The lift people….?

The first time I visited Italy I travelled around a few cities in the north, stopping at youth hostels, looking around and basically wondering what I was searching for. Art galleries, museums, culture etc. What I usually ended up doing, there and on other holidays, was staying in at the hostels, talking to other tourists, and drinking wine.

At one time, I think it was in Verona, I was sitting by the edge of a river alone, almost certainly with those same questions in my head (why am I here? What am I looking for? What do other people do?), a man came down the steps to join me. He spoke English, with an Italian accent.

He did most of the talking, and explained that I looked so obviously English. Most Europeans understand this, I think. We have a look. (Badly dressed? I speak for myself, of course.)

He had lived in England, and Germany, and he was Italian. But he had really good memories of his time in England, and he spoke English very well.

Then he told me his theory. That English people were lift people. Italian’s were definitely on the ground floor. Close to the earth, simple, straightforward. German’s were on the second floor. No connection to the ground. Head in the air, filled with ideas, but fashion? Healthy food?… Not their strong point. But English (British?) people didn’t belong on any particular floor. They travelled between them. They could be like Italians, or Germans, or whatever. They were able to adapt.

Of course whenever I tell this story it’s pointed out to me that I like the theory because it makes us sound cool. And this Italian guy obviously meant it as a compliment. But it could mean that we just mimic others. That we’re not stable. That we avoid ourselves. That we are, in fact, adrift.

From the point of view of Flamenco guitar, it is true that I avoid having a ‘style’, or set of fixed techniques. That I like the idea to be able to change, and be anything I want at any fixed moment. Of course, it means whatever I do never sounds quite right, but I’ll come back to that.

So 2 videos of the same piece. An intro to a soleares by Sabicas, called Aires De Puerto Real. One, as I usually play, and the other in a more traditional position. I’m searching for the right sound, and wondering if I change position, can I find that sound easier. And if I play a lot in the traditional position, as many have done in the past, will it affect the position I normally play in. Of course there are so many options to try….


Searching for that Crossroads moment…

Not sure if anyone remembers, or has even seen this film from 1986, but besides being obviously a vehicle for the Karate Kid actor, I liked it.

It was the search for Robert Johnson’s lost song, had a score by Ry Cooder, was directed by Walter Hill, who also made ‘The Warriors’, and had Steve Vai playing the devil’s guitarist. What’s not to like.

Anyway, I’m fascinated by the idea of a before and after transformation. You are at a certain level in your art, something happens, and then you reach a much higher level. Of course I’m not too sure about selling my soul (?), and believe in the power of effort, so I’m always searching for doing something that would dramatically improve my playing.

Therefore, this week’s video, La Barrosa. It’s another Alegria, so the same counting as in the post of that title – 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12. But this time it’s by Paco de Lucia, and it’s very difficult to play. I’ve always admired this piece. It is pure drama for me. With a little bit of every possible plate needing to be sent spinning in all kinds of directions. 

I’ve been told that I’m brave attempting it, and questioned if it’s way out of my reach, but I’m wondering what would happen if I played this until it becomes easier. I usually play something like this for a while, get it to a certain level, then move on. So this is a kind of scientific research. I’ll keep at it, and see what happens. Or I’ll sit waiting at the crossroads. Just not sure which one would work around where I live…


Besides the technical plate-spinning, the many techniques that have to be practiced and perfected, there is also the rhythm – the compás.

So, not only have you got to master all the individual elements of flamenco guitar, but you’ve also got to play them in time. And the timing is very complex. I’ll use this week’s video example of Alegrias as an example.

It is in 12! Not 4, or 3, or even 6, but 12. This is shared with a few other palos in flamenco, so it’s pretty important.

There is a strong beat on 3. Not 1, as you may be used to. Although sometimes the whole thing starts on 12, and that feels like 1. Confused?

The whole thing is traditionally counted 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

So the accents are on the 3, 6 8, 10 and 12! Fun huh?

You do get used to it, just expect to give it quite a few years.

So, as a practical demonstration, on the video there is the Dr. Compás app. It is doing the counting for you. It actually starts on 12, which I supposed doesn’t help, and also the 6 accent has moved to 7!

So here’s the count again 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

But don’t forget, the guitarist doesn’t just count, but plays hopefully meaningful phrases along with the rhythm.

Have fun!


Almost 30 years ago I became a community musician. I hadn’t considered this as a possibility before, but a local arts officer convinced me that it was something people did and gave me many opportunities to give it a go. One of the opportunities was learning from a Jamaican master drummer called Karly. He was performing with Irie Dance Theatre, and was convinced to stay with me, and teach us a few authentic rhythms for a local carnival band. At one point he turned around to me and said that he had given me many years work. And it was true.

I remember driving somewhere with Karly and a friend. My friend was into electronic dance music, and shared something in the car journey. Together with my new ‘understanding’ of roots music I was convinced Karly would hate the music. I was wrong. I think he liked the accuracy of the rhythms.

He asked me and another friend to perform with him at a Womad festival. My friend, who could really play the drums, was late. Karly checked my rhythm out shortly before the performance and decided against it. I think I had the intention, energy etc, but something missing in the accuracy department.

Later I was asked to accompany an Irie dancer in several weeks of dance workshops. Prince wasn’t just a dancer – he could really drum as well. He told me the basic pattern, and asked me to stick to it. Anytime I tried to do any variations he would scowl at me, and shake his head. I’m not sure if he needed this for his teaching, or just thought I wasn’t ready. After several weeks of repeating the same pattern over and over again I was so much better at drumming. It was a hard, but important lesson.

When me and my family moved to Huelva for 6 months a few years ago I had flamenco guitar lessons from a few different people. They were all useful. In between 2 teachers I had a lesson with a woman who, after listening to me play, gave me a relatively easy exercise and told me to play it a lot. She also told me not to worry about the complex rhythms too much, I needed to learn to keep the basic beat first.

I have many things to be grateful for.

This week’s video is a Tangos, by Moraito. Tangos is (in theory) a straightforward palo*, as it’s in 4/4 time, and quite repetitive. In reality, of course, it is one of the hardest to get right. (This reminds me of the time that Karly tried to teach a few of us authentic reggae. Oh how he laughed.)

I’m also using Dr. Compás, an iPhone/iPad app that plays good flamenco cajon and palmas to play over.


The good teacher meets the bad student.

I’ve tended to think that if I have any skill at all it would be in teaching. It’s been the greater part of my work, so fingers crossed. I have taught, and continue to teach, many different people many different things. I think good teaching is mainly about being able to see what the next step for a person might be, if they were to improve in a certain way. And finding the right way to pass that information on. And not letting ego get in the way of that information sharing. And … well, probably quite a few other things too.

In relation to my guitar I think all of the good things that have come out of my study have come from that skill. I taught myself most of what I play, for good or bad. The problem comes with the fact that I think that I’m also a terrible student.
The dynamic of knowing what I should do while at the same time refusing to do exactly that is a funny one, and it’s something I’m only just becoming aware of. It means, among other things, that it’s all a bit of an experiment. I’ve confounded a few people, I think.

Some of the most obvious areas for practicing flamenco guitar, are accuracy, repetition and patience. Getting something right, over and over again, seems pretty obvious you might think. If only. 

Imagine the child beginning to learn how to walk, and who then suddenly makes a run for it. Of course they quickly fall over. And so they return to basics. You may then think that they have learned their lesson. Until after a few simple steps they suddenly try to make a dash for it again, and this pattern is repeated over and over again. You may despair at this point.

Of course becoming aware of something is the first step to change, so I fully intend to listen to people, and myself, and put many of the necessary basic steps in to practice. 

And so to this week’s video. The tremolo high melody (0.23 – 0.46 seconds) is all on the top string, which is easier. I’ve also tried to slow it down, and to keep to a straight beat. Sometimes I can play (and hear) all the notes in the picado (1.10 – 1.20), and if I can’t, I slow it down and build it up again. It comes and goes, but at least it’s there some times.

Here’s to learning how to walk before I run!


Flamenco guitar is very technical. Technique serves the music, but the music needs the correct technique I believe, otherwise it’s different, not flamenco. I don’t think that’s a massive problem. The world is full of different music, and flamenco will survive my, and other people’s, stumbling attempts. I tend to say I play flamenco inspired music, because the real flamenco is somewhere else. The giants play that. And I would have to, at the very least, be closer to them than I am.

In any given piece of flamenco guitar music there are a number of techniques. To play a piece very well, you need to play each technique very well. I often think of this as plate-spinning. That circus act is all about setting various plates spinning, and then as you add more you need to keep the others spinning too. In flamenco guitar this is a big undertaking. Each technique could take a long time, and there are quite a few. Also, there are variations. Many flamenco guitarists have their own way. Of course the ideal would be to have your own technique, but that is beyond me. 

So I learn pieces, hoping to get close to the original as possible. I enjoy this process, and I also think it’s good for me.

Getting all the plates spinning is hard enough, but 4 years ago I let them all fall. Sounds dramatic, but I hadn’t managed to get them spinning that well anyway. So, after that, I just played occasionally, wrote some music, and did other things. I actually feel that I got better as a musician, but not, of course, in flamenco guitar. Those plates were smashed and all over the floor.

I wasn’t too sure if I would get back to that study, but last year I did. With renewed vigour. I’m curious to see what could happen with effort. Who knows. And therefore, this blog.

I’m playing pieces that I haven’t played for quite a while and concentrating on techniques that I haven’t done for a while, if ever. Picado, for example, which is the really fast notes that seem so effortless in the right hands, has always eluded me. But now I’m giving it a go. Brave? Or stupid?

So what I’m doing this week, in my not quite sure what is the best use of my practice time, is to take out a section of a piece, concentrate on it, slow it down, use a metronome etc, then put it back. And the video is the record. Of course the giants would shake their heads in despair. So many badly spinning plates. But that’s ok, my desire is to improve. Plus, you’ve got to start somewhere.

This video is a Farruca that I’ve been playing, on rare occasions, for many years. I never practice it, just pull it out sometimes as a piece that I’m fairly certain I can get to the end of. It’s also got lots of techniques.

Rhythm is king

As promised from the last post, here’s a go at Moraito’s Feria Del Caballo. 

When I first started messing around with (studying) flamenco I was teaching percussion and hand drums in Cumbria, UK. I’ve always thought of myself as a guitarist, but I was fortunate to be taught hand drums be a master drummer from Jamaica. So my 2 musical passions, guitar and rhythm! 

For a project I was handed a Juan Martin instruction video and after watching it for only a short time, I had one of those ‘if only I could do that I would be happy’ moments that happen often and that keep me playing.

There are a series of books (and more) published by Affedis, and one of the first I bought, and I have bought many, was a Moraito tab book. Yes, plenty of ‘if on I could do that I would be happy ‘ moments there. But I connected with Moraito in an immediate way. To this day I still think he’s one of the most sensitive guitarists I’ve ever heard.

I learned (most of) the book. Some pieces were very hard (and still are), but I’m always happy when I connect, in my modest way, to the Moraito world.

Sevillanas are very popular in Spain. It’s a couples dance, and everyone in Spain seems to know about them. I believe they’re mainly danced with singers and a band, but they’ve been interpreted for solo guitar by many Flamencos. I like these by Moraito especially.

They seem to be in groups of 4 sevillanas, are quite short and have a very strict pattern.

I’m accompanied by my ‘metronome’. It is very unfair to call the iPad app DrumPerfect a metronome, because it is so much more. But I’ve added some cajon and clapping samples I’ve found and bought, and programmed the rhythms to the best of my knowledge, given I’ve had no training in flamenco cajon or palmas.

I’ve put a little demo on the screen. I did this using LumaFusion, another iPad app. Eventually I’ll even learn how to use it.

I’ve also tried recording with a microphone. It’s a Rode NT5, and I think it adds to the sound, although it does make the whole process more intricate and time consuming. I’d be interested in opinions.

I’m also trying new strings – Luthier L40’s that were recommended to me. I like them so far, although I miss the Savarez Alliance ‘fizz’. I just wish I could tone that ‘fizz’ down sometimes. Anyway, I’ll spend a little bit of time with the Luthier string family.