Jose Augusto Mejía
Dissidents are the propellers of History. Any historical account that attempts a serious study –not dogmatic nor exclusively revisionist– will hint at this conclusion. The idea of dissidence tacitly implies hegemony and a dialectic dynamic of evolutionary motion. Dissidence in aesthetics is a more subtle notion but it still operates within the same grand scheme, one that has created an illustrious and divergent path walked by the essential figures of Aristoteles, Copernicus, Descartes, Luther, Einstein, Debussy, Schoenberg, Henze, etc. In the subaltern world of the guitar, the most prominent figure was, and still is, Andrés Segovia who, through his enormous and admirable work during the twentieth century gave the guitar a place in the world of classical music. His unavoidable name quickly became hegemonic within the reemerging guitar world and for the most part of the twentieth century the immensity of his shadow threatened to invade everything. But there was another figure that steadily and silently emanated from obscurity and created a luminescent territory that, in my view, will eventually transcend the embryonic totality from which it emerged. His name is Julian Bream.