Miguel de Maria -> RE: fingernails (Sep. 29 2004 17:00:25)
|
Always nice to hear Ron splash a little cold water in the face of us "foreign aficionados". Just kidding Ron..but of course, he's right. Reality is never pretty! If we guitarists knew the road ahead of us that stretched from here to proficiency, how many of us would ever take it? A healthy dose of self-delusion goes a long way here. I had a couple of interesting gigs this weekend, maybe my two most interesting ever! On Sunday, the gig was to play at the Phoenician, our premium resort. My friend Gaetano called me, the idea was there was to be 8 flamenco guitarists, all jamming together. We were going to get ahead of time an hour early and put together a repertoire, and we only had to play 30 min or so. Well I got there, if you can imagine a Ritz or a Four Seasons and make it even larger that's what the Phoenician is like. All marble and brass and towering ceilings and servants walking around. I walked into Las Brisas, the meeting place with Mike Cerio, and there was everyone--Gaetano and Monty from Mosaico, Chris Burton and his student Juanito, a guy named Brent and Miguel Rodriguez, Phoenix' resident flamenco virtuoso. A strange feeling to see them all gathered together! Mosaico plays 4 nights a week, Juanito plays for dancers Fridays and Saturdays, Mike Cerio and his group Del Sol play those nights, and Miguel plays free lance all the time. So a very rare get-together. The last minute news would be that we 8 would play without amplification. Apparently the powers that be decided that surely 8 guitarsits would be able to project over the large outdoor fountains and 200 people yammering. It being out of our hands, we set to rehearsing. We got together Entre Dos Aguas, put together a quick Sevillanas, some originals from Mosaico, at my suggestion we did Moliendo Cafe and Girl from Ipanema (the always popular). In the half an hour or so we had put together enough stuff, although actually I was dismayed at how bad we sounded. Yes, some of us were learning these songs for the first time, but we just didn't sound together. Everyone seemed to have an idea of how to strum por rumba. And I guess I was part of it, as Gaetano told me twice that I was rushing. (The rumba strum, though supposedly easy, is actually not that easy to do well. There is a swing to it that has to come out, when you do it right you know it. But it's not easy to do). During the rehearsal I quickly realized that my status among the flamencos of Phoenix hadn't changed much. Gaetano's strums were so rich and strong, so full of energy, and he had picado runs and other flash tricks that he executed with incredible projection and verve. I was amazed at how loud Monty could play, his leads coming out clearly over 7 guitarists strumming. Chris played well, and his student Juanito ripped out Vicente Amigo lick after another, effortlessly and cleanly. And Miguel was his normal self, dropping jaws even among this group with his technical speed and Paco-like picado. I realized quickly that I didn't have the cajones to stand out with these people. My picado is fast but erratic and not loud. I decided that I would play the role of strummer, clapper, and entertainer, but not guitar whiz. There were enough here already. We walked to the outside fountain where 8 chairs were set up. I felt like a rock group or the Gipsy Kings as we strode, guitars in hand, and past wondering people, to our spot. We played our first song, and it was a strange thing. As I sat next to Gaetano, I could hear him. To my right was Mike Cerio, and I could hear him--a little. The guitarists to the left or right of them, I could hear faintly, very faintly, and nothing beyond that. So of the eight, only 3 of them really factored into my realm. This is the problem with not having monitoring. We couldn't hear eacah other. And if we couldn't hear each other, how could we play together? It's like having a conversation with someone you can't hear. Impossible! Now we had a lot of strummers, so I realized that I could just strum my muted guitar to make a percussion sound. Also I could clap. I did these percussion things more than strum, actually. And Gaetano sang some, not an easy feat considering we were outside and he had to project, and I sang harmonies where I could. I was pleased to realize I could sing upper harmonies to his voice, my opera training coming in handy! The entertainment agent came around and told us that plans had changed, and asked us if could actually play for 2 hours instead of half an hour. We would get paid more, of course. Without too much discussion, we agreed. The agent said, "You guys are truly wallflowers. Don't worry about projecting, and you can repeat material, that's fine. We realize the situation you're in. And when you take your breaks, just do it one or two at a time, but keep the music going." As we walked to our second set, Monty made the comment that he noticed that I was having trouble doing palmas to the rumbas. So not only can't I do picado, or strum, I couldnt' even manage to clap right. We were in the bathroom and he and Gaetano made me clap with them. It seems that clapping for rumba is a little tricky, because the rumba accent comes right after the clap. So they don't match up. And as you know, if syncopation is not done precisely it sounds horrible. We spent about five minutes pracitcing palmas and getting me to do the contras, which was fun. I learned that it is easier to do contras with palmas sordas than the claritas for some reason. The second set was pretty bad. We could not hear each other at all. A musician can only take so much of this, no matter how mcuh he is getting paid, and people began to lose their energy. I could tell. Postures slumped. Attitudes soured. Monty and I decided to do palmas but it didn't work, because the strums to the left of us and the right of us declined to follow our rhythm. I can't even imagine how it sounded to anyone who could hear us. But no one could hear us past 15 feet and that's where the people were! Anyways, the gig ended with a whimper. Rather tired from strumming all night with no amplification, and drained from the experience of playing bad music, we put up our gear and split up. Before we left, I took the opportunity to get a mini-lesson with virtuoso Miguel Rodriguez. I told him, "I can play fast picado, but it's not consistent, and I can only do it after I warm up the lick for 15 minutes or so." We played throuh Panaderos Flamencos at a moderate tempo. He said, "Do you start your runs with the i finger?" I said that I almost always did. He advised me to begin practicing all of them with the m finger from now on, and that would solve the problem. Ah, the fix of wisdom from above! The second weird gig was to play at a wedding reception. The bride was a nice and excitable Polish lady whose accent I found impenetrable. Eventually, on the very day of the wedding, I found out for sure that I was to start at 545 and play for 2 hours. Okay! I got to the country club, one of our nicer ones in Phoenix. The DJ was there, he was Polish, and said that I could use his equipment, so that was nice I wouldn't have to set up anything. When the bridal party arrived, it was in an enormous 50 ft long stretch HumVee. You may have seen HumVees in the Persian Gulf war, they are the US' modern version of the jeep. Wel now they make limouisines out of them, but they are the length of busses. Out of the giant HumVee stepped a gorgeous lady in a wedding dress and her gorgeous attendents. So they were quite rich, it seemed. I had a momentary wish that I had charged them more for my appearance, a rather mean feeling of course, and completely moot since I charge all clients, rich or poor the same. Since this was a Polish wedding reception, it was somewhat more complex than what I was used to. First they were announced by the DJ and they came into applause. After that there was a receiving line. Then there was an assortment of Polish songs, mostly involving drinking. The manager of the restaurant said that the bride had flown 30 of her family in from Poland. "She spent some money on this wedding," she remarked. I looked around at the people and tried to size them up. They looked like quite normal people to me. The bride looked very spectacular, though, and rich with her long diamond-studded earrings. As a musician who caters to the "leisure class," I try to learn what rich people look like, how they act, and how they expect their musicians to act, in order to market more successfully to them. And let me tell you--the rich are different (see Rob's post on castle trash). At long last, it was my turn to play. I was announced by the DJ "sometihing in Polish....Miguel de Maria!" Everyone clapped, and I sat down at my spot which was right in the middle of the dance floor. I noticed that everyone was watching me expectantly and began to grow a little nervous. I am not an exhibitionistic person by nature...am more of a guitar tinkerer than performer. But over the last year (starting in February), I have done enough solo gigs to realize that for the first song, people usually listen, before they grow bored and start to talk racously amongst themselves. So I began with Soleareas, a calm piece that I could probably play in the dark and buffeted by a hurricane. As I played, I noticed something both edifying and quite scary--they were listening. That's fine, that's fine, I thought, they'll lose interest and go back to doing whatever they do and I'll be able to play in peace. I finished the Soleares and everyone applauded. I looked up and made eye contact and nodded and smiled to them. Now my mind was racing. This was an unusual situation--I was playing and people were listening--all of them! Now this may seem like a weird thought for me to have,but as Jon will tell you, no one listens to musicians at gigs. We are just there for status, for the special added energy a live musician brings, but we aren't really there to be watched. We are background music for well-to-do people. But background nonetheless. I began my second piece, a rumba, and my mind was racing. They were still watching. They were eating, but they were listening. I could tell because they were so quiet. They were the most quiet eaters I had ever seen. My problem was, some of my pieces I play very well and with confidence, others are so so and others are not. I play the bad pieces in lulls or when no in is listening. When is say bad it is usually because they are very complex and I don't have them mastered 100%. There is no way I could pull them off if everyone were watching! So how the heck was I going ot play for 2 hours! Song after song went by, still with the same disturbing pattern of quiet, finale, applause. This was not background music, this was indeed a concert. How fortunate that I got this gig now, after I have had almost a year of experience playing solo. If it had been only 6 months earlier, I would have crashed and burned horribly. The groom came up to me, and said, "That Ottmar Liebert song on your demo CD, Barcelona nights, could you play that?" I said, "Well Barcelona nights isn't on my demo, but this one is--" I played a little bit of Road 2 U (one of my "B" songs), that one? No, he shook his head. I stuttered, "well, well, I kind of need 2 guitars to do that one..." He smiled at me, "No one will notice, just do your best!" I smiled, "Of course." And launched into Road 2 U. Now the song he wanted Barcelona Nights has a strong and irritating melody over strummed guitars. How could I possibly play that with only one guitar? I really had no idea. Next I played Pachelbel's Canon--something to calm me down. When I finished a man of about 90 calledme over. He said, "You play really well young man. That piece you just played--the Gymnopedie, was exellent, excellent!" I started to tell him that it was by Johan Pachelbel, not Edward Satie, but realized there was no point. His enjoyment was genuine, why correct him? I limped back to my chair (as my leg had fallen asleep), suddenly very conscious of howI looked. Everyone was watching me after all, this was a concert! I sat down and began to rumba strum with muted strings. Thwak a thwak THWAK a thwak a! And played the annoying and strident melody of Barcelona nights...several times. Immediately a cry of surprise and joy rose from the crowd. They loved it! They perked up and heads whipped around. I was playing BARCELONA NIGHTS! But how was I to play it, I was only one guitar! My solution, made up on the spot was to just go to the 2nd part and strum the chords. So no melody, just strumming. I ended it with a huge Marote rasgeaudo.... BA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA! And then the melody, but wait, there is no 2nd guitar, how is this going to work? Inspiration struck and I stomped very hard on the downbeats on the dance floor as I played the melody. People began clapping as the annoying melody calledout. Hey it sounded okay, I guess! Back to bridge, big rasgeaudo BA DA DA DA D AD AD D A! The melody one more time, a rasgeaudo, and done! Standing ovation! People went crazy! I smiled and thanked them for their applause, but inside I was in a state of disbelief. I had never known this song was so popular and in fact it's my least favorite of all songs I ever play. When things died down, I went back to work. It was pretty quiet, except when I played El Condor Pasa, which received a somehwat similiar response to the Barcelona Nights. Finally the bride said, that as we were running late and needed to keep to the schedule, I only needed to play one more song. I did a Sevillanas and a couple toddlers spontaneously jumped on stage and tried to dance. Finally it was over! When I tried to pack my guitar away I discovered that the case had locked itself somehow. So I left the scene of the concert with my case and bag in one hadn and guitar in the other. They paid me the remainder of my fee with a $100 tip! Always nice! Somehow I had survived the gig!
|
|
|
|