Academic literature on the topic 'Guitar music (Flamenco)'

Flamenco is a living art that excites and awakens the senses of those who witness such a dance, singing and guitar show. It is a way of expressing feelings. Flamenco was considered a world intangible heritage of humanity by UNESCO and is a part of the identity and culture of Andalucía, place where it originated. Flamenco is a symbol of Spanish culture around the world. In addition, it has been discovered that there is a typology of flamenco tourists whose motivation is related to the search of experience and authenticity in the tourist destination. A search of published scientific articles on emotional tourism, motivation and flamenco has been conducted using three databases: Web of Science, Scopus and Google Scholar. Flamenco is an art that transmits passion in each of its three components: song, dance and music. Therefore, tourism management of the sites where flamenco is part of its identity must bet on its development and potential as a motivating factor to travel, bringing the emotion to the tourist, which consists not only in perceiving it, but also in experiencing it, living it. We conclude that Flamenco as a living art forms an essential part of Spain’s cultural heritage and becomes an important tourist factor to cover the experiential needs of tourists.

Flamenco is a living art that excites and awakens the senses of those who witness such a dance, singing and guitar show. It is a way of expressing feelings. Flamenco was considered a world intangible heritage of humanity by UNESCO and is a part of the identity and culture of Andalucía, place where it originated. Flamenco is a symbol of Spanish culture around the world. In addition, it has been discovered that there is a typology of flamenco tourists whose motivation is related to the search of experience and authenticity in the tourist destination. A search of published scientific articles on emotional tourism, motivation and flamenco has been conducted using three databases: Web of Science, Scopus and Google Scholar. Flamenco is an art that transmits passion in each of its three components: song, dance and music. Therefore, tourism management of the sites where flamenco is part of its identity must bet on its development and potential as a motivating factor to travel, bringing the emotion to the tourist, which consists not only in perceiving it, but also in experiencing it, living it. We conclude that Flamenco as a living art forms an essential part of Spain’s cultural heritage and becomes an important tourist factor to cover the experiential needs of tourists.

The purpose of this research is to identify the specificity of pop and jazz stylistics as one of the characteristic trends of modern accordion art, using the analysis of the composition „Hommage a Paco” by Frank Angelis. The methods of the proposed scientific article are based on the use of research approaches (genre, style, textual, analytical), which allow to identify the specific embodiment of trends in the current stage of the development of accordion art in the modern repertoire. Scientific novelty. Despite its widespread use in practice, Frank Angelis’s composing work has not been subject to scientific understanding; in particular, his work has not been analyzed in detail in contemporary Ukraine. Conclusions. As a result of the analysis of Frank Angelis’s „Hommage a Pacco”, it was founded that the specificity of the formation is coordinated by the principle of double-frequency (the first part has an expositional character, the second – jazz-improvisational); the individuality and expressiveness of the aesthetics of the theme are determined by the dances of the famous Spanish virtuoso guitarist Paco de Lucia (Allegres, Bulires and Tangos), which underlie the work. The specificity of the harmonic plan is mainly based on alternate septaccords and noncords, and the thematicism is modified by texturing. The dedication to the creator of the „new flamenco” style is reflected in a diverse palette of playing tools, most of which mimic the specificity of guitar techniques (so the specific accordion tremolo gives the music material an expressive, precise, more sonorous sound – the color of the flamenco, and creates an invoice-like texture). Also in the melodic line are reflected specific guitar techniques, including „long picado”, „rasgeado”, „alsapua”. A peculiar feature of the composer’s style is the use of jazz elements such as: „quasi-improvisation”, „mini-solo”. Combining music from different directions, F. Angelis created the unique composition, giving it the characteristic features of Spanish flamenco and jazz music.

Introduction. Flamenco is a cultural phenomenon that dates back to the 5–6th centuries. This artistic practice organically unites plastic, gesture, singing, word, instrumental play. It is difficult to determine the hierarchical relationships between these components. Each of them has its own “vocabulary”, its own laws of constructing the artistic whole, that is, its canons. In a wide artistic field, canons consider a set of certain rules, based on which creative activity is carried out, and the originality of its result is ensured by the specificity of their improvisational transformation by a particular performer. Any phenomenon that is subject to the action of a set of these specific canons acquires formal, stylistic, genre qualities that indicate the cultural and artistic environment from which they originate. Flamenco is developing dynamically and actively absorbing the experience of other musical cultures. Any phenomena that fall into the gravitational field of the flamenco canons acquire the specific traits inherent in this culture. This assimilation of alien elements is defined by the concept of aflamencado (“one that acquires the characteristic features of flamenco”). Theoretical background. Contemporary views toward flamenco culture are very different: the discrepancies are noticeable among flamenco fans, performers and scientists. The paper of Marta Wieczorec “Flamenco: Contemporary Research Dilemmas” (2018) considers disputes about the scientific issue of flamenco. She pays attention to the debatable side in science comprehension of this ethnic phenomena and its place in Spanish culture. This article also looks at the antagonism between traditional and contemporary, or, “pure” and commercial branches of flamenco. William Washbaugh in his book “Flamenco music and national identity in Spain” (2012) considers as a ambitious project the tendency to rethink Spanish national identity under the influence of the spread of flamenco music culture, its various forms. Among many contemporary musicians, he also calls Miriam Méndez. The purpose of this paper is to identify the basic strategies of aflamencado in piano art of the XX century (the ways of interaction flamenco and piano performance art of this period). Such study requires the use of musicological and performing analytical methods of scientific research, among them the methods of genre and style analysis, historical and comparative approach that are applied on this paper. The genre theory by E. Nazaykinskiy (1982) is used in this study. This theory defines genres as historically established types and kinds of musical creation, which divides according to number of criteria: by purpose (public, common, artistic function); by conditions and facilities of performing; by content and ways of creation. Aflamencado characterization using the theory of T. Cherednichenko (2002) about typologique of musical practices allowed considering different methods of adapting the flamenco ethnic elements to the academic traditions and to determine the degree of transformation of the constituent elements of the synthesis. Research results. Piano art began to embrace flamenco culture in the late XIX century. The pioneer along this path was maestro F. Pedrell and his students. One of them, І. Albenis, composed the cycles for piano “Spanish Music” No. 1 (1886), No. 2 (1889) and “Iberia” (1906–1908), where the piano pieces are enriched with the characteristic flamenco sound. The piano texture includes some elements of guitar technique: the “razguiado”, which involves repeated chords, the “punteado” – accenting performance of each sound. Melody line of Albenis’s piano works correlates with flamenco due to its generous embellishments, melismatics and hangs in detentions, which are also a projection of flamenco vocal art. The metro-rhythmic sphere of the Spanish opus by I. Albenis is often based on the typical flamenco-“compass” associated with changeable the dual and triple pulsations. Tonal and harmonic reliance on Lydian and Phrygian modes and the use of the so-called “Andalusian cadence” (t-VII-VI-D) complements the palette of flamenco expressive means of expression. These aflamencado examples have some contradictions. The nature of the pianoforte is extremely elitist and aristocratic. The “wild” and arbitrary art of Spanish Roma from the poorest regions of Andalusia, when it falls into the sound pianistic “wrapper”, is transformed significantly and acquires an academic taste. Authentic art with its oral tradition of imitation is engraved in the musical text, such fixation sends flamenco to “foreign” territory, creating grounds to believe that the cycles “Spanish suite” and “Iberia” are examples of “composer expansion” on the flamenco territory. In this example, the principles of aflamencado have a specific vector directed into the sphere of “opus- music”, and a set of tools and techniques that allow to attract the characteristic features of folk practice, with its oral and collective nature (according to T. Cherednichenko’s typology of musical practices), to creation of original, individual, non-canonical composer work. In such interaction the resources of one cultural layer allow to reach of new artistic content in other. In this sense, aflamencado acts as a means of simulating a particular object of reality in the individual perception of the author. Aflamencado in the works of contemporary composer, arranger and pianist Miriam Méndez is oriented in the opposite direction. She called her first album “Bach por Flamenco” (2005). The intertextuality of this musical experiment provides radically new content to the work that has long been canonized. J. S. Bach’s Fugue is transformed into a target. The rigid, immutable confines of the genre are being tested by the ever-changing, flamenco element. The timbre, the properties of the tools used, the built-in “cante” – all serve to update the original. The pianist, who, along with other musicians, created this genre mix, was guided, mainly, by the idea of flamenco. Conclusions. Thus, in the contemporary piano art, the aflamencado phenomenon reveals a dual nature that depends on the basic level of interaction between cultures. In one case, composer creativity engages a flamenco resource to implement authorial creative strategies. Otherwise, the composer’s work is being “prepared” for the purpose of immersing it in the primordial folk element. As a result, two fundamentally different models of pianism are formed – the academic and its flamenco variety adapted to the musical-linguistic canons. This version of piano performance in listening circles was called “flamenco-pianism”. The hybrid nature of this phenomenon now needs in further investigation.

Background. The academic guitar art, which announced itself at the beginning of the XXI century as one of the dominant and sought-after forms of the concert music making, in recent decades has become the subject of scientific reflection. However, due to a later start time of its evolvement, it turned out to be less explored than other concert genres. The birth of the academic guitar art in the early twentieth century associated with the name of A. Segovia, together with whose creativity it stepped beyond the limits of the Spanish national culture and came to the world level. Creativity of the contemporaries and compatriots of A. Segovia, the famous guitarists of the first half of the twentieth century C. Romero, R. Sáinz de la Maza and M. Llobet, did not have that cultural and artistic weight, which could be a basis for ascension of the Spanish guitar art to the European professional heights. Exactly A. Segovia was able to do this. In spite of the fact that the importance of A. Segovia’s activities for the formation of the new performing guitar traditions of the twentieth century is enormous, it has not yet received its systemic coverage. Thus, the relevance of this article is caused, on the one hand, by the great interest in the academic guitar art in recent years, and on the other, by the lack of the special scientific studies dedicated to the performing art of the outstanding Spanish guitarist. Existing studies contain only incomplete historical data [3; 7] or the compressed socio-cultural panorama of A. Segovia’s creative activity and the period of formation of the guitar performing traditions of the twentieth century [1, p. 4–6]. Objectives. The proposed research considers the features of the performing art of A. Segovia at its different stages in order to identify the patterns of its evolvement and the main its achievements from the point of view of the contemporary guitar art. For the first time, a comprehensive assessment of the concert heritage of the Spanish maestro in the aspect of its legislative influence upon the modern academic guitar creativity is given. Methods of the research. The complex of general scientific research methods makes it possible to disclose the basic positions of the article: signification of the classical guitar in the family of the academic solo instruments (systems approach); the evolution paths of an academic guitar (historical approach); comprehension of the guitar creativity in a broad socio-cultural aspect (cultural approach); definition of the author’s performing style of A. Segovia (interpretational approach). Results. For comprehension of the evolution of A. Segovia’s performing arts, maestro’ concert programs are considered. The first big performance (March 12, 1916) included 19 pieces (Par I – the arrangements by A. Segovia and one piece by M. Llobet; Part II – the works by J. Bach, J. Haydn, F. Mendelssohn, F. Chopin, all transcribed for guitar by F. Tárrega; Part III – the music by I. Albeniz, E. Granados and one play by P. Tchaikovsky). At this stage of evolution of the academic guitar art, A. Segovia could not present in the program the works of the Renaissance epoch; besides, in the historical and cultural aspect, the program is formatted inconsequently. However, in our opinion, the program is logical and justified in its own way, and its third part that almost entirely formed from the works of the Spanish national classics one can consider as a response to the ideology of “Renacimiento” – the movement for the national revival of Spain. The ending of the decade of the fruitful concert activity of A. Segovia coincided with his tours in the territory of present-day Russia and Ukraine. In 1926, A. Segovia gave six concerts in Moscow and two concerts in Leningrad, and in 1927 – six concerts in Moscow, three concerts in Leningrad, and one each in Kharkov and Kiev. The analysis shows that the total number of works in A. Segovia’s repertoire list during his Moscow tour performances in 1926–1927 has grown to 75. They belonged to different historical eras and various performing styles, to 28 authors from different countries. The extensive repertoire corresponding to A. Segovia’s exquisite taste embodied in elegant performing interpretations, which reflected in the feedback from listeners and music critics. Over 10 years of his concert activity, the total repertoire of A. Segovia expanded significantly (up to 300 works), not only due to his own transcriptions of works by J. Bach, G. Handel, W. Mozart, J. Haydn, F. Schubert, F. Tárrega, I. Albeniz and E. Granados, but also thanks to the works of a new wave of composers: A. Tansman, F. Moreno Torroba, J. Turina, which created a number of pieces for guitar at the request of A. Segovia. Conclusions. Thus, contingently, A. Segovia’s concert activity one can divide into two big stages: before and after 1924. The culmination point of the first stage is related with the successful performance in Barcelona (1916), which eliminated some acoustic and psychological barriers that hampered guitar performers and organizers of concerts (A. Segovia is the first guitarist who was playing in the hall for 1000 seats). The first tour in Paris in April 1924, which began the second stage of the maestro’s concert activity, can be considered as a landmark event on the path of world recognition of A. Segovia. Henceforth the format of the concert programs of A. Segovia and his recordings on disks thought out clearly, it is structured delicately based on the musical styles of certain historical periods. An important place the works of modern composers occupied. The concert heritage of A. Segovia is a reflection of the evolution of the guitar repertoire. It progressed from the limited by the previous tradition in the early twentieth century up to the universal format, combining the best examples of the folk music (flamenco), the transcriptions of European classical music and the modern works bearing the newest sound images. Among the authors of such, at the request of A. Segovia, were M. Castelnuovo-Tedesko, F. Moreno Torroba, M. Ponce, J. Rodrigo, A. Tansman.

The aim of this article is to explore a range of largely embodied vocalisations and sounds produced by learners of string instruments and how they relate to the potential self-regulatory use provided by such vocalisations. This type of “singing” while learning to play an instrument may have similarities to the use of private speech in other types of learning tasks. This report describes a multiple case study based on the naturalistic observation of learners playing string instruments in different situations. We observed private rehearsals by six adult guitarists from different music cultures (classical, flamenco and jazz) who had different approaches to learning (traditional and constructivist). In addition, we observed the one-to-one lessons of a constructivist cello teacher with a 7-year-old beginner and a 12-year-old student. All sessions were recorded. We applied the System for Analysing the Practice of Instrumental Lessons to the video lessons and/or practices and participant discourse for constant comparative analysis across all categories and participants. From the theoretical framework of private speech, we identified a set of qualities in private singing, such as whistling, humming, and guttural sounds, with different levels of audibility. Self-guidance and self-regulation appeared to be the functions underlying both psychomotor learning and reflective-emotional learning from an embodiment approach. Guitar learners from popular urban cultures seemed to use less explicit singing expression than classical guitar learners, the explicitness of which may be related to the instructional use of the notational system. In the one-to-one cello lessons, we observed a process of increasing internalisation from the younger to the older student. Both results are consistent with the literature on private speech, indicating that this process is a natural process of internalisation at higher literacy levels. Singing is not as frequent in music lessons as might be expected, and it is even less frequently used as a reflective tool or understood as an embodied process. The examples provided in this article shed light on the multiplicity of applications and on the potential benefits of private singing in instructional contexts as a powerful learning tool.


 
 
 “In the performing arts the very absence of a complete score, i.e., of a complete duplicate, enables music, dances and plays to survive. The tension created by the adaptation of a work of yesterday to the style of today is an essential part of the history of the art in progress” (Rudolf Arnheim, “On Duplication”). In his essay “On Duplication”, Rudolf Arnheim proposes the idea that a close look at the life of adaptations indicates that change is not only necessary and inevitable, but also increases our understanding of the adapted work. To Arnheim, the most fruitful approach to adaptations is therefore to investigate the ways in which the various re-interpretations partake of the (initial) work and concretise latent aspects in a new historical and cultural context. This article analyzes how, and to what ends, the re-contextualising of Georges Bizet’s Carmen in other media—flamenco dance and film – changes, distorts and subverts our perception of the opera’s music. The text under analysis is Carlos Saura’s 1983 movie about a flamenco transposition of Bizet’s Carmen. I discuss this film in terms of how flamenco music and dance, on the one hand, and the film camera, on the other hand, gradually demystify the fascinating power of Bizet’s music, as well as its clichéd associations. Although these forms displace and defamiliarise music in many ways, the main argument of the analysis centers on how flamenco dance and the film image foreground the artificiality of the exotic sections from Bizet’s opera, as well as their inadequacy in the Spanish context, and also on how the film translates and self-reflexively comments on the absence of an embodied voice for Carmen. “C’est la Carmen! Non, ce n’est pas celle-là!” As the credits from Carlos Saura’s Carmen are displayed against the backdrop of Gustave Doré’s drawings, we can hear the chorus of the cigarières from Bizet’s opera singing “C’est la Carmen! Non, ce n’est pas celle-là!”. Why did the director choose this particular section of Bizet’s Carmen with which to begin his film? Moreover, what is the significance of combining Doré’s drawings with these words? In a way, we can say that the reality/illusion polarity signified by the sung words informs and gives a preview of one of the movie’s main themes—the futility of an adapter’s attempt at finding a “true” Carmen. The music’s juxtaposition with Doré’s drawings of nineteenth-century espagnolades adds to the idea of artifice and inauthenticity: Saura seems to be dismissing Bizet’s music by pairing it with the work of another one of the creators of a stereotyped (and false) image of Spain. Demystifying the untrue image that foreigners have created of Spain is one of the film director’s main concerns in his adaptation of both Bizet and Mérimée’s Carmen. The movie’s production history reinforces this idea. In his book on the films of Carlos Saura, Marvin D’Lugo notes that in 1981 the French company Gaumont had approached Saura with the project of making a filmed version of Bizet’s Carmen, “with a maximum of fidelity to the original text” (202), an idea which the director clearly rejected. Another important aspect related to the production history is the fact that Antonio Gadés, the film’s choreographer and actor for Don José’s part, had previously created a ballet version of Bizet’s Carmen, based solely on the second act of the opera. The 1983 film production is then the result of Carlos Saura—the film director attempting to reframe the French opera in the Spanish context—and Antonio Gadés—the flamenco troupe director—collaborating to create a Spanish dance version of Carmen. The film’s constant superimposition of its two diegetic levels—the fictional level, consisting in the rehearsal scenes, and the actual level, which coincides with the characters’ lives outside of and in-between rehearsals—and the constant blurring of the lines separating these two worlds, have been the cause of a plethora of varying interpretations. Susan McClary sees the movie as “a brilliant commentary on ‘exoticism’: on the distance between actual ethnic music and the mock-ups Bizet and others produced for their own ideological purposes” (137); to D’Lugo, the film is an illustration and critique of how “the Spaniards, having come under the spell of the foreign, imposter impression of Spain, find themselves seduced by the falsification of their own cultural past” (203). Other notable interpretations come from Marshall H. Leicester, who sees the film as a comment on the fact that Carmen has become a discourse and a cultural artifact, and from Linda M. Willem, who interprets the movie as a metafictional mise en abyme. I will discuss the movie from a somewhat different perspective, bearing in mind, however, McClary and D’Lugo’s readings. Saura’s Carmen is also a story about adaptation, constantly commenting on the failed attempts at perfect fidelity to the source text(s), by the intradiegetic adapter (Antonio) and, at the same time, self-reflexively embedding hints to the presence of the extradiegetic adapter: the filmmaker Saura. On the one hand, as juxtaposed with flamenco music and dance, the opera’s music is made to appear artificial and inadequate; we are presented with an adaptation in the making, in which many of the oddities and difficulties of transposing opera music to flamenco dance are problematised. On the other hand, the film camera, by constantly foregrounding the movie’s materiality—the possibility to cut and edit the images and the soundtrack, its refusal to maintain a realist illusion—displaces and re-codifies music in other contexts, thus bringing to light dormant interpretations of particular sections of Bizet’s opera, or completely altering their significance. One of the film’s most significant departures from Bizet’s opera is the problematised absence of a suitable Carmen character. Bizet’s opera, however revolves around Carmen: it is very hard, if not impossible, to dissociate the opera from the fascinating Carmen personage. Her transgressive nature, her “otherness” and exoticism, are translated in her singing, dancing and bodily presence on the stage, all these leading to the creation of a character that cannot be neglected. The songs that Bizet adapted from the cabaret numéros in order to add exotic flavor to the music, as well as the provocative dances accompanying the Habaňera and the Seguidilla help create this dimension of Carmen’s fascinating power. It is through her singing and dancing that she becomes a true enchantress, inflicting madness or unreason on the ones she chooses to charm. Saura’s Carmen has very few of the charming attributes of her operatic predecessor. Antonio, however, becomes obsessed with her because she is close to his idea of Carmen. The film foregrounds the immense gap between the operatic Carmen and the character interpreted by Laura del Sol. This double instantiation of Carmen has usually been interpreted as a sign of the demystification of the stereotyped and inauthentic image of Bizet’s character. Another way to interpret it could be as a comment on one of the inevitable losses in the transposition of opera to dance: the separation of the body from the voice. Significantly, the recorded music of Bizet’s opera accompanies more the scenes between rehearsals than the flamenco dance sections, which are mostly performed on traditional Spanish music. The re-codification of the music reinforces the gap between Saura and Gadés’ Carmen and Bizet’s character. The character interpreted by Laura del Sol is not a particularly gifted dancer; therefore, her dance translation of the operatic voice fails to convey the charm and self-assuredness that Carmen’s voice and the sung words fully express. Moreover, the musical and dance re-insertion in a Spanish context completely removes the character’s exoticism and alterity. We could say, rather, that in Saura’s movie it is the operatic Carmen who is becoming exotic and distant. In one of the movie’s first scenes, we are shown an image of Paco de Lucia and a group of flamenco singers as they play and sing a traditional Spanish song. This scene is abruptly interrupted by Bizet’s Seguidilla; immediately after, the camera zooms in on Antonio, completely absorbed by the opera, which he is playing on the tape-recorder. The contrast between the live performance of the Spanish song and the recorded Carmen opera reflects the artificiality of the latter. The Seguidilla is also one of the opera’s sections that Bizet adapted so that it would sound authentically exotic, but which was as far from authentic traditional Spanish music as any of the songs that were being played in the cabarets of Paris in the nineteenth century. The contrast between the authentic sound of traditional Spanish music, as played on the guitar by Paco de Lucia, and Bizet’s own version makes us aware, more than ever, of the act of fabrication underlying the opera’s composition. Most of the rehearsal scenes in the movie are interpreted on original flamenco music, Bizet’s opera appearing mostly in the scenes associated with Antonio, to punctuate the evolution of his love for Carmen and to reinforce the impossibility of transposing Bizet’s music to flamenco dance without making significant modifications. This also signifies the mesmerising power the operatic music has on Antonio’s imagination, gradually transposing him in a universe of understanding completely different from that of his troupe, a world in which he becomes unable to distinguish reality from illusion. With Antonio’s delusion, we are reminded of the luring powers of the operatic fabrication. One of the scenes which foregrounds the opera’s charm is when Antonio watches the dancers led by Cristina rehearse some flamenco movements. While watching their bodies reflected in the mirror, Antonio is dissatisfied with their appearance—he doesn’t see any of them as Carmen. The scene ends with an explosion of Bizet’s music heard from off-screen—probably as Antonio keeps hearing it in his head—dramatically symbolising the great distance between flamenco dance and opera music. One of the rehearsal scenes in which Bizet’s music is heard as an accompaniment to the dance is the scene in which the operatic Carmen performs the castaňet dance for Don José. In the Antonio-Carmen interpretation the music that we hear is the Habaňera and not the seductive song that Bizet’s Carmen is singing at this point in the opera. According to Mary Blackwood Collier, the Habaňera song in the opera has the function to define Carmen’s personality as strong, independent, free and enthralling at the same time (119). The purely instrumental Habaňera, combined with the lyrical and tender dance duo of Antonio/José and Carmen in Saura’s film, transforms the former into a sweet love theme. In the opera, this is one of the arias that centralise the image of Carmen in our perception. The dance transposition as a love pas de deux diminishes the impression of freedom and independence connoted by the song’s words and displaces the centrality of Carmen. Our perception of the opera’s music is significantly reshaped by the film camera too. In her book The Hollywood Musical Jane Feuer contends that the use of multiple diegesis in the backstage musical has the function to “mirror within the film the relationship of the spectator to the film. Multiple diegesis in this sense parallels the use of an internal audience” (68). Carlos Saura’s movie preserves and foregrounds this function. The mirrors in which the dancers often reflect themselves hint to an external plane of observation (the audience). The artificial collapse of the boundaries between off-stage and on-stage scenes acts as a reminder of the film’s capacity to compress and distort temporality and chronology. Saura’s film makes full use of its capacity to cut and edit the image and the soundtracks. This allows for the mise-en-scène of meaningful displacements of Bizet’s music, which can be given new significations by the association with unexpected images. One of the sections of Bizet’s opera in the movie is the entr’acte music at the beginning of Act III. Whereas in the opera this part acts as a filler, in Saura’s Carmen it becomes a love motif and is heard several times in the movie. The choice of this particular part as a musical leitmotif in the movie is interesting if we consider the minimal use of Bizet’s music in Saura’s Carmen. Quite significantly however, this tune appears both in association with the rehearsal scenes and the off-stage scenes. It appears at the end of the Tabacalera rehearsal, when Antonio/Don José comes to arrest Carmen; we can hear it again when Carmen arrives at Antonio’s house the night when they make love for the first time and also after the second off-stage love scene, when Antonio gives money to Carmen. In general, this song is used to connote Antonio’s love for Carmen, both on and off stage. This musical bit, which had no particular significance in the opera, is now highlighted and made significant in its association with specific film images. Another one of the operatic themes that recur in the movie is the fate motif which is heard in the opening scene and also at the moment of Carmen’s death. We can also hear it when Carmen visits her husband in prison, immediately after she accepts the money Antonio offers her and when Antonio finds her making love to Tauro. This re-contextualisation alters the significance of the theme. As Mary Blackwood Collier remarks, this motif highlights Carmen’s infidelity rather than her fatality in the movie (120). The repetition of this motif also foregrounds the music’s artificiality in the context of the adaptation; the filmmaker, we are reminded, can cut and edit the soundtrack as he pleases, putting music in the service of his own artistic designs. In Saura’s Carmen, Bizet’s opera appears in the context of flamenco music and dance. This leads to the deconstruction and demystification of the opera’s pretense of exoticism and authenticity. The adaptation of opera to flamenco music and dance also implies a number of necessary alterations in the musical structure that the adapter has to perform so that the music will harmonise with flamenco dance. Saura’s Carmen, if read as an adaptation in the making, foregrounds many of the technical difficulties of translating opera to dance. The second dimension of music re-interpretation is added by the film camera. The embedded camera and the film’s self-reflexivity displace music from its original contexts, thus adding or creating new meanings to the ways in which we perceive it. This way of reframing the music from Bizet’s Carmen adds new dimensions to our perception of the opera. In many of the off-stage scenes, the music seems to appear from nowhere and, then, to inform other sequences than the ones with which it is usually associated in the opera. This produces a momentary disruption in the way we hear Bizet’s music. We could say that it is a very rapid process of de-signification and re-signification—that is, of adaptation—that we undergo almost automatically. Carlos Saura’s adaptation of Carmen self-reflexively puts into play the changes that Bizet’s music has to go through in order to become a flamenco dance and movie. In this process, dance and the film image make us aware of new meanings that we come to associate with Bizet’s score. References Arnheim, Rudolf. “On Duplication”. New Essays on the Psychology of Art. Berkeley: U of California P, 1986: 274-85. Blackwood Collier, Mary. La Carmen Essentielle et sa Réalisation au Spectacle. New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 1994. D’Lugo, Marvin. The Films of Carlos Saura: The Practice of Seeing. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1991. Feuer, Jane. “Dream Worlds and Dream Stages”. The Hollywood Musical. Bloomington, IN: Indiana UP, 1993: 67-87. Leicester, Marshall H. Jr. “Discourse and the Film Text: Four Readings of ‘Carmen’”. Cambridge Opera Journal 4.3 (1994): 245-82. McClary, Susan. “Carlos Saura: A Flamenco Carmen”. Georges Bizet: Carmen. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1992: 135-7. Willem, Linda M. “Metafictional Mise en Abyme in Saura’s Carmen”. Literature/Film Quarterly 24.3 (1996): 267-73. 
 
 
 
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 Furnica, Ioana. "Subverting the “Good, Old Tune”: Carlos Saura’s Carmen." M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/10-furnica.php>. APA Style
 Furnica, I. (May 2007) "Subverting the “Good, Old Tune”: Carlos Saura’s Carmen," M/C Journal, 10(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/10-furnica.php>. 

Food is not a trifling matter on Japanese television. More visible than such cultural staples as sumo and enka, food-related talk abounds. Aired year-round and positioned on every channel in every time period throughout the broadcast day, the lenses of food shows are calibrated at a wider angle than heavily-trafficked samurai dramas, beisboru or music shows. Simply, more aspects of everyday life, social history and cultural values pass through food programming. The array of shows work to reproduce traditional Japanese cuisine and cultural mores, educating viewers about regional customs and history. They also teach viewers about the "peculiar" practices of far-away countries. Thus, food shows engage globalisation and assist the integration of outside influences and lifestyles in Japan. However, food-talk is also about nihonjinron -- the uniqueness of Japanese culture1. As such, it tends toward cultural nationalism2. Food-talk is often framed in the context of competition and teaches viewers about planning and aesthetics, imparting class values and a consumption ethic. Food discourse is also inevitably about the reproduction of popular culture. Whether it is Jackie Chan plugging a new movie on a "guess the price" food show or a group of celebs are taking a day-trip to a resort town, food-mediated discourse enables the cultural industry and the national economy to persist -- even expand. To offer a taste of the array of cultural discourse that flows through food, this article serves up an ideal week of Japanese TV programming. Competition for Kisses: Over-Cooked Idols and Half-Baked Sexuality Monday, 10:00 p.m.: SMAP x SMAP SMAP is one of the longest-running, most successful male idol groups in Japan. At least one of their members can be found on TV every day. On this variety show, all five appear. One segment is called "Bistro SMAP" where the leader of the group, Nakai-kun, ushers a (almost always) female guest into his establishment and inquires what she would like to eat. She states her preference and the other four SMAP members (in teams of two) begin preparing the meal. Nakai entertains the guest on a dais overlooking the cooking crews. While the food is being prepared he asks standard questions about the talento's career; "how did you get in this business", "what are your favorite memories", "tell us about your recent work" -- the sort of banal banter that fills many cooking shows. Next, Nakai leads the guest into the kitchen and introduces her to the cooks. Finally, she samples both culinary efforts with the camera catching the reactions of anguish or glee from the opposing team. Each team then tastes the other group's dish. Unlike many food shows, the boys eat without savoring the food. The impression conveyed is that these are everyday boys -- not mega CD-selling pop idols with multiple product endorsements, commercials and television commitments. Finally, the moment of truth arrives: which meal is best. The winners jump for joy, the losers stagger in disappointment. The reason: the winners receive a kiss from the judge (on an agreed-upon innocuous body part). Food as entrée into discourse on sexuality. But, there is more than mere sex in the works, here. For, with each collected kiss, a set of red lips is affixed to the side of the chef's white cap. Conquests. After some months the kisses are tallied and the SMAPster with the most lips wins a prize. Food begets sexuality which begets measures of skill which begets material success. Food is but a prop in managing each idol's image. Putting a Price-tag on Taste (Or: Food as Leveller) Tuesday 8:00 p.m.: Ninki mono de ikou (Let's Go with the Popular People) An idol's image is an essential aspect of this show. The ostensible purpose is to observe five famous people appraising a series of paired items -- each seemingly identical. Which is authentic and which is a bargain-basement copy? One suspects, though, that the deeper aim is to reveal just how unsophisticated, bumbling and downright stupid "talento" can be. Items include guitars, calligraphy, baseball gloves and photographs. During evaluation, the audience is exposed to the history, use and finer points of each object, as well as the guest's decision-making process (via hidden camera). Every week at least one food item is presented: pasta, cat food, seaweed, steak. During wine week contestants smelled, tasted, swirled and regarded the brew's hue. One compared the sound each glass made, while another poured the wines on a napkin to inspect patterns of dispersion! Guests' reasoning and behaviors are monitored from a control booth by two very opinionated hosts. One effect of the recurrent criticism is a levelling -- stars are no more (and often much less) competent (and sacrosanct) than the audience. Technique, Preparation and Procedure? Old Values Give Way to New Wednesday 9:00: Tonerus no nama de daradara ikasette (Tunnels' Allow Us to Go Aimlessly, as We Are) This is one of two prime time shows featuring the comedy team "Tunnels"3. In this show both members of the duo engage in challenging themselves, one another and select members of their regular "team" to master a craft. Last year it was ballet and flamenco dance. This month: karate, soccer and cooking. Ishibashi Takaaki (or "Taka-san") and his new foil (a ne'er-do-well former Yomiuri Giants baseball player) Sadaoka Hiyoshi, are being taught by a master chef. The emphasis is on technique and process: learning theki (the aura, the essence) of cooking. After taking copious notes both men are left on their own to prepare a meal, then present it to a young femaletalento, who selects her favorite. In one segment, the men learned how to prepare croquette -- striving to master the proper procedure for flouring, egg-beating, breading, heating oil, frying and draining. In the most recent episode, Taka prepared his shortcake to perfection, impressing even the sensei. Sadaoka, who is slow on the uptake and tends to be lax, took poor notes and clearly botched his effort. Nonetheless, the talento chose Sadaoka's version because it was different. Certain he was going to win, Taka fell into profound shock. For years a popular host of youth-oriented shows, he concluded: "I guess I just don't understand today's young people". In Japanese television, just as in life, it seems there is no accounting for taste. More, whatever taste once was, it certainly has changed. "We Japanese": Messages of Distinctiveness (Or: Old Values NEVER Die) Thursday, 9:00 p.m.: Douchi no ryori shiou: (Which One? Cooking Show) By contrast, on this night viewers are served procedure, craft and the eternal order of things. Above all, validation of Japanese culinary instincts and traditions. Like many Japanese cooking showsDouchi involves competition between rival foods to win the hearts of a panel of seven singers, actors, writers and athletes.Douchi's difference is that two hosts front for rival dishes, seeking to sway the panel during the in-studio preparation. The dishes are prepared by chefs fromTsuji ryori kyoshitsu, a major cooking academy in Osaka, and are generally comparable (for instance, beef curry versus beef stew). On the surface Douchi is a standard infotainment show. Video tours of places and ingredients associated with the dish entertain the audience and assist in making the guests' decisions more agonising. Two seating areas are situated in front of each chef and panellists are given a number of opportunities to switch sides. Much playful bantering, impassioned appeals and mock intimidation transpire throughout the show. It is not uncommon for the show to pit a foreign against a domestic dish; and most often the indigenous food prevails. For, despite the recent "internationalisation" of Japanese society, many Japanese have little changed from the "we-stick-with-what-we-know-best" attitude that is a Japanese hallmark. Ironically, this message came across most clearly in a recent show pitting spaghetti and meat balls against tarako supagetei (spicy fish eggs and flaked seaweed over Italian noodles) -- a Japanese favorite. One guest, former American, now current Japanese Grand Sumo Champion, Akebono, insisted from the outset that he preferred the Italian version because "it's what my momma always cooked for me". Similarly the three Japanese who settled on tarako did so without so much as a sample or qualm. "Nothing could taste better than tarako" one pronounced even before beginning. A clear message in Douchi is that Japanese food is distinct, special, irreplaceable and (if you're not opposed by a 200 kilogram giant) unbeatable. Society as War: Reifying the Strong and Powerful Friday, 11:00 p.m.: Ryori no tetsujin. (The Ironmen of Cooking) Like sumo this show throws the weak into the ring with the strong for the amusement of the audience. The weak in this case being an outsider who runs his own restaurant. Usually the challengers are Japanese or else operate in Japan, though occasionally they come from overseas (Canada, America, France, Italy). Almost without exception they are men. The "ironmen" are four famous Japanese chefs who specialise in a particular cuisine (Japanese, Chinese, French and Italian). The contest has very strict rules. The challenger can choose which chef he will battle. Both are provided with fully-equipped kitchens positioned on a sprawling sound stage. They must prepare a full-course meal for four celebrity judges within a set time frame. Only prior to the start are they informed of which one key ingredient must be used in every course. It could be crab, onion, radish, pears -- just about any food imaginable. The contestants must finish within the time limit and satisfy the judges in terms of planning, creativity, composition, aesthetics and taste. In the event of a tie, a one course playoff results. The show is played like a sports contest, with a reporter and cameras wading into the trenches, conducting interviews and play-by-play commentary. Jump-cut editing quickens the pace of the show and the running clock adds a dimension of suspense and excitement. Consistent with one message encoded in Japanese history, it is very hard to defeat the big power. Although the ironmen are not weekly winners, their consistency in defeating challengers works to perpetuate the deep-seated cultural myth4. Food Makes the Man Saturday 12:00: Merenge no kimochi (Feelings like Meringue) Relative to the full-scale carnage of Friday night, Saturdays are positively quiescent. Two shows -- one at noon, the other at 11:30 p.m. -- employ food as medium through which intimate glimpses of an idol's life are gleaned.Merenge's title makes no bones about its purpose: it unabashedly promises fluff. In likening mood to food -- and particularly in the day-trip depicted here -- we are reminded of the Puffy's famous ditty about eating crab: "taking the car out for a spin with a caramel spirit ... let's go eat crab!"Merengue treats food as a state of mind, a many-pronged road to inner peace. To keep it fluffy,Merenge is hosted by three attractive women whose job it is to act frivolous and idly chat with idols. The show's centrepiece is a segment where the male guest introduces his favorite (or most cookable) recipe. In-between cutting, beating, grating, simmering, ladling, baking and serving, the audience is entertained and their idol's true inner character is revealed. Continuity Editing Running throughout the day, every day, on all (but the two public) stations, is advertising. Ads are often used as a device to heighten tension or underscore the food show's major themes, for it is always just before the denouement (a judge's decision, the delivery of a story's punch-line or a final tally) that an ad interrupts. Ads, however, are not necessarily departures from the world of food, as a large proportion of them are devoted to edibles. In this way, they underscore food's intimate relationship to economy -- a point that certain cooking shows make with their tie-in goods for sale or maps to, menus of and prices for the featured restaurants. While a considerable amount of primary ad discourse is centred on food (alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, coffees, sodas, instant or packaged items), it is ersatz food (vitamin-enriched waters, energy drinks, sugarless gums and food supplements) which has recently come to dominate ad space. Embedded in this commercial discourse are deeper social themes such as health, diet, body, sexuality and even death5. Underscoring the larger point: in Japan, if it is television you are tuned into, food-mediated discourse is inescapable. Food for Conclusion The question remains: "why food?" What is it that qualifies food as a suitable source and medium for filtering the raw material of popular culture? For one, food is something that all Japanese share in common. It is an essential part of daily life. Beyond that, though, the legacy of the not-so-distant past -- embedded in the consciousness of nearly a third of the population -- is food shortages giving rise to overwhelming abundance. Within less than a generation's time Japanese have been transported from famine (when roasted potatoes were considered a meal and chocolate was an unimaginable luxury) to excess (where McDonald's is a common daily meal, scores of canned drink options can be found on every street corner, and yesterday's leftover 7-Eleven bentos are tossed). Because of food's history, its place in Japanese folklore, its ubiquity, its easy availability, and its penetration into many aspects of everyday life, TV's food-talk is of interest to almost all viewers. Moreover, because it is a part of the structure of every viewer's life, it serves as a fathomable conduit for all manner of other talk. To invoke information theory, there is very little noise on the channel when food is involved6. For this reason food is a convenient vehicle for information transmission on Japanese television. Food serves as a comfortable podium from which to educate, entertain, assist social reproduction and further cultural production. Footnotes 1. For an excellent treatment of this ethic, see P.N. Dale, The Myth of Japanese Uniqueness. London: Routledge, 1986. 2. A predilection I have discerned in other Japanese media, such as commercials. See my "The Color of Difference: Critiquing Cultural Convergence via Television Advertising", Interdisciplinary Information Sciences 5.1 (March 1999): 15-36. 3. The other, also a cooking show which we won't cover here, appears on Thursdays and is called Tunnerusu no minasan no okage deshita. ("Tunnels' Because of Everyone"). It involves two guests -- a male and female -- whose job it is to guess which of 4 prepared dishes includes one item that the other guest absolutely detests. There is more than a bit of sadism in this show as, in-between casual conversation, the guest is forced to continually eat something that turns his or her stomach -- all the while smiling and pretending s/he loves it. In many ways this suits the Japanese cultural value of gaman, of bearing up under intolerable conditions. 4. After 300-plus airings, the tetsujin show is just now being put to bed for good. It closes with the four iron men pairing off and doing battle against one another. Although Chinese food won out over Japanese in the semi-final, the larger message -- that four Japanese cooks will do battle to determine the true iron chef -- goes a certain way toward reifying the notion of "we Japanese" supported in so many other cooking shows. 5. An analysis of such secondary discourse can be found in my "The Commercialized Body: A Comparative Study of Culture and Values". Interdisciplinary Information Sciences 2.2 (September 1996): 199-215. 6. The concept is derived from C. Shannon and W. Weaver, The Mathematical Theory of Communication. Urbana, Ill.: University of Illinois Press, 1949. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Todd Holden. "'And Now for the Main (Dis)course...': Or, Food as Entrée in Contemporary Japanese Television." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2.7 (1999). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9910/entree.php>. Chicago style: Todd Holden, "'And Now for the Main (Dis)course...': Or, Food as Entrée in Contemporary Japanese Television," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2, no. 7 (1999), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9910/entree.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Todd Holden. (1999) "And now for the main (dis)course...": or, food as entrée in contemporary Japanese television. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2(7). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9910/entree.php> ([your date of access]).

Flamenco is a passionate style of song and dance accompanied by guitar. Its origin may be traced to the Moorish occupation of Spain, which began in the eighth century, and it continues to flourish in the southern Spanish region of Andalucia. This treatise will explore the structure and character of Flamenco and show how it influenced the twentieth-century Spanish classical composer Joaquin Turina in his five guitar works:(UNFORMATTED TABLE FOLLOWS): Fantasía Sevillana, Op. 23 (1923). Fandanguillo, Op. 36 (1926). Ráfaga, Op. 53 (1930). Sonata, Op. 61 (1931): Allegro, Andante, Allegro vivo. Homenaje a Tárrega, Op. 69 (1932): Garrotin, Soleares. (TABLE ENDS)

Despite an international interest in flamenco music, there has not been much analytical work on the genre. In fact, flamenco music has only recently started to be notated, let alone be analyzed by music theorists. Due to its multi-cultural influence, flamenco music incorporates characteristics and trends from both Eastern and Western societies. Although its melodies are fundamentally derived from the Phrygian mode, the flamenco style includes alterations that create symmetrical pitch collections. In Concerto del Fuego, composer Loris O. Chobanian expands upon the Eastern and Western traditions by writing a twentieth-century concert piece that combines the flamenco harmonic and melodic language within a concert setting. The purpose of this document is to demonstrate how Loris O. Chobanian successfully exploits symmetrical collections that are inherent in traditional flamenco scales and cadences to create a concert piece.

Flamenco guitarist Paco de Lucía, taking advantage of the ongoing cultural revolution in Spain during the seventies decided to break from tradition by shaping ”Nuevo Flamenco” through flamenco-jazz ensemble ”Paco de Lucía Sextet”. Within its repertoire, the first regular flamenco bass-line: ”Monasterio de Sal”. Electrical bassist Carles Benavent would have a key role in this development, a trait seldom found in academical works of musicology. The aim of the present thesis is to partially fill this void while shedding some light on the revolutionary contributions of Benavent. In order to do so, studying relevant literature, listening to phonograms comparatively, transcribing/analyzing ”Monasterio de Sal” and interviewing Mr. Benavent himself were used as main methods. The conclusion has been drawn that there was barely any electrical bass in flamenco before Benavent and that his work with de Lucía (and later others) would entirely reform the way electric bass was perceived from within and outside this genre of music. It is of no less interest to observe that Benavents main influences for this endeavor were the principal figures of contemporary jazz-bass (Jaco Pastorius) and flamenco-guitar (Paco de Lucía) respectively, infusing ”Monasterio de Sal”, with meaningful historical value.<br><p>Numera Inti Oyarzun-Jonsson.</p>

Hear Color and See Sound - What happens when I combine flamenco guitar and film in a live performance? This master thesis explores the combination of two art forms. The purpose is to use live projections to enhance my guitar composition with movie. My research question is: what happens when I combine flamenco guitar and film in a live performance? I explore if visual qualities add a deeper meaning to my instrumental music by experimenting with color science and video telling/editing techniques. I’ve tested through surveys and live performances if the audience perceive my music differently, by showing contrasting footage or footage that synchronize with my musical compositions. Resulting in an exam concert where I control the prerecorded video compositions with a touch screen interface through the video-jockey software Resolume, while also performing the music (which have been timed for the videos) live together with a flamenco singer and dancer.

A presente pesquisa trata da utilização da improvisação como recurso didático para o ensino e aprendizagem da guitarra flamenca possibilitando ganhos qualitativos na técnica instrumental, na percepção e na interatividade nas aulas e apresentações coletivas. A proposta metodológica teve como suporte teórico proposições de Hans-Joachim Koellreutter, Teca Alencar de Brito, Rogério Costa, Chefa Alonso e Vinko Globokar na área de educação musical e práticas de improvisação e Pierre Schaeffer referente à escuta do objeto sonoro. Na pesquisa de campo, foram realizadas aulas experimentais com um grupo de alunos compostas por atividades de improvisação, conteúdos da música e técnica da guitarra flamenca, além de questionários.<br>This research deals with the use of improvisation as a didactical resource for the teaching and learning of flamenco guitar allowing qualitative gains in instrumental technique, in perception and in interaction in class and collective presentations. The methodology proposal has been supported by theoretical propositions of Hans-Joachim Koellreutter, Teca Alencar de Brito, Rogério Costa, Chefa Alonso and Vinko Globokar in the area of music education and practice of improvisation, as well as of Pierre Schaeffer referred to the listening of the sound object. In field research, experimental classes were conducted with a group of students and they were composed of improvisational activities, of music content and of flamenco guitar technique, besides some questionnaires.

À la charnière entre les XIXe et XXe siècles, alors que la question de l’identité nationale se pose avec acuité en Espagne, la guitare y est à maintes reprises évoquée comme « l’instrument national ». Ce lieu commun se révèle finalement être un symbole paradoxal d’une identité encore en débat. Tandis que le cliché caricature la réalité en la simplifiant, les pratiques de la guitare se diversifient au contraire pendant la Restauration, en raison des transformations techniques de l’instrument et de l’évolution de la musique populaire, classique et flamenca. La composition en 1920 par Manuel de Falla de la première pièce pour guitare soliste (Hommage à Debussy) et l’organisation du Premier Concours de Cante Jondo à Grenade en 1922 attestent la progressive reconnaissance de l’instrument. Pourtant, la multiplication des imprimés, favorisée par la loi de liberté de la presse (1883), donne lieu à de nombreuses représentations littéraires et plastiques de la guitare qui ne reflètent pas fidèlement ces mutations. Elles mettent surtout en lumière son caractère populaire, andalou, voire flamenco, et sa capacité à imprégner l’imaginaire. Publiées dans des périodiques andalous ou madrilènes, ces œuvres influencent la réception de l’instrument : celui-ci est à la fois apprécié par un public de plus en plus large, méconnu car il est absent des musées et des institutions, et rejeté selon des critères sociaux et moraux en raison de sa présence dans des lieux décriés. Pourtant, même lorsque le stéréotype est contesté, la guitare revêt une dimension symbolique originale, ancrée dans le quotidien, qui se manifeste à travers l’émotion qu’elle suscite<br>During the transition from the nineteenth to the twentieth centuries, when the question of national identity is continuing to develop in Spain, the guitar is repeatedly mentioned as the “national instrument”. This platitude ultimately proves to be a paradoxical symbol of an identity that is still under debate during this period. While stereotypical descriptions caricature the reality by oversimplifying it, on the contrary, guitar practices diversify during the Restoration, because of technical changes in the instrument and the evolution of folk, classical and flamenco music. The composition in 1920 by Manuel de Falla of the first piece for solo guitar (Homenaje a Debussy) and the organization of the First Contest of the Cante Jondo in Granada in 1922 testify to the gradual recognition of the instrument. Yet the proliferation of printed matter, favored by the freedom of the press law (1883), gives rise to numerous literary and visual representations of the guitar that do not accurately reflect these changes. They mostly bring out its popular, Andalusian and even flamenco character, and its ability to impregnate the imagination. Published in periodicals in Madrid or Andalusia, these works influence the reception of the instrument: it is both appreciated by an increasingly wide audience, disregarded for being absent from museums and institutions, and rejected by social and moral standards because of its presence in decried places. Yet, even when this stereotype is disputed, the guitar takes on an original symbolic dimension, rooted in everyday life, which manifests itself through the emotions it provokes<br>En la bisagra entre los siglos XIX y XX, cuando la cuestión de la identidad nacional se planteaba con intensidad en España, se aludió muchas veces a la guitarra como el “instrumento nacional”. Este lugar común aparece como un símbolo paradójico de una identidad todavía en debate. Mientras que el cliché caricaturiza la realidad simplificándola, las prácticas de la guitarra, por el contrario, se diversificaron durante la Restauración, debido a las transformaciones técnicas del instrumento y a la evolución de la música popular, clásica y flamenca. La composición en 1920 por Manuel de Falla de la primera obra para una guitarra solista (Homenaje a Debussy) y la organización del Primer Concurso de Cante Jondo en Granada en 1922 dan fe del progresivo reconocimiento del instrumento. Sin embargo, la multiplicación de los impresos, favorecida por la Ley de Policía de Imprenta (1883), dio lugar a numerosas representaciones literarias y plásticas de la guitarra que no reflejaban fielmente esas mutaciones, sino que destacaban, sobre todo, su carácter popular, andaluz e incluso flamenco, y su capacidad de impregnar todo el imaginario colectivo español. Publicadas en periódicos andaluces o madrileños, estas obras influyeron en la recepción del instrumento que, apreciado por un público cada vez más amplio, resultaba también desconocido, por su ausencia en museos e instituciones, al mismo tiempo que era rechazado según criterios sociales y morales por su presencia en lugares considerados deshonrosos. No obstante, incluso cuando se critica el estereotipo, la guitarra posee una dimensión simbólica, enraizada en lo cotidiano, que se manifiesta a través de la emoción que suscita

There are basically five ways that the Romeros have added new works to the guitar repertoire: commissioning, composing, arranging, reviving, or improvising them. They have requested works from leading composers in Spain and the U.S.; composed works, mostly by Celedonio for solo guitar; arranged numerous orchestral and stage works for quartet; revived neglected classics, especially from the 1800s; and improvised flamenco numbers, as well as adding flourishes to notated music.