Between Worlds: Twanguero’s Deep Exploration of Guitar Traditions
The guitarist-composer on his musical journey from Valencia, Spain, to Los Angeles, featuring a transcription of his new composition “Fue tanto el amor”
I first stumbled upon Twanguero as we often do nowadays—by accident, while procrastinating on social media. A video on Collings Guitars’ Facebook page showed the Spanish guitarist putting a spirited twist on ragtime and classical guitar traditions with his composition “Spanish Rag,” effortlessly navigating its breakneck tempo. Intrigued, I transcribed the piece to try to understand how he pulled it off. Shortly after, I reached out to Twanguero, who graciously allowed me to feature the notation in the September/October 2019 issue of Acoustic Guitar magazine. Since then, we’ve maintained a friendly correspondence about music and guitars.
Twanguero, born Diego García, developed his deep command of the guitar from an early start in his native Valencia, Spain. Now 47, he began learning classical guitar at age six under the guidance of José Lázaro, a former student of maestro Andrés Segovia. Though his classical training discouraged it, García was drawn to the electric guitar, particularly the sounds of early rock and rockabilly. This passion led him to become one of Spain’s most sought-after session guitarists before moving to the U.S. to carve out his own musical identity.
Based in Los Angeles for the last decade, García continues to explore the intersections between his classical training and the electric guitar. This is especially evident in his recent albums: Carreteras Secundarias, Vol. 2, recorded in a Costa Rican jungle with just a classical guitar, and Panamerica, releasing on September 27, an ensemble album that blends American and Latin American sounds with a variety of electric guitars.
I recently connected with García via Zoom—he was on a boat in a Los Angeles marina. Our conversation, edited for clarity, reflects on his long musical journey, his reconciliation of the technical demands of classical, steel-string, and electric guitars, and the instruments that have shaped his unique musical conception.
Is that a houseboat you’re on?
No, it’s a regular boat, but it’s mine here in Marina del Rey. It’s also my office and rehearsal space. At some point, it became too expensive to rent a rehearsal room in Los Angeles, so I decided to buy a boat. The boat itself was cheap, and the rent is only about $600 a month. I can make all the noise I want and bring the full band here. It’s turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. It’s a creative space surrounded by water, which really helps me escape from the city.
That’s a great solution—it must be inspiring to play in that setting.
It really is. The surroundings are beautiful, and it’s incredibly peaceful here. No cars, just clean air and the sound of the water. It’s a great place to rehearse, write, and find inspiration. You feel almost disconnected from the usual rush of the city, and that opens up a lot of space for creativity.
I know the spot well. I used to ride my bike from Culver City to the marina, sometimes just to clear my head. It’s such a scenic area.
Yes, exactly. There’s a beautiful trail by Ballona Creek. I often walk there myself, especially after a long rehearsal. It’s the perfect way to reset and gather your thoughts.
You started playing classical guitar at the age of six in Spain. What was that like to pick up the instrument at such a young age?
My teacher was a former student of Andrés Segovia, and my area on the Mediterranean Sea was basically where the Spanish guitar was invented; Tárrega was from my hometown. From the very beginning, I approached the guitar as if it were a little orchestra. My teacher insisted that I not just play melodies but also the bass lines and harmonies, treating the guitar as a fully expressive instrument. This concept of creating a full, dynamic sound with just one instrument has influenced how I play ever since.
But at the same time, I discovered guitarists like Link Wray and Chet Atkins and fell in love with that kind of playing. I remember my teacher didn’t like the electric guitar at all, but he respected Atkins. He told me a story about how Andrés Segovia met a young Atkins in Nashville and recognized his talent. So, even though my teacher wasn’t fond of electric guitarists, he allowed me to explore Atkins’ style, and that really shaped my understanding of the guitar.
Since I was ten or 12 years old, I’ve played a lot of Latin music as well, like the Mexican bolero, which is where the new single comes from, that way of playing. And like Los Panchos, a Mexican trio of guitars that influences me a lot.
It’s fascinating how those diverse influences commingle in your work today. How did you come across all these different styles at a time before music was widely available on the internet?
My brother had this Shadows vinyl with a red Stratocaster on the cover. The image of that guitar grabbed me right away. In Spain, there was a lot of exposure to British music. My parents were fans of Clapton, Beck, Peter Green, and Fleetwood Mac. They wanted me to be a classical guitarist, but I was always drawn to the electric guitar. It felt like an entirely new world of possibilities.
The electric guitar is about pure expression—no matter what you play, if you play it well, it’s going to sound good. I loved the idea of using the electric to explore articulation and emotion. When I was at the conservatory, we’d spend hours working on tones and colors with the classical guitar. Applying those techniques to the electric guitar opened up a whole new dimension for me.
Your classical background seems to inform how you approach different instruments and styles to this day. Talk about how that foundation shapes your playing.
It’s not easy to manage the three or four ways of playing guitar with all these different techniques. The classical training taught me to focus on tone and dynamics. I’ve worked on adapting my right-hand position for different styles—fingerstyle, thumbpicking, flatpicking. Traveling to South America, especially Brazil, influenced my technique a lot. Brazilian players use their right hand in unique ways, and that fascinated me.
I’ve spent years trying to unify these different approaches. For example, I might be on tour with a classical guitar, and then I have to switch to an electric guitar like a Telecaster. The transition takes time, and it requires a lot of practice. You have to understand the guitar as a whole instrument and adapt to its nuances. I consider myself more of a composer who uses the guitar as a tool for expression rather than a pure technician.
That sounds like a lot of focused and challenging work. How do you manage to maintain such versatility?
It is a lot of work! When I was younger, I used to switch between an electric guitar at high volume, then go to nylon- and steel-strings, but it was always a bit chaotic. You can break nails, lose calluses, and mess up the timing. Over time, I learned to refine the transitions and be more deliberate about my choices. Now, if I’m preparing for a tour, I spend a few days beforehand deciding which guitars I’m going to use and adjusting my technique accordingly.
You spent nearly 20 years supporting other musicians before focusing on your projects. What did you take away from that period?
That time was incredibly valuable. I played with many artists and learned how to adapt my style to different settings while staying true to myself. I also worked on Spanish national TV, where I had the chance to play for various acts—Rod Stewart, Shakira, and many others. It taught me to handle different musical situations and always bring authenticity to myself and to the performance. Even though it wasn’t my own music, I wouldn’t play anything that didn’t come from the heart.
I was never a rock virtuoso player in the way of Steve Vai, who is someone I respect a lot. But still, when I had all these gigs and touring, they sometimes asked me to play in that way. I think I succeeded in adapting my way of playing. At some point, I realized that I wanted to focus on my own music. I had always been a composer; my teacher encouraged me to write from a young age, even if it was just simple pieces.
The turning point came after I won a Latin Grammy for producing a tango album. Someone said, “Hey, now that you have a Grammy, you can work and live in the United States.” So I applied for a visa, got it, and then moved to Los Angeles, and it gave me the freedom to really explore my own sound. Right afterwards, I started to receive a lot more attention than when I was just a studio musician.
What was that shift like?
It was a tough transition, especially financially. I didn’t have the money to hire a band, so I had to start performing solo and developing survival skills. It’s hard to play a 90-minute solo set without being too repetitive and while keeping the audience engaged. Those early shows were challenging; I even traveled by Greyhound bus to gigs to save money. But they taught me a lot about how to communicate with an audience, how to craft a setlist, and how to survive as an artist.
Eventually, I found a manager and began to play more regularly on the West Coast. I realized my music works best as a collective experience with a band that feels like family. I’ve been building that over the years, and it’s been a rewarding process.
Your music has taken you across the globe. How has travel influenced your approach to performing and composing?
I used to get all my inspiration from the guitarists, but at some point, traveling gave me the chance to get inspiration from a lot of different things, from the food, the weather, the streets of São Paulo or Buenos Aires, because I’m very curious in general. I still consider myself a student, and the guitar is so popular that wherever you go, you’re going to find some badass guitarist. That’s the best part for me—having the chance to watch the most amazing players and see how they grab the guitar gives you a lot of information.
The more you travel, the better you’re going to communicate and the better you’re going to understand the humans behind the rhythms in Argentina, the 6/8 in Colombia, or the waltz in Nashville. For me, traveling has been key in the development of my composing and performing and understanding of the things players everywhere have in common. That’s why we call it música de ida y vuelta—music back and forth. Flamenco influences Latin American music, and vice versa. So I’ve been fortunate to see all these things in person. Because I’m old, I don’t see things through YouTube, but I prefer to go to places. When you see Yamandu Costa play in front of you and experience how he interacts with his guitar, it’s nothing like watching him on YouTube.
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