Review Summary: Even if you don’t play, the Estudios Sencillos are a kick-ass listening experience. Any fan of rock or jazz or the guitar in general will find the same.
The Classical Guitar. No. 2
The 19th century witnessed an explosion of interest in the didactic music of Baroque master Johann Sebastian Bach, especially in his preludes and fugues of the
Well-Tempered Clavier. Pianists up and down the line wished to combine the didacticism of Bach with the poeticism of the Classical and Romantic eras. Thus, the Etude (study) was born. These etudes varied extensively in quality and quantity. On one end of the spectrum you have study pieces like Liszt’s Transcendental Etudes which aren’t really etudes but fully fledged,
extremely difficult, formally rigorous concert pieces the purpose of which are to demonstrate high art in study music. On the other end of the spectrum you have heaps of
methodes designed solely to increase manual dexterity through a series of increasingly difficult technical exercises. A common refrain from the period was, “the heart cannot express what the hands cannot do.” An example of this kind of study music would be Beethoven disciple Carl Czerny’s School of Velocity, Op. 299.
Study music was not relegated to the piano. No sir. Etudes and
methodes were written for every instrument from the violin to the double bass to the classical guitar, and in the latter the two genres firmly saturated the market. Last time we looked at Tarrega’s uber-famous (for some reason) tremolo study,
Recuerdos de la Alhambra. So important is study music to the classical guitar that much, and this is not an exaggeration, of the modern repertoire revolves around the etudes and
Methodes of a handful of composers. These
Methodes range from bad like Ferdinando Carulli’s Op. 27 which are little more than salon music, to great like Matteo Carcassi’s intermediate Op. 60, to wonderful like Villa Lobos’ Douze etudes which are intellectually rigorous, emotionally mature, and mechanically demanding.
And then there’s Leo Brouwer’s Estudios Sencillos I-XX. In my last review, I said that the classical guitar repertoire contains some
absolute gems. Well, Brouwer not only wrote more than one of these gems, Estudios Sencillos included, but is himself one of the only gems in the composer category for the classical guitar, (I would add Heitor Villa Lobos and Roland Dyens to this list.) By this I mean that damn near everything the guy does—he is still alive—is golden. Born in 1931 in Cuba, Brouwer is part of a long line of Spanish/Latin folk writers (going back to Tarrega) for the instrument, and the Estudios Sencillos continues this rich tradition.
To understand Brouwer’s genius it’s paramount to understand one of the main reasons why the classical guitar has such a rich folk history: the sonority deficiency of the instrument. The sad truth is that the guitar wants to be the piano. Both are “complete” instruments in that they can play harmony
and melody unlike a violin or flute or tuba or whatever. But as opposed to the piano which has eighty-eight strings, the guitar has a mere six. The guitar, then, is seriously handicapped; there are only so many practical keys and harmonies on a six-stringed instrument. The guitar can go far down the sharped side of the circle of fifths: C, G, D, A, E, and B, however you won’t see much set in the relative minors of Amaj and beyond. As far as the flatted side of the circle of fifths goes, the guitar is much, much weaker. F/Dm for sure, but not much else at all. In effect, there are only seven easy keys out of a total of twenty-four to play in on the classical guitar: C/Am, G/Em, D, A, and E.
Just like the luthiers and guitarists that found ways to overcome the volume deficiency of the instrument, composers found ways to overcome the sonority deficiency, and one of these ways is the setting of folk music. Since folk tunes aren’t bothered with finding themselves in abstruse keys, the classical guitar lends itself particularly well to the setting of folk, and the Estudios Sencillos uses folk to capitalize on this deficiency. Estudio I, for example, is a thumb study that succeeds in combining technicality, feeling, and folkish aesthetic. The study is not based off a folk tune, per se, none of them are, but it’s overall feeling is decidedly Latin American in its syncopated attacks, (1-4-2-3-1-3-4-2-4-1) and in what I like to call its “non” harmonies, chords that serve color rather than progression. To reiterate, writing chord progressions in exotic keys is not possible on the classical guitar, but Brouwer’s stylistic “non” harmonies provide tension, movement, and return the same way an exotic sonata-form does.
Taking the process a step further, Brouwer often leaves the key of the Sencillos harmonically ambiguous therefore circumventing the sonority deficiently of the instrument. Estudio II is a chord study set in a chorale. The first two chords certainly aren’t triads, they’re more some kind of concoction between a sus2 and weird power chord with a leading tone. A pianist wouldn’t necessarily be forced into writing these chords, but Brouwer was. Whatever they are, they’re very “open”. Traditional harmony is all based on the relationship thirds have with each other. This makes no difference to you if you aren’t a music theorist, but you will certainly realize it when the thirds aren’t present. In effect, the chorale, with its avoidance of thirds, produces a serene, non-tethered dreamy atmosphere all the while instilling in the student proper hand and finger placement, volume, and feeling. I-XX, in fact, all utilize these basic avoidances of and flirtations with traditional harmony lending to them an exquisitely unique Brouwerian idiom, one that shines throughout his corpus. A true gem indeed.
Estudio III illustrates just how ridiculous it is that Tarrega’s
Recuerdos is the most popular classical guitar piece. III is a right-hand study, not in tremolo, but in rapid thumb (p), middle (m), and index (i) attack. Just like in
Recuerdos, the tempo and attack are the same in each measure. The procedure is not any different than
Recuerdos, and hundreds of these exact same kinds of pieces have been written. They’re simple, they’re cool, and I like them, but they certainly do not merit the kind of rabid attention they get. Formulaically,
Recuerdos is no better than III and vice versa. But III makes no illusions about being high art; it grabs your attention, makes you go “wow!”, and moves on.
Recuerdos languishes in its romanticism, and frankly, III is waaay cooler.
One of the main musical aspects that contrasts the guitar with the piano is its rhythms. Piano rhythms tend to feel more regular even if they are heavily syncopated. Guitar rhythms can be quirky and fun in a way that the piano’s rhythms typically are not. This, again, probably has something to do with the guitar’s sonority deficiencies and the creative responses to them, and Brouwer is a master at demonstrating just how harmonically
and rhythmically versatile the guitar can be. Estudio V is a beautiful example. It’s another right-hand study that this time focuses on two different sequences p-i-a-m-i and p-m-i-p-m-i. But it’s the rhythm man, the rhythm that makes you fall in love with the piece. You’re probably thinking that V is highly energetic. It isn’t. You feel more like you are breathing in deeper and deeper sighs with each measure taking you over higher and higher mountains. Combine this with Brouwer’s unique sense of harmony and you’ve got one of the most beautiful pieces in the set.
V isn’t the only piece that feels its weight in rhythm. They all do. There’s an emphasis on dance throughout all the Sencillos, something missing in 19th century
methodes, and you certainly feel dance in VI, another right-hand study this time in 3/4. So far, VI is the most technically difficult for it asks the student to cultivate the longest sequence yet: p-a-m-i-a-m-i-p-a-m-i-p. As you can see, the first and last of the sequence are struck with the thumb. This not only instills in the student a very important right-hand mechanism, but lets the music sway back and forth. You must hear it. Although the tempo is left unmarked, it should move at least at an allegro pace. Here, again, Brouwer utilizes “non” harmonies for color and emphasizes a simple bassline that walks the left hand down the fretboard from a-e in the treble and then again in the bass.
By now you should have a feel for what Brouwer is doing harmonically and rhythmically. All XX are written in this idiom, so it would be a bit academic to keep pointing it out in each individual piece. So, let what I’m about to say about Brouwer’s idiom serve for those remaining: it’s pretty fu*king cool. Now, as we go along I will highlight the technical aspect of each piece and its feel. VII is a dashing speed study, Lo mas rapido posible, that asks the student to build right-hand left-hand coordination in a single line which emphasizes hammered on and pulled off slurs. VIII is a study in two-part contrapuntal harmony which requires that the student separate the lines rather than sound them as if they are one even though they are pulsed on the same beat. It’s interrupted by a p-i-m study that asks the student to emphasize a bass line with the same shape as the contrapuncti before it, only now the pupil must separate it from rapid right hand arpeggiation.
IX is certainly the most sophisticated of the first X. It asks the student to combine each of the previously studied mechanisms into one piece: speed, slurs, rapidity in the right hand, left hand shapes, dance rhythms, and the separation of lines. Its sonorities are bright and it even has a bit of a pastoral feel. X closes out the first set—the two sets were written ten years apart, the first in ‘73, the latter in ‘83. By now Brouwer is morphing the studies into sophisticated pieces that take for granted that the student has acquired the skills set forth in the previous I-IX. Brouwer is now asking the student to develop musicality, and X sees if the student can articulate phrasing through crescendos, sforzandos, legato, staccato, and strategic rests. Should the student succeed, s/he is ready to move on to the second set.
XI-XX are a little over 3x the size of I-X. Each one not only asks of the student what IX and X asked of him/her in the previous set, musicality, but also focuses on more sophisticated technical aspects,
and each piece is writ large. There’s a particular emphasis on “legato”, the technique of making sure that there is no silence between notes throughout the second set. XI focuses on dotted right hand arpeggiaion in fixed positions, but is interrupted by a serene walk through the trees in diminution. XII asks the student to work on letting one chord dissolve into the next, in other words to not accidently mute strings. Naturally, we move at a slower, more tranquil pace. This study is particularly nice for Brouwer’s “non” harmonies beautifully overlap; their waves are only so physically different from one another, and as one fades the next one breathes effecting an ocean of sound.
XIII doesn’t ask anything new of the student, in this case fixed position slurred legato, but only that the student to develop more strength in the fingers. It’s a taught, moving little piece that will keep your head bobbing. XIV is similar in all ways to XIII except for one, the emphasis on the thumb as melody producer
XV is a sophisticated three note chord study. Since chords ask you to attack all their notes at once, the guitarist is required to develop simultaneous right-hand knuckle movement. It’s not as easy as it sounds. The ligaments and muscles in the hands and fingers are tiny, and targeting them requires
a lot of patience and perseverance. It would be like trying to strengthen the muscles in your toes. How much patience might you have for that？ Also, consider that no finger is the same size, you must thus angle your hand in precisely the right way so that each note of the chord will be struck simultaneously. This becomes even more difficult if you are asked to separate one note from the others as is very often the case.
XVI, XVII, and XVIII are studies in ornaments. The former asks the student to develop left hand dexterity through legato slurs over a sparse melody, the middle to do the same over barred chords which is very difficult as you must have your middle and ring finger act freely while your index finger is firmly pressed down along the fretboard, and the latter to do the same in rapid p-i-m action.
XIX and XX are the bees’ knees. They are almost always played together without a pause, and they require the culmination of all the previously acquired skills. More importantly, they demonstrate something not previously asked for in the first I-XVIII: virtuosity, and Brouwer’s virtuosity is worth its weight in gold. In other words, Brouwer’s virtuosity is composed with compositional and poetic merit, without pretension, and stands above many of those who have been able to accomplish the same in their guitar music.
XIX-XX are quick moving and buoyant pieces that oscillate between two chromatically related chords. We begin with a chord study in four-notes in 3/4. Of course, the chords are very Brouwerian. Brouwer writes the first two chords in fourths and fifths, rather than thirds, (in this case G,D,A,B and E,A,D). We immediately notice the syncopation in measures three and four with sforzandos on non-strong beats as opposed measures one-two with sforzands on beat one. For good measure Brouwer throws in slurs that require the left hand to full bar up the neck before returning to the original theme. It turns out that XIX is a bit of a prelude to XX. Both pieces use the same theme. But it’s XX’s middle section that requires tremendous virtuosity. It’s written in the weirdest rhythmic notation I’ve ever seen. The first half of the middle section utilizes seven cells of increasingly difficult, extremely
rapido single-line figurations. I say cells because each unit can be repeated as many time as the performer likes. Moreover, each cell gets progressively longer; no two units are the same length so the pulse is different for each unit. The second half is another seven cells that also work their way up in difficulty and length before ending on a rapid E-minor pentatonic descent.
The Estudios Sencillos are essential for any classical guitarist, not only for their pedagogic worth but also for their poetic merit, and the classical guitar community is right to teach them to every new student. I-XX are examples of both study music and 20th century music done right. But even if you don’t play, the Estudios Sencillos are a pretty kick-ass listening experience. Any fan of rock or jazz or the guitar in general will find the same.
