No tears for Lágrima
Joaquin McHale’s single “A Harder Look” is streamable on Spotify.
Texas State student’s Classical Guitar recital takes us on a rollercoaster of emotion
In 2024, the only reason you’d catch me in a church is for a friend’s wedding or a music thing. This was sort of a mix of both – a classical guitar performance by Austin musician Joaquin McHale as part of his degree requirements from Texas State.
Before I dive into this review, I need to make a confession on the principle of journalistic integrity as well as an homage to my Catholic roots, since this story takes place in a house of God: Joaquin is a personal friend of mine.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that there are few relationships (platonic, romantic, work, even familial) that can survive honesty. The connections that are run through the mill of truth and survive are the ones that are real and worth holding on to.
I suppose our friendship is getting run through the mill again by publishing this review. I’m trusting that it’ll be alright since we’ve somehow survived worse. And if it doesn’t, well, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve sacrificed a friendship to Apollo, the god of truth and coincidentally music.
I walked away from his performance feeling like I had witnessed an impressive display of talent. It was also decorated with moments that were painful – but not wasted. The performance wasn’t a story about perfection, it was about evolving past the ego.
McHale is a rock n’ roller by identity, and a Classical guitarist by way of his education at Texas State. His career is a sandwich of the two styles having started his degree in Classical Guitar when he first moved to Austin from the Valley as a teen, but abandoned it to pursue music on his own. He made strides as a songwriter and guitar player for two bands, Holiday and Big Coat, over the course of his residency in the city. His return to the Classical scene is an attempt to find out what level of proficiency comes after you’ve graduated from both the school of hard knocks and university.
Recitals are a big deal in that they are not only a factor in the completion of your degree, but also incredibly intimate. The audience is a mix of critics, your friends, family, and since we were in a church: God. In addition to feeling the pressure of a hyper-attentive audience is the challenge that the entire program must be performed by memory.
We started with Francisco Tárrega’s Lágrima – Spanish for teardrop – which is ironic because this moment was the most painful. I’ve heard McHale perform this song before and can attest to his proficiency. The main melody has a comforting quality, almost like a lullaby, reminiscent of a mother soothing her child. At the recital, however, it was just tears. You could physically hear the anxiety manifest as tension in McHale’s fingers.
It took a moment to find his groove, but the fumble was essential to what I found to be the most moving part of the performance as one organism. Holistically, the ensemble became a picture of a musician breaking the barrier of their own ego and tapping into a creative source beyond themselves.
McHale took us from the despair of Lágrima through a rollercoaster of other emotions and styles. The program featured modern pieces by local composer Mark Anthony Cruz and others by Leo Brouwer; as well as Romantic pieces by Fernando Sor, Matteo Carcassi and Mauro Giuliani.
As a guitar player myself, there’s a quote by Beethoven that I often reflect on: “The guitar is an orchestra in miniature.” It’s easy to understand what he meant – in McHale’s performance, one instrument captured entire scenes of moodiness, despair, angst; but also feelings of affection, warmth, and celebration.
As not only a critic but as McHale’s friend, I can say there were moments that felt voyeuristic. He was focused on the guitar with an intensity that seemed to grab hold of all of his senses. His hands slid across the fretboard and strings with a fluency that resembled the way a spider knows the secrets of its web. There were parts where I had to physically look away and give my buddy some privacy with his instrument as he moved it to produce sounds most people can’t make it reach.
To understand the essence of what this entire scene felt like from the initial fumble to the end: If it were a movie, it’s when Forrest Gump is trying to outrun his childhood bullies and miraculously breaks free of the braces on his polio-stricken legs, only to discover a talent for running that makes him a celebrity later in life.
Outside of this recital, McHale is fortunate to have a foundation in rock and roll. Classical musicians often struggle with perfectionism and are unskilled improvisers. It is the nature of their study and the culture of their profession.
By starting his career playing live music in Austin, McHale learned to be creative and improvise first. His challenge now is to take himself more seriously than he ever has. The polished nature of the Classical genre directly clashes with the unpolished, devil-may-care attitude that yielded success early in his career. Blending the two worlds is as striking a juxtaposition as McHale’s last name and first.
The performance wasn’t perfect but it is indicative that he is reaching his prime.
A few months ago, McHale released his most recent single, “A Harder Look” that is a palpable evolution of his previous work as a soloist. The opening chords ring like an marching anthem of an empowered fresh start — there is a confidence, optimism, and authenticity that give the song a backbone his others reach for but ultimately lack.
His pursuit of college-level proficiency is not only a cathartic challenge to reinspire his love of the craft, but likely the push he needs to reach a sonic boom. And it seems like he’s on the cusp of it.
