I was in the newspaper room reading the drivel in the Daily Telegraph @ the Daily Torygraph (alas, the Guardian isn't published on Sundays). Yeah, so I WAS supposed to be studying, but there's a world outside as well, y'know...

While I was snorting at the right-wing nonsense, a new resident I haven't met yet came in and started reading the papers as well. After a few minutes, he asked me in a very strong American drawl, "Do you know who 'Gan Lee' is?". I raised my eyebrows, "That's probably me. I'm KHEE Gan". "Oh, I saw your guitar in the lounge and I was wondering whose it was...". The 'I-know-you, you-know-me' atmosphere of Netherhall House makes it probably the only place in the world apart from my house back in KL I would leave my guitar lying about, albeit in its case tagged with my name.

When he found out that I was from UCL, he suddenly said, "Wait, you're a friend of Taha's right? He mentioned to me that there was this guy in his corridor who could play classical guitar really well". Yes, I was in the same corridor as Taha last year. I mentally wondered how he managed to make such a tenuous connection. Admittedly there aren't that many classical guitarists around, but it's still one hell of a conclusion to link the fact that I could play CG to Taha. "I think I've seen you play before...Taha once brought me to a recital in which you played". Ah, that explains it.

We continued chatting, and I learnt that Nima was not only not an American, he was ironically an Iranian. When I mentioned the fact that I am Malaysian, he said, "You've got some pretty good universities in Malaysia, don't you?". I was momentarily stunned, for it's the first time I've ever heard anyone describe such esteemed institutions as UM and UKM as 'good'. I then remembered that a lot of students from the Middle-East and other 3rd World countries consider Malaysia as a destination for higher education. "Yeah, well, we do have colleges in which you can get twinning degrees from universities in the US or UK, but I wouldn't really regard them as more than degree mills", I said. We had a pretty interesting discussion about higher education. Basically, I hold the perhaps slightly idealistic view that higher education should involve more intellectual work and research than merely churning out fodder for the job market. He, on the hand, thought that even a less cerebral education still has plenty of merits.

He then talked me into letting him watch me practise, so I grabbed my guitar from the lounge and we went to the auditorium (yes, we have one in the residence). After hearing me play for a couple of minutes, he said, "One of the first things that I noticed when I heard you play last year was that you breathe rather heavily when you play...". I was torn between surprise and embarrassment. A couple of years back, in a masterclass, an American guitarist called Michael Chapdelaine had mentioned this exact same point about my playing. Michael had described my breathing as "as if you're in labour". Nima, rather more charitably, described it as "It's as if you're trying to breathe the music into yourself". It's something that I do sub-consciously, I told him, and I never actually notice it when I play.

He's pretty interested in the classical and flamenco styles, and he's a self-professed beginner. Yet, the comments and questions he posed to me showed that he was actually listening to my playing, and he showed a remarkable sense of musical insight. After I played him my current work-in-progress, Regondi's Reverie Nocturne, I mentioned to him that the composer was obscure even among classical guitarists. He said, "I think you are playing a lot of music from more obscure composers, why's that?". I prefer to avoid music that's being played a lot, because there's a lot less scope for discovery, and I prefer going down paths which are less well trod. "Have you tried playing nuevo flamenco music like Paco de Lucia? How about improvising or composing your own music?". I think that to improvise and compose, one has to feel inspiration, and that is something I have never had. I would compare myself to a landscape artist, who tries to paint his own interpretation of something that is already there.

"Look man, I've got to go now, but I think you rock, man! Keep up with it". When he left the room, I felt as if I was the one who just received inspiration. That conversation dredged up to the surface the things that has kept me going back to my instrument in the face of a million other commitments, but which I've never consciously been aware of. It's been an interesting day.