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Essential Flamenco Guitar: Volume 1
This book and accompanying video provide a thorough introduction to flamenco guitar. What are the essential elements and techniques of flamenco guitar playing? How does one capture the real essence of authentic flamenco guitar? These are questions that Juan Martin, celebrated virtuoso flamenco guitarist and teacher, addresses in this first book of a projected three-volume series. The method is designed for the complete beginner and requires no prior knowledge of the guitar or flamenco music. It also provides invaluable insight and material for more advanced players who want to capture the essential sounds, rhythms and emotional power of true flamenco.The series begins with in-depth demonstrations of how the basic building blocks of flamenco guitar technique are used in actual flamenco music. The material then progresses to a detailed exploration of the individual rhythmic forms - the palos. In this book, the fundamental palos of Solea and Alegrias are presented to emphasize the basic rhythms and provide examples of falsetas - the melodic passages. Martin then shows how to apply these when collaborating with a dancer and singer. The music is transcribed in standard notation and tablature (cifra), and the two DVDs contain over 3.5 combined hours of explanation and demonstrations. The first DVD provides a detailed introduction to basic techniques, using examples of authentic flamenco to show these techniques in action. The second DVD progresses to demonstrations of the Solea and Alegrias, including music for the soloist and the guitar accompanying the dancing and singing.
140 pages, Paperback
Published January 10, 2014
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August 12, 2021
My early hopes of learning flamenco guitar were dashed the first time I went to a concert. It was in Seville, and the guitarist (not a famous man by any means) was so skillful, so virtuosic, that I decided it was an impossible task. For five years, I did not try. And every time I attended a flamenco concert since, the wisdom of this decision was made apparent by the uniformly high skill of the players. What made me finally decide to order this book and make the attempt is a mystery to me. But I am glad I did.
Some relevant background: I have been playing guitar for over ten years. I have taken some classical lessons, some jazz lessons, but played mostly folk, blues, and rock. At best I am an intermediate player in these genres.
Because of this experience, I thought I might be able to breeze through at least the beginning of this book. Not so. Martín quickly introduces basic techniques that required daily practice to even approximate.
Let me explain. In most guitar styles the difficulty is mainly in the left hand (for a righty), which frets the guitar while the right hand either plucks or strums. But in flamenco much of the difficulty is in the right hand.
There is, for example, the rasgueo, which is just Spanish for “strumming.” But flamenco strumming is not the mindless up and down of most music. The three-stroke rasgueo is performed by striking down with your fingers and then down and up with your thumb. The four-stroke rasgueo, much more difficult, requires you to rapidly strike downward with each of your four fingers (pinky, ring, middle, index, in that order) so that it forms a continuous pattern. I had never even used my right-hand pinky to play before.
Another technique is the arzapúa, in which you pluck one string and then quickly strum the upper strings, making a triplet rhythm. And tremolo. As in classical guitar, flamenco guitarists do a tremolo by quickly plucking an upper string; but unlike classical guitar, the index finger is used twice per tremolo (first and last), which makes for a quintuplet rather than a sixteenth note. Finally, of course, there is the golpe, in which the body of the guitar is struck at the same time notes are played, in order to add a percussive quality.
All of these, as you might imagine, involve hitting the strings or the guitar itself with a fair amount of force. And this meant—for me, at least—a lot of nail-breaking, since long nails are essential to getting the sharp, bright, rhythmic sound typical of the music. (Getting used to long-nails was a challenge on its own.) At first I tried cheap nail-strengthener, which helped but did not eliminate the breakage. Then, following Martín’s advice, I tried applying super glue to my nails. This made them virtually adamantine for a day or so; but it would quickly begin to peel away, leaving my nails vulnerable again. The most effective solution I’ve found is to use a higher-quality nail strengthener (Mavala is the brand) which has almost completely solved the issue. But I believe many professional guitarists simply use fake nails.
In sum, the new techniques required a major adaptation to my customary way of playing. Which is certainly not a bad thing—in fact, it was just what I wanted to learn. And Martín explains these techniques masterfully. Yet this is not just a technique book; Martín is really trying to teach the music.
Flamenco playing can be differentiated both by context and style. As for context, a serious guitarist (as in, not me) must know how to accompany a dancer and a singer in addition to playing solo. Flamenco is also divided into palos, which define the time signature as well as characterize the mood and harmony. The soleá, for example, is rather slow and has 12 beats per measure, with an emphasis on the third, sixth, eight, tenth, and twelfth beat. Harmonically it is defined by the Phrygian mode (basically a C major scale starting on an E), though like the blues it includes both the major and minor third (in this case, both G natural and G sharp). And of course the soleá has its own distinctive conventions of dancing and singing, too.
This dry description notwithstanding, I found the music quite interesting and beautiful. I got so interested, in fact, that I soon decided that I wanted to immerse myself more deeply. So I signed up for classes at a flamenco academy in Madrid—three months that culminated in a student recital at the Círculo de Bellas Artes. I was a very minor and inept part of the show, but I enjoyed it.
All of this is just a roundabout way of saying that this book is truly excellent. Or perhaps I should say the accompanying DVDs are excellent, since most of the valuable teaching is found on these videos, with the book mainly being a transcription (in tabs and sheet music) of what Martín plays. In any case, I have improved more in the last six months than I have in years. The demonstrations of technique are, as I said, very helpful; and the music is both playable and interesting—increasing in difficulty so as to be a constant challenge but not overwhelming. He has, in short, done the impossible: make flamenco doable for average mortals. And there is still one volume to go.
(Note: I accidentally added status updates to a different book by Juan Martín, Play Solo Flamenco Guitar.)
Some relevant background: I have been playing guitar for over ten years. I have taken some classical lessons, some jazz lessons, but played mostly folk, blues, and rock. At best I am an intermediate player in these genres.
Because of this experience, I thought I might be able to breeze through at least the beginning of this book. Not so. Martín quickly introduces basic techniques that required daily practice to even approximate.
Let me explain. In most guitar styles the difficulty is mainly in the left hand (for a righty), which frets the guitar while the right hand either plucks or strums. But in flamenco much of the difficulty is in the right hand.
There is, for example, the rasgueo, which is just Spanish for “strumming.” But flamenco strumming is not the mindless up and down of most music. The three-stroke rasgueo is performed by striking down with your fingers and then down and up with your thumb. The four-stroke rasgueo, much more difficult, requires you to rapidly strike downward with each of your four fingers (pinky, ring, middle, index, in that order) so that it forms a continuous pattern. I had never even used my right-hand pinky to play before.
Another technique is the arzapúa, in which you pluck one string and then quickly strum the upper strings, making a triplet rhythm. And tremolo. As in classical guitar, flamenco guitarists do a tremolo by quickly plucking an upper string; but unlike classical guitar, the index finger is used twice per tremolo (first and last), which makes for a quintuplet rather than a sixteenth note. Finally, of course, there is the golpe, in which the body of the guitar is struck at the same time notes are played, in order to add a percussive quality.
All of these, as you might imagine, involve hitting the strings or the guitar itself with a fair amount of force. And this meant—for me, at least—a lot of nail-breaking, since long nails are essential to getting the sharp, bright, rhythmic sound typical of the music. (Getting used to long-nails was a challenge on its own.) At first I tried cheap nail-strengthener, which helped but did not eliminate the breakage. Then, following Martín’s advice, I tried applying super glue to my nails. This made them virtually adamantine for a day or so; but it would quickly begin to peel away, leaving my nails vulnerable again. The most effective solution I’ve found is to use a higher-quality nail strengthener (Mavala is the brand) which has almost completely solved the issue. But I believe many professional guitarists simply use fake nails.
In sum, the new techniques required a major adaptation to my customary way of playing. Which is certainly not a bad thing—in fact, it was just what I wanted to learn. And Martín explains these techniques masterfully. Yet this is not just a technique book; Martín is really trying to teach the music.
Flamenco playing can be differentiated both by context and style. As for context, a serious guitarist (as in, not me) must know how to accompany a dancer and a singer in addition to playing solo. Flamenco is also divided into palos, which define the time signature as well as characterize the mood and harmony. The soleá, for example, is rather slow and has 12 beats per measure, with an emphasis on the third, sixth, eight, tenth, and twelfth beat. Harmonically it is defined by the Phrygian mode (basically a C major scale starting on an E), though like the blues it includes both the major and minor third (in this case, both G natural and G sharp). And of course the soleá has its own distinctive conventions of dancing and singing, too.
This dry description notwithstanding, I found the music quite interesting and beautiful. I got so interested, in fact, that I soon decided that I wanted to immerse myself more deeply. So I signed up for classes at a flamenco academy in Madrid—three months that culminated in a student recital at the Círculo de Bellas Artes. I was a very minor and inept part of the show, but I enjoyed it.
All of this is just a roundabout way of saying that this book is truly excellent. Or perhaps I should say the accompanying DVDs are excellent, since most of the valuable teaching is found on these videos, with the book mainly being a transcription (in tabs and sheet music) of what Martín plays. In any case, I have improved more in the last six months than I have in years. The demonstrations of technique are, as I said, very helpful; and the music is both playable and interesting—increasing in difficulty so as to be a constant challenge but not overwhelming. He has, in short, done the impossible: make flamenco doable for average mortals. And there is still one volume to go.
(Note: I accidentally added status updates to a different book by Juan Martín, Play Solo Flamenco Guitar.)
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