Yes, Villa-Lobos Bachianas Brasileiras No.5. The first time I heard the piece was on a record a friend of mine had, "Duets with the Spanish Guitar" with Brazilian classical and jazz guitarist Laurindo Almeida. Almeida played on every piece, but alternated between flutist Martin Ruderman and mezzo-soprano Salli Terri. One of the songs Salli Terri did was the Bachianas Brasilieras No. 5, for which she received a Grammy nominated in 1959 for "Best Classical Vocal Performance." Beautiful! After Salli Terri's performance of it, it was pretty darned gutsy for Joan Baez, not an "ordained" classical singer, to tackle it (accompanied, not by guitar, but by eight cellos, the way Villa-Lobos wrote it)—but—she brought it off! I have her record.

I'm afraid I have a hard time separating a person's on-stage performances with their behavior off-stage. If a person is rude to people off-stage or acting "prima donna-ish," I can't help but let it color my response to their performances, no matter how good they are.

There is one operatic soprano who has an absolutely exquisite singing voice (in addition to being very nice to look at), but backstage and off-stage she was a pluperfect bitch, rude to the other singers and the stage crew, and so difficult to work with that the general manager of the Metropolitan Opera got totally fed up with her and simply fired her ass. And since then, no other opera house in the world will book her. She has this lovely voice, but she managed to ruin her career because of her off-stage behavior. And even though I see her in video clips on Classic Arts Showcase fairly often, and she sings beautifully, I can't forget what I've heard about her off-stage behavior and the way she treated people.

Nobody, no matter how talented or how great an artist they are, is so good they can be gratuitously rude to other people.

I think it's a real measure of a performer when they are willing to take the time to by pleasant and friendly to their fans (after all, without their fans, they're nuthin!), and especially to be willing to advise and encourage young folks who are aspiring to do what they do. In 1954, after a concert in Seattle, Pete Seeger and I sat cross-legged on someone's living room floor at two o'clock in the morning while he showed me some tricky guitar licks. And Richard Dyer-Bennet talked with me for about half an hour backstage after one of his concerts in 1957. These folks, and a number of others, were very friendly and encouraging to me early on—and I really appreciate that.

If I've learned anything in all this time, one of those things is that I'm obligated to pass that kind of encouragement along.

Don Firth