Posted by blk1 on 13th February 2008
And to think, I almost missed it. Tuvia is the one who reminded me that we had tickets for the event last Sunday. Sure, it was on my calendar but with our return home from Tucson, I just wasn’t seeing it right in front of me.
I also forgot that we had seats in the front row center so I could watch fingers unobstructed, moving up and down the guitar fret boards. Fingers of the masters, for whom guitars are body parts.
Brazilian Guitar Masters hosted by the Assad brothers, Sergio and Odar, a duo I began listening to before I ever imagined owning my own guitar, let alone playing music they play. Once with my brother, I saw them in the heat of July at an outdoor concert at Caramoor Music Center in Westchester, play as if they were playing under the most optimal conditions. Their crisp white shirts originally billowing in the breeze soon deflated from the humidity, hugging their bodies in sweat and still they played on and on and the audience couldn’t get up out of their seats fast enough to beg for more. They were young and new then to America and I was a general fan of the guitar.
In the last 7 years, as my own guitar adventure progresses, they have taken center stage on my Ipod. Their playlist increases as I see them often in a variety of concert halls and appreciate them more intimately. On Sunday, as Sergio shifted his chair on the stage, for a better view of his brother, he inadvertently, got a better view of me in his vantage point and we did share eye contact and a smile or two. YES!
As they completed their set, Sergio promised us quite confidently, that we were in for an afternoon of their favorite Brazilian guitarists, and all brilliant. The audience was skeptical but open and sure enough each musician measured up.
Fábio Zanon was the ultimate classical guitarist who works for the most beautiful sound from his guitar simply. Well dressed, groomed and sleek in his look. He is there to perform simple with his guitar. That’s all and that’s enough. Just a moment to shut your eyes and move with your soul.
He was followed by the wild and innovative Arthur Kampela, who performs for the sounds of the guitar, the strings, the chairs, everything around him. He was on just enough. A few of his compositions and we got the idea.
Finally the youngest put in the last space because no one else wanted to follow him. Yamandú Costa . He walked out in crumpled white linen, sat down crossed his legs, closed his eyes, began to whistle as he warmed to the house, tuned a string or two and then…silence…a breath…and then…HE WENT CRAZY! We understood!
All the way home I itched to continue the concert. I itched to get my hands on my own guitar. I itched to hold on to this moment with downloads from Itunes. And yes, Itunes had music from all of these artists. I filled a new new Ipod playlist with music from each performer, well, expect Arthur. And if I were selfish, I would have pushed Tuvia to stay for part 2 of the marathon ,but no, he had given me all he could. I would have to wait for more.
I can’t live without music, can you?