Al Di Meola attained guitar hero status back in the ’70s, tearing it
up on electric guitar with the fusion band Return to Forever, which
also featured Chick Corea on keyboards, Lenny White on drums, and Stanley
Clarke on bass. His early adventures as a solo artist produced such
acclaimed recordings as Land of the Midnight Sun and Elegant
Gypsy. In the mid-’80s, he broke new ground as a member of the Guitar
Trio, an ensemble that featured Di Meola, renowned jazz guitarist John
McLaughlin, and flamenco great Paco de Lucía. Di Meola’s most
recent recordings are steeped in the sound of acoustic guitar, along
with the ambitious MIDI experiments he has championed since 1998’s The
Infinite Desire. And while he can still burn a blue streak
on guitar, as he so capably demonstrates from time to time with signature
fretboard flourishes, his latest compositions reveal new musical dimensions.
Di Meola can now be heard immersing himself in the inherent romance
of the guitar, caressing each note and putting a premium on harmonic
substance. At 47, he is a seasoned artist less concerned with licks
and popularity polls than with the bigger musical picture.
Last year, Di Meola released The Grande Passion, a sweeping,
operatic recording with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra that is dominated
by the sound of steel- and nylon-string acoustic guitars. His whirlwind
tours in support of the record have taken him far from his New Jersey
roots. In the span of a few months, Di Meola and his touring band (pianist
Mario Parmisano, second guitarist Hernan Romero, bassist Tom Kennedy,
conga player Gumbi Ortiz, and percussionist Gilad) have performed triumphant
concerts in Poland, Greece, and Russia, with orchestral accompaniment
in each city they visited. Di Meola is especially pleased with the four
sold-out shows the band played in Poland, which he calls "the highest
point in my life as an artist."
Back on his home turf for a weeklong engagement at New York’s Blue
Note, Di Meola’s presentation is scaled down. In these nightclub situations
he relies heavily on his ultra-sophisticated MIDI triggering system
to provide the orchestral grandeur that this new music demands. With
the stomp of an on-stage box, he is able to double his own harmonically
complex guitar lines with the sounds of tamboura, bandoneon, harmonica,
Andean pipes, and lush strings. It’s an astonishing feat to behold.
I sat down with Di Meola in his massive, Mediterranean-style home in
New Jersey just days before he departed for another tour of Russia.
Have you always played both acoustic guitar and electric?
Di Meola Well, my first guitar was
an acoustic. I soon switched to electric because that’s really what
the sound of the day was. I got back into acoustic guitar around the
time [John] McLaughlin was doing something acoustic—the early version
of Mahavishnu. There was a real appeal in that for me. He happened to
be using an Ovation guitar, so I was taken by that. With Return to Forever,
I was given a chance to do a solo spot on acoustic. And we recorded
one acoustic tune on each of the three records the band made [Where
Have I Known You Before, No Mystery, and Romantic Warrior].
After Return to Forever disbanded, I continued the tradition of having
an acoustic tune or two featured on each of my solo records up until
the Guitar Trio did its thing in 1980. And then that took off! Huge!
So the possibilities for the instrument became more real. The amount
of time I’ve spent on the acoustic guitar has increased since then.
There certainly has been more of an appreciation for that kind of music,
throughout Europe especially. Plus, I just became fatigued by the sound
of electric guitar, and I can express myself in a deeper way on the
acoustic guitar. Some of my heroes, guys that I really love, are acoustic
guitar players: Egberto Gismonti, Ralph Towner, Vicente Amigo . . .
Did your approach to the acoustic guitar change when you started
playing with the Guitar Trio?
Di Meola Yeah. I had the Latin element
in my music well before then, but you can’t help but get into a learning
mode in a situation with Paco and John. We were all learning bits and
pieces from one another. But Paco comes from such a different world
than John and I, that we were both picking up on a lot of stuff that
was second nature for him, that he was born with. Guitar is so significant
in Spain.
What kinds of things did you pick up?
Di Meola The most striking thing about
Paco’s playing is his rhythm technique, which seems to be a cut above
most American guitar players. I first heard his stuff in 1974 when I
was with Chick [Corea]. We had gone to Spain, and Paco was the guy that
everybody was talking about, so I picked up on his records. That’s how
I was introduced. That’s what brought me to want to use him on "Mediterranean
Sundance" [on the 1977 record Elegant Gypsy]. Plus, there
was something about the flamenco he was playing that wasn’t as traditional
or clichéd as what most other guys were doing. He just took it
to the next realm, like Vicente Amigo is doing now.
You always had a great right hand, skipping strings and playing
with blazing speed. But in the context of the Guitar Trio, you got into
more rhythmic strumming.
Di Meola That’s right. Because I had
to accompany them when they soloed. In Return to Forever, Chick’s comping
was highly prominent. When he was soloing, you didn’t want to get in
his way. So I didn’t display that [rhythmic accompaniment] thing. It
became more prominent in the Guitar Trio and also on Rite of Strings
[with violinist Jean-Luc Ponty and bassist Stanley Clarke]. I did a
lot of rhythm stuff with that trio, which I love doing. I actually enjoy
that more than soloing.
What instrument did you play in that context?
Di Meola The same primary two acoustic
guitars I used in the Trio: my Ovation and my Conde Hermanos. I go back
and forth between those two a lot.
Do you have different approaches toward steel-string and nylon-string
guitar?
Di Meola You can’t bend nylon strings
quite the same way as you can steel, so I phrase a little bit more like
an electric guitar when I play steel-string. There are also differences
in vibrato. On a nylon, to get your vibrato you might not go up and
down, you might go sideways, like a classical type of vibrato. And also
I seem to play with my fingers more often on nylon, except for the single-note
runs.
So, getting back to the ’80s, after the Guitar Trio you went through
another interesting musical phase that yielded the very esoteric recording
Cielo e Terra.
Di Meola Yeah. Can I tell you something
about that? I have a million old cassettes lying around. I threw one
in a bag in case I came up with some ideas on the road. One day, out
of curiosity, I went into Play mode, instead of Record, and this music
came out. I actually thought it was somebody else, maybe Ralph Towner
or somebody. I didn’t know who it was, but it sounded very classical,
really interesting! And finally I realized that they were two missing
tracks from Cielo e Terra that I had completely forgotten about.
They’re mind-blowing. There’s no way I could play that again. It’s so
difficult, so atonal. I’ve got to find a way to release it, but I just
can’t find the master tapes. I’m almost tempted to put the cassette
version out because it sounds so cool.
That was a very adventurous album and, in retrospect, very overlooked.
Di Meola Very overlooked. It’s probably
my most artistic record. It’s the one I am the most proud of.
What inspired you to go in that daring direction?
Di Meola I remember being really inspired
by a Julian Bream record called 20th-Century Guitar when I was
14 or 15. [It featured] Leo Brouwer pieces and all these avant-garde
composers. I was always blown away by that record, and Cielo e Terra
was a clear effort to write music inspired by 20th-Century Guitar,
mixed with some slightly South American–type stuff. And I have to say
that ECM, Ralph Towner, and Egberto Gismonti were on my mind when I
was making Cielo e Terra. No doubt about it. I remember I was
here alone in my house and decided that this music was so intense, so
difficult, so deep that if I was interrupted at all while I was writing
it, I’d never be able to complete it. So I took my phone off the hook
for at least a month. The best writing is done when you’re not bothered
with things, when you really are able to [wood]shed—no phones, nobody
around. It’s a kind of dark thing to get into. You exclude the rest
of the world. It’s hard to do, but that’s what it took.
How did the record company receive such an esoteric recording?
Di Meola It threw the record company
for a loop. "What the hell is this?!" Because it was the first
record for Manhattan Records when Bruce Lundvall started up that new
label in 1984. He was hoping for a kick-ass Elegant Gypsy, but
here I was giving him this esoteric music. How do you label it?
Art music?
Di Meola That’s what it was. As an
artist, I was totally happy with it. A lot of it had to do with the
fact that I had just done a long stint with the Guitar Trio and I was
really tired of the constant velocity.
Too many notes?
Di Meola Too many notes. There was
another side of me that needed to come out. So it was very satisfying
to get that out and document it, even though it went unnoticed. I’ll
never forget that period. I wrote enough for two records: all the material
for Cielo and Soaring Through a Dream.
Cielo was obviously a landmark in your career. Are there others
that stand out?
Di Meola That’s the most serious shit
I’ve ever written. It’s for the real serious guitar fan, not for everybody.
I also love the new record [The Grande Passion].
What are your methods for composing these days?
Di Meola For the last few projects,
I’ve gone down to my home in Florida, which I find quite conducive for
writing. That’s my place to have a getaway, open the doors, and listen
to the ocean. I go by myself. I write mostly with guitar and work with
an eight-track recorder. Then I write everything out by hand. I don’t
play into a computer.
Was the music for The Grande Passion written with that large
orchestral scope in mind or did you expand it later from smaller sketches?
Di Meola It was written with the orchestra
in mind from the get-go. But you could conceivably take almost any of
my past records and replace those layered overdubs with symphonic instruments—especially
the keyboard pads that we used so much in the past. I picked the Toronto
Symphony Orchestra [for The Grande Passion]. The sound of the
full orchestra gave the music more meaning and feeling than if I had
done it with overdubbed instruments.
There is such an operatic sweep to parts of The Grande Passion.
Does this relate to any kind of operatic background in your family?
Di Meola Well, we listened to a lot
of opera growing up. The birthplace of opera is where my parents were
from: Napoli. It’s also the birthplace of tango, according to what [Astor]
Piazzolla told me. We were hanging out together one afternoon when I
was playing in New York at Lincoln Center. He grew up in Little Italy
until a certain age and then moved down to Argentina. So his heart is
Argentine, but his heritage is Italian. He told me that some Italian
immigrants went over to Argentina and developed tango music. If you
listen to tango music, the pain in those melodies is very operatic.
It’s just done with different instruments. It all makes sense. For the
title track of my last record, The Infinite Desire, I really
had Andrea Bocelli and Pavarotti in mind. Same with the title track
of my new one: "The Grande Passion." I was thinking
of them when I was composing.
You have been paying tribute to Piazzolla over the years on albums
like World Sinfonia, Heart of the Immigrants, Orange and Blue, and
Di Meola Plays Piazzolla. And you’ve got three Piazzolla pieces on
your new album. Does Piazzolla’s bandoneon music fall naturally
on the fretboard for you?
Di Meola It really does. It all makes
total sense. What I love about it is that it is challenging but at the
same time emotional. It’s not all about notes and technique. There’s
a wide range of feelings in his music that makes it worthwhile. A lot
of New Age music can be emotional or ethereal or something, but there’s
not a lot of substance to it. Piazzolla’s music has tons of substance,
and it’s also hitting your heart all over the place. To me, it’s the
best of both worlds.
What tunes are you especially proud of on The Grande Passion?
Di Meola I love the opening tune,
"Misterio." I remember thinking when I was writing it, "This
is happening." I like music where what’s underneath the melody
is interesting, where it’s not just melody and rhythm. And on this piece
the arpeggios have a life of their own. You play the piece without the
melody and all the other parts, just play the arpeggios, and it’s cool
by itself.
I’ve noticed that in concert people still seem to respond most to
the speedy passages. Do you ever feel frustrated that your great facility
as a guitarist might threaten to overshadow your composing?
Di Meola I was stamped as a speed
demon in the ’70s, and that stigma is stuck in the minds of most critics.
And it’s had an effect. The 24 records I’ve released have been completely
overlooked for any kind of Grammy nomination. The Grande Passion,
for example, didn’t get the attention I thought it should have.
I could name a whole bunch of records that were overlooked in the States.
In Europe, it’s a different story. Somehow America doesn’t get it.
Do you think that the problem is that your music is not easily compartmentalized,
that you can’t say it’s jazz or classical?
Di Meola Yeah. That’s the way I feel
about radio, too. The radio people here still don’t get that a radio
station can exist by programming Jimi Hendrix’s "All Along the
Watchtower" and then something by Sting, something by Chick, some
John Coltrane, Gismonti. If you program the right stuff from each of
those albums, you’ve got yourself a hip radio station.
That’s what I remember about European radio, too. On one station
you hear all kinds of music: classical, pop, jazz . . .
Di Meola When I was 19, I went to
Europe for the first time with Chick. On the radio, they’d play classical
and then something by Chick, then switch to James Brown. They mixed
it up, and people got to hear great stuff over there. It still is that
way. Big-time exposure. Here it’s just a losing cause. We’re nowhere
to be heard anymore. But there still is a lot of interesting music being
made out there. Whether it’s called "world music" or whatever,
it falls between the cracks of smooth jazz and straight-ahead jazz.
Record sales are way down for all of us, and it has a lot to do with
the nonexposure factor on radio.
It seems unfortunate that at a time when your expression is getting
deeper, it’s being less exposed.
Di Meola But whenever I do these tours
with my band, it reconfirms to me that there is a great audience out
there for it. When I see the enthusiasm of the people, I know I’m doing
the right thing.
WHAT THEY PLAY
One of Al Di Meola’s main acoustic guitars these days is his
Conde Hermanos, a beautiful, warm-toned nylon-string that can be heard
on several of his recent recordings, including World Sinfonia,
The Infinite Desire, and Winter Nights. "It records
well in any environment," he says. "The low E really jumps
out."
He also favors a 1948 Martin D-18 he purchased on 48th Street (music
instrument row) in Manhattan 15 years ago. "It really sings, really
resonates," Di Meola crows. "It has amazing sustain. I’ve
recorded with it before, but not too much. It’s like a fine bottle of
wine. I didn’t realize how good it was until I pulled it out after years
and years and years. It has tons more sustain than a nylon-string."
He can be heard playing his Martin on "Soledad" from The
Grande Passion.
For the majority of his steel-string playing, however, Di Meola relies
on his Ovation signature model, which is also equipped with MIDI pickups
for live performance. He recorded most of Cielo e Terra on the
Ovation and says that "in terms of string skipping and odd intervals,
it’s easier for me to get around on an Ovation than on a Gibson or a
Guild, which were designed more for country music." In performance,
he uses the MIDI trigger to produce sounds ranging from bandoneon to
trumpet to Andean pipes. "I’m even triggering electric guitar sounds
from the acoustic guitar," says Di Meola. "I can get a Marshall
stack distortion sound from my Ovation that is killer! The palette is
so wide now. I have a whole array of colors to choose from. It’s fabulous.
I’ve got five different units on the floor, so my legs are flying all
over the place. I look like an octopus on stage!"
He also has two nylon-string Godin acoustic-electrics that are MIDI
compatible. On "Misterio," the opening track on The Grande
Passion, he used one of the Godins in combination with a Roland
GR-30 guitar synthesizer to create a sound he describes as a cross between
a tamboura and a sitar. On the electric side, he plays either a Gibson
Al Di Meola signature hollow-body or a Gibson Les Paul Al Di Meola signature
semi-hollow-body.
SELECTED DISCOGRAPHY
The Grande Passion, Telarc 83481 (2000).
Winter Nights, Telarc 83458 (1999).
The Infinite Desire, Telarc 83433 (1998).
Di Meola Plays Piazzolla, Atlantic 92744 (1996).
Paco de Lucía/John McLaughlin/Al Di Meola, Verve
533215 (1996).
The Rite of Strings (with Stanley Clarke and Jean-Luc
Ponty), Capitol 34167 (1995).
Heart of the Immigrants, Mesa 79052 (1993).
Cielo e Terra, Atlantic/EMI 46146 (1985).
Excerpted
from Acoustic
Guitar magazine, September 2001, No. 105. That
issue also contained a transcription of the Di Meola's "Asia de
Cuba," a feature story about bluesman Big Bill Broonzy, and live
recording tips from the pros..
