gonesa, El Vito, Panaderos, Verdiales and loads more. Most of the dances were accompanied by a specific set melodic arrangement for guitar. The young Ian Davies, who'd already been taught some of my dad's material via the aforementioned Berta Chamberlain, had also been sitting in at the class with her, and continued to do so for a while after my dad took it over. (The classes were held in the evenings at George Eliot primary school in St. John's Wood, London, next to Quintin Kynaston where Ian Davies was a student.) At a very young age, my sister and I would go along to the end-of-term/year class parties (basically just running around and causing havoc) and my sister eventually joined the class to dance while also being taught how to play flamenco by our dad. At age 10, she was already able to play — extremely competently — arrangements of farruca, alegrias, bulerias, soleares, rumba, Sevillanas, fandangos and, well, pretty much everything. She was a natural with the guitar and it's a shame she eventually lost interest during her early teens. One thing she used to do that was particularly frustrating to my dad's students: she would listen to the lesson from outside, and afterwards, as the student was preparing to leave, would play what they'd just learned. Often, the student would say something like "wow, she knows that piece" to which my dad would reply — and this was true — that she had not actually ever learned it, but just picked it up from listening outside the door. That was a talent for sure!

The dance classes were great fun and were held on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays with different levels, and my dad also held a guitar class on Tuesday evenings which I would also go along to. I never really practiced at all — my playing mostly consisted of playing pieces with my dad at home and at the classes. There were two things that led to me becoming more independent guitar-wise during the very early 1980s. However, before going into those, I'd like to spend a bit of time on my uncle George, who was a classical guitar player but even more significantly an extraordinary guitar journalist who founded the magazine Guitar (later known as Guitar International).

 until the final issue dated February 1992. I remember discussing this last change of subtitle with George (I'd recently had some teaching material published in the magazine) and playing around with several words including "acoustic" which is what was ultimately decided upon.

George was also an excellent photographer and took many of the photos used for the magazine's interior as well as for some of the covers. He photographed many of the greats including from the classical world — Segovia, John Williams and Julian Bream — to the flamenco world — Sabicas and Paco de Lucia — and was actually a very close friend of Segovia and frequently went to stay at the legendary player's home in Spain. In 1977, while the magazine was in full swing, George produced the book Andrés Segovia, a collection of writings and photos about the maestro published by George's Musical New Services (as was the magazine). Click here to view PDF of one of the magazine's adverts for the book which includes some very nice words by Segovia about George. (To view PDF of an ad for another of George's books, click here.

Below are some of George's photos. The one of Segovia was taken at the Alhambra, Granada in 1976 and was used for the cover of the magazine's January 1983 issue — a "Segovia 90th Birthday Souvenir Issue" — which also included a print of the photo as a free giveaway (Click here to view PDF of the giveaway photo print). The photo of Sabicas was used for the cover of the August 1982 issue, and featured in the interior of at least one other issue. The picture of Paco de Lucia and his brother Ramón de Algeciras is as it appeared in the March 1990 issue, and was edited from the original photo in which Juan Martin also appeared.

George could be described a a force of nature, driven by impulse and instinct in his desire to ensure that the guitar in all its forms got the respect it deserved. Remembered by some as a difficult man, he took no prisoners when it came to argument and debate, and one could hope not to get on his wrong side as this could easily lead to a strongly-worded thrashing — so to speak — via his magazine. Indeed, one of George's more controversial editorials was in the December 1985 issue, and was devoted entirely to a counter-attack on Colin Cooper — by then editor of Classical Guitar magazine, and who'd been a teaching assistant to George in the early 1970s as well as a partner in the setting up of Guitar — in connection with their views on flamenco guitarist Juan Martin. The editorial in question is headed by a cut-and-paste photo job depicting Mr. Cooper with his hands at my uncle's throat (Click here to view PDF).

The magazine's days were pretty much over after George's sad and untimely death in October of 1991. (The publication limped along — with lots of reprint material — for a few issues until February 1992 under the editorship of George's son Geoff [my cousin] who had previously been in charge of sales and marketing.) George's character and approach to his work was very well summed up in an obituary by his friend and colleague Lance Bosman that appeared in the December 1991 issue (click here to view PDF of the obituary).

Sometime around early 1981, at age 15, I went with my dad to a Central London pub called The Chandos, the basement bar of which — also known as The Chandos — operated as a flamenco bar and had a resident flamenco guitarist most nights of the week. The main Chandos pub (still going) is on the corner of St. Martin's and William IV Street, with the entrance to the basement flamenco bar (sadly no longer there) on William IV Street. There was a 20-something Spanish guitarist called Pepe there at the time who played and sang mainly rumbas, but who also knew how to play all the main flamenco styles and so performed bulerias, alegrias, tangos, solea etc. He was particularly into the flamenco guitarist and singer-songwriter Manzanita (a huge hit in Spain at that time) and sang many songs from his then recent

ing. I was soon excitedly looking forward to Tuesday nights, which was the night we agreed I would sit in. Over the weeks, I would diligently accompany Pepe, and was rewarded further by him occasionally turning to me during the playing to say "you play a falseta now" in a bulerias, or "you have a go" — meaning that I should play a solo during "Entre dos Aguas" or some other rumba. It was a fantastic time musically as well as socially, and there were always really nice people popping in including flamenco artists en route from other jobs; many times one of the London-based flamenco singers would feel like singing and so would turn up to do an impromptu set. I got up to speed fairly quickly and was soon playing almost as a duo partner to Pepe.

One good thing about the Chandos was the fact that it shut at normal pub hours — 11pm — unlike the later basement flamenco haunt Sevilla Mia, which stayed open very late and would too often became overcrowded due to people cramming in just to get a drink after regular pub hours.

Playing at the Chandos led to my first professional solo guitar gig while still aged 15. There was a Spanish regular at the Chandos named Manolo whose sister and her English husband ran a pub called The White Hart in London's Whitechapel. Manolo managed to get me a regular slot there on Sunday nights. The clientele there took a bit of persuading but it turned out to become quite a popular night and soon my dad started joining me there, and this is where I first met and played with the singer Manuel Sanchez "Manuel de Cadiz" who would also accompany me with bongos on rumbas etc. Being a big fan of thriller and horror films, it was great to have got a gig playing in a pub that had connections to the 1880s Jack the Ripper case, although it wasn't fun at all on those first few sessions on my own when I had to make my way from Aldgate East tube station through deserted Sunday-night Whitechapel en route to the place (some info on The White Hart here).

Back to The Chandos. One day, around late 1981/early 1982 as I remember, now sixteen, I turned up one night and Pepe told me there'd been a visiting young guitarist from Spain called Enrique who'd popped in the previous night and who was absolutely amazing and played everything from Paco de Lucia. He was due to come back tonight too. Sure enough, Enrique turned up; he was in fact Enrique Campos Roa (he later shortened this to just Enrique Campos), a 21-year-old from Malaga who was in London playing for a couple of shows at a Spanish social club in West London (near Kensal Rise if memory serves) — an event which the professional flamenco scene was largely unaware of. Anyhow, Enrique soon started playing and it turned into a solo recital of beautifully played Paco de Lucia pieces, this being the first time I'd actually seen anyone else play these. He was like an encyclopaedia of Paco's material. It was so impressive and inspirational, more so given the fact that Enrique was also a dedicated medical student and so had little time to practice! He also played pieces from Enrique de Melchor, who at that time was considered to be at the forefront of the "modern" movement started by Paco de Lucia.

Guitar students in Spain who played Paco de Lucia were often also into Enrique de Melchor, who was more similar in approach and sound to Paco than were the other established big boys — Manolo Sanlucar and Serranito — at the time, and had made a great first solo album in 1977 called La Guitarra Flamenca de Enrique de Melchor. (I get the impression that nowadays, Enrique de Melchor is somewhat underrated in terms of being remembered or considered to be a key influence in shaping modern flamenco guitar playing.) La Guitarra Flamenca de Enrique de Melchor and the 1983 album Sugerencias are my two personal favourites from his oeuvre and, I would say, are quintessential Enrique de Melchor.

Returning to Enrique Campos, several years later in Spain I would see his name on a flamenco festival poster here and there, and found several recordings of him accompanying cante including Antologia de la Malaguena (1982), playing for Alfredo Arrebola; Mis Illusiones (1983) playing for singer El Bolo; Juventud y Pureza (1984), playing together with Manuel Santiago for singer Juan Casillas; A Mi Axarquia (1985), playing for Juaneque; and Flamenco Hoy (1988), playing for Mercedes Abenza. Recently I found a video on Youtube of Enrique accompanying Juan Casillas por seguiriya in 1989, including an opening falseta from one of the solos — Paco de Lucia's "De Madrugá" from the album El Duende Flamenco de Paco de Lucia — I saw him play at The Chandos.

Probably the most lasting memory — musically speaking — I have of The Chandos is a rumba falseta/theme that Pepe used to play. I don't remember if it was his composition, but it always seemed as if it was his and I never heard it elsewhere. Much later in the late 1990s I would use it as the main theme in a homage composition which I called Chandos Medley, designed to conjure up memories of the place by way of melodies similar to the type that Pepe played/sang/accompanied (click video below left to hear the piece in a presentation from my Youtube channel).