The vihuela, tuned like a lute but with a guitar-shaped body, variable in size (and, therefore pitch) flourished in sixteenth-century Spain, at a time when the lute was king in the rest of Europe; that much is clear, but there is much more that is not. When and how did it come into being? Why does it seem to have been so short-lived? The first of the few published books of vihuela music was El Maestro by Luis Milan (1536) and as it was also a tutor there must have been a ready-made, worthwhile market for it; the last was Antonio de Cabezon's book (1578), containing music also for the harp and keyboard. And after that, silence. The instrument was popular in court circles (the four-course guitar was then its 'popular' counter-part—in effect a vihuela without its two outer courses) and the archives show the names of many vihuelistas of whom there is no other record. None of these mysteries is yet soluble. The 'high-class' status of the vihuela is proclaimed by the art-musical nature of its repertory: many fantasias intabulations of vocal works, and sets of variations on popular tunes or hymns—a particular art in which the vihuelistas were in the vanguard.
Luys de Narvaez's Seys libros del Delphin de musica (1538) contain 67 pieces, including some songs with vihuela accompaniment, of which Hopkinson Smith has recorded 21—fantasias sets of variations and settings of vocal works by Josquin, Ricafort and Gombert. The variations on ''Guarda me las vacas'' fall into two groups (four and three), calling for different tunings, and since they all emerge in the same key Smith probably retuned his instrument, he is announced as playing only one and, as only two original vihuelas have survived (another mystery), it is a modern copy. In order to share the severe, private and tonally monochromatic world of this music you must enter it—it will not entice the reluctant, and your willingness to make the effort will determine whether or not you acquire this superbly and stylishly played, finely recorded disc.'