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发表于 2004-12-11 23:20:00
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文章：塞戈维亚的教学
First published in the EGTA Guitar Journal no.4 (July 1993)
View or download a PDF file of this article (5 pages, 60 K)
IT IS HARD TO BELIEVE that six years have now passed since the greatest exponent of the classical guitar, Andrés Segovia, died. There seems almost automatically to be a reaction when a giant in any particular field passes away, and the public’s opinion wanes for a time, perhaps even for many decades or longer. Now that some of the bluster has died down (and to coincide with the Maestro’s centenary), this seemed a suitable time to try and evaluate his teaching skills, the majority of his work being done in Siena, Italy, and later Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain.
Segovia’s playing is of course immediately recognisable, and we are indeed fortunate to have so much of his material available in recorded form. Variety of tone colour, vibrato and rubato were his hallmarks, and for those who saw him in concert, his tremendous stage presence – dignified, humble, and charismatic – a truly great artist.
To be invited to play in master classes given by Segovia was, to say the least, an interesting experience. In a recital situation one saw him as a distant, commanding figure, but one who was perhaps always the servant of the public. To be suddenly there in front of him, playing, surrounded by some of the world’s best talent, was quite terrifying, as though you were trespassing in a very rarefied area, part of an enclave for those few minutes of agony which would determine whether or not Segovia accepted you as a worthwhile student for encouragement and guidance, or relegated you to the large shaking masses of no-hopers.
These days the whole style and conduct of master classes has changed considerably. How many times have you witnessed the following? As the clock nears the hour signifying the commencement of the class, a hush descends on the packed and stifling room. Among the sixty or seventy people gathered there are a number of faces one recognises from record covers – Ghiglia, Lorimer, Fierens, Barbosa Lima, Evangelos and Lisa, Parkening. Other faces obviously belong to members of the audience, for they are relaxed, happy and full of anticipation of what is shortly to take place.
One or two of the young first-timers even have their guitars out, flashily going through a section of some incredibly difficult piece. But they quickly realise that the atmosphere has changed, as though before a great electrical storm, for the Great Man is on his way. This is Santiago de Compostela and the first of the 1968 master classes by Segovia. He had arrived at breakfast time on the overnight train, and it had been uncertain if today’s class would take place. But obviously the Maestro had been able to rest and now in the late afternoon on a gloriously sunny day we all wait, tense, nervous and apprehensive.
The silence in the room grows in intensity. Suddenly Segovia appears at the entrance, walking slowly and relaxed. Almost as one, everybody stands. In silence Segovia makes his way through a hastily cleared route to his ornate chair. Having seated himself and instructed us to do the same, several moments of greeting follow for some of those he recognises. Segovia then speaks to the class in Spanish and refers to the set works for study at this year’s school – Tansman’s Cavatina (complete with Danza Pomposa) and Suite Compostelana by Mompou. Both composers are in attendance this year as well as Moreno Torroba (general rise in tension in the room).
Eventually the first player is called forward and plays through a movement from one of the set works. The performance has not been without its problems but Segovia is pleased mostly and the student, sweating profusely, retires to his seat. This format continues for a while and it becomes evident that Segovia is using this first session mainly to judge the standard of any new students. The comments are complimentary, helpful, tactful and encouraging, although should a passage of indifferent fingering or whatever come up, he makes suggestions for improvements.
Next day the class begins with a lengthy lecture by Segovia on the set works and we all have to take down corrections to the printed score. For those with little or no Spanish this is not always easy and there is much checking and double checking with one’s neighbours to get every detail correct. Heaven help anybody who plays in the class without attention to these points! This in fact is the first hint of what will happen as any wildly differing interpretation is incongruous here. Segovia knows these scores inside out and as a back-up, the composers are usually sitting in on the classes.
One problem with having set works, beautiful though they are, is that they come up an awful lot in the sessions. After a few days things become a little predictable at times. There are, however, other works played – Falla, Turina, Ponce, Sor, Bach, etc – and some classes are incredibly varied.
It has been noticed that Segovia never brings his own guitar along to the class but prefers to borrow an instrument from one of the participants, usually Oscar Ghiglia’s lovely Ramirez. Also he does not play in the normal position but often holds the guitar like a flamenco player, high up on the right thigh. It is some time before he demonstrates anything in the class, perhaps at the end of the first session or on the second day. But the piece, Tansman’s Danza Pomposa, sticks in the memory, and whoever the student was, he is having real trouble getting it to work.
Segovia asks for Ghiglia’s guitar, which is reverently passed up. The Maestro first explains the need for absolute clarity and power on the opening four chords with particular attention to the third, which is positioned higher up the fingerboard. On this chord the balancing is more critical and the player must make a subtle adjustment in the placement of the right hand to accommodate this. Segovia demonstrates and a gasp of astonishment passes round the room. The sound is exactly as on the record – majestic, powerful, incisive. Segovia now asks the student to repeat this several times before it is satisfactory.
Moving on, Segovia insists on a slight crescendo in the scale in bar 4, with due care once again on the chords which follow. At bar 6 a balance problem occurs for it appears that the music should become more delicate at this point before the crescendo bar (Segovia demonstrates). In the passage after this, there is interplay between the D sharps and the Es. Here we must not forget about the underlying chords which are extremely beautiful and delicate, the whole thing leading up to the octave leap on the Bs. Take a breathing space on the high B and then ensure the counterpoint is played, the predominant voice being the tenor with its upward leap of a fourth. The top voice can be touched in lightly (demonstrates).
At bar 17 there is another octave leap with an inversion of the parts in the subsequent passage – here the top voice must sing out. At the end of bar 20, a small degree of rallentando is good, so making the re-entry of the chords even more majestic and pompous. Coming to the end on the first time, the music must be carefully shaped to indicate the close of a section but not so much as at the very end (demonstrates).
The fughetta section causes particular problems and it takes some time before Segovia is happy with the first note. This is marked staccato but must be executed carefully with not too much accentuation, the following notes being rich and smooth but not too heavy. Bar 2 should be kept light, with a touch more weight in bar 3. (Here Segovia demonstrates once more and insists the student repeats it until correct!)
The next section is quite complex and made difficult by the many slurs. Segovia explains to the class the importance of a strong clear slur technique, showing how he does them. This passage ends with a minim chord of G sharp major coming after a couple of bars of crescendo. Immediately the music changes again to a soft, honeyed sound after this, with luscious tone on the second string (and here the Maestro’s tone is ravishing), with a build up towards the octave leap on the G sharps. The remainder of the section is a charming descending sequence which leads into the repeat of the first part once again.
Segovia’s method of teaching is often by demonstration and the points he outlined verbally are seldom repeated – once should be enough. His way is to speak confidentially to the student, only addressing the class if a particular point needs further discussion or explanation. It is rather a question that students observing the class should pick up whatever Segovia’s intentions are through his playing of a passage, especially as he does not always explain note by note what he wants.
In Mompou’s Suite Compostelana, the third movement, Cuna, has a seemingly straightforward opening of a crotchet up-beat followed by a triplet quaver group, and then another crotchet. The first of the triplets forms part of the upper melody and is therefore held. If this is played as it appears on the score it sounds rather tame. Segovia insisted on the up-beat not being rushed but flowing smoothly onto the first of the triplets. This group was then played very slightly quicker, giving it a lightness and forward movement leading to the second crotchet. This wonderful rubato was difficult to match immediately but with practice made the piece so much more interesting as this rhythmic idea goes on for much of the movement. Segovia would colour the up-beats with superb vibrato and subtle variation of attack, compensating for the rise and fall of the melodic line along the string.
Being able to observe Segovia’s playing at such close range was indeed a revelation, for the impression received was that of complete relaxation, the hands (and particularly the right hand) hardly seeming to move. The left hand was, for a big man with heavy hands, extremely delicate, with little unnecessary movement and just sufficient pressure to hold the strings down. There never seemed to be any strain. Vibrato was by this time slower than on the early recordings made before the war and executed with the thumb either on or off the guitar neck. Lateral vibrato, pulling the string sideways, was also used, especially on notes in the first position, or above the twelfth fret. As Segovia explained, the conventional technique in those places is not so effective.
Segovia’s right hand was a miracle. One day in the class, during discussion of a particularly lovely slow piece, one student asked how he achieved his wonderful sound. From just watching at a range of perhaps five yards, the right hand seemed hardly to move. Only in louder passages with strident chords or whatever did Segovia allow any noticeable movement off the string. On this occasion he began to tell the class of the need for perfect nails, just the correct length and shape to allow subtle angling when attacking the string. Here he began to demonstrate different tone colours, at which point the majority of the students eagerly moved forward, many sitting immediately on the floor in front of Segovia, and others lying full length looking up at his right hand to see in minute detail. It was an extraordinary occurrence where the disciples were literally at the master’s feet.
In terms of the Segovia sound, we should not forget when these classes took place and that he was still very much at the height of his powers. The sound produced was strong, firm, clear, with a vast range of colour and all seemingly effortless. For those critics of Segovia who say he overdid the effects and colour, please remember the period in which his career was developing and also the generally accepted style of performance at that time. When composers such as Castelnuovo-Tedesco, Turina, Ponce, etc, were producing these wonderful pieces for him, that was the style of performance. This style, appropriate to a specific period, will eventually become recognised just as Baroque or Classical periods are today. Even now there are a few orchestras going back to using gut strings for the authentic string sound in Brahms and Elgar, as well as putting back some of the slides found in performances of the day.
Perhaps the most criticism has been directed at Segovia through his interpretation of composers such as Dowland and Bach. Once again, however, the comment in the previous paragraph applies. Segovia was not really able to incorporate changes in style which came about through in-depth research over the past twenty or thirty years. Segovia performed in a style considered appropriate in his time. His teaching of the early masters was always carried out with tremendous conviction, enthusiasm and love of the music. Even some recordings from other guitarists made in the 1960s (especially of composers such as Bach) may sound rather straight to our ears today. But with Segovia we are going back even further to an interpretative style of three or four decades ago.
The mood in Segovia’s classes was highly varied. It was not always the nail-biting, white knuckle tension described earlier, although on two occasions students were summarily dismissed in the middle of a piece because no apparent effort was being made to achieve the correct sound or style. There were moments of humour when Segovia would take the guitar and with the head of the instrument push the student’s right hand into a better position. Once an over eager participant fell off his chair while playing; Segovia’s comment was, ‘You do not need to pray in here!’
It should be mentioned that Segovia’s way of teaching did not suit everybody. Once or twice an argument occurred, usually about interpretation. But for things to have got that far meant that Segovia was in no way going to agree with an idea so radically different from his own. This is not to suggest that he would be intolerant of other ideas if they seemed musically satisfying and well thought out. But it was when things became altered to a point where the character of the music was distorted that he would then disagree and even lose his temper.
Perhaps in more recent times master classes and workshops are viewed by the participant as a means of finding out what is right or wrong with one’s playing. Twenty-five years ago we went to discover and understand a great guitarist’s approach to certain works. We must not forget the link with the composers who wrote for Segovia in the first half of this century. Through having worked on these pieces with the composers very often, he could convey the meaning and poetry of this beautiful repertoire.
One criticism of Segovia’s teaching style was that not enough was actually explained. Today, in our computer age, this is sometimes stated even more forcibly. Segovia was certainly not going to sit there and spoon-feed students – to hear him play a short passage once or twice in the class was usually enough to give us the information we wanted. You watched and listened, you made notes, and then you went away, thought about it, and worked!
Sadly, very little film is available in the United Kingdom of these historic classes although many hours of footage are stored and may be purchased in the United States on video. The problem is that they have a different video system and to transfer to the European video is expensive. But it is hoped that if enough interest is shown here, we may eventually be able to look back at these marvellous times and continue to learn from the master.
Copyright © 1993 by John Mills |
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