Title: Revista Guitar Player Brasil - Lições
Subtitle: Licks Diferentes
Artist: Frank Solari
Album: Revista Guitar Player Brasil, março de 1.996, edição 03
Author: Frank Solari
Copyright: Revista Guitar Player Brasil, março de 1.996, edição 03
Tabled by: Transcrito para o Guitar Pro 3 em 25/04/2.002
Instructions:
Notices: Acho muito interessante estudar o fraseado de outros
instrumentistas. É extremamente difícil executar
algumas passagens. Procuro "estar por dentro" desses
licks para conseguir tocar na guitarra algo que ainda
não foi inventado, prestando atenção em tecladista,
vocalistas, harpistas, citaristas e violinistas, entre
outros, além, é claro, de guitarristas. Para quem não
sabe, o instrumento no qual comecei a tocar foi o
piano. Tive influências clássicas (Chopin, Mozart, J.S.
Bach, etc..) antes de ser guitarrista. As frases que vou
mostrar a vocês pertencem ao solo de Chick Corea na
música "Island Magic" (Dave Weckl). Considero-o um
dos maiores músicos da atualidade, por isso estudei,
adaptei e transcrevi essas frases. Notem que são
utilizados os quatro dedos da mão esquerda de forma
independente. Acompanhem:

FRANK SOLARI

Tempo: 120 BPM
Tracks: 1
Instruments:
Bars: 12

Lyric

The pupil is twelve, attractive, withdrawn
In a midnight blue school uniform
Lips just a little too full for her face
Distant eyes full of space
In her posture no trace of coquette
No defiance

She fingers the frets looking forlorn
Crossing her legs where her tights have been torn
Starts as her mother comes into the room
And the afternoon grows still
And her mother feels chill
Shivers and buttons her coat

I gently correct the curve of her back
And open her book in the now-empty flat
At the classical piece I've had her prepare
And her arms are bare as she plays
And I draw back behind her ear
A few strands of hair gone astray

She shows me her bracelet, the lesson is done
I turn it around between finger and thumb
We sit face to face and it seems to me that
Her face is the face of a cat
And touching the place where her breasts will be
I press my hand flat

She comes into my lap, I turn her around
Her hands clasp my neck and her feet skim the ground
Her skirt travels up under my palm
But the pupil sits looking so calm
As if listening to the distant sound
Of a burglar alarm

What happened next it's hard to recall
The guitar lesson left no traces at all
Now, from afar, it seems to resemble
A strange composition in oil
Of a man, a guitar, and an innocent little girl