CHAMPS-ELYSEES

A Legendary Theatre

India, Iran, Iraq, Jordan, Cyprus... I'm almost at my destination: Paris. There, I meet Marcel Marceau, who has just created an act set against a backdrop of guitar music. ("La Robe").

In return, he helps me to arrange for a recital performed at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées. The acoustics of this historic place are excellent, although better suited to piano or violin. For a greater reverberation would indeed be harmful to the short, fleeting notes of those instruments. Moreover, their ample volume easily fills the entire room. Guitar, on the other hand, is quite different. Its sounds are softer and more subtle. It's necessary to play in a setting which amplifies it. A guitarist's playing is lighter and more fluid when the notes are extended via natural acoustics. Flat acoustics, on the other hand, tend to oblige him to "shorten" the notes. Every room has its own distinct acoustics, which may even vary according to weather or atmosphere. Some music halls tend to highlight and maximize the guitar's potential (Tully Hall in New York, Grand Philharmonic in Leningrad, Cecilia Mereiles in Rio, Wigmore Hall in London, etc.), while others don't do it justice (Avery Fisher in New York, the Cape Town opera, or the Salle Pleyel in Paris). This is not a minor detail, however: give me good acoustics, and I'll conquer the world

Here, a greater degree of reverberation would therefore be a welcome addition. Electronic amplifiers are out of the question, and not only because, for the time being, the tone becomes distorted and loses its purity, but also because the absence of artificial means enhances the instrument's illusionary and evocative qualities. One has to be careful not to spoil the mystery with a microphone. Pulling down the metallic fireguard curtain seems to be the best means available to reflect the sound ... upon reflection. It will be up to the lighting technician's to work magic in order to divert attention away from this not-very-aesthetic backdrop.

*******

Even if an impulse towards a certain instrument does not need explanation, I understand now why the guitar is a very peculiar instrument. If you'll recall, there are three distinct aspects of a musical note: on one hand, there is its range (A, B, C...); on the other hand its dynamics (Forte, Piano, Crescendo...), and finally its timber.

Some instruments vary chiefly in terms of range, while the dynamics and tone remain the same. Take the harpsichord, for example. It is impossible to vary the "colour" of the notes. Striking a key harder doesn't change the dynamics in the least. Therefore, a great deal of skill is required on the part of harpsichordists in order to produce the glorious music which we are all familiar with.

In the case of the piano, however, the harder one hits the ivory, the louder the notes become. Timber remains the same, however, even if the technique of some gifted pianists occasionally makes it possible to transcend the instrument's nature.

With woodwind and string instruments, meanwhile, it's possible to control the timber, depending on how the musician blows into and holds them.

The guitar brings all three of those characteristics together, even if, rather than being scratched, struck, or blown into, it is plucked. In addition, by allowing several melodic notes to overlap, it lends itself to polyphonic sounds. In this respect, it is similar to the harp or the organ, except that rather than being coiled up against its partner, it nests near the heart and against the womb...

*******

The president of Musidisc, a record company, attended the recital. He offers me the chance to make a record for his label. This would lead to the "Colours of the Guitar" series. This time, however, I adamantly insist on approving the cover before it is released...

Regardless of my reservations concerning studio recordings, I lack the resolve to stop making them, unlike Glenn Gould, who decided to stop performing live.

This man, whom I met in Toronto, nevertheless tried to convince me of the pleasures of recording music. "Think of it as a mutual theorem" he says to me. "One merely skips right to the conclusion- the musical end product". Thus, it is with lots of post-its and plenty of patience that one gradually inserts a more personal and emotional energy into the music, one component at a time.

Years later, when I watched his famous television series, entitled "The Art the Fugue", in which he appears with Bruno Montsaingeon, I would indeed be highly moved by the two men's verve and "you want it, you got it" improvisations. A masterpiece of spontaneity. This sometimes involved tentativeness, mistakes, and false leads. Fascinating conversations concerning music, science, and philosophy were also included in the programme.

No less than seven years of hard work and rigorous compiling would be needed to reach this light and "improvised" playing style, Montsaingeon later admitted to me..

All of those imitations, faces frowning in concentration, mischievous smiles, stammering, awkward moments of tentativeness and hesitation, and bons mots were planned, written, and then filmed! !

Speaking of beautiful "editing", Glen Gould's funeral in Toronto was unforgettable. Jews, Catholics, and  Protestants all paid tribute to him in the cathedral. After each prayer, a musician friend of the deceased would play a piece of music. At the end of the service, gigantic loudspeakers broadcast the "Goldberg Variations", which had just been completed.

Inspired by the master's recordings, I decide to make every effort to keep the record company happy. Very quickly, however, my nature resurfaced, and I would either record my music out of the studios or in concert.