Historian Jan Morris once wrote about Montenegro: "At first sight is the sheer face up the formidable rock rampart that rings the heart of Montenegro. For centuries people have come this way with trepidation: on mules, frightened of bandits; on cavalry horses, terrified of guerrillas; in troop carriers, wary of partisans; and now in tourist coaches and rented cars, heart-in-mouth at the prospect."
- Milos Karadaglic appears with the Bangkok Symphony Orchestra and conductor Antoine Marguier at the Thailand Cultural Centre Main Hall at 8pm tomorrow. The concert is part of the Great Artists Concert Series 2013.
- Tickets priced from 500-2,500 baht are available at all Thai Ticket Major outlets (www.thaiticketmajor.com).
- A special 25% discount is available for Bangkok Post readers. Simply cut out two mastheads from the front page and take them to any Thai Ticket Major outlet.
Montenegro, the legendary "black mountain", historically part of Yugoslavia and now an independent country, has more cigarette-smugglers than bandits these days. But in addition to its legends, mysteries and gorgeous panorama of mountains, caves and Adriatic sea resorts, Montenegro today has a wonderful new international star.
His name is Milos Karadaglic. Those who love music, from Europe to Australia, are raving about this extraordinary young virtuoso guitar player who has been hailed as the natural successor to the great classical guitarists _ Andres Segovia, Julian Bream, Narciso Yepes and John Williams. Bangkok, too, has a chance to hear him tomorrow when he performs the ever-popular Concierto De Aranjuez by Joaquin Rodrigo with the Bangkok Symphony Orchestra.
"The overwhelming feeling among the audience, as it squeezed through the exits afterwards, was not a marvelling at this young man's musical or physiognomic talents _ though both played their part _ but a sense of having gained a new musical friend," gushed Britain's Independent newspaper, while the Daily Telegraph concluded: "Lovers of the classical guitar have a new hero in the young Montenegrin Milos Karadaglic."
But the authoritative Gramophone magazine, which named him "Young Artist of the Year in 2012", had it exactly right. Commenting on the issue of a new CD, the reviewer stated that Karadaglic is "a musician undeniably made for photo-shoots but also one who possesses extraordinary expressive subtlety, grace and a range of tonal colour that is as apt as beguiling".
The "photoshoot" comment could not be more correct. Milos does indeed look like an inhabitant of these mountains. Young and with dark gleaming eyes, barely shaven, he could be a guerilla, a bandit, a pop star, even a youthful Spanish bullfighter sure to charm the young ladies _ and, it must be added, many of the more mature ones _ in the audience.
Instead, this is a man who fought his own difficult war, with a story as unlikely as his reviews are outstanding.
Milos's father was, like most Montenegrins, in the military. But his mother was more artistic. In 1991, just as the Balkan War which decimated the former Yugoslavia was breaking out, Milos was eight years old and showing musical talent. Thinking it would be "cool" (his word) to attend the state-run music school, he was given a violin to play _ and he hated it.
"I knew nothing about 'classical' music", he said, "and to me at that point the violin was a squeaky little thing. Nor did I even have any idea what it could sound like. So I thought that playing the piano would be the cool thing to do.
"The problem was that my family couldn't afford a piano. So one day, wandering around the house, I found an old dusty guitar.
"It was a sad-looking black guitar on top of the cupboard. Some of its strings were missing, but I picked it up _ and I felt like a rock star.
"This, I thought, is what I want to play."
His father found an old recording of Andres Segovia playing the music of Isaac Albeniz, particularly the song Asturias, and according to Milos: "That's when everything fell into place. I was mesmerised, I was amazed by the sound. I thought, 'This is one guitar? A piece of wood with six strings? And you can create all this magic with two hands?'.
"From that day on, I sat down, practiced and practiced and practiced, and I dreamt of one day being able to play Asturias myself."
Now this is where the life story becomes more improbable. Since Montenegro was poor, remote and the most difficult terrain to wage war, nobody was interested in the territory. That was the good news. The bad news was that the rest of the world, outside of romantic poets like Lord Byron or historians like Jan Morris, did not care. Nor did Montenegrins care much about the outside world. Milos was the exception. He was obsessed with his instrument, and even won a few competitions in the country. When a fellow guitarist suggested he apply to the Royal Academy of Music in London, Milos was... well, confused, having no idea how to apply. Help came from a British Council prospectus, an audition tape which he secretly made and sent. And then nothing. No reply at all.
In desperation, Milos made a phone call to the academy, and their reply was astounding. Sending a letter from London to Montenegro did not guarantee that the letter would reach its destination.
"Not only did we receive the tape," they told the thunderstruck young Milos, "but we have a full scholarship for you."
"That," said Milos, "was the happiest and the saddest day of my life. My parents couldn't believe it. But they made every sacrifice so I could follow my dream."
The dream was quick in coming. Milos excelled at the Royal Academy. His English quickly became faultless, his fingers became quicker, his sensitivity to the guitar became almost legendary. Yet he always had to fight for the guitar itself.
"Constantly I was reminded that the guitar is not an instrument of equivalent standing to the piano and violin, so I could never have a top career; that the repertoire is limited; that the instrument is not loud enough. In fact, it was the popularity of the guitar which was against it, with everybody playing some kind of pop guitar music.
"But I knew that all guitar music comes from classical guitar music. The transition between the fight for my space under the Sun, to suddenly being under the international spotlight was really fast. And if somebody told me two years ago I would be in this position, I would not believe it."
That position came in 2011, with his debut album Mediterraneo, which topped the charts and became an international sensation. An exclusive Deutsche Grammophon contract led to his second album, Latino, which Gramophone magazine described as being unique in that the personality of the guitarist sings through the music with taste and intelligence.
Last year, Milos broke records in the international arena, performing not only in Europe but in Australia, Los Angeles and finally New York's Carnegie Hall, the lodestar of any artist. But while he may feel at home among 3,000 listeners in London's Royal Albert Hall, he was just as much at home in the intimate one-time jazz club in New York's Le Poisson Rouge, where this writer sat astounded at his talent.
His programme ran the gamut from classical to Latin American and Spanish, from jazz to folk. But before each work, Milos's personality glowed, with modest jokes, anecdotes and seemingly spontaneous comments. And where does he go from here?
"We continue on this journey, my guitar and I. We go step by step, or two steps by two steps. It's just the beginning, all of this," he said.
He has, as a Public Radio interviewer told him before his Carnegie Hall Concert, the looks of a "dreamboat". Would that help bring young girls to the concert hall? Milos laughed.
"That is a very cruel question." Then, with typical self-deprecation, in his faultless English, Milos said: "How I look is... well, I can't help that. I was born this way.
"But if I can lure girls to my concert and they decide to take up classical guitar, that would be my greatest joy."
