I had the privilege last Sunday afternoon November 19, 2006 to witness the end of an era. It was Lagq’s last performance in the states with Andy York. This is my account of what it felt like, to be there before, during, and after their last show in America. As most of you know, a big part of the quartet, Andy, is setting sail for unexplored lands. Before the concert, my wife Bobbie and I bumped into Andy in the historic Galt Hotel located on the picturesque Ohio River, Louisville Kentucky.  He was getting some coffee and seemed very poised and relaxed. We spoke of his new ventures and some of mine. He was Mr. Positive.

Bill had just given a concert and master class in Tennessee that weekend. We drove him up after his class to have more time to talk guitar, mutual friends, futures projects, and share funny stories. His wit was razor sharp as always. He is a man of many laughs.

I didn’t see Scott until the intermission of the show. Over the years, Scott has become somebody we’ve admired and looked up to.  His success in publishing, teaching and performing are a mountain of inspiration.

John. We exchanged only one email a month earlier. I had sent a picture of him escorting my mom, Rosemary to dinner. His persona is calm, consistent, as it is solid and stately. He reminds me of touring a vast southern plantation manor. There never seems to be enough time to take it all in.

As Bobbie was driving to the hall, I couldn’t help wondering what my guitar buddies were thinking. What did they feel like anyway? Were their emotions playing back different scenes from the same movie? The dam in my mind was not strong enough to hold the wild waters.

Imagine a great hall, guitars in tune, strings stretched and at their peak resonance, balanced humidity, fingernails within tolerance, a great audience, controlled artistic freedom, over two decades of experience as a quartet, knowledge, love, and desire, with nothing left to lose. They delivered what comes so naturally for the four. Like in the movie “The Red Violin”, the stars were the most beautiful instruments in the world, their guitars. You had to of been there. They didn’t work, they didn’t even try, there was no need. The muse descended from the starting gate, and suddenly we were in “them” and they were in “us”.  Horse’s and rider’s were one. The winner’s circle was around the bend.     The subito pianos mixed with the swelling crescendos was at peak performance. Their personal stamp of blend, stirred not shaken, ready to serve. They were like a well-oiled machine with tone and feeling running at full throttle. They popped the cork with Llanura by Alfonso Montes. To tell you the truth, I can remember only one thing: They were on, which helped me control the raging river I had needlessly created. Sitting next to us was a well dressed man in his seventy’s. He looked perfectly normal except for the fact he was wearing cheap gardening gloves, the kind with rubber goose bumps on the palms. My next memory was our seats started rocking. Mr. Garden gloves appeared to be trying to conduct the quartet from his seat. The seats were like an old church pew. When he moved, we moved. He never missed a lick.   With the bases, loaded Lagq drove it home with Bach’s Prelude, Fugue, and Allegro. It was a grand slam! Next was Quiccan by Andy. Its energy took me higher and higher. I felt like a big bird riding on the thermals. What is it about this piece of music I find so captivating! The first half ended with Hungarian Rhapsody #2 by Franz Liszt. All the tempo changes and glissandos were overwhelming. I went from feeling as if I was in a circus watching tight ropewalkers doing tricks on high wire to giving the Italian police a cheap thrill in a car chase. During the music Mr. Garden gloves started leaning hard to the right, and then to the left, and then to the right again. I almost lost it! The first half ended, the spectators went wild! Enter Intermission. We were greeted back stage with southern hospitality. “Ben, glad you came, come in, we need your help!” As I quickly learned, a 93-year old woman gave them a bottle of bourbon that they needed help to drink. When I asked what kind, they handed me the bottle. The label read “Heaven Hill”. Being a recovering southern Baptist how could I go wrong? Besides this retired Tennessee stud wanted a good snort anyway.

From our plastic cups, we made a toast, time stood still in a bottle.They were in rare form indeed. I had a blast! With one knock on the door, it was show time again.

We were just sitting down as the applause faded. From the starting gate they played four pieces by Thomas Morley arranged by Scott. Unlike the concert, they gave in Columbus, Scotts guitar was behaving and staying in tune. I got the feeling he had to play a little Dutch uncle with his guitar. Whatever he did it worked. I never would want to be on the receiving end of his discipline.         The two Mexican Pieces by Aaron Copland were next. Arranged by Bill, I thought these were the perfect set up for the grand finale, “El Amor Brujo”. Every moment was spot on. They captured the heart of the composer, as well as, the heart of Spain. Magnificent!     There always seems to be at least one moment in every concert that really grabs me. This moment happened in the last piece, “Las Campanas del Amanecer”. Toward the end, I noticed John look at Andy and smile. Andy did the same to John as if to say, “You played well tonight… you did too!” Of course, they were probably thinking,” decent bourbon, yes it was”. After a standing ovation, they played one encore, “Farewell to Strummin”. It was lyrical and played with sweet tone. The perfect contrast to the De Falla work.

The presenters invited the spectators to a reception following the concert. Fans showered their guitar heroes with gifts, gigs, souvenirs, food, drink, and respect! Cameras were flashing the whole time.

They gave me the bottle of "Heaven”. Bobbie later asked, "What happened to the bourbon?" "The bottle is right over there". With total eye contact and her hands on her hips, "I can see the bottle, where is the bourbon?” "What bourbon sweetheart?", "Oh... that bourbon honey?". "It got lost in translation!” Happy Turkey Day, November 23, 2006, 4:30 PM, EST Ridge River Farm Tennessee Gobble gobble You "Wild Turkey's!" Your friend, Ben