Just returned from a trip to my birth place - the North West of England - where I performed at the International Guitar Festival of Great Britain on a tribute concert to my friend, and festival founder, Brendan McCormack (who passed away unexpectedly earlier this year).
Too many highlights from this trip to go into much detail here, but here are a few of them:
Had a nice chat with Rock n Roll Hall of Famer James Burton (Elvis’ guitarist for several years, amongst many other things) at the airport in Atlanta and again in Manchester - it’s a small world.
Spent quite a bit of time with Paul Balmer, film maker (BBC, the Grapelli and Bream films, etc.) and author of the recent Haynes manuals on Fender and Gibson guitars. Trying to work out what to do with Brendan’s many unfinished projects, including two films we were making together about my Bach and Albeniz transcriptions (filmed at the festival a couple of years ago).
Brendan’s daughters, Frith and Anna, gave me their dad’s Pujol books, which he used during his studies in Spain with Pujol himself back in the 60s/70s.
Gourmet Blue Mountain Jamaican coffee (I think we all know how those beans are ‘treated’) and wild boar, black pudding and venison sausages (these are called “Man Sausages!”) in Clitheroe, Lancashire, at Cowman’s Sausages http://www.cowmans.co.uk. According to Cowman’s published menu, the Venison sausages ‘may contain shot.’
Attended the Preston North End-Newcastle United game at the revamped Deepdale ground - amazing!
The tribute concert was a wonderful event and included many styles of guitar (reflecting Brendan’s wide-ranging musical interests) with players from both sides of the Atlantic.
On many occasions, with the Merseybeat groups The Memphis Three and Ricki and His Redstreaks, Brendan shared the bill with the Beatles. In a Merseybeat interview, John Lennon referred to Brendan as his favorite guitarist, and in the famous Time magazine interview following the break up of the Beatles, Paul McCartney said how he wished the Beatles could just go back to being a band like Ricki and His Redstreaks.
Well, by this time Brendan had studied classical guitar with Pujol in Spain and was playing lute for the BBC. He was a man of many talents - guitarist, lutenist, champion of the ukulele, orchestral arranger, expert on the lyrics of Chuck Berry, photographer, film-maker, calligrapher, graphic designer, founder and organizer of Europe’s biggest guitar festival, and much more.
Feels like the end of an era.
Next performance - a Beatles for Solo Guitar concert/workshop in a couple days…
…another trip to Pepperland.
November 29th, 2009 in
classical guitar | tags:
Beatles,
Brendan McCormack,
classical guitar,
Emiolio Pujol,
James Burton,
music,
Preston North End,
sausages!,
soccer,
stanley yates |
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I just returned from another week away from home, this time traveling the length and breadth of New York state, and thought I’d share a few highlights from the trip.
I’d been invited to Bergen College NJ (thanks Steve Friedes and Linda Marcel) to present their annual Distinguished Artist lecture and, on the following evening, to perform on an Ars Nova Contemporary Latin Music concert, with a “side trip” to Potsdam (or, as I now like to refer to it, “the arctic circle”).
Head to the airport Tuesday morning in a bit of a rush, drop the car off at the Parking Spot, arrive at check-in just in the nick of time, both flights are on time, a first-class upgrade, sleep the entire way and no lost luggage. All in all, an ominous start. As always, landing at La Guardia is terrifying - I can never quite work out how it is that we don’t end up in the Hudson River with the wings ripped off. Pick up a rental car, which seems to me a bit too big for the present task: “driving” around Manhattan looking for the Washington Bridge. Eventually, the bridge found me and I somehow managed to find the hotel in Paramus NJ, probably leaving a trail of destruction in my wake.
Wednesday afternoon: First point of business: technical rehearsals for the lecture recital that evening and for the concert the following evening in which I’ll be accompanying voice and dance as well as playing solo. Second point of business, check out the re-strung guitar I’ve borrowed for the baroque portion of the lecture. Third point of business - and most important - locate Indian food. Managed to find a highly-recommended Indian restaurant, but it was closed. Bamboo House “Chicken Special” and back for the lecture recital. This was a pleasure - the audience was wonderful and I was honored to receive the Bergen College Distinguished Artist Award at the end of the lecture. Then back to Manhattan to meet a hitherto internet-only acquaintance, Andrew Schulman, at the Intercontinental Hotel on 48th and Lexington. Very enjoyable - if you’ve never heard Pinball Wizard, Bohemian Rhapsody or Stairway to Heaven played on an 8-string classical guitar through a 400W Acoustic Image bass amplifier, Andrew’s your man! He’s a great player, very entertaining, and a great guy.
Thursday: an impromptu swing blues lesson with one of the students at the college followed by a very nice Korean lunch with members of the faculty. The Ars Nova concert was sold out and everything went well (having devised that morning how to extend or end the choreographed piece at will, just in case). My collaborators, choreographer Lynn Needle and soprano Gretta Feeney, were great (as were the technical staff). Nice party afterward at the home of Lynn Needle.
Friday: a quick and enjoyable visit with my daughter (on her 18th birthday) at Bard College, followed by the long trek north. After five hours on the NY Thruway, feeling very pleased with my progress, I ran out of highway - the remaining 60 miles taking two hours on the interminable back road to Potsdam. Still, arrive in time to watch a re-run of an old Prisoner episode.
Saturday: listen to the live soccer commentary on the internet - my “team,” Preston North End, lose 4-0 to Queens Park Rangers - their worst league defeat in five years. Enough said. Nice afternoon class with Doug Rubio’s students at the Crane School of Music followed by an in-depth lesson from Doug on the intricacies of American college football (all I can discern is that the officials seem to have borrowed their uniforms from the British Butchers and Meat Packers Association). The concert that evening seemed to be well-attended (I couldn’t actually see the audience). I’m figuring out that the Baden-Powell pieces are probably going to be keepers. Post-concert dinner with Doug, at which we played a round or two of one of our favorite games, “Worst Piece of Guitar Music Written by a Major Composer.” (The following day, we had a quick game of “Worst Recorded Beatles Performance.”)
Sunday: the long trek home. I give myself eight-and-a-half hours for what is surely only a seven-hour drive to La Guardia, even taking the picturesque route through the Adirondack National Park. And so it proves - 25 miles to go, two hours to do it. Easy! Then the (un)expected. At my final exit off the New York Thruway (exit 13S, to be precise): a wreck and an hour delay. No matter, with my trusty GPS device, I’m unstoppable. Unfortunately, the device itself isn’t. I wing it into Manhattan, the Washington Bridge (lower level!), the Tribecca Bridge, Grand Central Expressway, a nightmare. Still, spurred on by the sight of Yankee Stadium, I check in with minutes to spare (no first-class upgrade available), get through security (why do travelers ahead of me always leave metal objects about their person when I’m in a hurry?). Run down to the gate - flight delayed.
Eventually arrive back in Nashville, call the limo pick-up to the Parking Spot, once again have forgotten to print out my accumulated parking hours discount ahead of time, back at the wheel for another 45 minutes.
Next concert: day after tomorrow (with melodica, vibes and Latin percussion). And now, off to Moss’s Cafe for breakfast. After all, it’s already well past lunch time…
…in the North East.
Two very simple ideas:
1. Repertoire - every guitarist should have at least one or two short attractive pieces that can be played at any time, especially in those social situations when people realize that you play the guitar and want to hear something.
2. Community - professional guitarists (performers and teachers) should make a point of visiting a local public school every six months and give an introduction-to-the-classical-guitar-type presentation - free of charge!
Too much to ask?
A few years ago, in 2002, I was invited to contribute an article dealing with Fernando Sor’s guitar sonatas to the Sor Studies project. With the encouragement of the project editor, Luis Gasser, that article ending up at almost 16,000 words (15,949, to be precise)!
(The article, “Sor’s Guitar Sonatas: Form and Style,” has since been published, along with the rest of the articles in the project, in Estudios sobre Fernando Sor / Sor Studies, Musica Hispana, Instituto Complutense de Ciencas Musicales, Madrid.)
Researching this topic brought me in to contact with at least 100 nineteenth-century guitar sonatas as well as numerous other instrumental and orchestral sonata-form works by composers whom I felt might have influenced Sor’s sonata style. I learned an awful lot, not simply about Sor’s sonatas but also about the styles and sheer variability of the classical/early romantic sonata forms in general (in practice, only a small percentage of sonatas adhere to anything like our standard textbook definition of the form—though that’s perhaps something for another discussion).
Of the many interesting things I discovered as I worked on this year-long research project I’d like to mention one here (to go through all of them would of course take 15,949 words!)—in addition to the four generally acknowledged sonatas (Opp. 14, 15b, 22 and 25), Sor wrote a fifth sonata, namely the Fantaisie 7e, Op. 30.
Like most of Sor’s later large-scale works, Op. 30 is a very interesting piece of music, particularly it’s outer form (at this point in his career, Sor was employing original hybrid forms of his own invention). The piece begins with an introduction followed by a variation set (perhaps Sor’s best set) seamlessly connected to an extended sonata allegro. As stated in the full published title, the whole piece is based on two “well-known” songs (nevertheless, we have been able to identify only one of them!).
The sonata portion of the piece is excellent, reminding us of a Rossini overture in its forward movement and of Beethoven in the rhythmic displacement of the second theme group in the recapitulation. The piece is unpredictable yet highly unified and, as if providing us with his compositional credentials, Sor deals very skilfully with the transitions and other connective aspects of the form. The retransition, in particular, is elaborate and very clever.
The piece was published in 1828, shortly after Sor’s return to Paris from Russia, and was dedicated to his friend Dionisio Aguado. Sor performed the piece himself, most likely at his own benefit concert that year.
For those who may not be familiar with the piece, a copy of the original can be downloaded (legally) from the Danish Royal Library Website:
http://www2.kb.dk/elib/noder/rischel/RiBS0724.pdf
SY
(on a more personal note: on the single occasion that I heard Andres Segovia perform - at the very end of his career - he opened the concert with this piece, albeit the introduction and variations only)
I was once an avid performer on the five-course baroque guitar, both as a continuo player and as a soloist. Even my doctoral dissertation dealt with an aspect of this repertoire. I loved the music but didn’t like the instrument much. This music cannot be played on my instrument—a regular modern guitar.
Nevertheless, for years I’ve had a modified “modern-baroque guitar” laying around the house, which I play for my own amusement every now and again.
Only a small adjustment to a modern guitar is needed in order to “re-enter” the “re-entrant” world of this repertoire without resorting to wholesale modification to the original tablatures: replace the fourth string with a high e-string (tuned down to d) and replace the fifth string with a b-string tuned down to a. (Both of these should be hard-tension strings, since they’ll be played with the thumb.)
What about the sixth string? Strictly speaking, it’s unnecessary. Still, I have a regular fourth string there, in case I need it.
Any old guitar will do, but the better the guitar the better the results.
If Corbetta, de Viseé or Murcia were to hear this, I’m sure they’d surely abandon their unplayable, colorless, double-strung instruments in favor of this modern hybrid.
I’ll be presenting my recent impressions of this music on a re-strung modern instrument for the first half of my annual recital at the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music later this summer—Corbetta, de Viseé and Murcia…
I just returned from a concert trip to Romania (well, I returned over a month ago, actually) and feel I should offer a report.
This was my second trip to Romania in the past year and, once again, I was very impressed with the state of the classical guitar there.
I was invited to Bucharest to take part in what appears to me to be a quite unique event — the guitar festival sponsored by Romanian National Radio in which the performers give both a solo recital and a concerto performance with the National Radio Orchestra, both broadcast live over the radio.
My solo program included Bach (2 cello suites), Sor’s Fantaisie Elegaica and one of the newly discovered concert pieces by Giulio Regondi - Variations on a Theme by Bellini (which, I think, I gave the first modern performance of a couple of years ago).
For the concerto, I played the Doisy-Viotti Concerto (one of three early guitar concertos that I’ve prepared for publication with Chanterelle and which I’ll be recording next month - I gave the first modern performance of these at the GFA a few years ago).
For once, with the help of guest conductor Carmen Cerneci, the orchestra (a very fine orchestra) responded to at least some of my interpretive demands - a quite uncommon occurrence…
The concerto concerts in this festival are programmed in a very interesting way: a young up-coming Romanian guitarist performs one of the more manageable guitar concertos (on my concert, Bogdan Mihailescu gave a great performance of the tricky Vivaldi C-major concerto arranged by Pujol) followed by two concert players (along with myself Marcin Dylla, who gave an effortless performance of the Rodrigo Aranjuez concerto). The orchestra rounds off the program, in this case with the Prokofiev Sinfonia.
The concert, as with the others in the series, was sold out.
On the Sunday lunchtime, I was privileged once again to listen to a concert given by Romania’s youngest players. The standard of playing, as well as the presentation, is extremely high. The future of the guitar in Romania is very bright…
Over the week, I had a wonderful time. Only two concerts to give, a wonderful time in the city with my friend Mihai (a Bucharesti expert who gave me the best tour possible and introduced me to chopped-liver pastries), a wonderful hotel (the almost appropriately-named Hotel Opera) and, of course, many dinners with my good friend Liviu - the father of the Romanian guitar - and his wife Mariana.
I’ll be back in Romania later in the year and I can hardly wait…
It’s ironic (and I won’t say exactly why) that method books tend to be written by well-known performers and university teachers. They should of, course, be written by people who teach beginners.
Although I haven’t taught beginning students for over 25 years, at one time I taught an awful lot of them in the Liverpool private schools. 30-40 each week. To be honest, I don’t remember too much about it. But I do remember that the teaching materials available at that time didn’t seem to work terribly well and that each student had his or her own learning style, skill set, personality and reasons for wanting to learn the instrument.
Clearly, it’s impossible to write the perfect method book. Let’s say, arbitrarily, that there exists 4 learning styles, 4 skill sets, 4 personality types and 4 reasons for desiring to learn the guitar. This amounts already to 64 definable types of student. Add teacher-types to this—self-teachers, specialist classical guitar teachers, all-round guitar teachers, non-guitarist music teachers—and we begin to see the size of the problem.
Myriad, hypothetical, tailor-made method books are, of course, being created daily—by those who spend their teaching hours with beginning guitarists. But they are not written down and published. This, as it turns out, is currently my job—to combine, balance and condense all of this diversity into a meaningful, engaging, motivating, sequential stream of good, usable pedagogical information.
It’s impossible to write the perfect method book…
SY
Folks of my generation grew up in what might conservatively be described as “interesting times” - the 1960s and 70s. We have dim recollections of the Beatles’ “She Loves You,” the first heart transplant and the deaths of Winston Churchill and John F. Kennedy. We have clearer recollections of the moon landing and the deaths of Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Igor Stravinsky and Pablo Picasso. We have very clear recollections of the deaths of Jimi Hendrix, Elvis Presley and John Lennon. We remember the first color television sets, eight-track tape players and the first cassette tape recorders. We remember when computer programs came on hole-punched tape and the Internet was something no one could imagine they would ever use.
Despite all of this there was surely one event in particular that drew our attention, something we knew we would witness. In fact, we even knew how old we would be when the time came. 1984 came and passed without incident. So did January 1, 2000.
So, here we are, January 1, 2009. Of course, a few things have occurred since New Year’s Eve, 1999. But they’re not quite the kind of things I imagined as an eleven-year-old back in 1969.
In 1986 Reginald Smith Brindle told me that the classical guitar had just reached the “Paganini” stage of development, and he was right. In 20 years time, looking back, will we be able to recognize a year in which the classical guitar reached its musical stage of development (not to mention its artistic stage)?
I hope that we will be able to say, “Yes, it was 2009.”
Nevertheless, even though there are positive signs, I feel it will be yet another year…
SY
It goes, almost without saying, that we are not physical clones of one another. Within a basic common human anatomy small differences exist from individual to individual – the relative lengths of the fingers, the relative lengths of each phalanx within a finger, the lengths and attachment points of ligaments, elasticity, musculature, the degree of coordination between the fingers and between the two hands. Small differences also exist in the capabilities of the nervous system in general. In a scientific/anatomical sense I know less than nothing about these kinds of things, but as a musician I know that the hand positions and finger movements present in virtuosic playing differ from player to player. This is not only true of guitarists. It’s also true of virtuoso pianists and violinists.
Very fast playing, almost by definition, approaches a player’s physical limits and it’s at this point that anatomical and neural idiosyncrasies rise to the surface. It should therefore come as no surprise that the finger movements and hand positions of very fast players look a little different from one another (I wonder if they feel different from one another?). Each of these players has found an idiosyncratic way to achieve similarly excellent results, but at the point of virtuosity (or at the limits of anyone’s physical ability) technique is no longer prescriptive.
I do not believe that a unique “best method” exists for developing virtuosic playing. What do exist are methods for developing a foundation technique that will ultimately allow an individual to approach the maximum of their potential. By the same token, “methods” exist that can prevent a player from reaching their potential. While practice techniques exist that can help us reach our speed potential, there’s a degree of uncertainty built into the process. What is certain is that we will never reach our personal level of virtuosity if limitations have been built into our foundation technique.
Virtuoso players have discovered the “knack” or the “feel” of the thing. It’s a bit like learning to whistle or ride a bike (or to play a barre chord!) — ultimately we develop a feel for it simply through trying.
So, what is the best way to play fast?
SY
I’m in the middle of writing the second volume of the Mel Bay Classical Guitar Method—the first volume has been out for six months and I’m sure some students will have gotten through it already. Ideally, the entire series should have been published at the same time, but we don’t live in an ideal world…
I’ve been scouring my collection of 19th-century guitar methods for attractive, usable material (working on the first volume I wasn’t able to find any usable preexisting material - everything seemed to me far too difficult for the beginning stages of learning a new instrument). Wading through these old volumes again, it occurs to me that the primary purpose of many of these publications was not so much effective instrumental instruction as effective recruitment and retention — of recreational adult students and patrons.
Of the many dozens of guitar methods from the time, only a few are still around. Carcassi, Sor and Aguado are about it and, of these, two are of interest as historical-philosophical documents rather than as practical instruction books. Of course, as we all know, the Sor Methode isn’t a method book at all (in the sense of being something someone could learn to play the guitar from). But neither is Aguado’s Nueovo Metodo, despite the fact that it has all the appearances of being one (in reality, it’s an exhaustive exposition of Aguado’s guitaristic philosophy which, for my money, contains little of genuine use to a beginning guitarist).
The Carcassi Methode op. 59, on the other hand, is a book that could be used to teach a beginner (or near-beginner), though I’m sure most teachers today would agree that it has pedagogical gaps, especially for non-adult students. Of course, this is a book that has remained in print (in one form or another) for well over 150 years. And rightly so. It’s filled with attractive music and is organized in a no nonsense way with none of the “discussion” that characterizes the methods of Sor and Aguado.
Another early 19th-century didactic work, which although widely available is rarely thought of as a method, is Giuliani’s four-part Studio per la Chitarra Op.1. Here we are presented with what was surely the foundation of the great virtuoso’s approach to the instrument: 120 arpeggio patterns, 16 grueling interval studies for the left hand and a collection of short pieces (including a section dealing with ornamentation) which are fully fingered for both hands. There’s hardly any instructional text, but what we have here are the fingering systems employed by the most formidable guitarist-performer of his time.
What of the remaining “many dozens” of 19th-century guitar methods? There’s a bit of gold here.
The first crop were published toward the end of the 18th-century, for the five-string guitar; among them, Porro, Doisy, LeMoine, Moretti, LaBarre, Bailleux, Merchi, Pollet, Carpentier and others. The main point of business in all of these is right-hand arpeggio technique (and usually very little else). Some interesting techniques are presented which, although avoiding the right-hand ring finger, include interesting patterns that involve dragging (”glissing”) one or more of the remaining fingers across multiple strings. The musical portions of most of these methods present an almost endless series of variations on ubiquitous chord progressions such as the Folies d’Espana which cycle through a catalogue of right-hand arpeggio patterns. Nothing too inspiring for today’s beginning student however.
A real gem among these early methods is Charles Doisy’s Principes Generaux, published in 1801 with a dedication to no less a figure than Madame Bonaparte (later “Empress Josaphine” and a supporter of Giuliani). This is a most lavish volume which must have cost a small fortune to produce (paid for by its dedicatee?) and is a forerunner to the analytically enlightened methods of Sor and Aguado. While Doisy’s Principes is available from Minkoff Reprints in a modern facsimile reprint, what isn’t available is the large “Supplement” and “Second Part” that contain the actual music to be studied! The musical content of these sections far exceeds the interest level of other guitar methods of its time, and includes what seems to be the first appearance in the guitar literature of named “etudes” for the guitar. These consist of fairly extended fantasie-type study pieces whose multiple sections move through a quite extended range of modulations. The specific organizational scheme of the etudes by key area is also interesting:
No. 1 in c-minor
No. 2 in C-major
No. 3 in d-minor
No. 4 in D-major
No. 5 in e-minor
No. 6 in E-major
And so on through F-mi/maj, G-mi/maj, A-mi/maj and B-mi/maj.
Moving more fully into the 19th-century, we encounter a figure who must surely have been one of the most successful guitar teachers of his or any other time: Ferdinando Carulli. His Methode Complete Op. 27, published around 1811 is an enjoyable book to play through, containing very little text but lots of attractive pieces (the ones that tend to crop up in student repertoire books today, including my own). Things get involved quite quickly though—by p.48 Carulli has presented his “Rondo that exercises all the positions,” all 120 measures of it. Still, Op 27 has much to commend it, even beyond the attractiveness of the pieces, especially the somewhat innovative inclusion of the 25 very playable “Student-Master” duets that comprise part three of the method. And to finish: a “Grande Etude: modular arpeggio for all the keys and positions” — c.250 measures of surreal arpeggio and modulation hell (that I’d love to perform sometime!).
And there’s more Carulli to be mined. Much more. For example, “Second Suite” Op. 71 (a supplement to the Methode Complete consisting of extended arpeggio, slur and interval studies); “The First Year of Guitar Study” Op 192 (another supplement to the Methode Complete which includes an etude in octaves cast in a fully-developed sonata-allegro form); Op 241 (a remake of the Methode Complete in polyphonic notation in which Carulli has rethought his approach to right-hand fingering); “25 Useful and Agreeable Preludes” Op. 114 (great title!); “25 Pieces” Op 121, and the several large “Recueils” of student pieces.
The Carcassi we all know and love should probably appear next in this survey, but I’d like instead to mention two methods by Francois Molino: Grand Methode Complete, Op. 33 and Nouvelle Methode. The first of these is an elaborate effort, quite lavishly produced and includes numerous attractive pieces in the form of easy to play quasi-concert miniatures replete with miniature cadenzas. The Nouvelle Methode simplifies things further but without ever sacrificing musical attractiveness. Molino, being a violinist and Capellmeister, was one of the more musically adept of the early 19th-century guitarists and it’s a pity that his concert works for the guitar are relatively few. There’s real quality here.
Moving into the later part of the century, Mertz’ Guitarre Schule is a bit of a let down, especially in light of the musical attractiveness of the easy pieces in such collections as Bardenklange and the large recreational panoramic set of 136 “popular songs from diverse countries,” published as KuKuk (”Cuckoo”). The right-hand alternation exercises are interesting though. Legnani’s method is equally disappointing—it contains hardly any music (though we do at least have his high-quality etudes, published as 36 Capricci, Op 20). Napolean Coste’s revision of the Sor method, on the other hand, is a clever and practical effort. The approach to left-hand fingering and shifting presented by Coste is particularly interesting and the music itself is unvaryingly attractive. Was all of it written by his teacher, Sor? I rather doubt it.
Moving on to the end of the century, I’d like to mention two methods that are stacked with attractive music: those by the blind Spanish/Argentine guitarist Antonio Gimenez Manjon and the British vaudvillian Ernest Shand. And, why not, the large scale method of American Justin Holland (although it is largely a collection of studies by Carulli and others).
Once out of the 19th century things change. The 3-volume method of Pascual Roch and the 4-volume method of Emilio Pujol, both based first-hand on the technical and pedagogical systems of their teacher Francisco Tarrega, present something that is intended not for recreational use but for mastery. The process employed is clinical, consisting of months, even years, of abstract finger training. Almost all of the music is advanced, even virtuosic.
In contrast, Argentine Julio Sagreras’ multi-volume method, also dedicated (though second-hand) to the “School of Tarrega,” reminds us of the methods of Carulli and Carcassi with it’s endless procession of attractive pieces. But we’re all familiar with the Sagreras method.
Not all of the methods I’ve touched upon here are easy to get hold of. Some of them can be downloaded from the digital libraries in Sweden (Boije) and Copenhagen (RIBs). Others can be ordered from IGRA (International Guitar Research Archive) at Northridge State University. All three volumes of Roch’s interesting exposé of the “Tarrega method” can be downloaded from the Eastman School of Music digital library. Most are worth a look and many are deserving of a modern edition, at least of their musical content.
Where does all this leave me and book 2 of the Mel Bay Classical Guitar Method? Still writing most of it myself I’m afraid…
SY
