John Williams, interview by Andrew Stewart (Gramophone, July 1992)

James McCarthy
Thursday, May 9, 2013

John Williams (Kathy Panama/Askonas Holt)
John Williams (Kathy Panama/Askonas Holt)

From Bach and Scarlatti to Tak­emitsu and Paul Hart, the musical tastes of guitarist John Williams range far and wide. Whether it be in solo recital, performing with groups such as Sky or the newly-formed Attacca, or on disc, Williams is by no means a slave to convention. 'Many of the things I've done,' he says, 'could be considered strange, but I think it's important to keep alive your own curiosity and interest, and that of the public, in the guitar. A performer should invite comment and criticism, rather than avoid it.'

The guiding principle for Williams is that, above all, music-making should be enjoyable. His large discography may not survive the test of time in its entirety, but that, he says, is for future generations to decide. As for today, when Williams goes into the studio he aims to create something special for those who buy and listen to his recordings, no matter what the repertoire. 

The latest Williams release from Sony Classical, 'Iberia', explores a number of unfamiliar works for Spanish guitar. 'I wanted this disc to be a special tribute for Spanish year. I thought if I'm not going to re-record all the old popular pieces, then I'll have to look at works I haven't played.' Williams sought out the first printed edition of Rodrigo's Invocaciòn y Danza, considerably different from the version in circulation today. 'I can't understand why I hadn't played it before, it's such a wonderful piece. The recording also gave me the chance to learn more of the Llobet Catalan Folksongs, which are delightful, and to do the complete Granados Valses poéticos.'

Listening to a copy of the master tape of 'Iberia' in Williams's North London home, the overriding impression was of the smoothness and fluidity of his playing. 'I've never liked noises on the guitar,' he explains. 'There's a whole background of guitarists accepting that the squeaks and clicks are what the guitar is. One has to differentiate between the noises that are not nice and the feel of the movement of the fingers along the fingerboard.' Williams likens the effect of smooth, relaxed guitar fingering to that expected from the violin or cello, pointing out that the whole technique of moving the hand is an essential, and sensuous, part of the music.

'The little mouse-squeaks you get when the finger unclicks from a thick, wire bass string, which come out in the most unrhythmical way, are untenable. I've always tried to minimize them by softening the hand movements and using different fingerings. About six years ago, I started to use semi-polished strings for recordings.' Reducing the likelihood of unplanned noises allows Williams greater freedom to take risks, to become less inhibited, creating a sense of flow as if he were playing a bowed instrument. 

The distinction Williams makes between the acceptable and unacceptable 'mechanical' noises of his instrument is carried over into the type of sound he looks for in recordings. Deciding on balance and recorded sound is not every musician's idea of fun, many preferring to leave the technical business of recording to the engineer and producer. Over the years, Williams has devoloped his own very definite views on how his instrument should be recorded, leading to a strong creative partnership with his two regular sound engineers, Mike Ross-Trevor, who handles Williams's work at Sony's London studios, and Mike Stavrou. Characteristic of a Williams disc is the lifelike presence of the instrument. 'A close recorded sound does not necessarily mean close to the microphone, but close in the sense that the listener feels the intimacy of the guitar sound, where the listener experiences the feel of the fingers on the strings, not just the nail clicks but the pads of your fingertips as they brush the nylon.' 

When recording a solo album with Stavrou, Williams expects to spend a whole day setting up, for both, a natural step in establishing the most appropriate sound. 'Overall, classical music record production is not very imaginative,' says Williams. 'It's good, but safe. I think for any music, and especially for guitar, it should be handled imaginatively. I have found this a problem, because there are certain subtleties which I find important that can easily be overlooked. If I go into the studio I want to do something special; it's the one record that I do a year and it's the one that Mike Stavrou and I work on until we've got it right.'

Williams cites his experience in the world of commercial and film music, where multi-track recording equipment enables the guitar to be heard clearly even when playing with full orchestra. 'I don't think classical production has yet made the leap into making "full-hearted" recordings. Even in the best cases, at the back of engineers' and producers' minds is that they are recording a live concert, like a BBC broadcast.' Williams holds that a recording needs to be planned to achieve the best sound possible from his instrument 'for the person who is listening at home'. The recorded dynamic range, he argues, is generally too wide for the average listener's living room. 

The care and trouble Williams takes with the two Mikes, Stavrou and Ross-Trevor, in getting the right sound extends to the whole process of putting a piece on disc. 'Instead of recording everything several times over two or three days, getting tired hands, putting the results in a cupboard for a few months and then leaving it to someone to edit when they've got time, I record and edit as I go. Every day I do one, two or three pieces. When I play through what I think is enough times, I then edit straight away. If I make a mistake during a take, I immediately back up and get that bit right; then I cont inue.' That way, says Williams, musical and technical continuity is maintained throughout each take, the editing process concentrating on closing the gaps between an unsatisfactory passage and its replacement. 'I'll very rarely cut between takes. I do that every day for a week and then there's a master tape ready for the factory. It's like a slightly longer version of a concert; we prepare, practise, perform and at the end the result has got our stamp on it.'

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