Barrios, Why Did Segovia Ignored the Music of Barrios

ZANE TURNER: “WHY DID SEGOVIA IGNORED THE MUSIC OF AGUSTIN BARRIOS IN HIS CONCERTS AND RECORDINGS?”

Musician’s annals are well endowed with the names of those who enjoyed success during their lifetime, fell into obscurity after death, but later enjoyed a significant renaissance in popularity and recognition. These generally had two things in common: they were either highly capable composers whose manuscripts were accessible to future generations, or twentieth century musicians who left a discography as testament of their greatness. Agustín Pio Barrios was born in an epoch that afforded him the opportunity to make audio recordings; he was in fact one of the very first classical guitarist to do so. They bear testimony of his highly refined technique, musicality and mastery of the guitar. He has also been described by guitarist John Williams as the greatest composer for guitar and one of the greatest musicians of all times. His opera for the instrument constitutes more than one hundred significant works. Barrios died in 1944 and it was not until 1977, when John Williams released an all-Barrios recording that a global revival of interest in this genius of the guitar began. Despite his volume of compositions for the guitar, during the intervening period between his death and the Williams recording, very few were accessible. To this Barrios had contributed by not writing many of his compositions down. During his own lifetime it was often only under the duress of close friends that he committed these to paper. Prior to the Williams’ epic effort, other guitarists had recognized the quality of Barrios’ compositions, and recorded pieces for which scores were available. Laurindo Almeida and Baltazar Benitez both recorded Waltz op. 8, no. 4 and Alirio Diaz recorded Danza Paraguay No.1, Aire de Zamba and Cueca in the early 1970s. One of the earlier more prolific exponents of Barrios’ music was José Luis González Julia (1932-1998). He recorded Danza Paraguay No.1 , Aire de Zamba, Prelude in G minor, and The Old Medallion for CBS Australia, in the 1960s. Later a number of other pieces by Barrios appeared on his Sony, Japan recordings from the 1980s. The classical guitar, in the format we have come to recognize it, has a rather brief history, but one with its fair allocation of colourful characters; Barrios certainly was one of these. It becomes very evident as we sift through the historical information available about Barrios that myth and legend have infiltrated the record, and the passage of time distorted it with inconsistencies and inaccuracies. Just one illustrative example well worth pursuing in some detail, is the type of strings he used on his guitar. It is commonly believed that Barrios used steel strings instead of the traditional gut, the dominant choice of guitarists of the day. A Barrios biographer, Uruguayan, Miguel Herrera Klinger, documents a conversation he heard in a guitar store in Buenos Aires around 1912 before Segovia met Barrios in 1921. The discussion between Segovia, Domingo Prat and Regino Sainz de la Maza, centred on the metal strings that Barrios was using. Sainz de la Maza was the only one who did not reject steel strings, provided it was Barrios who played on them. Segovia commented: ‘Well as far as I am concerned I would not know what to do with that wire fence.’ Segovia’s analogy of a wire fence suggests more than one strand of wire, but as this was well before Segovia met Barrios we can be fairly sure that he had never seen the Paraguayan’s instrument. A biographical sketch published in Guitar World by Mark Antony pursues the stringing of Barrios’ guitar. An interested reader seeks clarification to which Antony replies: ‘It is true that Barrios had a steel first string.’ Anyone evenly modestly familiar with the anatomy of the classical guitar will quickly realize that such an instrument, strung with steel strings and tuned to concert pitch, would not maintain its structural integrity for very long. The pressure exerted by a set of steel strings is almost twice that of nylon strings. Such is the preoccupation with the pressure that strings exert, classical guitarists are well advised to replace strings one at a time, tuning to pitch after each replacement and working from the extremities to the centre. The use of a first steel string appears more plausible. For those who have listened to the historical recordings by Barrrios, there is no conspicuous evidence of the typical metallic sound of steel strings. Sometime during the period 1916-29 while Barrios was based in São Paulo, he met the famous Italian composer Gino Marinuzzi, who attended his concert at the Itamaraty Palace in Rio de Janiero. Marinizzi felt the use of steel strings on his instrument produced a brash sound in the upper register, and questioned Barrios’ use of them at a time when most classical

guitarist were using gut strings. Barrios explained he had learned to play on steel strings and preferred the range of musical tonal effects and sounds offered. He compromised by using a rubber mute on the three highest strings to dampen the timbre. Dr. Robert Edgeworth Johnstone had lessons with Barrios while both were living in Trinidad. He noted: ‘I could not tell the steel ‘E’ string from the others.’ He described the ‘E’ string as having a piece of unvulcanised rubber folded around it, a quarter of an inch from the bridge. On close examination, a photograph taken of Barrios in 1923 also reveals small black marks on the 2nd and 3rd strings suggesting Barrios was also using steel for those strings. If indeed Barrios’ preoccupation with steel strings related to the range of musical tone effects and sounds offered, he traded some of this by using rubber mutes. Those who played the guitar in the tropics, prior to the advent of nylon strings, observed that gut strings quickly perished in such a humid environment; this is where Barrios did much of his playing. The expense of gut was also probably prohibitive for some guitarists and Barrios was not the only player who used metal strings. On the occasion of their second meeting in March 1944, Segovia is recorded as having given Barrios a set of gut strings, implying that Barrios was still using steel string(s) (Barrios Vs Segovia- Friends, Foes or Just Different? by Pablo Antuna ). Reference is also made to Barrios never using gut strings, but switching to nylon strings before he died. (Minstrel of Magical Strings) Nylon strings were first tried in Jan. 1944 during a concert in New York. If Barrios was still using steel strings when he and Segovia met in March 1944, it is unlikely that he would have had access to nylon strings before he died, five months later in Aug. 1944? Luthier Jose Maria Dura Argenta who made Barrios’ last guitar indicated that Barrios used many guitars during his lifetime; he sometimes used a steel first, sometimes all three trebles and sometimes all six strings. This shortened the life span of his guitars designed for gut strings. On these and many other matters about Barrios we are well advised by the observation of Nabokov in his novel, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight. ‘Remember that what you are told is really three fold: shaped by the teller, reshaped by the listener, concealed from both by the dead man of the tale.’ One major question that is confusing, laced with misinformation, myth and legend and that has long preoccupied guitarists is why Segovia never recorded any of Barrios’ music, or included it in any of his concerts. Does it really matter? The answer to that question depends on individual attitude and there are many who relentlessly seek enlightenment on such issues related to the great historical characters of the classical guitar. In June, 1920 Segovia was giving concerts in Montevideo. At the same time Barrios returned from Brazil to Montevideo, but not once during the five weeks that they were both in Uruguay did the two meet. It was not until 1921 that they met at a concert in Buenos Aires, introduced by a mutual friend. They spoke privately and Barrios proposed to visit. Barrios was the one who took the initiative and visited Segovia. Miguel Klinger declared of this encounter: ‘Barrios played a cascade of musical gems for the great Segovia who was surprised… but yet he was floored. One particular work he liked very much and indicated he would play in his concerts, he never played, and logically so: if he had played it with the extra ordinary abilities he possessed, he would have elevated Barrios to inaccessible heights thus distracting from his own artistic prestige.’ The work to which Klinger referred was La Catedral; of course Segovia only heard the first two sections because the third was not added by Barrios until some years later in Cuba. It has also been suggested that Barrios never actually gave a copy of the original to Segovia as he didn’t have one with him at the time. Barrios had to ask a friend to send it from Uruguay; he wrote that letter on Nov. 22, ten days before Segovia left Buenos Aires. Whether the copy arrived before Segovia’s departure we can never be sure. Despite being in a prime position to do so, Segovia never assisted Barrios in any way in the furthering of his career. He totally ignored the music of Barrios in both his concerts and discography. With the passage of years it became increasingly obvious to Barrios that Segovia was not his friend and referred to the Maestro as ‘deaf in the heart.’ The seeming antipathy even went as far as Segovia banning the playing of any Barrios music in his master classes right into the 1970s. The narrative is again spiced by comments apparently taken out of context. Guitarist /historian Richard Stover has on many occasions referred to Segovia’s comment that ‘Barrios was not a good composer.’ Asked by a student, David Norton after a master class at California State University- Northridge, April 1981 or 1982, was the question: ‘Maestro, what is your opinion of the music of Barrios which has become so popular recently?’ Segovia paused, whether as a ninety-year-old man he felt exhausted from the three hour session in English or

struggling for the right words, indicated that in comparison to Ponce or Castelnuovo-Tedesco, Barrios, who wrote only shorter pieces, was not a good composer for the guitar. Stover only heard the last part of Segovia’s comments and with vested commercial interest repeated it, attacking it over ensuing time. Barrios has also been referred to as ‘The Chopin of the Guitar.’ In assessing Chopin relative to Beethoven, and using the same criteria, it may be that Segovia would have come to similar conclusions about Chopin? Or did he ill advisedly use the word ‘good’ instead of ‘great?’ Some have discredited and dismissed the concept that Segovia treated Barrios the way he did to protect his own emergence and establishment as ‘King’ of the guitar. It certainly would not have been convenient for the guitar world to know about this genius from Paraguay. Before examining some of the reasoning behind these dismissals, it is important to dispel one major myth that has infiltrated the writings of many, and been suggested as a prime reason for Segovia’s shunning of Barrios. In his article ‘Barrios Vs Segovia- Friends, Foes or Just Different?’ Pablo Antuna noted: “He (Segovia) despised anything that related the guitar to folk music.’ He further explained: ‘Segovia admired Barrios as a musician but didn’t want to popularize his music with folk character.’ Other authors have referred to ‘Segovia’s hatred of flamenco music.’ It is not difficult to understand how not so well-informed writers gained this impression regarding Segovia’s purported antipathy for the association of folk music and flamenco with the guitar. Segovia was a master of ambiguity and inconsistency, and invariably evasive if interviews infringed on the myth and legend that he so assiduously generated his entire life. A stated goal of Segovia’s was ‘to extract the guitar from the noisy and disreputable folkloric amusements’, and not infrequently did he refer to the ‘noisy flamencos’ and make what appeared to be derogatory remarks about flamenco. On other occasions he carefully explained the context in which his seemingly derogatory remarks about flamenco were made. Aside from a number of revealing biographies that emerged over the past few years since the Maestro’s death, writers such as Angelo Gilardino, who was Artistic Director of the Segovia Foundation, 1997-2005, have placed much private and revealing information about Segovia in the public domain. One such article by Gilardino suggests that Segovia commenced his career as a flamenco guitarist and received tutelage from Agustinillo who was a pupil of the great Paco Lucena. Segovia was five years old when Lucena died and inherited his guitar. Domingo Prat in his Diccionario de Guitarristas, 1934 noted: ‘Down there in Granada, from his earliest childhood, he (Segovia) played the guitar with rasgueado and falseta.’ In 1977 Segovia transcribed an example of Lucena’s improvisations and declared: ‘[It] is proof of the depth and simplicity of his noble style.’ (Guitar Review No 89, Spring 1992). In 1922, Falla, Lorca and Segovia and others organized an important cante jondo- deep song, competition for singers and guitarists in Granada. Their objective was to preserve cante jondo, renew public interest in it, and find skilled performers of the art. Segovia also played flamenco pieces. We could say, justifiably that contrary to popular belief, Segovia was a true aficionado of flamenco music, but with a caveat: the ‘true flamenco’ not what the art evolved into under the influence of guitarists like Paco de Lucia and others. Segovia is very clear about this during his interview with Christopher Nupen in the biographical documentary ‘Los Olivos.’ On Jan. 26, 2010, John Williams and guest Berta Rojas appeared on the BBC 4 programme, ‘Great Lives.’ John Williams elected to feature Agustín Barrios in the programme. Probably already aware that John Williams has been overtly critical about aspects of Segovia, facilitator Matthew Parrish asked Williams why Segovia essentially shunned Barrios in his recording and concert activities. Of all subjects on which Williams differed with the Maestro, few were so strongly disparate as the quality of Barrios’ music. We know that through the editorial process, the full extent of Williams’ response was not aired, but a couple of comments that he did make are worth response. He proposed that the attitude of Segovia may have had its genesis in the cultural antipathy that Spaniards have for ex-colonies. While, generally, the Spanish may harbour such feelings, it is not a legitimate reason for Segovia’s attitude to Barrios. Mexico and Venezuela are both ex-Spanish colonies, but that did not inhibit Segovia recording guitar music written by natives of those countries. Manuel Ponce was a composer greatly influenced by native Mexican folk music. Permeating Segovia’s repertory, recordings and published music are works such as Sonata Mexicana, and Tres Canciones Populares Mexicanas, that reflect the essence of the folk music true to its Mexican stylistic features. Segovia also recorded Antonio Lauro’s most popular work: Valse Criollo. Although notated that way on the recording cover, it is also now equally well-known as Natalia, or Valse No. 3. In such an environment, it is difficult to support the opinion that Segovia avoided Barrios’ compositions because they represented the music of an ex-colony.

The music of Barrios is also very technically demanding, and it has been suggested that this may have been another reason that Segovia avoided it. During his four years in Montevideo, Barrios established a strong and enduring friendship with a prosperous land owner, Martin Borda y Pagola who was a guitar aficionado. ‘Dear Pagolita’ as Barrios referred to him, served as an unofficial archivist and a stabilizing force in the life of the passionate young man. In correspondence with Pagolita in 1921, Barrios references a meeting between him and Segovia. Although Segovia had a reputation for arrogance and even ruthlessness toward fellow musicians, Barrios mentions that Segovia ‘treated him with much consideration and respect; he played some of my own compositions on his own guitar and liked them.’ One source suggests that Segovia actually played La Catedral on that occasion. It is evident that Barrios did not have a score of La Catedral with him, but did he have scores for other pieces he played for Segovia? Or was Segovia astute and intuitive enough to quickly analyze and replicate what Barrios was playing? We know that his skills in this area were highly refined, being able to learn by rote some of the pieces that Llobet had personally arranged and played for him. It certainly does not suggest he was awed by the technical difficulties that Barrios’music represented. It is unfortunate that much of the recorded music to which we have access, was recorded later in Segovia’s life when his technical prowess was not at its zenith. A brief listen to the recordings made in his earlier career will quickly dispel any doubts about his technical abilities. Another reason given for Segovia ignoring the music of Barrios relates to their disparate objectives in establishing a repertory for the guitar. One aspect was Barrios’ fusing of the essential elements of traditional European art music with South American folk and popular music. Based on erroneous conclusions regarding Segovia’s attitude to traditional flamenco music, some concluded that he was trying to totally disassociate his classical repertory from compositions inspired by folk music. Barrios was not the only composer of the time fusing European art music with the folk music of his country. To reference but three: Ernesto Nazareth (18631934) was doing the same thing with piano music and the folk music of Brazil. His efforts also met resistance; when some of his original compositions were proposed for inclusion in the concert programme of the National School of Music in Rio de Janeiro, there was such a protest that police had to intervene. Another contemporary, Joseph Sickman Corsen (1853-1911) was also composing piano music that was a fusion of folk music of his native Curaçao and traditional classical music . Closer to the guitar was Brazilian, Heitor Villa-Lobos (18871959), who left treasures for its repertory that Segovia incorporated extensively in his concerts and recordings. There are numerous examples which clearly illustrate that Segovia was well disposed to the fusion of classical and folk music in compositions for the guitar repertory. These he pursued in concerts, recordings and published music. The examples of Ponce, Lauro and Villa-Lobos have already been cited; to these may be added Segovia’s harmonization of Norteña, an Indian lullaby that Crespo adapted from Argentinian folk music; also the arrangements, and adaptations that Miguel Llobet made of Catalan folk songs. Of course in arranging the piano music of the Spanish Nationalists, Segovia was endorsing the folk music of Spain as relevant to the classical guitar. Segovia’s response to student David Norton in the Northridge master class of 1981/82, that ‘in comparison to Ponce and Castelnuovo-Tedesco, Barrios who only wrote short pieces, was not a good composer for the guitar’, may have had more significance than is immediately apparent. If Segovia was going to elevate the guitar to the same status as other recognized instruments, he needed to have a repertory for the guitar appropriate to that new status. Aside from its intrinsic beauty, did the two movement La Catedral have special appeal to Segovia because it was, form-wise, more substantial than many of his other short pieces based on folk music? If such an impression existed it could only have been enhanced by Barrios’ 1938 addition of a third movement, a Prelude, dedicated to his wife Gloria. While the concerti of Carulli, Giuliani, Molino and the fantasies, serenades, sonatas of Sor pre-existed Segovia, with the exception of the latter, he demonstrated little interest; during his earlier career some of this music may not have been readily accessible. Relative to major compositions for other concert instruments, this music is rather ‘lightweight.’ Even the most beloved pieces for the guitar that Segovia, Tárrega and Llobet arranged from the opera of Albéniz and Granados, are considered fairly minor in the repertory of the original instrument. It was the major works of Ponce, Castelnuovo-Tedesco, Villa-Lobos, Rodrigo, Tansman, Turina and Torroba, among others that he embraced to elevate the guitar repertory and give it more substance relative to the piano, violin and cello. Did Segovia avoid the work of Barrios because much of it comprised only short compositions inspired by folk music and did not meet his criteria for new repertory? In reality he needed more developmental, ‘weightier’ music to elevate the status of the guitar and make it better accepted on the concert stages of the world. Despite

his observation that ’Barrios only wrote short pieces’ openly expressed some 60 years after his initial exposure Segovia’s concerts and recordings over that intervening period included numerous small, shorter pieces that became the core of what aficionados loved and revered about the instrument and the Maestro’s playing. Segovia also personally pursued a developmental repertory inspiring a policy that motivated other players and composers to collaborate with larger-scale works. That augmented the guitar’s recognition as a legitimate concert instrument, one that is now taught in most of the major academic institutions throughout the world. None of this development would have been hindered by Segovia including some of the beautiful pieces by Barrios in his music making. The initiative was taken from him by others who, at least in this instance, proved him myopic. There are doubtless other reasons proferred for Segovia’s attitude to Barrios, but a final one worth comment is mentioned in the previously cited article by Pablo Antuna. He noted that: ‘Segovia had a clear vision of what the classical guitar should be and didn’t accept anyone who was heading in another direction, Barrios being one of them.’ Barrios played using steel strings, a good reason for Segovia to reject him.’ Also referenced as evidence of this attitude, is the harsh nature of Segovia’s criticism toward Narciso Yepes’ ten-string guitar, Paco de Lucia and Abel Carlevaro, each deviating from Segovia’s theoretical ideal. While Segovia may have been uncomplimentary about the ten-string guitar, one wonders whether this was based on the sound or physical aesthetics of the instrument, the latter somewhat distorted by this new variant. Oddly enough Segovia expressed to José Ramírez III, who developed the ten string guitar in conjunction with Yepes, a diametrically opposite attitude about yet another guitar variant. Ramírez had built for José Tomás, Segovia’s assistant at Compostela Music, an eight-string guitar, especially suited for playing unarranged Baroque music; of this instrument Segovia approved (Things About the Guitar- J. Ramírez III). Was this approval based on its contextual usage, or was Segovia again demonstrating inconsistency that suited him to do so? It is obvious that if Segovia did generally reject anything outside his theoretical ideal, he was equally capable of making exceptions when it suited him. We can never be absolutely sure why Segovia’s attitude to Barrios was as manifested- ‘it is concealed from all by the dead man of the tale.’ It appears unequivocal from Barrios’ biographers that Segovia admired his music. Despite the fact that Segovia totally ignored Barrios’ music in his own lifetime it became universally recognized and accolade. That did little for Segovia’s credibility because he had the opportunity to embrace it and include it at a time when the guitar’s repertory was rather meagre. On balance it must be acknowledged that the work of Barrios was not the only music of calibre that Segovia elected to ignore despite the missionary zeal with which he often pursued composes to write new music for the instrument. During the years between the two great World Wars Segovia was the source of inspiration for several composers to write new music for the guitar. Segovia’s appeal to composers, unfamiliar with writing for the instrument, came with the understanding that he would arrange and adapt their music should it contain aspects unplayable on the instrument. Despite this he rejected music on that basis. The music of composers such as Raoul Laparra, Vicente Arregui Garay and Jaime Pahissa was discarded only to be rediscovered in 2001, when Segovia’s private papers were made accessible fourteen years after his death. José Antonia de San Sebástian’s (Father Donostia) composition, Errimina written for Segovia in 1925 was acknowledged by him as unsuitable for the guitar, despite encouragement that he would make amendments to playability should any be necessary. He certainly took that initiative on behalf of Ponce and others. A subsequent arrangement of this ‘failed ‘guitar piece for piano, made two years later by the composer, was duly praised by Debussy scholar, Vladimir Jankélévitch. Segovia did include in his repertory music by Father Donostia: ironically a piece for piano that Segovia arranged for guitar (Dolor)! The British did not fare much better in this process. British composer Cyril Scott (1879-1970) wrote for Segovia a substantial three movement work entitled Sonatina. Segovia is known to have had this work in his possession in 1927. Whether the ill-fated Reverie by Scott that Segovia performed in the Wigmore Hall on May 11, 1928, and later in Buenos Aires was simply the first movement of the Sonatina is uncertain. It vanished from his repertory and the manuscript for the entire Sonatina was assumed lost, until re-discovered (two pages missing) with the aforementioned pieces in Segovia’s papers. It has subsequently been played in concert by Julian Bream and recorded by Tilman Hoppstock and Carlos Bernal. Few would debate the classification of Rodrigo’s, Concierto de Aranjuez as the greatest concerto ever written for the instrument. It seems rather incongruous that the greatest classical guitarist never played or recorded this masterpiece and ignored it for most of his life. It represented weightier music that had all the qualifications necessary for its inclusion in Segovia’s developmental repertory, but he did not include it. A treasure such as this will not be dismissed simply because it lacked the Maestro’s acknowledgement and endorsement. As with the music of Barrios music

four decades later, among musicians and the guitar/music-loving public alike, it became a revered treasure. Could this seeming indifference be related to the fact that Rodrigo dedicated it to the Spanish master Regino Sainz de la Maza, and not to the ‘King’ of the guitar? Regino Sainz de la Maza further stamped his identity on it with the inaugural performance in 1940. Although both Regino and his brother Eduardo wrote some excellent pieces for the instrument, Segovia ignored their very idiomatic music. Alirio Diaz had another reason for Segovia ignoring the Concierto de Aranjuez. He believed that in wanting the guitar to be a universal instrument, Segovia was always looking for music that was not particularly Spanish; that piece of music was too Spanish. The Sonatina by Cyril Scott was anything but too Spanish; despite its quality and structure it too was excluded from his repertory. Analyzing the music that Segovia embraced, written for the guitar around the same time and subsequently, one may come to different conclusions than those of Diaz; make of it what you will. Given his large ego, one could have anticipated Segovia’s inclusion of his own compositions in concerts and recordings. He wrote more than thirty small pieces and studies for the guitar, and while they are not the calibre of Barrios’ work, there are repertory treasures, such as Remembranza, among them. During his lifetime Segovia only ever recorded two of these and there is no evidence of him including them in concerts. At a time when smaller works and studies were programmed in concerts, Segovia opted for alternative composers to himself. More understandable is Segovia’s neglect of contemporary works for the guitar. He once made reference for the need to: ‘Isolate the guitar from these microbes.’ However with the advancing years, Segovia made some concessions to this stance. In Jan. 1978 he became a member of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts of San Fernando, Madrid. The eighty-four-year-old musician accepted the academy chair left vacant by the death of Oscar Esplá. During the acceptance speech Segovia made reference to other guitarist carrying on his life’s work: ‘And what makes me most happy is to observe that the guitar’s progress continues without interruption with me and apart from me. The most notable artist, Julian Bream receives from Benjamin Britten the splendid gift of the Nocturnal. To John Williams other well known English composers offer likewise concertos for guitar and orchestra and solo works for his recitals. Nor should we omit to mention even though it relates to a previous epoch, the distinguished Sainz de la Maza for whom our eminent Jaoquín Rodrigo created the Concierto de Aranjuez, one of most beautiful compositions of contemporary music.’ (Translated from the Spanish by Graham Wade).

It may have been that the passage of time and thoughts of imminent death mellowed Segovia’s attitude to other things. Any repentant proclivity he harboured, was motivation to try and correct past errors in actions and attitude? In a letter dated Jan 1985, two years before he died, Segovia made these comments: ’Señor Agustín Barrios was a master of the poetic guitar. The beauty of these compositions is they instruct, as well as entertain, both the student and aspiring professional. Many felicitations to my amigo Agustín for their nobleman efforts.’ (Ibid. Mark Antony). Just two years prior, during a discussion with guitarist John Mills, Segovia had this to say about the music of Barrios: ‘He was certainly gifted for composition, and I always had sympathy for him, but unfortunately he had not the whole knowledge for composing- he was instinctive. This is the reason why I never play anything by him, because in my opinion it is not really musical.’ (Guitar International, Feb 1983) It is challenging to correlate the opinions of John Williams and Segovia on this subject. There is ample evidence that Segovia acted as a discriminating filter when selecting music for inclusion in his repertory. He ignored and dismissed outstanding compositions by both guitarists/composers and from composers generally. Their acceptance in different circumstances and in different epochs negates the question of competence and quality. There appears to be no commonality in his actions that included even his own compositions. In summary, every effort has been made to obtain balance in presenting what information is accessible, albeit potentially tainted by myth, legend and inaccuracy. The real reasons for Segovia’s attitude to Barrios can never be known with any degree of certainty and readers will come to their own conclusion. All facts considered, this writer remains of the opinion that professional rivalry and jealousy played a key role. Zane Turner, Sydney, Australia