estebanana -> RE: What IS the purpose of a flamenca negra? (May 26 2010 9:45:30)
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I think Segovia mellowed in his dotage and I'm sure he like lots of old bastards loved cats and disliked people. Ravel had seventeen cats and was often quite the misanthrope. I saw Segovia in Los Angeles in 1979, I believe, at the Dorothy Chandler auditorium. He was well out of his seventies and could barely trot across the stage with his eighty year old legs. In fact my Aunt Polly who was in her sixties was sitting next to me and she gasped and said I hope he does not fall on his guitar. He stumbled a bit. To some it must look cruel, heartless and unthinkable for me to mount such an eviscerating attack on the old master. Yet I'm glad to have seen him in the same way I'm glad I saw Walter Cronkite when I was under ten years old, in his prime reporting on the Vietnam war on television. Happy am that I watched the first Apollo moon landing, the Watergate trials and was one of the first in the early 1980's to see one of the two then extant copies of the Armenian film masterpeice Sayat Nova that existed. Clearly I was lucky to have seen him, myself being a man with such low ability for aesthetic discernment, was very lucky indeed. Yet in some strange way I feel compassion for the old duffer. The same retroactive compassion I feel for Ronald Reagan, Ho Chi Min, Augusto Pinoche and many other despotic individuals who when they reached curmudgeon hood, were transformed by nature into warm teddy bear like edifices. When Segovia was done playing that evening, my mother, her mother my grandmother and my grand aunt Polly when to a Denny's to get a bite. There was a lot of mothering going on that night. My grandmother said in her Dallas/Fort Worth Texas accent "That old boy can sure play, I wish he would have done a Chet Atkins tune or two." Aunt Polly joined in "Yeah heck, but he was better than Wayne Newton, I have to say I am surprised I liked that so much." All the while I in my youthful good looks was being eyed by a table of rude looking downtown LA punk girls. My mom really did not say too much because she did not want me to later correct her as to which pieces Segovia played and she knew I might. We ate our finely prepared Denny's meals and the conversation veered off towards crocheting and child support checks. As we left the Denny's the punk girls got up at the same time as us and as we passed them between the vinyl booths the leader called to me sotto voce. "Wanna to get naked?" All the mothers heard her. Since I've been cast as some philistine Judge Garzon of the arts who wants to file depositions, bring charges and levy arrest warrants against one Andres Segovia, despotic abuser of guitarmakers, allow me to legislate from my bench once more. December 2009, San Francisco CA. Conservatory of Music. Lecture/Demonstration by Pepe Romero and distinguished associates on Faculty. Subjects: Torres, Tarrega, Esteso, Barbero, Santos, et al. Second half of lecture, specific subject: Relationship between Santos Hernandez and my father. Speaker: Pepe Romero Description: Pepe Romero speaks warmly on the topic of Santos Hernandez's relationship as a guitarmaker who built instruments for his father. The main point was that there was an occasion when his father was traveling through Spain due to the political climate of the time and that when he made his way to Madrid he was received with great tenderness by Santos Hernandez. Santos had in a prior trip provided Pepe's father with a guitar which his father paid for. On this trip seeing that Pepe's father was at odds financially Mr. Hernandez returned to Mr. Romero the money with which Mr. Romero had purchased the guitar. Mr. Romero kept the guitar with the heartfelt blessings of Santos Hernandez. The money enabled Mr.Romero to have some cash in pocket and not be stranded in Madrid "sin ti". ____________________________________________ Back to the Nosferatu of music, Herr Segovia; Because I have spent so much of my life in the pursuit of belles-letters, the sexual gaming and acquisition of LA punk chicks, the watching of Benny Hill, The Brady Bunch, The Partridge Family, The Monkeys and MTV I have done my duty as an American. Unfortunately this activity has cost me dearly in the realm of being able to discern between one type of guitar and another or the level of playing of any guitarist. I thank any of you who have pointed this out to me. I am in your debt for I strive to make guitars and without your kind and gentle observations on the shortcomings of my aural skills, I would have remained ignorant of my faults. I owe you a great debt of gratitude, Party on Garth! Sincerely, Stephen M. Faulk Esquire Juris Doctorate of Aesthetic Fartknockery
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