Doors open 3pm – Show starts 3.30pm
This is inner music born of solitude, of a love of the sheer sound of the guitar as a means of personal expression and exploration. I’m impressed by how unforced Los Días feels, how willing Conrado is to let his music take him —and us— where it will.
One of the chief pleasures of schlepping a guitar through Europe and the UK over the years has been the opportunity it’s afforded me to meet and hear other musicians.
When John Fahey made his rst recordings in 1958 he could not possibly have foreseen how far-reaching his in uence would be. Today the path that John hacked through the musical wilderness of the latter part of the 20th Century has snaked its way across the whole planet, to countries, cities, and backwaters he never set foot in. It’s more than just a little astonishing how widely the style of guitar music John created has traveled, taken up by people he never laid eyes on or imagined might exist.
Called American Primitive, the tendrils of this musical style now stretch far beyond the borders of the country of John’s birth.
(And here I must note the critical role my dear friend Jack Rose played in spreading the gospel. For many young listeners and players, Jack was their entrée into this music. I lost count how many times people came up to us during our month-long tour of Europe and the UK in 2004, saying, “I never heard John Fahey’s music. What records should I start with?” It happened so often as to become commonplace).
Which brings me to Madrid’s Conrado Isasa.
Conrado sent me his rst album, Las Cosas, a year ago. It was a good rst effort, I thought. Not everything worked, but I could hear in it the stirrings of a musician of depth, one who had obviously spent hours, days, years absorbing the works of the players who had come before him and countless dusks and dawns alone with a guitar, learning how to let it speak for him.
With Los Días (“Days”) Conrado has more than come into his own. His technique has matured to the point where you don’t hear technique anymore, just what he has to say.
Commenting on each song would be pointless —this is an album after all, not just a collection of individual pieces— but whether he’s employing acoustic, lap steel or electric guitar, there is a unity of purpose here and an underlying sense of calm and ow (and drama — Los Días Have Gone By?) that is irresistible and compelling.
This is inner music —more for Sunday morning than Saturday night— born of solitude, of a love of the sheer sound of the guitar as a means of personal expression and exploration.
I’m impressed by how unforced Los Días feels, how willing Conrado is to let his music take him —and us— where it will.
It’s a captivating voyage, one I hope you’ll relish as much as I do.
Glenn Jones – Cambridge, MA. August, 2016