Pedoviejo -> RE: Barbero & Fernández (Jun. 8 2012 21:32:53)
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Spot on, Estabanana! I didn’t mean to imply that the Arcángel guitars were merely loud, but I can see how what I wrote above was taken that way. When I said that that 1969 “sang”, I meant just that. Segue re “loud”: I once had a Tamura flamenco, which ironically from a distance could have been mistaken for an Arcángel because Tamura stole the Santos-Barbero-Arcángel head design (there are incremental subtle differences between them). To further the irony, I brought it to Arcángel who graciously had it refinished. When I played it after it was refinished, Arcángel exclaimed with his usual sarcasm, “[expletive deleted], it’s not very loud, is it?” He didn’t say that to be admiring, because it was extremely loud but lacked other qualities. Many years later I had a brief discussion with Arcángel about volume in a guitar. “Oh yes, you can build a loud guitar,” he said, “but the sound will go out like this.” He made a “boof” type noise while gesturing with his arms and hands that indicated something boldly flying out from your body but quickly falling off. But a well made guitar, although not initially as loud, has a sound that can “extend further and sustain,” he said extending his arms out in emphasis. His point was that a merely loud guitar is like an explosion that startles but is quickly gone with no lasting effect. The real trick – the art, if you will – is to build a guitar which has sufficient volume which projects and sustains, and which is balanced between the basses and trebles. And from what I’ve observed (and heard), that latter is much easier said than done: Like with volume, it is relatively easy for an experienced luthier to build a guitar with big, boomy basses, but getting singing trebles at the same time is another matter entirely. (And the professional luthiers out there can address these subjects much more thoroughly than I.) The bottom line is that a truly fine guitar allows for a great dynamic range of expression – loud and growling when you want it to be, or soft and delicate. A guitar that is always loud, regardless of how it is played, is not in that number. And to Ricardo re all those Conde’s: Of course, there is a “Conde sound” of sorts, but I would respectfully demur from your theory as to why so many players have Conde’s. My observation, for what it’s worth, is that the reason so many flamencos have Conde’s is because there were always so damn many of them. The “Sobrinos” followed the Ramirez business model, and then, let us say politely, “enhanced” it. That’s grist for another large mill, but suffice it to say that there were always many, many more Conde’s (first) and Ramirez’s (second) than guitars produced solely by one luthier one at a time, as was always the case with Barbero, Arcángel, Reyes, and those others who had the integrity to shrug off the temptation of great financial rewards that could have so easily been obtained by merely signing the labels of guitars built by others. With Conde - IF you were a big name guitarist – you could sit and play a whole bunch of guitars and pick the ones you wanted, and by the law of numbers there were going to be some really nice ones – loud, not so loud, sweet, barking, etc. Literally, take your pick. Also, while, yes, accompanying the cante has different challenges and requirements than the dance, again my own observation is that juergas of any kind tend to be loud, noisy, boisterous affairs. There are those moments where there is just the singer and the guitarist, but these are almost invariably sandwiched between lots and lots of noise of all varieties which never stop just because a guitar is playing. (Just like – again, my own observation – Gypsies joke and laugh a lot, lot more than they cry or wail.) As to the dynamics, if it is a truly fine guitar and it is too loud for the singer, don’t blame the guitar. As to C. Montoya, I am not a fan of his playing. My point was that that Arcángel was just wonderful in spite of his playing, a rare feat for a guitar. Usually, it is the other way around – a so-so guitar sounding divine in the hands of a skilled player. And on that note, I would respectfully suggest that the balanced, delicate sound you describe getting from your Conde has more to do with you than the guitar. The context that must be remembered is that flamenco guitarists were usually poor and were seemingly always wheeling and dealing (not to speak of incessantly complaining about their guitars to the luthiers). They wanted a “professional discount” from the luthiers and were always looking for more guitars because when they went on tour they would sell these at a profit to enhance their incomes. All the Spanish luthiers were well familiar with this, and frankly it seemed to me that the Conde brothers played this game back at the guitarists. So I’ll leave you with a story about the quantity of Conde’s: One day Juan Maya “Marote” entered the Conde shop (back when all three were still alive) looking for more guitars to buy, and he was, of course, well known there for his “buy-sell” habits. The brothers all were cordial and smiley but shook their collective heads. “Sorry, Juan, we don’t have any right now.” The shop-talk conversation continued for a few minutes, and then who should walk in the door but Sabicas himself, sunglasses and all. And before you knew it, as Juan told me, “y a’i venía otra, otra, otra” (“and then out came another, and another, and another...”) Like a very happy catfish, while the big fish coaxed out all the tastiest prey, Juan just lay there snarfing up all the ones the big fish didn’t want. And how do you think “los hermanos,” whose guitars were in such demand and being sold all over, could somehow have so many guitars in reserve?
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