLAY THE GUITAR?  LITTLE MUSIC HAS BEEN WRITTEN FOR IT. " I CANNOT RESIST THE GUITAR PLUCKED WITH THE  FINGERNAILS . . . " THE ONLY ONES WHO PLAY THE GUITAR WITH THE FINGERPADS. THE TIME OF HIS LEARNING....

In a brilliant article in *El Liberal*, published some twelve years ago, Prudencio Iglesias Hermida called Daniel Fortea the "guitar wizard." And indeed, he is. Like the snake charmer of India, Fortea possesses much of the wizard or sorcerer about him. He knows the magic of sound and coaxes tones of supreme precision from the guitar.

Pujol and Fortea—the only disciples with true personality in our "sistro" tradition—studied under Francisco Tárrega. Daniel Fortea dislikes showmanship. Devoted to guitar pedagogy, he has always neglected concert performance and has turned down good offers from abroad. Studious and hardworking, he seeks to make a name for himself as a vihuela authority. He aspires to hold— as indeed he does—a unique place in the art world. He wishes to leave a legacy like that of Dionisio Aguado and Fernando Sor.

Fortea, as we have noted, dislikes showiness. Like Chopin—who was admired by George Sand—and Alfred de Musset, he detested the public concert. His preferred audience consisted of ladies.

Daniel Fortea, like Chopin, prefers refined, select gatherings to playing before the heterogeneous mass of a paying audience. He would rather share his art as a gift than turn it into a commercial transaction, obliged to perform a program designed to please everyone.—In which concerts did you perform?

—In many. But of them all— cherishing the fond artistic memories I hold—I wish to recall only those with Tárrega...

—One.

—The one at the Teatro Principal in Castellón.

—Others.

—I don't know!... You asked me for one!

—What guitar theorists are there?

—Aguado, Sor, and Tárrega.

—Dear Fortea!... And Huerta, and Arcas, and Cano!

—I said that, as teachers, as theorists: Aguado, Sor, and Tárrega.

—Who among today's players will endure?

—No one. They all dedicate themselves to performance. Starting with Regino Sáinz de la Maza—my pupil—and continuing up the scale with Miguel Llobet, Andrés Segovia, and Emilio Pujol—all ranked as top-tier concert artists—none of them is the Pestalozzi of the future.

—And you, Fortea?

Daniel Fortea smiles. He looks intently at us with his clear eyes.

And with an affirmative nod of his head, he emphasizes:

—I am.

A pause. With his chest resting against the curves of the guitar, his fingers move nimbly over the strings. It seems as though he attached no great importance to his statement. A clear, precise statement, made simply, without arrogance. We fall silent... Daniel Fortea continues:

—Little, very little music has been written for the guitar. After Aguado and Sor, Tárrega; then, no one. In truth, there were many who adapted music for the vihuela— Schubert, Wagner, Paganini!—; ...composers specializing in guitar music— few. Likewise, in the art of playing the guitar, there are few— very few indeed—who do so with art... very few who do so in accordance with the precepts of Sors. Fernando Sor—an eminent composer and guitar artist (Sors was Catalan)—published his works in France. He was the one who introduced the modern art of performance; later, Francisco Tárrega perfected it. Fernando Sor and Dionisio Aguado were close friends. And once, at an intimate gathering, Sor remarked:

"I cannot stand the guitar when played with the fingernails. Because Dionisio Aguado is elderly—and a friend of mine, besides—he is the only one whose harsh, nail-produced guitar tones I can tolerate."

A guitarist wishing to produce a round, mellow, perfect sound—free from the shrillness of the mandolin or *bandurria*, and achieving a harmonious blending of notes—should play the instrument using the fleshy tips of the fingers. Fernando Sor—despite his mastery of the rules, as I have said before and repeat now—did not quite reach perfection; the true genius, the quintessential authority on technique, was Francisco Tárrega... An anecdote! Francisco Tárrega, as he once told me, could not get used to playing with the fleshy tips of his fingers... In desperation, one fine day, he cut his fingernails off for good!

—Excuse me, but who are the ones that, in accordance with the modern art of guitar playing, use the fleshy tips of their fingers?

—The truth—just between us?

—The truth—which I shall put into print. Don't forget one thing.

—What is that?

—That a reporter, like a phonograph record, simply repeats what he is told.

—Pujol and I. We were the only disciples of Tárrega who, fully aware of what we were doing, learned this new technique from the sublime master.

Daniel Fortea, as everyone knows, is the teacher to the aristocracy. The lavish drawing rooms and intimate gatherings of the nobility are well acquainted with Fortea's art. Outwardly, Daniel Fortea pays great attention to his appearance. Impeccably dressed, sparing with words, and composed in judgment and debate, he is always seen in the company of the elite of the arts and letters. —Who has a greater aptitude for the guitar: women or men?

—Women, gentlemen—because they are more sensitive, more romantic, or perhaps because they see the guitar as an extension of themselves—adapt to it more readily. After all, the guitar is an intimate instrument; with its whispering notes—like a lover’s sotto voce conversation—it possesses a mysterious charm.

—Who is currently writing for the guitar in Spain?

—Falla, Turina, Esplá, Moreno Torroba, and Salazar.

—Does it take a long time to play the guitar well—to perfection?

—It depends. Regino Sáinz de la Maza, my pupil, required three years.

Amidst the exhausting desert of journalistic reporting, Daniel Fortea offered us an oasis of repose. "Poetic Studies," of classical construction; "La Andaluza," based on soleares and tangos motifs, capturing the full flavor of the skies of southern Spain; the "Nocturne," a piece inspired by Toledo; and his childhood songs, based on folk themes—all these delighted our ears and offered a moment of solace to the weary spirit of the interviewer.

Meanwhile, the photographer prepared the flash powder, and—seeking to escape the lens's intrusion—we left Daniel Fortea immersed in his magical creations.

PLAYING THE GUITAR WITH THE FINGERTIPS, ACCORDING TO MINGUELLA, IS AN EASY TASK. FROM THE "SISTRO" AND THE "GUITERNA" TO THE GUITAR OF TODAY!... FROM ONE, TWO, THREE, SIX, AND EIGHT-COURSE VIHUELAS... THE GUITAR HAS A FUTURE.

Pantaleón Minguella—in Paris, London, Berlin—across all of Europe— before select audiences... He practiced classical art. In the theaters of the Comedy and the Princess, in Madrid, he recently made a name for himself, an artistic personality.

Like Daniel Fortea, he is a virtuoso of the instrument. When we burst into his house, he was accompanied by the priest D. Dionisio Cerro, also a guitarist, professor of religious music at the National School, in the existing Seminary. Pantaleón Minguella is a great teacher of the vihuela, and the priest Mr. Cerro, a scholar of its history.

"My friend Minguella: how do you teach your students: to play with their fingernails or with their fingertips?"

Pantaleón Minguella and D. Dionisio Cerro burst into laughter. Our question must have seemed childish to them. We know that it isn't. That's why we insist. Pantaleón Minguella replies:

"With the fingernail and the fingertip, because it's the easiest way and how it should be played. But don't confuse the fingernail with the old-fashioned thimble, or with claws that get tangled in the strings... The cut of the fingernail is one of the prescribed things for the guitar: barely the edge of a piece of paper, that horny part should protrude from the fingertips... Sor didn't play with his fingertips until his last years!... With fingertips and fingernails, the sound, the timbre of the guitar's notes, is more beautiful; It is not so quiet, it does not have such a small range... Above all, for the concert audience, so that the guitar—which, in itself, has a small range—reaches all areas of the hall, it is necessary to play with the fingernail... Segovia, Sáinz de la Maza, etc., all play with the fingernail. The tremolo, so that it is produced with greater brilliance, must be plucked with the fingertip and nail; and for the changes in timbre—one of the most beautiful facets in Segovia's art!—the nail and the fingertip play a primary role, it being unknown which of the two prevails... Furthermore, to play with the fingertips alone, one must have special fingers. He who has plump, round fingers cannot produce the necessary effects when plucking the guitar with his fingertips; he who has long, narrow, sharp, pointed fingers can... The important thing, for me, is to explore all the resources available on the guitar. On the violin, for example, the bow is used to pluck the strings and to strike the body; whereas in pizzicatos, the thumb and index fingertips are used. "Let's see. Regarding those five sounds in unison... how would you manage to produce them clearly, crisply, and perfectly?"

"We wouldn't know, Mr. Minguella." "We once saw a circus seal play the guitar. But we are so unversed in the instrument that we don't even measure up to the seal's level of skill."

"Well, no matter how much you knew, without using both the fingernail and the fleshy tip of the finger, it would be impossible."

"Let's talk about the guitar."

"'The guitar,' Mr. Minguella tells us, 'along with the violin, the piano, and the flute, is one of the most perfect instruments in existence today. There is a vast gulf between the ancient *sistrum* and *gittern* and the modern guitar—graceful and elegant in its construction, with its precisely tuned tones. Anything—absolutely anything—can be played on the guitar. Democratic and popular, with a simple mechanism, it is very easy to learn. Some people even teach themselves to play with just a few basic lessons. Of course, to become a true master of the guitar—to achieve a flawless performance—requires much more, a great deal more! First, a deep calling and boundless love for the instrument; and second, beyond perseverance in study, a refined musical sensibility and knowledge.'" "In times not so long past, it was used as an instrument for religious music... But this —exclaims Minguella, pointing to the priest—is a matter for Don Dionisio!"...

Mr. Cerro picks up the thread of the discourse and confirms:

"Yes, gentlemen. The guitar has been an instrument of religious music. In the Escorial archives, you will find 'masses' for one, two, three, six, and eight vihuelas. Father Luis Villalba—an Augustinian, now deceased—published the works of the Spanish vihuelists. Among them are the 'Masses' by Morales, written for the vihuela. Morales was one of Spain's finest polyphonists, of the same caliber as Don Luis Victoria, the *maestro di cappella* of Ávila... Don Luis Victoria is known as the 'Spanish Palestrina.' He lived during the 16th century. You know that Palestrina, "maestro di cappella" at St. Peter's in Rome, reformed religious music and composed the celebrated Pope Marcellus Mass. Well, Morales, regarding the masses for vihuelas, created true masterpieces of intricate artistry."

In the program for the Teatro de la Princesa, Pantaleón Minguella is called the "King of the Guitar." Minguella takes up the vihuela. And.....show us how easy it is to play. He treats Luque—the photographer—and us to a performance: Tárrega’s "Capricho árabe," Albéniz’s "Granada," and Malats’s "Serenata española" were all played with artistry and mastery.

Pantaleón Minguella is a short, stocky man. Yet, with a guitar in his hands, he seems to grow in stature, revealing himself as a giant.

—Is there much enthusiasm for the guitar, Mr. Minguella?

—A great deal. It grows every day. The guitar has a bright future. There are many violin and piano virtuosos, but few guitar virtuosos—few serious concert artists.

—Which guitar concert artists do you like best?

—Segovia, Pujol, Sáinz de la Maza!... As a professional myself—and to avoid succumbing to the base passion of envy—I’d say all of them!... I mean... when it comes to the guitar, yes, I even like the blind man who goes around banging on the soundboard of his instrument!

CONCHITA PECHE IS A FLAMENCO ARTIST... THE FLAMENCO GUITAR REACHES THE PEOPLE MORE. FLAMENCO...TRUE FLAMENCO... THE VARIATIONS OR

"FALSETAS" OF THE FLAMENCO GUITAR. THE DOLORES OF THE ETERNAL CAMI​NATA.

Román García, a flamenco teacher, enjoys a fine reputation. He achieved resounding success with his flamenco artistry in Paris, London, and Nice. For three years, he was a featured performer at the Opéra-Comique in the "City of Light," playing the flamenco guitar. Now based in Madrid, he makes his living by giving lessons. Among his students—aside from an aristocratic young lady bearing a distinguished surname within the Conservative Party—is Conchita Peche, our radiant beauty queen, who is absolutely passionate about flamenco.

"Flamenco," Román García tells us, "is unfairly looked down upon. Those dedicated to classical guitar treat it with disdain—whether out of spite or arrogance. They treat it this way because flamenco music, with its deep emotion, resonates more strongly with the common people. Flamenco captures and embodies both sorrow and joy..."

—What is true flamenco?

—The Gypsy style, with its soleares, seguiriyas, polos, cañas, and bolerías. Granadinas, fandanguillos, malagueñas, and the like are not flamenco in the strict sense of the word. They may be, more or less, regional expressions of Andalusian music, but not "authentic flamenco."

—Is flamenco popular abroad?

—More so than classical guitar. So much so that, when I was hired, it was almost always as a soloist—without a singer—to express the full range of Andalusian music through the strings of my guitar.

—Where is flamenco guitar performed nowadays?

—With the disappearance of the traditional café cantante—oh, the likes of El Filio, Silverio, Juan Breva, Paca Aguilera, Chacón!—flamenco has moved to the concert stage (as with Montoya at the Teatro de la Comedia), invaded the theater, and is heard at private gatherings.

—What is the most important characteristic when the flamenco guitar accompanies a singer?

—Its variations during the singer's pauses. Because, while the singer rests from the main theme—whether it be malagueñas, tangos, granadinas, etc.—one must entertain the audience with variations, or falsetas. —Is flamenco guitar easy?

—Well, if you just strum without plucking the strings—sure... But fretting the notes and giving substance to the performance is just as difficult as classical guitar.

—Which tango is the most cheerful?

—The one from Cádiz—although the one by La Niña de los Peines, the tango-tiento, holds no joy at all.

—People play better today than in the past, don't they?

—Much better. Flamenco has undergone a profound transformation. In the old days, since the flamenco guitar was limited to merely accompanying the singer, it was truly at a disadvantage compared to the classical guitar. Now they are on equal footing. Back then, variations were played using the thumb and strumming—and that wasn't really flamenco guitar...—but today, you need to train your hand extensively... Because the variations are harmonized... Variations can be arpeggiated or played with tremolo, and plucking them requires the use of every finger.

—Is flamenco very old?

—If it was born with the Gypsy, then it is as old as the Gypsy. The Gypsy—a nomadic, wandering race—was always viewed with hostility. The hardships of that eternal trek, the fierce hatred directed at them, and their constant struggle wrung groans from the Gypsy... Those groans, embodied in their songs, form the music flamenco.

FINAL

Here is the guitar—in its history, its art, its aristocracy, and its distinguished performers. Fortea, Minguella, and García have presented it; we have simply acted as a phonograph record.

VICENTE DEL OLMO