Guitarist Quique Sinesi is a musical seeker. Since the beginning of his professional career, he’s been pushing past stylistic boundaries, creating a musical idiom that is both distinctly Argentine and distinctly personal.
Sinesi first picked up the guitar when he was eight, realising by the age of 14 that it was something that needed to be a central part of his life. From the beginning he’s been awash in a plethora of styles, immersed in tango, classical music, Argentine folkloric music, and the work of jazz musicians like Wes Montgomery, Pat Metheny, and Chick Corea.
Now a major figure in the world of creative music, Sinesi’s sound has evolved into a lyrical, even spiritual, fusion of his many influences and travels – his gentle smile presaging the peaceful, yet always searching, spirit of his guitar.
How do you define your music?
When I started playing jazz with Dino Saluzzi, we didn’t know what to the call the music we were playing. So we called it ‘free funk tango’ – things like that. When I was playing with [Marcello] Moguilevsky, we proposed a definition for the music, which also doesn’t seem perfect to me, called ‘ethno-tango-jazz’.
It captures a lot of what I like to play: a little bit of folkloric music, some tango – but there’s always improvisation, jazz harmonies, and other jazz elements. There are also elements of classical music, especially the classical guitar. The name could really be longer.
But I don’t like being placed into a category like that. It’s limiting. Sometimes, when I work with Pablo Ziegler, the music has more elements of tango – it’s more like tango-jazz. What I like to compose is a mixture of ‘ethno-tango-jazz’ and classical music. But I’m also open to projects where I have to do things in other ways – playing standards, bossa nova…
But, I like to have an identity. I’m from here. As you’ve seen, in Buenos Aires there’s a way of talking, a way of living, that sometimes is grating, sometimes is good, sometimes is strange. I don’t want to move away from the spirit of the music of Buenos Aires or the music of Argentina.
How have your travels in Europe changed your music?
In the beginning, I was more into jazz and jazz-rock fusion. In the 80s, when I was in my early 20s, I met Dino Saluzzi, and he was playing a more folkloric fusion. It awakened my interested in Argentine music.
In 1982, I did my first tour with Dino Saluzzi, playing at important jazz festivals in Berlin, Zurich, and Cologne. During that tour, there was a fundamental change in my thinking about music. I became aware of this new path.
At the time, there wasn’t a lot of fusion going on…You practised and you played, but you didn’t really know if this was kind of thing was okay. And then we started playing this music at festivals, and we saw the audience’s reception – it was incredible. It wasn’t because we were playing really well; it was because it was something different.
Is it possible to pick out which parts of your music are distinctly Argentine and which parts are from other cultures and traditions?
In certain moments, yes. When I was in New York, I played a music called microtango, which isn’t tango, but has a similar essence. It’s inspired by the sounds of Buenos Aires; it has some elements of the rhythm of tango. There are people who tell me it sounds like a traditional tango, which I love.
These are rhythms that I like a lot, and I like when they appear – a lot of times they arise naturally. Other times, I’ll say, I want to do something more folkloric. Other times, it just comes. I was in Europe once, staying at a hotel in front of a river, and a melody came to me that made me remember the Río Paraná. It wasn’t the Río Paraná in front of me, of course, but the melody had a lot to do with the music of Entre Ríos and the coastal areas near there.
This kind of thing happens to me more when I’m away. It might be that you don’t have as many connections with people, so you feel more internally; you search more for your identity.
Do you prefer playing abroad because of that?
I was just in the United States, and to tell you the truth, I loved it. I’d played there before with Ziegler a while ago, but this time I went alone and I had a very beautiful experience – especially with the people. It might be because we’re different – I don’t know. Maybe it’s because things are fresher than they are when I play here.
What are the differences between playing solo and playing in a group?
I always say that when you’re playing solo, the chemistry is between you and the audience. There’s an energy that circulates. It’s also a great challenge.
I know that a lot of musicians are very uncomfortable playing solo, but you don’t seem to feel that…
It depends. When I feel that the magic is happening, then it’s a pleasure. The music flows. People forget that, in reality, it’s only one that you’re playing to.
When two people are playing together, it’s easier to forget that it’s all one. You’re not tuned into this oneness because, after all, you’re playing with another person. You relax a little more when you’re playing with another person, but I think that once you’ve found this peace, that relaxation is also possible when you’re playing solo.
The thing is to realise that the world is, in reality, one – that it’s one that listens. You need to be part of this. When you think you’re playing to a lot of people, that’s what makes you nervous.
You seem to have a lot of influences outside of the world of music. The idea of the oneness of the world reminds me a lot of Buddhism. Is this part of your musical conception?
Yes, yes. Music is a language. I believe that it has to do with being one – or the feeling of oneness. It’s a challenge. I want to say something; I don’t want to just play notes.
There’s a philosophy of life that, for me, is about looking inside oneself. It has to do with all of my travels and everything that’s happened to me. I want to feel connected to an inner place…
Did you discover this way of thinking from a particular source?
I continue to read a lot on the subject. And I had a teacher of meditation, of this connection. He helped me find it.
I like to read distinct points of view. On this path, everything is related. For me it’s the same with music. You can look inside, you can have a connection with this oneness, you can flow and have an experience that’s farther than the note. That is what a musician, or an artist, or any person is looking for.
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