By Colin Cooper | From the March 1985 issue of Classical Guitar
The world of music often blurs lines, especially when it comes to names. For those in media and beyond who might confuse the celebrated film composer John Williams with the equally renowned classical guitarist John Williams, there’s yet another crossover. John Williams – the guitarist, our focus here – ventured into film music composition, embracing opportunities as they arose. This characteristic approach of seizing opportunities is central to this insightful interview, primarily discussed within the context of his performing career.
Read more articles on John Williams here
John Williams’s Unplanned Path and Contemporary Music
John Williams: My career has been quite organic, developing as opportunities presented themselves. I tend to approach things in a very natural, almost unselfconscious way. It’s been mentioned before, though I can’t recall by whom or when, that I supposedly don’t perform much contemporary music. It’s ironic because I’ve often noticed that when I have engaged with contemporary pieces, it often goes unnoticed. This isn’t a complaint, as I’ve always enjoyed performing it. However, it does highlight how much self-promotion seems necessary to gain recognition. It’s as if unless you loudly proclaim, “I am performing X’s groundbreaking new piece because it’s vital for the guitar repertoire and represents the future of music, blending Indian scales with traditional harmonies,” people don’t truly take notice. That kind of grandstanding seems to be what captures attention.
Looking back at the sixties and early seventies, I was deeply involved in contemporary chamber music. I collaborated extensively with the Melos Ensemble, the Sinfonietta, and the Nash Ensemble. I performed standard works by composers like Schoenberg and Webern – the complete Boulez Webern on CBS, for instance. I even performed Schoenberg’s Serenade twice. Roberto Gerhard’s Libra, a truly fantastic piece, was in my repertoire for at least half a dozen performances. Eventually, after dedicating considerable time to this area, I passed the torch to Tim Walker, which was a great transition because he’s exceptionally talented and genuinely passionate about contemporary music – the best reason to pursue any musical path.
I also performed and recorded Leo Brouwer’s first concerto, the aleatoric one, along with numerous other modern compositions, not necessarily all strictly avant-garde. Pieces by Dodgson, Gowers, and Brouwer, among others, have all been part of my repertoire and enjoyment.
There are some newer pieces I haven’t yet explored simply due to time constraints. Ginastera’s Sonata, for example, is by a very compelling composer and something I’d like to delve into when time allows.
The Influx of New Music and Time Constraints
Do you receive a lot of contemporary composers sending you music to play?
Constantly. This year alone, I’ve accumulated a backlog of 30 to 40 tapes and a substantial stack of scores from both amateur and professional composers. Once you fall behind, it’s virtually impossible to catch up. Fortunately, a friend helps by listening through the tapes and filtering out the most promising half dozen. If there are a couple of pieces that stand out, then I’ll give them a listen myself.
It’s a reality many people don’t grasp. When concertgoers approach after a performance and ask if they can send tapes or scores, I have to be honest and say that I likely won’t have time to get to them.
Our instrument is uniquely positioned at the heart of the diverse musical landscape of today.
The truth is, there simply isn’t enough time to pursue everything I’d like to. However, I certainly don’t feel a lack of repertoire or musical material. The guitar doesn’t have a traditional 18th and 19th-century repertoire in the same way as the violin or piano, and no amount of wishing will change that. For me, that’s a settled point. That’s not where the guitar’s strength lies today. Instead, we are fortunate that the guitar is deeply embedded in the contemporary musical world. Whether it’s South American, Oriental, jazz, pop, country, or finger-picking styles – whatever your preference, the guitar is relevant. Globally, it’s integrated into the musical culture in a way no other instrument is. That’s what’s truly significant and exciting.
I’m not diminishing the role of traditional classical guitarists; they are a vital part of this overall picture. It’s fantastic. But there’s no reason for the often-expressed anxiety about repertoire scarcity. “What will we do for new music? Poor guitar!” This kind of lament is unnecessary. There’s an abundance of musical possibilities; the real limitation is time. And the sheer number of talented young guitarists today compared to even 15 years ago is incredible. The standard is exceptionally high, despite the diversity of approaches.
Conservatism in Guitar Performance Programs
Yet, I sense a certain conservatism in the programs many guitarists choose. Might they be playing it safe for career reasons?
But is it any more conservative than the typical program chosen by a pianist?
I believe you’re touching on a much larger issue here – the culture of musical performance itself. In the realm of “classical” music, we primarily perform works composed by others. This practice is largely a Western European concept, dating back to around 1770. It’s become a global phenomenon partly due to the historical influence of Western European culture. The empires of France, Spain, Belgium, Germany, and England spread their cultural traditions, including performance practices, worldwide. This is as much a social and imperial issue as it is purely cultural. It evolves into an economic and social construct.
This is a crucial point to consider because we often default to the idea that “classical” music truly means Western European music. While we acknowledge jazz, Indian music, and various ethnic genres, there’s an underlying assumption that “proper” concert music adheres to the Western European tradition of the last 800-900 years and the performance conventions of the last 200 years.
This conditioning shapes our expectations of a concert program. If performers focus on presenting the best of past music, chosen according to their tastes and instrumental suitability, programs inevitably become repetitive. For someone like you who attends numerous concerts, the experience might become frustrating, leading to critiques about program choices.
Any commentary is beneficial and valid. Whether expressed directly or in a review, noting that a program seemed overly traditional or uninspired is helpful. Constructive criticism pushes development in all directions. However, upon deeper analysis, such observations aren’t necessarily criticisms in the negative sense.
Audience Expectations and Economic Realities
But the audience is present and their preferences must be considered…
It’s about communication!
And economics, too…
Indeed. Let me give you an example. The Australian Youth Chamber Orchestra’s performance at the South Bank Summer Music Festival was remarkable. They received a 20-minute standing ovation in Paris after a fantastic European tour. Yet, upon returning to Australia, they all went back to their respective universities and colleges to finish their studies. Two of the violinists attended my concerts in Adelaide. They came to a rehearsal for an orchestral concert and mentioned they were coming to my solo recital on Friday, specifically asking if I would play any Villa-Lobos, particularly the first prelude!
You see? These are incredibly talented musicians from the Australian National Youth Orchestra, and they regard Villa-Lobos Preludes as essential repertoire, much like Chopin Preludes or Bach’s 48. It’s fundamental. Despite there being only five Villa-Lobos preludes compared to the vast repertoire by other composers, and even though some guitarists might be tired of hearing Villa-Lobos No. 1, these musicians still want to hear it. It’s not just “Joe Public”; these are highly skilled young musicians who appreciate well-composed music. As it happened, I was indeed starting my program with the five preludes, feeling slightly self-conscious about it for my guitarist friends in Adelaide, knowing some of the 2,000 attendees at the Festival Theatre might be weary of Villa-Lobos. But the other 1,850 were not. Moreover, many in the audience, musicians and non-musicians alike, simply wanted to hear well-written music, which the Villa-Lobos preludes certainly are.
So, there’s a cultural dynamic at play. This doesn’t negate the validity of our critiques when we attend a guitar recital at Wigmore Hall and think, “Oh no, not this piece again!” That feeling is understandable. But perhaps that’s more about our personal fatigue than a universal truth.
Interestingly, I’m considering rerecording the Villa-Lobos Preludes. With the shift to digital recording, I wonder if it would be worthwhile to revisit those pieces. But I also have another project I’m eager to start – which I’m keeping secret for now.
Transcriptions, Bach, and Musical Integrity
Your recent record of Bach, Handel, and Marcello generated considerable interest. You performed the Handel Organ Concerto at the South Bank, but in an arrangement for “Friends”…
…But this new recording is the definitive version, with orchestra. Oh God, that South Bank performance was dreadful! It was every ensemble’s nightmare: launching a tour in London with a brand new program.
I had spent a year mastering the intricate solo part of the Handel concerto, but with JW and Friends, I only played the melody line. Having to rework fingerings I was so accustomed to was far more challenging than learning the piece from scratch. My fingers were completely disoriented.
Someone suggested that your transcription of the Bach Violin Concerto was bound to spark controversy. Do you anticipate that?
Why should it? – I say, feigning innocence!
When considering transcriptions, the only relevant question is: Does it work musically? Does it sound good? Not, “Is it a faithful adaptation?”
Well, Bach himself frequently transposed and rearranged his own works. But do you think such debates distract from the music itself, or do they actually heighten attention towards it?
I don’t think it has much impact either way. That kind of controversy stems from a fundamentally flawed way of perceiving and appreciating music. The only ones negatively affected by such attitudes are those who hold them. It doesn’t really deter anyone else. Ultimately, if a piece works musically, whether it’s a transcription or original, people will respond positively. They might read beforehand or afterward that someone questions its legitimacy as a transcription, and this might slightly color their perception. But if they have a genuine musical experience, those external opinions won’t truly matter. Regarding transcriptions, criticisms, or controversy, the crucial question is: Does it work? Does it sound good? Not, “Is it faithful?”
Consider this example: imagine I transcribe Bach’s E major Violin Concerto, transpose it to D major for guitar, perhaps a better key, and add embellishments to compensate for the guitar’s limited sustain—even though the original notes aren’t particularly sustained either. Many purists would object, “You can’t do that to Bach!” But, of course, that’s precisely what Bach himself did in his own harpsichord transcription! Those unaware would decry such alterations to Bach’s original work.
However, in my approach, I keep it in E major. The writing resembles the Prelude from the Partita in E (BWV 1006a). There aren’t many long sustained notes, except at the beginning of the slow movement.
Intentional Programming and Audience Engagement
Like some guitarists, you sometimes place a contemporary piece within a more traditional program. Is this a deliberate programming strategy—perhaps a way to make it more palatable?
It’s not intentional in that calculated way at all. It happens more organically, as part of the natural flow of my programs. I recognize that my more popular performances, like appearances on the Val Doonican show or playing Cavatina or film scores, attract a wider audience. Many of these people, potentially all of them, and certainly many in practice, are drawn to more diverse concerts, including JW and Friends or solo recitals, and even other guitar concerts, not just mine. They then are exposed to Petrassi, or perhaps Barrios, Bach, or Albéniz—a broad spectrum. I’m aware that the popular appeal from pieces like Cavatina has this positive spillover effect. And I believe it’s a very good thing. The more of that, the better. But within a specific program, if I include Petrassi, I don’t intentionally precede it with lighter pieces just to “sweeten the pill” or make it easier to digest.
On that note, I should mention that certain opportunities have been absolutely invaluable, like my appearances on Val Doonican’s shows dating back to 1962 or 1963. I’ve been a guest in almost every series of his program, and I credit that experience as a major factor in the widespread popularity of classical guitar. And I mean popularity with the broader public, not just within the guitar community. It raised awareness and appreciation for the classical guitar as a beautiful, accessible acoustic instrument. It was fortunate to know Val and to have had an audience of 13 or 14 million viewers on a Saturday night hearing Bach gavottes, Barrios waltzes, Albéniz, or similar pieces. And then a duet with Val, which, if you like, is the “sugar coating” – but in a positive sense, because it creates a connection and places the solo classical piece in a relatable context. And it’s genuinely enjoyable. Some of the songs we performed were very charming.
So, that’s one significant factor, and I’m very conscious of it. If I could have planned that kind of exposure, I certainly would have. It’s been incredibly beneficial for the guitar. I can say that with all humility. It was simply a stroke of luck to be in that position.
Four years ago, during an Australian tour, I included Petrassi in the program, interspersed with Albéniz pieces. I’d play one or two Albéniz pieces, then Richard Rodney Bennett’s Impromptus, followed by more Albéniz, then Brouwer’s Elogio de la Danza, Smith Brindle pieces, and finally the Petrassi. I simply liked the program’s flow. The Albéniz served as a kind of punctuation. I’m not suggesting every program should be structured this way, but it’s a reasonable assumption that audiences will find it appealing.
Personal Following vs. Appreciation for Classical Guitar
Without diminishing the impact of popular media exposure, would it be accurate to say that your personal followers don’t necessarily follow classical guitar as a genre?
It’s hard to say definitively. They might not follow classical guitar simply because it’s classical guitar – but I don’t think that’s the primary point. Do people follow classical piano because it’s classical piano? That’s a distinction we need to be careful about. I don’t see them as solely “personal followers.” I think they genuinely appreciate music. If someone else were on the Val Doonican show playing similar pieces instead of me, they would likely enjoy that too. It’s a combination of factors. While there might be a personal following, I don’t think it’s exclusively so.
(John Williams was fortunate in his early guitar training, greatly crediting his father, the esteemed teacher Len Williams. But was this unique upbringing universally applicable? Would it work for every child with a guitarist father?)
I believe my father was possibly the greatest guitar teacher we’ve ever known. This isn’t just familial loyalty. It becomes evident when you meet and speak with those who knew him and were his students, and when you observe the ripple effect since his time – his former students, or their students, now teaching worldwide. Look at what they are achieving and creating.
Of course, I can only speak from my direct experience. String instrument players need to start very young, and I was fortunate to have him as my teacher during those crucial early years. Having a good teacher from a young age is vital. While having a parent as a teacher isn’t always ideal and can create complexities, generally growing up in a musical family environment is essential. You can technically do without it, but it’s almost a necessity. I think this is why the Suzuki method is so effective – it requires parental involvement in learning alongside the child.
The State of Guitar Education and Musicianship
Without delving into the entire field of music education, I believe the historical issue with guitar teaching at a young age is that it tends to be a very individualistic pursuit, especially in lessons and repertoire, except perhaps in some later-stage school programs. Beginners, whether children or adults, predominantly learn to play solo pieces from the very start. I think this is a significant disadvantage.
It’s a major reason why guitarists are often weak sight-readers and less rounded musicians. This is linked to the inherent challenges of the guitar and the historical tendency to learn pieces that are technically too demanding too early.
In producing a musical note, the guitar is fundamentally a melodic instrument. Like bowed strings or wind instruments, two distinct, coordinated actions – whether of the mouth and hand, or two hands – are needed to produce a single note and its sonic quality. This is central to violin learning.
The primary goal is to create a beautiful sound. Anyone can draw a bow across strings, but the initial lessons, sometimes years, are dedicated to producing a pleasing tone and proper vibrato. Vibrato might not even be introduced for a year or two. And playing double stops or chords comes much later!
This is an obvious comparison to the piano, where simply striking a key produces a note, but the implications are often overlooked. Many still don’t understand what this implies for guitar teaching and learning. We continue to ask guitar students from the earliest stages to learn the guitar as if it were a piano. This continues through the early years and beyond. The result is players inevitably preoccupied with the technical difficulties of playing what is essentially piano music, even if simplified. They approach the guitar as a limited piano. This approach is fundamentally flawed and inherently limits playing standards, phrasing quality, sight-reading ability, and overall musicianship because it’s based on being a poor imitation of another instrument.
This also contributes to the scarcity of ensemble repertoire and experience. Everyone is striving to play overly difficult solo pieces prematurely. They become fixated on technical hurdles, which would be less daunting if they focused on simpler single lines initially: early Mozart, Haydn quartets, or Renaissance consort music where string and wind players perform single lines together, listening to each other, sight-reading simultaneously, and focusing on phrasing and creating a beautiful sound within their individual parts.
A first or second-year chamber music student at any music college will phrase a simple melody better than 99 percent of professional guitarists.
On the guitar, we often neglect these ensemble skills. We don’t sufficiently listen to other ensemble players, we lack sight-reading proficiency, and we don’t spend enough time developing phrasing and beautiful tone in single melodic lines. This pattern begins in the first lesson and persists into professional playing. I sometimes listen to BBC broadcasts and hear incredibly skilled guitarists playing technically demanding pieces. Yet, when they perform simpler works like Weiss, musically straightforward in terms of phrasing, the phrasing is often shockingly inadequate. If you heard similar phrasing on violin, piano, or harpsichord, you’d be astounded. In competitions, regardless of technical brilliance, guitarists often rank low in musicianship. A first or second-year chamber music student at any music college will phrase a simple melody better than 99 percent of professional guitarists.
This is a serious situation, not an exaggeration. It’s easy to criticize, I admit. But we need to trace back to around 1800 and examine where things went astray, considering not just the guitar and music, but broader cultural trends, the emphasis on ambition, success, the star system, solo performance, and the economic pressures that necessitate musicians to maximize concert engagements. Present-day teaching often reinforces this. Guitarists are not collaborating enough. They are underperforming in chamber music and ensemble playing.
There’s a wealth of chamber music available. While we lack original Mozart or Haydn quartets for guitar, we can create chamber ensembles with two, three, or four guitars. It’s quite straightforward. There’s centuries of music adaptable for guitar ensembles. Renaissance consort music alone, for various instrument combinations, both specified and unspecified, offers material to keep us busy for centuries! Early Haydn and Mozart quartets, and countless traditional pieces, can be arranged by ourselves, much like rock and jazz groups constantly do.
I realize this sounds quite negative. It’s right that we react and critique daily issues, as that’s the impetus for change. If enough people are sufficiently passionate and persistent, change can happen over time. Twenty years can be a significant period in history. It’s encouraging that students are becoming aware of these issues. So, while my points might sound extreme, they are not entirely new. However, it’s necessary to articulate them forcefully and constructively—not exaggerated, but with conviction.
The situation I’ve described reflects my objective assessment. It is truly problematic, and its importance is substantial. These are the realities of the current musical standard for guitar.
Having said this, I do believe change is happening. Many individuals across different countries are recognizing the importance of ensemble music and collaborative music-making. We may have lost some ground in the past 20 years. John Gavall initiated significant ensemble music programs in schools in West Riding of Yorkshire around 20 years ago. Many teachers globally, like Jochen Schubert in Melbourne, are effectively promoting chamber music. The challenge is initiating change at various levels. Everyone is focused on individual advancement, which is necessary, but a collective awareness is needed from the foundational levels upwards, starting with school music education. It’s unfortunate that this realization coincides with a difficult period in English political history… I’m so frustrated by it, I can’t even discuss it further. Words fail me!
Postscript: The Necessity of Good Amplification
As a final note, perhaps you could share some thoughts on the perennial topic of electrical amplification. Yours is consistently excellent…
There have been occasions where it hasn’t worked perfectly, but let’s discuss the fundamental principle. The “natural” sound heard in a large concert hall is not the guitar’s true, inherent sound. The guitar was never designed for large venues; it’s an instrument best suited for intimate spaces, salons, and smaller rooms.
In a concert hall, a well-amplified guitar can sound more authentic, more like a true guitar sound, than an unamplified one.
This is crucial to understand because the guitar’s tonal richness, resonance, and full timbre are best appreciated in confined spaces. In larger spaces, only certain aspects of the guitar’s sound project effectively – the percussive elements and higher frequencies that carry further. The resonance, richness, and tonal color are lost.
You could play a Fleta guitar, for instance, in the Festival Hall without amplification and be heard in the back row—provided complete silence prevails, where you could hear a pin drop. And that’s essentially what it would sound like—a cascade of pins dropping! It wouldn’t resemble the guitar sound I know when playing or listening in a room. This is why I advocate for quality amplification—which can be truly excellent. Amplification can be as refined as a fine guitar in its own right.
Technology and electronics have advanced tremendously in the last two decades. In a hall, a well-amplified guitar can sound more natural and more authentically like a guitar than an unamplified one. Achieving this requires excellent equipment and considerable expertise in its use. Occasional mishaps or challenging acoustics are inevitable, but in most cases, the results are beautiful.
I never rely on a venue’s in-house equipment, regardless of its purported quality. Someone always accompanies me who is skilled in operating all the equipment. I bring my own high-quality hi-fi speakers, a power amplifier, a mixing desk, and a carefully chosen microphone—after trying several to find the optimal one—and, most importantly, a high-quality 30-band graphic equalizer. I believe it’s our responsibility as performers to understand and manage these technical aspects.
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