Alexandre Lagoya

I was eight.

When I started to play, I didn’t know anything of the guitar world, or any guitarists. and I lived in a country which didn’t have much contact with Europe or the outside world. After giving my first recital, I heard a Segovia record for the first time, which greatly impressed me. But unlike many guitarists who discovered the guitar, as it were, through Segovia, I already knew the instrument—although I certainly passed a great deal of my youth under Segovia’s influence. I think all guitarists undergo the same thing: you are influenced at the start; and then with time, age and the knowledge of music, little by little your own personality asserts itself and you grow away from outside influences.

Afterwards I likewise heard records of Ida Presti, for whom I developed an immense admiration and interest. And so all alone, you see, I continued to follow my little career; but as an amateur, because my father wanted me to pursue my studies. And all the while I was at school I played the guitar—you could say it was a period when people were very much occupied with everything and with life in general. I played a lot of sport, I was interested in a lot of things.

Until the day I decided to dedicate myself solely to the guitar, and I finished my college studies at 17 or 18 and came to Europe; after having given four or five hundred concerts already in Egypt and that part of the world.

When I reached France—I was 19 or 20—I met Ida Presti, with whom I had previously been corresponding. After I heard her, we became at first very good friends. We saw each other often, and we played the guitar together to amuse ourselves.

Then one day, things took another turn, and she became my wife.

Because at that time, the guitar wasn’t very well known, and the record companies didn’t attach much importance to it. We made six discs on Philips and two others on RCA in Paris, plus two for Elektra in New York³. You couldn’t get the records outside because Philips didn’t have a lot of power in foreign countries. (Incidentally, that’s why I haven’t been with Philips for some time.)

I’ve just signed a contract with CBS International in New York, and I’ve made some records for them. There’s an album that will be out shortly with the English Chamber Orchestra under the direction of Jean-Pierre Rampal, on which I play concertos by Vivaldi and Carulli. And there’s another coming out, I think in November, with the London Symphony Orchestra under Michel Legrand. It’s a record of Christmas music for flute, guitar and orchestra, with Rampal on flute. Also coming out will be a solo album consisting of Themes and Variations, by Sor, Carulli, Carcassi, Giuliani and Handel.

Yes, because Claude Bolling had a contract with RCA, and then when I joined CBS Claude Bolling cancelled that contract and made another with CBS in New York. So CBS was very interested in this record, and they’re producing a new edition which will come out in January [1982]. This will include a new movement which wasn’t in the first one, and we’ve also recorded the Picnic Suite with Jean-Pierre Rampal.

But where were we?

Yes. So after we created the Duo, a lot of composers wrote for us. And when we gave our first concert at the Wigmore Hall—no, it was the Town Hall in New York—Segovia was in the audience. The next day, Segovia telephoned to tell me “After your recital I was so impressed that I walked the streets of New York all night thinking about it. So, with your permission, I will give you my public blessing and write an article about you; and further, this morning I’ll post a letter to friend Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco who is in Los Angeles, and when you play there I’ll tell him to come and hear you and to write lots of guitar duets for you.”

He did it, he wrote a beautiful presentation for the Duo, and Tedesco came to hear us in L.A. and composed the 24 Preludes and Fugues for the Well-Tempered Guitar for us.

Just one, because we never had the time. Then he wrote a Sonata for us, and a Concerto for Two Guitars (that was due to Segovia because Segovia spoke to him). After that, Joaquín Rodrigo composed the Tonadilla and the Concerto—you know the Concierto madrigal?

It was written for us, and originally entitled Concierto para una virreina; but unfortunately he gave it to us perhaps a month before my wife passed away, so we didn’t have the time to play it. So after that, Rodrigo offered it to other guitarists who recorded it. Torroba, too, did three Nocturnes for Guitar and Orchestra for us, but that was only a few days before…

Because in the first place I never had the time to edit all that, and on the other hand I was very discouraged by the publishers.

Yes. Everybody wanted my editions. I received offers from all over the world. But up till now I’ve never had the fortune to meet an honest publisher. I did some editions when I was young, for Ricordi and Max Eschig, and I was so exploited I say editing’s not worth the trouble. I think one day I’ll create my own editions. But right now I don’t have the time, it won’t be for several years. I gave a lot of music to my pupils and to guitarist friends; but one day I’ll do it, I’ll publish all the music for two guitars so all guitarists can benefit.

Excuse me. You know, for me food occupies a very important part of life.

The possibility exists. After my wife died there were several radio and television stations around the world who sent me tapes, which I possess. There are about fifteen hours of music: several concerti, transcriptions, Schubert sonatas, Beethoven variations—one day I hope to have the time to get together a record of it all.

Unfortunately not. It’s a magnificent piece. I have a great regard for Jack Duarte who is a good musician, a good composer and a good friend.

We had a son, his name’s Sylvain. He’s twenty-eight. He used to play jazz guitar, but now he’s switching to classical. He has extraordinary facility. Right now he’s preparing for a solo career.

At the Conservatoire National Supérieur. It’s the first time a guitar chair has existed. Also at the Academie in Nice, every summer I teach for three weeks in July. And other places as well, Canada for example, where I’ve been teaching for twenty years. I’ve helped a lot of Canadian guitarists: it’s coming along well. The guitarists in Quebec are magnificent. They’ve respected all the traditions and all I’ve told them.

The first time I met Liona, she was nineteen. She came to Paris for two years to work with me. I like her a lot, as a guitarist and as a person. She’s a lovely creature, really nice.

Yes indeed. You know, it’s not just food I like, I have a weakness for beautiful things. Everybody knows that about me. But I have other excellent pupils as well; you must excuse me if I don’t give you all their names, it’s a long list.

I don’t want to go into politics; but when I started, I didn’t play left or right, but however it came out. Afterwards, I started thinking about it, and during my life I’ve changed an enormous number of times. I’ve played off the left, of the middle, I played concerts both ways. I played them with a high footstool, a low footstool, in Segovia’s position, in Regino Sainz de la Maza’s position—I tried everything. Then one day, after trying and trying, I found that playing with the right side gave me the most satisfaction, the best tone, the most power and the best projection. My wife did too, so we began to perfect the position. But often guitarists think I only know that position. They’ve never experimented; I have. And even now, I can play off the left or right, however you like.

Listen, I’m over fifty and I still have the same desire to see, to learn and to experience as I had when I was ten or eleven. Everything in life interests me, not only music or the guitar. Architecture, painting, sport: when there’s boxing or football on the television I abandon everything and watch it. I’m a fanatic about everything, horses, philosophy, the occult—I’m very interested in the occult, I like everything mysterious, everything unexplained. We live in an extraordinary world.

So: if I were a guitarist who played off the left side, and I learned one day that another guitarist played off the right, I would experiment out of sheer curiosity. That’s what I did when I was fifteen or sixteen. I knew there were guitarists who played off the left side so I played with the left, I knew there were others who played off the middle so I tried that. But I didn’t know anyone who played off the right. And then one day I thought, Why not try it? And that was how I did my research.

No, if you’re giving a lot of concerts it would be a problem. But Christ said, If you have faith you can walk on water. Although, of course, a lot of people have tried it and sunk. It all comes down to will-power and wanting to do something badly enough. In any case, if you’re talking about young guitarists, they don’t have so many concerts; so at the start of a career one has time to change, to experiment and reflect, that’s normal. One should try, anyway. But when I take pupils I don’t make them play off the right side. I show them my position and let them choose; I never insist.

Yes. Previously trills were played on one string with one finger. But I tried playing them with two left-hand fingers. I always remember in 1950 I was at the Hotel Bedford in Paris, in the Rue des Arcades, to visit Segovia. Segovia had me play in his room, and I finished a piece with a trill on one string, with two fingers. And Segovia said Nononono, you mustn’t do trills like that, it’s much better with one finger. I said that with two fingers there was much less tension. He said Nononono, one string, one finger; so I didn’t insist. One year after that, Segovia gave a recital at the Theatre des Champs Elysées, and I went to hear him. He finished the Bach Fugue with a trill, and I saw that he used two fingers.

No, I didn’t see it.

Is that right? I found that even with two left-hand fingers you couldn’t do a crescendo. One day it occurred to me that pianists and harpsichordists do their trills across two strings, so I experimented with that and found that it worked very well; you could interpret a trill in a way that was previously impossible. It always used to be at one level, but now you could do a pianissimo or a crescendo or a fortissimo.

Then there’s the pizzicato.

Étouffé is understood in France, but not always in other countries. You speak very good French, so you understand it.

But étouffé, if you will, was previously played with the thumb. You couldn’t do counterpoint, because you had the heel of the hand against the strings. The fingers were too far away. One day I thought, You should get the fingers back and do the étouffé with the little finger, and I put the little finger on the strings. And I can do counterpoint now, I can play a complete piece étouffé

Thank you.

I’m playing a Hopf. It’s a German guitar, made in Wiesbaden. But I have seventeen instruments at home: Fleta, Ramírez, Kohno, Bernabe—five Bouchets. When I found Hopf I judged him to be a very good luthier indeed.

Savarez Red Card, but mine are a little special because with the Hopf I need very long strings. so they make them for me specially.

I play sports and keep fit. I’m interested in architecture, decoration, antique furniture—I love cooking, too. My wife sometimes tells me ‘You cook better than you play the guitar’. I have 2,000 bottles of wine. I’m interested in everything.