We Went to a Tommy Emmanuel Concert

I am surely not the first or the last person to struggle for words while praising this genius to the skies . For anyone who does not know him, we are talking about one of the world's finest acoustic guitarists, who returned to Hungary after five years and dazzled everyone with his playing. At times like this people often start talking enthusiastically about so-called "talent", but I do not think that word actually means very much. Or at least not nearly as much as people think. Someone may be talented, by which I mean they have a natural feel for something, but on its own that is nowhere near enough to produce MASTERY. Mastery takes an enormous amount of hard work, perseverance and long years of tireless practice. Beyond those few percent we call talent, the remaining 85–90 percent does not arrive by itself; it has to be earned. What is sensational about this Australian guitarist is that he has pushed that mastery to such an extreme level that he seems to live in another universe. If anyone knows every tiny detail of guitar playing, it is him. It almost goes without saying that music theory is second nature to him and that his songs and arrangements are constructed with infinite precision. He plays with ease and complete naturalness; every small movement radiates the MASTERY he has accumulated over the years. And with his approachable style, subtle humor and superb ability to connect with people, he wins over the audience immediately.

I hope you do not mind me writing a few words about this guitarist. It may not be a ukulele, but the guitar is certainly a close relative. And there is a great deal to learn from this man: humility and modesty toward music remain with him on stage throughout the entire concert, whether he is switching from a fast, technically demanding piece to a lyrical one, slipping a little Irish music between the songs, or borrowing a few bars from the Australian national anthem at the end of one of them.

I have raced far too far ahead in the story! First of all, parking was a nightmare. I found a space ridiculously far away, and only after joining the long queue did I notice that cars had been allowed to drive right up in front of Barba Negra . Oh well, never mind — a little walk in the cold does no harm . The queue was still annoyingly long, though, and when it finally started moving everyone got inside quickly, but I was certain that at best I would end up somewhere in the middle of the crowd.

I have no idea how, but I somehow ended up in the third row, standing about five meters from the stage.

I glanced at my watch — 6:45 p.m. — and the 7:30 start still seemed a long way off. We stood around, more and more people gathered, and slowly half past seven arrived. A guitarist I did not know was the support act. His songs were fairly neutral to my ears, but at least they made the time pass more quickly. I do not want to offend him, but I could barely understand his spoken introductions between the songs, and I felt he never really managed to connect with the audience. Of course he deserved his applause, but everyone was already extremely excited, wondering when Tommy Emmanuel would finally come on stage. A few minutes after eight, he came, he saw, he conquered. There is little point searching for words of praise because none of them are adequate. Anyone who was there knows what I mean; anyone who was not should absolutely come next time. It is unbelievable how completely he owns the guitar and how the music pours out of him. There is hardly a part of his guitars that he did not play: anything that can be plucked, struck or scratched on the body of the guitar, he uses — perhaps only the tuning pegs escaped. It was an impeccably constructed concert, simple as that ! I think everyone was waiting for the boogie, and as expected he saved it for the very end (video #4 at the bottom). Afterwards he threw his pick into the audience, and who did he hit with it? Me . A boy standing a few meters away threw himself onto the floor and quickly found it, so even if I did not go home with the pick, I am sure I came away enriched by at least a few Tommy molecules. And, of course, by the experience itself, which I tried to capture in a few photos and videos (right at the bottom!).

Someone threw a scarf with the Hungarian flag onto the stage. He was delighted with it and played the final 10–15 minutes with it around his neck. He said that this way we would be close to his heart — especially in winter.