This year, I had the privilege of presenting a concert with Duo Chinoiserie at the Guitar Foundation of America Convention while also serving as a preliminary-round judge for the International Concert Artist Competition.

It was my fifth time attending GFA.

In previous years, I had presented lectures and connected with colleagues. This year, however, I experienced the competition from an entirely different perspective—sitting on the other side of the table, observing one of the world’s most prestigious classical guitar competitions through the eyes of a judge.

What struck me most wasn’t just how extraordinary the winners were.

It was seeing so many exceptionally talented players fail to advance to the semifinals.

Many possessed excellent technique and strong musicianship, yet their journey ended after the first round.

Why?

Because the factors that ultimately determine competition results are often very different from what most competitors imagine.

Drawing from this year’s judging experience, I’d like to share five observations—things that many teachers may never explicitly tell you.

⸻

1. Competition Conditions Are Far More Demanding Than You Think

Many students practice under ideal circumstances: comfortable temperatures, a familiar instrument, favorable acoustics, a quiet audience, and relatively relaxed nerves.

A real competition is rarely like that.

Your hands may become cold, sweaty, or shaky from nerves.

Jet lag may leave you exhausted after a sleepless night.

The hall may offer almost no natural reverberation.

Air conditioning may cause your strings to drift constantly out of tune.

Someone in the audience may even forget to silence their phone.

It sounds absurd—but it’s reality.

This year’s preliminary venue for the GFA competition was remarkably dry acoustically.

A hall like that exposes every aspect of your fundamental technique:

Can you play with true legato?

Is your tone production refined?

Can you shape convincing dynamic contrast?

Are your shifts genuinely clean?

Can you make full use of the guitar’s natural resonance?

Many performances that sound quite convincing in a favorable environment suddenly reveal every weakness under these conditions.

That’s why I often tell my students:

You don’t practice for ideal circumstances.

You practice for the worst possible ones.

If a perpetual-motion piece is meant to be played at 120 BPM, you should be able to perform it comfortably at 125 or even 130.

Only then can you hope to perform close to your full potential when pressure inevitably reduces your margins.

A mature performer develops technical abilities that comfortably exceed what the stage actually demands.

⸻

2. Many Competitors Don’t Lose Because of Their Playing—They Lose Because of Their Programming

During the preliminary round, there were numerous performances that felt vulnerable almost immediately.

The reason was simple:

The repertoire simply didn’t suit the performer.

Many competitors choose repertoire by asking,

“Will this piece show off my technique?”

A far more important question is:

“Do I feel like I own the piece?”

If your tremolo doesn’t yet possess the effortless singing quality of someone like David Russell, why choose a program centered around an extended tremolo work?

Competition repertoire and study repertoire serve different purposes.

When studying, breadth is valuable.

In competition, however, your objective is much simpler:

Present your greatest strengths as clearly and convincingly as possible in the limited time available.

Not to demonstrate that you can play everything.

Another factor many competitors overlook is program order.

A competition is not a recital.

Personally, I rarely recommend opening with a perpetual-motion work.

Such pieces offer no time to settle into the instrument or the room—you must perform at full precision from the very first note.

The problem is that competitors usually receive little or no opportunity to test the hall beforehand.

For this reason, experienced competitors often begin with a piece featuring a free introduction or a fantasy-like opening, allowing themselves a few moments to adjust naturally to the instrument, the acoustics, and their own nerves.

Those first minutes matter.

In many cases, judges begin forming an overall impression almost immediately.

You rarely get a second opportunity to make a first impression.

⸻

3. The Highest Level of Virtuosity Never Feels Like Showing Off

One pattern stood out clearly this year.

Many competitors wanted to win so badly that every performance seemed intent on saying:

“Look how fast I can play.”

“Look how difficult this is.”

“Look how spectacular I am.”

Ironically, the finest performances never announce their virtuosity.

Technique disappears into the music.

Judges are rarely moved by displays of difficulty alone.

What ultimately persuades us is musical conviction.

This is especially true in Classical and Romantic repertoire.

If you’re simply producing notes without understanding harmony, phrase structure, large-scale architecture, breathing, or cadential direction, the result can feel like nothing more than highly sophisticated finger gymnastics.

Why do some performers make the same piece sound like a compelling story?

Because, in their minds, there actually is a story.

They understand the emotional trajectory of each section.

They know why the harmony changes.

They understand how tension is created and released.

They know where every phrase wants to go.

Not simply because someone once wrote “crescendo” in their score.

Those are fundamentally different ways of making music.

⸻

4. The Required Piece Often Separates the Best Performers

Many competitors underestimate the importance of the required work.

In reality, it may be the single most decisive factor.

When judges feel equally positive about several competitors, the required piece often becomes the deciding criterion.

This year every competitor performed Tilman Hoppstock’s Lamento Fantasy.

After hearing more than thirty performances of the same composition, something remarkable happens.

Those who truly understand the music become unmistakably clear.

Some performers play the notes.

Others create imagery.

Consider a simple rhythmic motive.

One performer can evoke the solemn weight of the funeral march like the second movement of Barrios’s La Catedral.

Some others could barely execute the rhythm accurately.

Likewise, certain impressionistic passages reveal enormous differences in artistic imagination.

Some performers shape texture, voice leading, articulation, and color with an awareness that resembles a pianist balancing two independent hands.

The bass remains hazy, almost as though sustained by a pedal.

The upper voices shimmer like changing light.

Listening to those performances even reminded me of the strokes of Monet.

Contemporary music isn’t merely about modern techniques.

It reflects one’s entire artistic depth.

For young guitarists, my advice is simple:

Don’t listen only to guitar music.

Listen to orchestras.

Listen to pianists.

Listen to opera.

Watch painting.

Read literature.

Because, in the end, what determines your artistic depth is not your fingers.

It’s your aesthetic imagination.

⸻

5. The Greatest Danger Isn’t Lacking Personality—It’s Forcing It

People often say:

“You have to be unique in competition.”

That’s true.

But it is also one of the most misunderstood ideas.

Many competitors mistake personality for doing something deliberately different.

Playing slower than everyone else.

Exaggerating contrasts.

Making interpretive choices simply because no one else does.

True personality never feels manufactured.

It emerges naturally from genuine understanding of music.

As judges, we can usually tell the difference immediately.

We can hear whether the performer is being led by the music—

or trying to convince us that they are unique.

Another situation is particularly unfortunate.

Sometimes a performance is deeply convincing on its own terms, yet fundamentally misunderstands the work itself.

The final section of this year’s required piece is titled Salvation and Peace.

The music suggests release after suffering.

Yet some performers interpreted it as a triumphant heroic victory.

The result was undeniably impressive, but it missed the composer’s destination.

There was expression—without understanding.

The finest performers achieve both. They remain faithful to the score while expressing a personality that is unmistakably their own.

⸻

Final Thoughts

I’d like every competitor to know one thing.

Most judges genuinely want you to succeed.

Many of us have once sat on the other side of the stage ourselves.

We remember the jet lag.

The lonely hours of preparation.

The emotional weight of being evaluated.

Judges are not sitting there waiting for you to make mistakes.

We’re looking for something much more exciting: An artist.

So when you step onto the stage, don’t focus solely on avoiding wrong notes.

Instead, strive to present the most honest, convincing version of your artistry.

Because what truly moves an audience—or a jury—is rarely perfection.

It is sincerity.

Finally, congratulations once again to this year’s four prize winners.

And to every competitor: may each competition become another step toward discovering your own artistic voice.