View full sizeClassical guitarist John Williams performs on the Portland Classic Guitar series.Courtesy of Portland Classic Guitar, John Williams made his Portland debut Friday night at Tualatin's Rolling Hills Community Church -- an out-of-the-way venue, unintentionally symbolic of the guitar's niche in the classical music world. It's too great a concession to the instrument's marginal status to call him the leading guitarist on the planet; he's among the greatest musicians currently playing, and his captivating recital was easily one of this year's most memorable performances.
Nearing 70, the Australia-born Williams seems much younger, his stage presence casual; he made a few low-key remarks between pieces, including noting the peculiarity of beginning the program with five preludes ("One prelude should be enough, shouldn't it?"). With his fingers on the strings, his energy was vital and unflagging through myriad transitions of mood and tonal color.
The program was mostly Latin American, with some relatively familiar works -- including those five preludes, by Heitor Villa-Lobos, and Agustín Barrios Mangoré's "La Catedral" -- as well as Leo Brouwer's "El Decamerón Negro," a short piece by the Cameroonian Francis Bebey and a few short pieces of Williams' own. But it reached beyond time and place, as a world of influences came into play: traces of J.S. Bach alongside Brazilian and Paraguayan inflections in the Villa-Lobos and Barrios pieces; of Chopin in Barrios' "Julia Florida" and two waltzes; of West Africa in both the Brouwer, based on a collection of African folktales, and the Bebey; and even of birdsong, the inspiration of Williams' "From a Bird." It also erased any distinction between popular and "classical:" Bebey's "O Bia" and Williams' tribute "Hello Francis," with their infectiously danceable clave rhythms, fit seamlessly alongside the rest.
Williams' musicality was unerring and his finger-work meticulous, with rhythmic flexibility and an easygoing virtuosity throughout. His early teacher Andrés Segovia famously said that "the guitar is a small orchestra," and Williams' kaleidoscopic tonal palette drove the point home: phrases repeated in different colors; rich low-string sound and harp timbre contrasted with hints of winds in high harmonics; percussive chords alternated with solitary cantabile lines.
The 2,500-seat venue seemed vast for a single quiet instrument, but the acoustic was decent apart from white noise from the HVAC system and the carefully-engineered amplification was minimally obtrusive. A mega-church was a fitting setting for the guitar deity, in any case, though kneelers might have come in handy for easier genuflection.
-- James McQuillen