Made in Brazil

Made in Brazil: Studies in Popular Music serves as a comprehensive and thorough introductionto the history, sociology, and musicology of twentieth-century Brazilian popular music. Thevolume consists of essays by leading scholars and journalists of Brazilian music, and covers themajor figures, styles, and social contexts of pop music in Brazil. Each essay provides adequatecontext so readers understand why the figure or genre under discussion is of lasting significanceto Brazilian popular music. The book first presents a general description of the history andbackground of popular music in Brazil, followed by essays that are organized into thematicsections: Samba and Choro; History, Memory, and Representations; Scenes and Artists; andMusic, Market, and New Media.

Martha Tupinambá de Ulhôa is Professor of Musicology at UNIRIO—Universidade Federaldo Estado do Rio de Janeiro—and Researcher of the Brazilian National Research Council (CNPq).

Cláudia Azevedo is a lecturer and developer of a post-doctoral research project on popularmusic analysis (with a FAPERJ—Fundação de Amparo à Pesquisa do Estado do Rio de Janeiro—scholarship) at the Program of Post-Graduation in Music at UNIRIO—Universidade Federaldo Estado do Rio de Janeiro.

Felipe Trotta is a faculty member of Media Studies Department at UFF—Universidade FederalFluminense—and Researcher of the Brazilian National Research Council (CNPq).

Routledge Global Popular Music SeriesSeries Editors: Franco Fabbri, University of Turin, Italy, and Goffredo Plastino, Newcastle University, UK

The Routledge Global Popular Music Series provides popular music scholars, teachers, students,and musicologists with a well-informed and up-to-date introduction to different world popularmusic scenes. The series of volumes can be used for academic teaching in popular music studies,or as a collection of reference works. Written by those living and working in the countries inwhich they write, this series is devoted to popular music largely unknown to Anglo-Americanreaders.

Made in Spain: Studies in Popular MusicEdited by Sílvia Martínez and Héctor Fouce

Made in Italy: Studies in Popular MusicEdited by Franco Fabbri and Goffredo Plastino

Made in Japan: Studies in Popular MusicEdited by Toru Mitsui

Made in Brazil: Studies in Popular MusicEdited by Martha Tupinambá de Ulhôa, Cláudia Azevedo, and Felipe Trotta

Made in BrazilStudies in Popular Music

Edited byMartha Tupinambá de Ulhôa, Cláudia Azevedo, and Felipe Trotta

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Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication DataMade in Brazil: studies in popular music/edited by Martha Tupinambá de

Ulhôa, Cláudia Azevedo and Felipe Trotta.pages cm—(Routledge global popular music series)1. Popular music—Brazil—History and criticism. I. Ulhôa, Martha, editor. II. Azevedo, Cláudia, editor. III. Trotta, Felipe, editor. IV. Series: Routledge global popular music series.ML3487.B7M34 2015781.640981—dc232014016774

ISBN: 978–0-415–62560–9 (hbk)ISBN: 978–0-203–66454–4 (ebk)

Typeset in Minion Proby Florence Production Ltd, Stoodleigh, Devon, UK

Senior Editor: Constance DitzelSenior Editorial Assistant: Elysse PreposiProduction Editor: Bonita Glanville-MorrisMarketing Manager: Emilie LittlehalesProject Manager: Amy WheelerCover Design: Jayne Varney

Contents

List of Illustrations viiSeries Foreword ixPreface xiAcknowledgments xv

Introduction: Analyzing Popular Sound: An Assessment of Popular Music Studies in Brazil 1MARTHA TUPINAMBÁ DE ULHÔA

Part I: Samba and Choro 13

1 The Invention of Brazil as the Land of Samba: Sambistas and Their Social Affirmation 17ADALBERTO PARANHOS

2 Choro Manuscript Collections of the Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries: Written Transmission of an “Oral” Tradition 30PEDRO ARAGÃO

3 Samba and the Music Market in Brazil in the 1990s 43FELIPE TROTTA

Part II: History, Memory, and Representations 55

4 Historical Recordings of Wind Bands (1902–1927): Waltzes, Polkas, and Dobrados in Brazil 59DAVID PEREIRA DE SOUZA

5 The Construction of Memory about the Oito Batutas 73LUIZA MARA BRAGA MARTINS

6 Fado in Rio de Janeiro: The Memory of Portuguese Immigrants in Brazil 84ALBERTO BOSCARINO

Part III: Scenes and Artists 93

7 Marks of a Recent Antropofagia: The Listening Practices of the Albums Acabou Chorare (Novos Baianos) and Selvagem? (Paralamas do Sucesso) 97JORGE CARDOSO FILHO

8 Cosmopolitanism and the Stigma of Tecnobrega Music 110PAULO MURILO GUERREIRO DO AMARAL

9 Chico Science & Nação Zumbi: Hybridity and Experimentation in the Manguebeat Movement 121HEROM VARGAS

10 I Sing Everywhere: An Ethnomusicological Look at the Performance of Ney Matogrosso 133SERGIO GAIA BAHIA

11 Mixing in the Global Margins: The Making of Brazilian Drum & Bass 146IVAN PAOLO DE PARIS FONTANARI

Part IV: Music, Market, and New Media 161

12 Ethnomusicology in Cyberspace: Samplertropofagia and Virality in YouTube Videos 163LUCIANO CAROSO

13 Structural Transformations of the Music Industry in Brazil 1999–2009: The Reorganization of the Record Market in the Digital Networks 173LEONARDO DE MARCHI

Coda 187

14 From Roots to Networks: Listening to a World Called Brazil 191LÚCIA CAMPOS

15 Northeastern Brazilian Music in New York City: Representations between Brazil and the United States 202NATALIA COIMBRA DE SÁ

Afterword 213

16 Electronic and Acoustic Modern MPB: A Conversation with Lenine 217CLÁUDIA AZEVEDO AND FELIPE TROTTA

A Selected Bibliography on Brazilian Popular Music 223Notes on Contributors 227Glossary 231Index 241

vi • Contents

Illustrations

Figures

I.1 Map of Brazil with places mentioned in the text xviI.2 Relative distribution of population in Brazil by declared color white,

pardo, or black 73.1 Só Pra Contrariar: O samba não tem fronteiras album sleeve 534.1 Rio de Janeiro Fire Department Band (1906), with Anacleto de Medeiros

in the center 687.1 Novos Baianos: Acabou Chorare album sleeve 1017.2 Paralamas do Sucesso: Selvagem? album sleeve 1058.1 The Powerful Ruby aparelhagem (January 15, 2006) 1168.2 Inside the aparelhagem (September 24, 2006) 1179.1 Chico Science & Nação Zumbi: Da lama ao caos album sleeve 126

10.1 Secos & Molhados: debut album sleeve, 1973 (Matogrosso is the “head” on the left foreground) 134

10.2 Matogrosso’s white outfit on the Canto em qualquer canto cover 13711.1 Mixing chart of “Carolina Carol Bela,” DJ Marky & XRS remix—

DJ Marky: Audio Architeture II (SambaLoco Records, Trama 2001) 15311.2 Mixing chart of “LK,” DJ Marky & XRS remix—DJ Marky & XRS

In Rotation (Innerground Records 2003) 15513.1 iMusica’s position in the chain of intermediaries 18113.2 Trevo Digital’s position in the chain of intermediaries 18213.3 MCA’s communication strategy on the Internet 183A.1 Lenine by Hugo Prata 212

Tables

4.1 Casa Edison: Odeon Double Records (Santos et al. 1982) 666.1 Fado in the Brazilian Discography (Santos et al. 1982) 88

12.1 Form of “Funk do Tapa na Pantera” with sections of 16 bars and subsections of 4 or 8 bars 166

Musical Examples

2.1 Manuscript score by postman Quintiliano Pinto 392.2 Manuscript score by trombonist Candinho Silva 403.1 Samba polyrhythmic pattern 513.2 Romantic pagode polyrhythmic pattern 524.1 Anacleto de Medeiros, “Brazilian Pavilion,” dobrado, [1904–5],

m. 5–12 614.2 Anacleto de Medeiros, “Terna Saudade,” waltz, [1904], m. 1–8 624.3 Anacleto de Medeiros, “Cabeça de Porco,” polka, 1896, m. 1–8 63

12.1 Transcript excerpt of sampled speech in “Funk do Tapa na Pantera” 16712.2 Transcript excerpt of sampled speech in “Funk do velhinho que

comeu e não pagou” 167

viii • Illustrations

Series Foreword

Popular music studies have progressed from the initial focus on methodologies to exploring avariety of genres, scenes, works, and performers. British and North American music have beenprivileged and studied first, not only for their geographic and generational proximity to scholars,but also for their tremendous impact. Everything else has been often relegated to the dubious“world music” category, with a “folk” (or “roots,” or “authentic”) label attached.

However, world popular music is no less popular than rock and roll, R & B, disco, rap,singer-songwriters, punk, grunge, Britpop, or nu-gaze. It is no less full of history and passion,no less danceable, socially relevant, and commercialized. Argentine tango, Brazilian bossa nova,Mexican reggaeton, Cuban son and timba, Spanish and Latin American cantautores, Frenchauteurs-compositeurs-interprètes, Italian cantautori and electronic dance music, J-pop, Germancosmic music and Schlager, Neapolitan Song, Greek entechno, Algerian raï, Ghanaian highlife,Portuguese fado, Nigerian juju, Egyptian and Lebanese Arabic pop, Israeli mizrahit, and Indianfilmi are just a few examples of locally and transnationally successful genres that, with millionsof records sold, are an immensely precious key to understanding different cultures, societies,and economies.

More than in the past, there is now a widespread awareness of the “other” popular music;however, we still lack access to the original sources, or texts to rely on. The Routledge GlobalPopular Music Series has been devised to offer to scholars, teachers, students, and generalreaders wordwide a direct access to scenes, works, and performers that have been mostly notmuch, or at all, considered in the current literature, and at the same time to provide a betterunderstanding of the different approaches in the field of non-anglophone scholarship. Uncoveringthe wealth of studies flourishing in so many countries, inaccessible to those who do not speakthe local language, is by now no less urgent than considering the music itself.

The series website (www.globalpopularmusic.net) includes hundreds of audiovisual examplesthat complement the volumes. The interaction with the website is intended to give a well-informed introduction to the world’s popular music from entirely new perspectives, and at thesame time to provide updated resources for the academic teaching.

The Routledge Global Popular Music Series ultimately aims at establishing a truly internationalarena for a democratic musicology, through authoritative and accessible books. We hope thatour work will help the creation of a different polyphony of critical approaches, and that youwill enjoy listening to and being part of it.

Franco FabbriUniversity of Turin, Italy

Goffredo PlastinoNewcastle University, UK

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Preface

At the end of the closing ceremony of the London Olympics in 2012, a brief artistic presentationheralded the host city of the next event, as is customary. During the eight minutes of thepresentation, television viewers around the world were presented to the imaginary universe ofBrazil and, more specifically, its most famous city, Rio de Janeiro. The highlight of this scenariowas a Rio gari (street sweeper), who was famous in the local media for his work in sweepingthe Sambódromo (Sambadrome), where the city’s Samba Schools parade. With his affectionatenickname of Sorriso (Smile), he integrated in a particularly effective way a number of stereotypesabout “Brazilians”: black, friendly, humorous, and with great skill in dancing samba. Sorriso’svirtuoso steps served in the context of the presentation in London as a business card for acultural mapping of Brazil, featuring the gari-sambista (samba musician or dancer) and samba,the most famous genre of national popular music. In the musical repertoire of the presentation,samba functioned as the host, receiving other national sounds such as indigenous drumming,the erudite song of Villa-Lobos, maracatu drums, and the electronic pop of the contemporarystreets of the big cities. The grand finale of the short show was a love song to the city of Riocomposed by Gilberto Gil, one of the most recognized personalities of Brazilian music, whohad recently finished a long and successful stint as Minister of Culture. His samba “AqueleAbraço” (A Special Embrace), originally released in 1969, was at that moment a synthesis ofnational identity processed through Rio, “the marvelous city” of friendly people and open“smiles.” A city and a country that, as Gil’s famous song affirms, are “still beautiful.”

FIFA’s (Fédération Internationale de Football Association) Final Draw for the 2014 WorldCup Brazil took place in Costa do Sauipe, Bahia (Brazil). There, President Dilma Roussef, afteran homage to South African leader Nelson Mandela (who died the day before, on December5, 2013), emphasized the diversity and multicultural aspects of Brazil. The music performedbelonged mainly to the established canon, although it mixed the traditional and the modern interms of performing styles. The first number was “Brasil Pandeiro” (Tambourine Brazil),composed by Assis Valente for Carmen Miranda. The “Brazilian bombshell” declined to recordit; but the song was a success with the vocal group Os Anjos do Inferno (Hell’s Angels) in the 1940s, and with the post-Tropicalismo group Novos Baianos (New Bahians) in the 1970s.The song was interpreted by the well-known and respected sambista Alcione, aka “A Marrom” (TheBrown One) together with rapper Emicida (pronounced MCda). The BBC described the numberas follows: “Think Tina Turner accompanied by the Fresh Prince, but in Portuguese, and you’reon the right page.” Next in the sequence, the singer-songwriter Vanessa da Mata—with a cleanand high-pitched voice reminiscent of MPB diva Gal Costa at her best—and the romanticpagode singer Alexandre Pires—with his velvet-like voice and elegant cool figure—performed

the classic “Um a Zero” (One to Zero). The tune was initially an instrumental choro composedby Pixinguinha and Benedito Lacerda to commemorate a victory against Brazil’s legendaryfootball adversary, Uruguay, in 1919. In 1994, Nelson Angelo, a member of the collective ofmusicians nicknamed Clube da Esquina, wrote the lyrics performed by the duo Vanessa/Alexandre. To finish the ceremony, Margareth Menezes—a charismatic vocalist from Bahia—and the Olodum percussion group entered the stage with the axé hit “We are Carnaval,” a hymnto Bahian carnival, whose state capital Salvador is the “heart of Brazil,” according to the songlyrics. The musical message of the ceremony pointed to national identity centered on samba,football, and carnival. The samba genre also functions as a symbol of “Brazilianness,” constantlyreinforced by publicity, movies, soap operas, and varied narratives, and will be discussed insome of this collection.

Made in Brazil is a collection of chapters that developed from recent doctoral dissertationsfor graduate programs in music/ethnomusicology, communication, history, and anthropology.It brings new interpretations of genres that are well known in the international scene, such assamba, and presents informed descriptions of other genres that, even without having muchartistic prestige, move people as much as the more traditional ones do; one example is tecnobrega,widely disseminated and consumed in the city of Belém since the 2000s, and today also part ofsoap opera soundtracks. Mostly, the chapters are the result of doctoral dissertations defendedsince 2005 by 17 Brazilian authors from postgraduate programs in the country (with the excep -tion of two doctorates by Brazilian authors in foreign universities). This book will bring to the anglophone public a sample of the type of recent research in popular music developed in the country, and will complement the state-of-the-art literature in English that encompassesthe work of Brazilianists and collections predominantly comprised of North Americans andsome Brazilian authors. The collection is organized into five thematic sections, preceded by anintroduction by Martha Ulhôa, with a review of recent academic research in the field of popularmusic in Brazil, and followed by an interview with the singer and songwriter Lenine.

Part I is dedicated to both traditional and modern samba and its instrumental partner, choro.While choro was initially seen as a “way of playing” polkas, waltzes, tangos, and schottisches,its instrumentalists and arrangers—such as Pixinguinha—would format the sonority for the twosister genres that would occupy the top place of Brazilian popular music canon. Chapter 1discusses samba’s role in the 1930s, while Chapter 2 is dedicated to oral and written transmissionthrough a rereading of a classic book on choro published in 1936. Chapter 3 deals with theappearance of romantic pagode, a lyrical and modern samba created in the 1990s with theincorporation of some elements of transnational pop, particularly the electrified sounds ofkeyboards, electric bass, and electric guitar.

Part II deals with popular music, history, and memory. The authors use two types ofmethodology: aural history, or the study of the history of music through the comparativeanalysis of recordings, and oral history, constructed from the study of the memories and identityof marginal groups. Chapter 4 discusses tempo in the repertoire for wind bands recorded byBrazilian Casa Edison, founded in 1902, one of the first established record labels on the planet.Chapters 5 and 6 deal with the framing (or reframing) of memory/memories, many of themconflicting, such as the different representations of the career trajectory of the Oito Batutas,seen as the first Brazilian popular musicians to achieve success outside of the country, in theextensive literature on the group, starting with the writings of Mário de Andrade in the 1930s.Closing the section in Chapter 6 is a look at the reinvention of Portuguese identity throughfado, an essentially urban genre, by Portuguese immigrants of rural origin in Brazil.

xii • Preface

Part III expands the spectrum of musical scenes. Northern tecnobrega and São Paulo drum& bass, as well as rock-oriented groups Chico Science & Nação Zumbi and Paralamas do Sucesso,appear alongside Ney Matogrosso, an artist belonging to the prestigious MPB circle. Both thetecnobrega and drum & bass scenes, plus the manguebeat context, represent a heavy input oftechnology, especially sampling. MPB, the acronym for Brazilian popular music, was initially abrand that identified a generation of artists and their songs, related to bossa nova and Tropicalismo,the television song festivals, and the college student community of the 1960s. In the 1970s, thisgroup of artists was at the top of the prestige hierarchy in what was considered “Brazilian”music. As musical practice, MPB relates to traditional samba and choro, incorporates northeasternrhythms, and has created a bond with artists of successive generations who were interested inmusical production, transiting between traditional and modern (BRock, manguebeat, andelectronic music). Manguebeat, a musical movement that appeared in Recife in the beginningof the 1990s, mixes pop (rap, several electronic trends, and rock) and traditional music fromthe state of Pernambuco (maracatu, coco, ciranda, and caboclinho).

Music circulation and production, marketing, the Internet, YouTube, video mediadissemination, distribution strategies, and artists’ intermediaries are some of the themesforegrounded in the “word cloud” of Part IV. The chapters discuss not only the music industryand the new forms of distribution and marketing of new media, but also its related Netnography,the description of the connection between strategies and techniques of music production andcirculation through the Internet.

The Coda is dedicated to the reception in Europe and North America of Brazilian popularmusic. Chapter 14 addresses the transformation that potentially occurs in traditional musicwhen it is inserted into professional circuits, contextualizing it in European world music festivals(such as the 2010 World Music Expo in Copenhagen). Chapter 15 examines the situation offorró and maracatu groups active in New York since the mid-2000s, which flee from thestereotypes of samba and bossa nova commonly associated with Brazilian music.

The book closes with an interview with Lenine, whose career path is emblematic of variousthemes discussed in this book: musical hybridization, center versus periphery and foreign versusnational negotiations, the integration of technology with composition and arrangement, anddebates on value judgment. A composer, arranger, producer, and performer, Lenine has beenaround since the early 1980s and merges the musical heritage of northeastern Brazil with Brazilianurban and international pop music, all filtered by the technological possibilities of the studio.

Preface • xiii

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Acknowledgments

This book is the result of doctoral research developed in Brazilian universities since 2005, a threshold to our choice of authors; we are thankful for their contribution of unpublished texts, and prompt response to our requests. The pathway was opened by the colleagues whogot their degrees in North American and European universities in the case of music, and inBrazilian programs in history, anthropology, and literature. Some of those co-researchers on popular music wrote books and articles very important for the development of popular music studies in Brazil, in addition to supervising theses and dissertations, some of them in thisbook.

We would like to thank Fundação de Amparo à Pesquisa do Estado do Rio de Janeiro(FAPERJ) and Coordenação de Aperfeiçoamento de Pessoal de Nível Superior (CAPES) forsupporting most of the authors during their studies, and also for the support of two postdoctoralresearch grants, one at Universidade Federal do Estado do Rio de Janeiro (UNIRIO) and anotherat King’s College, London, which allowed the editors Martha and Cláudia to work on theproject. Felipe has been supported by FAPERJ as well. Martha and Felipe are researchers of theNational Council of Technological and Scientific Development (Conselho Nacional deDesenvolvi mento Científico e Tecnológico—CNPq), to whom they are grateful.

We would also like to thank the anonymous reviewers who encouraged us to go ahead withthe venture, letting us know the uniqueness of a collection totally Made in Brazil. The textswere written in Portuguese and then translated by Chris McGowan—a native speaker of English—and proofread by Ricardo Pessanha, both researchers in Brazilian popular music. We also wantto thank Lenine for kindly accepting our request, and his press agents who promptly arrangedthe interview and the permission grant for the publication of its written version.

Our gratitude also goes to Franco Fabbri and Goffredo Plastino for the invitation to edit thisvolume. And last but not least, it is important to mention all our graduate and undergraduatestudents on popular music courses at UFPE (Universidade Federal de Pernambuco), UFF(Universidade Federal Fluminense), and UNIRIO.

Belém Fortaleza

Nazaré da Mata

Olinda

Recife

Salvador

RecôncavoBaiano

Belo Horizonte

Rio de Janeiro

São Paulo

Porto Alegre

Para

Mato Grosso

BrasiliaCuiabá

MatoGrossodo Sul

Goiás

BahiaFederalDistrict

São Paulo

Paraná

Pernambuco

Figure I.1 Map of Brazil with places mentioned in the text

Source: Illustration by Leo Falcão

IntroductionAnalyzing Popular Sound: An Assessment

of Popular Music Studies in BrazilMartha Tupinambá de Ulhôa

Popular music is a discursive and historical category. In the context of this book, it refers tothe entertainment practices conveyed by transnational media for the use of a heterogeneousaudience. Regarding theories for its analysis, on the one hand, the music industry and the globaleconomy can mean selective control of practices and standardization (a favorite theme insociology and social communications), and, on the other hand, the same technological supports(such as the Internet)—central to the consolidation and modification of the music industry—can open spaces of strengthening and relative autonomy for non-hegemonic musical practices(observable from the perspective of ethnomusicology). The means of transmission (oral, written,aural, or virtual), the communicational perspective (production or reception), and researchtopics (uses and functions, meaning, technique, language, or history) inherent in popular musicto be researched is what determines the methodology relevant to its analysis.

Until the last quarter of the twentieth century, the writing about popular music in Brazil wasconducted by folklorists and musicians—who generally addressed the trinomial of erudite, folk,and popular (in that order of importance)—along with journalists and aficionados. Among thelatter, the majority mainly dealt with samba, defending authenticity and tradition against foreignmusic. Only in the last years of the twentieth century and the early twenty-first century, withthe significant increase of postgraduate research in Brazilian popular music (in musicology,history, literature, and communication), did reinterpretations of primary data and the prospectof rewriting history begin to appear, in the form of theses and dissertations.

Among Brazilian academics, the first studies dealing positively with popular music wereinaugurated by the still current Balanço da bossa, edited by critic and poet Augusto de Campos(1968). Recently, music labeled as “entertainment,” “industrialized,” “commercial,” “urban”popular, or “mass” popular began to be studied more systematically in universities, in variousareas of specialization. However, as Elizabeth Travassos (2005) comments, “the recognition ofthe partial and fragmentary character of the specializations generates frustration in the face ofcomplex objects [such as popular music], which require expertise in various areas.” So, it is notsurprising that there has been an intense production of collections both in Brazil and abroad(Avelar and Dunn 2011; Lopes et al. 2011; Matos, Travassos, and Medeiros 2001, 2008; Perroneand Dunn 2001; Stanyek and Moehn forthcoming).

The foundation of IASPM-AL, the Latin American branch of IASPM (InternationalAssociation for the Study of Popular Music), in 1999, of which 30 percent of the members

are Brazilian, has helped build a base for systematic research, either by returning to the originalsources of the histories of already well-established popular music, or by embracing contemporarytheories and methodologies. In the biennial congresses, recurring themes have been popularmusic and national or regional identity; popular music and education; popular music andcomposition; issues of interdisciplinarity; and the relationship with media technology, especiallythe record.

Music courses in most Brazilian universities have a professionalizing profile (i.e., connectedto the instruction of instrumentalists, singers, conductors, composers, and music educators forprimary schools, mostly focused on concert music). Courses devoted to popular music in publicinstitutions of higher education are few and recent. The first, created in 1989 at UNICAMP(the University of Campinas), is dedicated to the training of instrumentalists (acoustic guitar,electric guitar, bass, piano, saxophone, vocals), arrangers, and music producers. The second,begun in 1998 at UNIRIO (the Federal University of the State of Rio de Janeiro), offers a BAin Brazilian Popular Music/Musical Arrangement. Recently, in 2011, UFMG (the FederalUniversity of Minas Gerais) started a program in popular music aimed at technical mastery ofinstruments, the practical and theoretical knowledge of arrangement, improvisation andcomposition, and technology and modes of production and dissemination of music.

Academic Studies of Popular Music in Graduate Programs in Brazil

A query in the CAPES database (the Ministry of Education agency responsible for graduatestudies in the country at www.capes.gov.br/servicos/banco-de-teses) shows that between 1987and 2011, 686 master’s degrees and doctorates were defended whose keywords or abstractscontained the exact expression “popular music.” Among Ph.D.s (155), the following areas ofknowledge were most represented: language/linguistics/literature (23 percent), history (22percent), communications (15 percent), music (12 percent), and sociology (11 percent). Obviously,this count only shows a tendency to regard an object of popular music as an “interesting” objectof study, and, above all, is not exhaustive, because it does not include productions dedicated tospecific genres of music, including some of the doctorates in this collection. The number alsodoes not show the impact of certain studies, especially those published in book form, such as,for example, a doctorate in anthropology from Hermano Vianna (H-Index 11) defended in1994 and published the following year. Vianna argues that the nationalization of samba happenedbecause of cross-cultural mediations between members of the intellectual elite and sambamusicians in the 1930s, and was a unique solution to the conflict between homogenizing trends(from the state) and the intrinsic heterogeneity of Brazilian society.

In language/linguistics/literature, which was the first area to pay attention to the study ofsongs from the 1970s onward, there is naturally a greater emphasis on lyrics. Both in Brazil andin the academic production in English (as can be observed in the vast production of CharlesPerrone, starting with the seminal Masters of Contemporary Brazilian Song in 1989), the groupof cancionistas connected to MPB has merited the greatest attention. Cancionista is an expressioncoined by Luiz Tatit covering all those capable of putting a mark on the song, either as performers,arrangers, songwriters, or cantautores (singer-songwriters). Thus, Elis Regina, João Gilberto,Antonio Carlos Jobim, Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, and Milton Nascimento, among others,are cancionistas. Besides the analysis of the lyrics in the discourse, regardless of their literaryvalue, in some cases popular music is considered a “privileged space for the diffusion of poetry,since the songs satisfy criteria that qualify them as poetic texts” (Moraes 2000). Anyway, today,

2 • Martha Tupinambá de Ulhôa

words of poetry and lyrics of popular songs are known as “two significant areas of contemporaryBrazilian poetic creation” (Barbosa 2002).

Although the vast majority of the doctoral dissertations are devoted to the study of songlyrics, few seek to build analytical models. Some (such as Meller 2010) take into account thecomplex of lyrics, music, and performance through the select use of aspects of various analyticalproposals (Simon Frith, Luiz Tatit, Philip Tagg, Gabrielsson and Lindström, and Paul Friedlander);others (such as Coelho 2007) seek to add to the theory of semiotics of songs developed bymusician and linguist Luiz Tatit (who studies tensivity between melody and lyrics) to includethe arrangement. Several researchers (not only of language and literature) mention the theoreticalcontribution of Bakhtin, especially on the issue of dialogism and his study of discursive genres.Among Brazilians, the most significant contribution comes from the aforementioned Tatit, whodeveloped a methodology to analyze lyrics that follow the contour of the melody, without usingtraditional notation. Through this model—presented in English in the collection edited byHesmondhalgh and Negus (2002)—Tatit analyzes the iconic “Garota de Ipanema” (The Girlfrom Ipanema) by Tom Jobim and Vinícius de Moraes, where the linguistic modalizations “be”and “do” are articulated in two basic types (passionate [affected] and thematic).

In the bias of musicology, I consider the question of musical prosody to be the most interestingin terms of music and lyrics, tied to the rhythmic and agogic part of the songs. In this direction,I point to my proposal about what I call malleable meter, related to the structural rhythmicaspects of the Brazilian Portuguese language, responsible for its “sauce” and “swing.” This musical“accent” of samba, bossa nova, and other manifestations of what is called MPB appear especiallyin the way the notes are distributed between melody and accompaniment, the “division,” whichdoes not always respect the downbeats of the bar. In the song, this loose way of synchronizingallows one to match the system of accentuation of Portuguese, which is irregular, to the metricregularity of musical bars. This rhythmic aspect—the meter that pours flexibly over theaccompaniment that tends toward regularity—is what distinguishes the “Brazilian” style in theperformance of various genres of popular music (Ulhôa 1999, 2003).

If production in language/linguistics emphasizes the study of the lyrics of the songs, in thearea of sociology/social sciences the emphasis remains on the study of the cultural industry.Among the doctorates, José Roberto Zan’s study (defended in 1997) stands out, showing atimeline of the history of popular music in Brazil in relation to the cultural industry from theearly twentieth century until the late 1960s. Zan identifies the formation of a field of musicalproduction, characterized by disruptions that would gradually lead to a formal and intellectualrefinement of the language patterns of industrialized popular music in Brazil. Starting withTropicalismo, these patterns consolidated a hierarchy of legitimacies in the record market. Thistrajectory, which passed through the filtration and adaptation of rustic-traditional genres,represented by samba, made by technological means of communication (record, radio, and later television), had the problem of nationality at its center. This, at first, worked as a mediationof conflicts between the state and the urban masses (when samba becomes a symbol of“Brazilianness”), and later brought to the field of song the “aesthetic engagement” of modernism,which ultimately broke with the hegemony of samba. The vanguard of Tropicalismo assumedpostures of self-criticism and opened spaces for “new mixes and new hierarchies”; afterTropicalismo, anything went in MPB (Zan 1997).

Except for this study, which deals with a period of little more than half a century, the researchin sociology is dedicated to more restricted periods or phenomena (such as the belle époque,the decade 1958–1968, tecnobrega, and the artistic trajectory of Carlinhos Brown). Miranda

Introduction • 3

(2001) discusses the time around 1900, in which the descendants of enslaved Africans activelyparticipated in the creation of musical genres such as choro and samba, carriers of multiplemeanings, such as resistance, religion, identity, playfulness, and celebration. Ten years later,Sampaio (2011) revisited the period, discussing the ambiguity in the meanings attributed topopular music in Rio de Janeiro early in the century: on the one hand, it was an activity despisedby the ruling class, but, on the other hand, a sign of distinction for the musicians themselves,with material rewards from emerging entertainment (the record and carnival) and symbolicrewards in legitimate spaces of cultural production (theater and literature).

In doctorates in sociology (and history), the decade from 1958 to 1968 is the most contem-plated period. In a study of the internal dynamics of the fields of visual arts, theater, and popular music in the city of São Paulo in the period 1964–1968, Martins (2004) finds thatinternational recognition, the transition to a new social configuration and new forms of sociabilityand artistic production, and the consolidation of cultural industries in Brazil are more structuringthan the political conjuncture related to the 1964 military coup. In another study of the culturalmatrices related to the period, Cavalcanti (2007) focuses his analysis on the discourses in theface of the dilemma experienced by agents related to music (to bossa nova and to the univer-sity and intellectual movement known as national-popular—from whence came the MPBgeneration—and Tropicalismo) between being national and international, and especially modernand politically engaged. It is the musicians of this generation, whose aesthetic styles of songremain in the recognized repertoire, who would become public intellectuals. The projection ofthese authors:

beyond their fields of activity became possible due to the capitalization of the position thatthey occupied in the field of popular music. What has sustained the permanence of theproduced repertoire since the beginning of the period is the structure of feeling that isexpressed in them, corresponding to the standard of taste legitimized by the universitymiddle class as part of its strategy of social distinction.

(Cavalcanti 2007: v)

This music, linked to a position of prestige, came to play the role previously fulfilled by concertmusic. The gathering of musicians with artists from theater, film, and literature contributed toits intellectual consistency and the consolidation of this prestige (such as the role played by thediplomat and poet Vinicius de Moraes in partnerships with Tom Jobim and Baden Powell).

Another doctorate that draws attention to the area of social sciences/sociology is Lacerda’sstudy of the artistic path of Carlinhos Brown (Antonio Carlos Santos de Freitas, 1962–),the“Cacique” (Amerindian chief) of Candeal (a neighborhood of Salvador, Bahia). The text discussesthe participation of Brown in the axé music scene and in the social projects of the NGO Pracatum,which include a music school and the studio Ilha dos Sapos (Frog Island), along with creatingvarious percussion bands, the most famous being Timbalada (Lacerda 2010). In music, Browncombines and recreates diverse elements in terms of religion, language, and rhythms, as in thealbum Alfagamabetizado (a play on the word “literate” and “alpha” and “gamma,” the first andlast characters of the Greek alphabet) and in the group Sepultura’s album Roots, both from1996. In the latter, along with percussion, he contributed the lyrics of “Ratamahatta,” itself asuccession of nouns and sound aggregates chosen for their “African” and “indigenous” sonority,constituting specific semantics. Brown mixed several musical codes: funk, rap, reggae, samba,rock, and Candomblé, producing a hybrid music, which at the same time was pop, globalized,

4 • Martha Tupinambá de Ulhôa

and also very Bahian. Nestor Garcia Canclini—a theoretical reference for this doctorate, andan author widely referred to in Brazil and Latin America—says that this “multitemporalheterogeneity” (1997: 19), where the cultured and the popular can be synthesized in mass culture,has been a characteristic of Latin American culture since the last quarter of the twentieth century.In relation to modernity “without modernization,” the oppositions between traditional andmodern do not work anymore: “Modernization diminishes the role of the traditional refinedand popular in the whole of the symbolic market, but do not suppress it” (ibid.: 22), de-territorializing symbolic processes (ibid.: 29), previously restricted to refined or artisanal circles.Moreover, this same modernity accelerates the aggregation of symbols and motifs from theculture industry for traditional local culture.

As mentioned above, only recently, with the establishment of the systematic study of popularmusic in universities, has the literature on the subject ceased to worry about “origins.” Overtime, the attitudes of thought related to Brazilian musical identity and the role assigned to theAfrican, Amerindian, and Portuguese in this scenario changed. The first formulation of the Brazilian ethnic formation was presented in the winning monograph in a contest sponsoredby the Brazilian Geographical and Historical Institute in 1839 on “How to Write the Historyof Brazil.” In the essay, written in 1842 and published two years later, Carl Friedrich Philippvon Martius (1794–1868) summarized the idea that the encounter of three races, “that of thecolor of copper or American, the White or Caucasian, and finally the Black or Ethiopian . . .formed the current population [of Brazil], so that its history has a very particular feature.” In this triangle, the Portuguese, “as discoverer, conqueror and lord . . . presents himself as the most powerful and essential engine” (Martius 1844: 382). In the interpretation of theGerman physician and botanist:

Portuguese blood, in a mighty river, will have to absorb the small confluents of the Indianand Ethiopian races . . . This mixing has a place in the lower class and as in all countries thesuperior classes form themselves from elements of the inferior [classes], and through themstrengthen and quicken themselves, thus the last class of the Brazilian population is currentlypreparing itself from this mixture of breeds, which centuries hence will powerfully influencethe upper classes, and they will communicate that historical activity for which the Empireof Brazil is called.

(ibid.: 383)

Painter Araújo Porto Alegre (1806–1879) believed that the inaugural landmarks of thehistory of music in Brazil were the modinha, lundu, and what he called the school of FatherJosé Maurício Nunes Garcia (1767–1830). This formulation, now well established, was made inan 1836 publication of Revista Nitheroy (now available online in the Brasiliana collection ofUSP). There, the only mentions that are made in racial terms, even without mentioning color,refer to music being “cultivated from the slave quarters to the palace; the sounds of the marimbaof the slave, the guitar, and the viola of the Cappadocian, and the piano of the master are heardday and night” (Porto Alegre 1836: 180). From 1870 onward, ideas about Brazilian music concen -trate on folklore, understood as traditional songs and tales of the rural and illiterate strata ofsociety. Due to the scientistic atmosphere of the time, Brazilian identity is discussed mainlyfrom a point of view that is racialist, documental, and of the natural sciences. Sílvio Romero(1851–1914), the leading folklorist of the “1870 generation,” extols miscegenation as Brazilianoriginality and the solution to the dilemma of the existence of large numbers of people of

Introduction • 5

inferior race (African); for him, miscegenation and immigration both would promote thewhitening of the population toward a superior type (white) (Matos 1999).

The next generation of intellectuals to deal with popular music (more rural than urban) viathe perspective of mestiçage belong to São Paulo modernism. In fact, the generation aroundMário de Andrade (1893–1945)—the mentor of nationalist musical modernism—brought toBrazilian musicology much of what Romero had discussed earlier about “national character.”Andrade, however, sets aside the racist aspect of Romero’s vision, “probably influenced by thevehement rejection of the ideas of racial superiority and inferiority on the part of diverse Brazilianintellectuals since the early decades of the twentieth century” (Volpe 2011: 21). This positiveassessment of miscegenation on the part of the musicians is prior to the formulation of GilbertoFreyre in the influential Casa Grande e Senzala (The Masters and the Slaves) of 1933. It is verypresent in the production about popular music through a folklorist bias, between 1890 and1920, which “created a space that recognized and appreciated the active presence of people ofAfrican descent in the projected nation” (Abreu and Dantas 2011: 43).

Here I pause to comment on the overcoming of two aspects criticized by historian MarthaAbreu (ibid.: 2001). In histories of Brazilian popular music, written in the early decades of thetwentieth century by authors of a generation of folklorists, and even in texts published by thelate 1980s, Abreu observes a tendency to regard music as autonomous, in relation to the socialcontext. In this sense, the literature coming from the field of music (written by musicologistsand folklorists) presents (until the late 1980s):

a greater preoccupation with musical styles than with the meanings of the cultural produc-tion of social agents, and the vision that cultural processes occur without conflict . . . [inaddition to the use of] the stale bias of the ‘myth of the three races’ and of a mestizo nationalidentity.

(ibid.: 705)

Writing in 2001, Abreu dealt with the production until the end of the 1980s (i.e., before theboom of dissertations and theses arising from Brazilian postgraduate programs). I believe thisis no longer a widespread attitude in the musicological area, as illustrated well by the chapterspresented in this collection.

However, in contrast with the reviewed literature that, in fact, dealt with African, Portuguese,and indigenous traces (in order of prominence), musicologists today (in general) have beenquite uninterested in issues of race and ethnicity, whereas this is not the generalizable case instudies conducted by historians. In any event, anthropological analysis with regard to racerelations in Brazil is controversial and basically revolves around two theories. One, centered onGilberto Freyre, sees race relations as harmonious and with little conflict; another, representedby Florestan Fernandes, analyzes racial tensions in the context of industrialization (Telles 2003).I attribute this difficulty of dealing with the category of race partly to public policies, sometimesemphasizing racial mixing, other times diversity and multiculturalism, as now in the 2000s inthe controversial policy of quotas for Afro-descendants (later expanded also to indigenouspeoples and undergraduates from public schools) in the universities. Either way, it is a polemicalissue that would require more specialized studies in ethnic and social relations, taking popularmusic studies into consideration.

Just to illustrate the complexity of the subject (perhaps incomprehensible to the Anglophilepublic who have at their disposal a vast number of racial categories, including the category

6 • Martha Tupinambá de Ulhôa

“other” in their ethnic surveys), I enumerate the categories of the demographic censuses in Brazil to describe color or race. In 1872, there were the categories “branco” (white), “preto”(black), “pardo” (brown or mulatto) and “caboclo,” the latter referring to the indigenouspopulation (mixed or not); in 1890, the category “mestiço” (mestizo) replaced “pardo”; however,between 1900 and 1940, information about race or color was not collected. From the 1940census on, the categories used are “branco,” “preto,” and “amarelo” (yellow), the latter to accountfor Japanese immigration (1908–1930). Although in 1940 there was no category of mixed(black/white) racial group, the remainder of the declared population has been coded as pardoby the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics (IBGE) for statistical purposes. The censusreincorporated the category “pardo” in 1950, kept it in 1960, deleted it in 1970, and returnedit in 1980. In 1991, the category “indígena” (indigenous) was added, and in 2010 people identifiedas indigenous were surveyed about their ethnicity and spoken language.

But African descent is the main point of dispute in popular music. The categories pointedto in the censuses are self-representations. They started to be collected in the late nineteenthcentury, when the majority of the Native Amerindian population had long been decimated. Bythen, reflections on race were inevitable, due to the crisis in the aristocratic slaveholding regime,with a need to establish an immigration policy for the replacement of the manpower and largemajority of the black and (principally) pardo (brown or mestizo) population. According toIBGE, the Censuses of 1872 and 1890 (see Figure I.2) showed that the white population wassmaller than the sum of blacks and pardos, the latter population being larger than the former.In this context, miscegenation is recognized, but as part of a perspective that continuedimmigration would produce a gradual “whitening” of the population. As mentioned above, inthe early decades of the twentieth century, the concept of culture began to unite narratives aboutidentity, as an appreciation of miscegenation occurred. However, to return to the results of the

Introduction • 7

38.1 44

63.5 61.7 61

54.2 51.6 53.7

47.7

38.3 32.4

21.2

26.5 29.5

38.8 42.4

38.5 42.9

19.7

14.6 14.6 11

8.7 5.9 5 6.2 7.8

0

10

20

30

40

50

60

70

1872 1890 1940 1950 1960 1980 1991 2000 2010

Rel

ativ

e P

op

ulat

ion

(%)

Census Dates (year)

White Pardo Black

Figure I.2 Relative distribution of population in Brazil by declared color white, pardo, or black

Source: IBGE Demographic Census, 1872–2010, designed by Maria Carvalho

Census, in 1940, just a few years after the publication of Gilberto Freyre’s Casa Grande e Senzalain which the intense mixing between the races in Brazil is recognized, there was a registrationof the highest percentage of the population as white (63.5 percent) and the lowest as pardo (21.2percent) in the historical statistical series (1872–2010). After this, the percentage that declareditself as pardo began to rise again, arriving in 2010 to a proportion bigger than when thedemographic census started in 1872. Another potentially significant fact is the proportion ofdeclarations of being black, which after a clearly descending curve from 1872 to 1991, beganto grow in 2000. As we can see, self-representation in terms of “race” seems to be related tocomplex variables, beyond the reality of skin color and also of ideologies—be they racialist orof racial democracy—constructed by intellectuals.

The fact is that the authors of the chapters in this collection prefer to discuss re-significationrather than race or ethnicity. I would even say that we are facing a postcolonialist critique à labrasileira. Take, for example, the concept of Antropofagia (cultural cannibalism) present inseveral texts in this collection (Cardoso, Vargas, Caroso). Speaking of Antropofagia as a nativeconcept that appears in the speech of musicians is nothing new, as the recent book by FredMoehn (2012) shows. What is new here is that young Brazilian researchers have begun to useit as an explanatory tool: Jorge Cardoso Filho associates it with the notion of post-Tropicalismolistening practices; Vargas shows the “anthropophagic” attitude of the group Chico Science eNação Zumbi (CSNZ) when they hybridize the traditional and the pop; and Caroso adopts theterm Samplertropofagia to understand the processes of use of media fragments as raw materialin making videos. The art critic and psychoanalyst Suely Rolnik (1998) retraces the path of theconstruction of this “anthropophagic voice” with a discussion of subjectivities in the Internetera, as floating “upon an influx of interchangeable connections of desire and flows of all placesand all times” (Rolnik 1998: 1). This “anthropophagic” subjectivity at the beginning of themillennium would be linked to what Rolnik calls the “anthropophagic” movement, inspired bythe 1500s practice of the Tupi Indians of devouring their enemies/prisoners. However, themeaning of “devouring” extrapolates the literalness of the cannibalistic act by the transfigurationof the Dadaist matrix and the constructivist practice of modernism in Brazil, causing it to migrateto the land of culture (ibid.: 2). For the psychoanalyst, the strength of Antropofagia would be“the irreverent affirmation of the mixture that does not respect any kind of culture a priori,since for this mode of cultural production all repertoires are potentially equivalents as providersof resources to make sense” (ibid.: 6). That is, the concept of Antropofagia would not necessarilybe talking about the Indian cannibalism or cultural Antropofagia, nor of European or African,but of the Brazilian in a constant exercise to deal with alterity.

Among doctorates in history recently produced in Brazil, we highlight the researchers MarcosNapolitano and José Geraldo Vinci de Moraes, responsible for the supervision of variousdissertations from the University of São Paulo. Their research work represents the two maintrends regarding treatment of popular music in the area of history: Napolitano (1999) investigatingMPB as an object, and Moraes (1998) taking popular music as a historical source to reconstructthe history of the city of São Paulo in the 1930s. Both published their works in book form andmaintain a very productive activity related to the teaching of history, the area whose impact onthe bibliographic production in general is significant, with often-cited texts (for example,Napolitano, H-Index 17 and Moraes, H-Index 12). It seems to me that the area of historyestablished a very solid structure, occupying a hegemony at present of studies of popular music,despite literature/linguistics continuing to produce the highest number of Ph.D.s. This situation

8 • Martha Tupinambá de Ulhôa

came about through the establishment of research groups and procedures for continuous self-reflection about their own production, as well as internal referencing in the field.

In history, the favorite themes are those pertaining to thinking about the relationship betweenmusic and politics—especially in periods linked to the 1930–1945 Vargas government and the1964–1985 military dictatorship—and society and culture—addressing the role of the media inthe relation of music to national identity. Two studies stand out that are related to prior periodsand are important for a review of the historiography of popular music. Mencarelli (2003)addresses the diversity of popular music associated with musical theater in the second half ofthe nineteenth century, contributing to the formation of urban entertainment circuits in Riode Janeiro. Leme (2006) focuses on the role of nineteenth-century thinkers who idealized identityof the Brazil-nation, involved with the nascent music market (of scores and songbooks), leadingto the creation of original music formats (polka-lundu and maxixe) that later came to berecognized as “popular music.”

The areas of communications and music have fewer doctoral dissertations. The productionof communication began earlier (the first dissertation on the list is from 1994) than did music(2003). However, the fact that the three editors of this volume are precisely from these areasmay have given them preference. In music, doctorates generally deal with musical genres:samba, choro, Panamanian cumbia, frevo, metal, tecnobrega. In these cases, they use bothethnography and the analysis of recordings to deal with issues of meaning. Also, choro isinvestigated in relation to the teaching-learning of music, both in a project of inclusion of thegenre in the curriculum of a high school in the state of Bahia (Joatan Nascimento 2008), anda doctorate taking as an object the Portable School of Choro (Greif 2007), a music educationprogram focused on the training and professionalization of musicians through this musicallanguage (www.escolaportatil.com.br/). In the study of arrangements (one of the most respectedprocedures in the professional field of popular music, although the public generally only becomesaware of the figure of a vocal or instrumental soloist), compositional procedures are investigated—which Hermilson Nascimento (2008) called interpoetics, i.e., private and creative ways ofinterpreting and reworking songs or musical genres—along with the pianistic gestures of FrancisHime (Fortes Filho 2008), aiming at compositional procedures and the study of musicalperformance and pedagogy at the piano. From an examination of Ph.D.s, I consider it interestingto highlight the recognition of the group Chico Science & Nação Zumbi, a reference when itcomes to speaking of musical hybridization, as mentioned earlier (four Ph.D.s), and an openingup toward music education using popular music, both in regular school and in professionaltraining.

In the area of communications, the theoretical emphasis of doctorates migrated from theFrankfurt School in the 1990s to cultural studies in the 2000s. Thus, investigations aboutconsumption and advertising made way for the study of race relations and postcolonialism,although research on the media, content analysis, the market, and journalistic criticism continued.It is important to highlight the only doctorate on gender studies (Werneck 2007) and two othersthat included the production of radio programs and a documentary as part of the coursecompletion work (Maia 2011; Pahim 2002).

Considering the whole of this production of doctorates, samba is still the champion in thematicchoices (32 Ph.D.s), followed by MPB (17), Tropicalismo (15), bossa nova (14), and choro (10).Among the artists studied, Caetano Veloso has generated the most interest (14 doctorates),followed by Chico Buarque de Holanda (eight doctorates). In the text above, I preferred tomention those works that offer information that is still little disclosed, even in Brazil, focusing

Introduction • 9

on studies about entertainment music in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, as wellas more recent studies that discuss angles not yet published in English, new aspects about thewell-established repertoire of popular music in Brazil (about samba/choro, MPB, bossa nova,and Tropicalismo).

Musicologists, communicologists, sociologists, historians, and literary critics recognize thetexts in their respective areas of knowledge by the vocabulary used. Be it hybridism (Canclini),structure of feeling (Williams), social distinction (Bourdieu), dialogism (Bakhtin), or musemes(Tagg), each term has a specific history and refers to an investigative tradition. Although thereis not an area of study of popular music in Brazil, we can say that there is a general tendencysituating it in the humanities, with a slight current tilt toward cultural studies, considering thatmost studies treat relationships between music and identity, ideology, or social class.

Regarding the collection, whose goal is to create an overview of the types of studies beingdeveloped in Brazil in the first decade of this century, I can say that the texts reflect the complexityof the “popular music” object itself. Half of the publication’s studies come from music courses,and therefore deal with issues connected to tempo, one of the most effective musical parametersin the construction of musical “character” (a fast waltz can be happy and intoxicating, while aslow waltz can be melancholic and reflective); oral or written transmission (given that musicalnotation is a kind of ideological tool in Western culture); or extended discussions about musicalgenre (in this case, becoming an audiovisual genre). Others deal with the tremendous impactof the Internet on the way we produce and share music. Still, some are historical in nature,refining aspects not discussed in existing literature or updating changes in relation to certaingenres (especially samba). Finally, the various chapters approach popular music from varioustheoretical perspectives, depending on the prioritized angle: the musical language, its transmissionprocess, the musical performance, the career paths of musicians, changes in the music market,and the insertion of tradition in the globalized world. We hope that reading the collection isnot only informative, but also inspires new research.

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Matos, Cláudia, Elizabeth Travassos, and Fernanda Medeiros, Eds. 2008. Palavra cantada: ensaios sobre poesia, músicae voz. Rio de Janeiro: 7Letras.

Meller, Lauro Wanderley. 2010. Poetas ou cancionistas? Uma discussão sobre a canção popular brasileira em sua interfacecom a poesia da série literária. Ph.D. Dissertation (Literature). Pontifícia Universidade Católica de Minas Gerais.Accessed February 3, 2013. www.biblioteca.pucminas.br/teses/Letras_MellerLW_1.pdf.

Mencarelli, Fernando Antonio. 2003. A voz e a partitura—teatro musical, indústria e diversidade cultural no Rio deJaneiro (1868–1908). Ph.D. Dissertation (History). Universidade Estadual de Campinas—UNICAMP. AccessedFebruary 3, 2013. http://cutter.unicamp.br.

Miranda, Dilmar Santos de. 2001. Tempo de festa x tempo do trabalho. Transgressão e carnavalização na belle époquetropical. Ph.D. Dissertation (Sociology). Universidade de São Paulo—USP.

Moehn, Frederick. 2012. Contemporary Carioca: Technologies of Mixing in a Brazilian Music Scene. Durham, NC/London:Duke University Press.

Moraes, José Geraldo Vinci de. 1998. Metrópole em sinfonia: história, cultura e música popular nos anos 30. Ph.D.Dissertation (Social History). Universidade de São Paulo—USP.

Moraes, Maria Heloísa Melo de. 2000. Cor, som e sentido: A metáfora na Poesia de Djavan. Ph.D. Dissertation (Linguistics).Universidade Federal de Alagoas.

Napolitano de Eugênio, Marcos Francisco. 1999. Seguindo a canção: engajamento político e indústria cultural na trajetóriada música popular brasileira (1959–1969). Ph.D. Dissertation (Social History). Universidade de São Paulo—USP.

Nascimento, Hermilson Garcia do. 2008. Recriaturas de Cyro Pereira: arranjo e interpoética na música popular. Ph.D.Dissertation (Music). Universidade Estadual de Campinas—UNICAMP. Accessed February 3, 2013.www.bibliotecadigital.unicamp.br.

Nascimento, Joatan Mendonça do. 2008. Choro: a música popular instrumental brasileira—um estudo de caso sobre o Colégio Estadual Deputado Manoel Novaes. Ph.D. Dissertation (Music). Universidade Federal da Bahia—UFBA.

Pahim, Renato Levi. 2002. Alquimistas do som. O experimentalismo na música popular brasileira: a criatividade e ocontexto cultural. Ph.D. Dissertation (Communication). Universidade de São Paulo—USP.

Perrone, Charles A. 1989. Masters of Contemporary Brazilian Song: MPB 1965–1985. Austin, TX: University of TexasPress.

Perrone, Charles A. and Christopher Dunn, Eds. 2001. Brazilian Popular Music and Globalization. Gainesville, FL:University Press of Florida.

Porto Alegre, Araújo. 1836. Idéias sobre a música. Nitheroy: revista brasiliense, sciencias, letras e artes, vol. 1, no. 1:160–183. Paris: Dauvin et Fontaine, Libraires. Accessed February 3, 2013. www.brasiliana.usp.br.

Rolnik, Suely. 1998. “Subjetividade Antropofágica/Anthropophagic Subjectivity.” In XXIV Bienal de São Paulo: ArteContemporânea Brasileria: um e/entre outro/s, 1st ed., edited by Paulo Herkenhoff and Adriano Pedrosa. SãoPaulo: Fundação Bienal de São Paulo, 128–147. In English: “Beyond the Identity Principles. The AnthropophagyFormula.” In Virgin Territory. Women, Gender and History in Contemporary Brazilian Art, edited by Susan FisherSterling, Berta Sichel, and Franklin Espath Pedroso. Washington, DC: National Museum of Women in the Artse Associação Brasil + 500, 2001, pp. 138–145. Accessed December 19, 2012. www.pucsp.br/nucleodesubjetividade/Textos.

Introduction • 11

Sampaio, Lilian Alves. 2011. Vaidade e ressentimento dos músicos populares e o universo musical do Rio de Janeiro noinício do século XX. Ph.D. Dissertation (Sociology). Universidade de São Paulo—USP. Accessed February 3, 2013.www.teses.usp.br/teses/disponiveis/8/8132/tde-15122011–112705/pt-br.php.

Stanyek, Jason and Frederick Moehn, Eds. Brazil’s Northern Wave: Fifty Years of Bossa Nova in the United States.Oxford: Oxford University Press, forthcoming.

Tatit, Luiz. 2002. “Analysing popular songs.” In Popular Music Studies, edited by David Hesmondhalgh and KeithNegus, 33–35. London: Arnold.

Telles, Edward. 2003. Racismo à brasileira: uma nova perspectiva sociológica. Rio de Janeiro: Relume-Dumará: FundaçãoFord.

Travassos, Elizabeth. 2005. “Pontos de Escuta.” In Música popular na América Latina—pontos de escuta, edited byMartha Ulhôa and Ana Maria Ochoa. Porto Alegre: Editora da UFRGS, 2005.

Ulhôa, Martha. 2003. “Chiclete com banana: Us and the other in Brazilian popular music.” In Musical Cultures of LatinAmerica: Global Effects, Past and Present, edited by Steven Loza and Jack Bishop, 205–215. Los Angeles, CA:UCLA Ethnomusicology Publications.

Ulhôa, Martha Tupinambá de. “Métrica derramada: prosódia musical na canção Brasileira popular.” Brasiliana 2 (maiode 1999): 48–56.

Vianna Junior, Hermano Paes. 1994. A descoberta do samba—musica popular e identidade nacional. Ph.D. Dissertation(Social Anthropology). Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro.

Volpe, Maria Alice. 2011. “Traços romerianos no mapa musical do Brasil.” In Música e história no longo século XIX,edited by Antonio H. Lopes, Martha Abreu, Martha T. Ulhôa, and Monica P. Velloso, 15–36. Rio de Janeiro:Casa de Rui Barbosa.

Werneck, Jurema Pinto. 2007. O samba segundo as ialodês: mulheres negras e cultura midiática. Ph.D. Dissertation(Communication). Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro—UFRJ.

Zan, José Roberto. 1997. Do fundo de quintal à vanguarda—contribuição a uma história social da música popularBrasileira. Ph.D. Dissertation (Social Science). Universidade de Campinas—UNICAMP.

12 • Martha Tupinambá de Ulhôa

PART ISamba and Choro

In August 1939, famous singer Francisco Alves (1898–1952) recorded a samba that became akind of unofficial Brazilian anthem. Composed by Ary Barroso (1903–1964), with orchestralarrangements by Radamés Gnatalli (1906–1988), “Aquarela do Brasil” (Watercolor of Brazil),known internationally as “Brazil,” may be approached as the synthesis of a shared social imaginaryof nation put together from specific features in the 1930s. The rhythmic cell in the mainaccompaniment reiterates the acclaimed pattern of the “radiophonic” samba of the time, alreadyintegrated to media systems and established as a sign of “Brazilianness.” According to CarlosSandroni (2001), this rhythm incorporated a wide process of dispute and conciliation, whichtook samba from the marginal context of its origins to the hegemonic position as representativeof the national identity. The lyrics, in exaltation fashion, enumerate images of grandeur anddiversity regarding the country’s cultural manifestations. The discourses about miscegenation,expressed in the form of female characters, the praise of both natural beauty and culturalmanifestations, as well as distinct bodily gestures related to the swing of samba dancing, giveshape—through the watercolor metaphor—to an ethic and aesthetic grandeur on which thenational imaginary rely until today. In the lyrics, the female characters appear as the “blackmother,” the “white madam,” and the “morena” (a female whose brown skin results from themiscegenation of black and white); water springs, the moonlight, coconut trees are examplesof natural beauty; congado and samba are praised as cultural manifestations; bamboleio andginga are gestures related to the swing of samba dancing. According to the lyrics, all this grandeuris manifest in the samba because the genre is a product of the country, “samba que dá” (sambathat grows spontaneously) and the synthesis of the explanation of Brazil, “terra de samba epandeiro” (land of samba and tambourine). Inaugurating a style that came to be known as“samba exaltação” (exaltation samba), “Aquarela do Brasil” consolidates in samba form somefeatures of national identity that Brazilian foreign policies have used as cultural marketing. Sincethen, samba has presented Brazil to the world, as well as created a narrative about what it meansto be Brazilian, putting into action a discourse of joy, swing, and congeniality. It was fromBarroso’s composition that Walt Disney created the character José Carioca, the green parrot inthe short-length movie Watercolor of Brazil (1942), produced within the Good Neighbor Policyof the U.S. government. At the same time, singer Carmen Miranda (1909–1955) consolidatedher career in the U.S. movie market with a repertory exclusively of samba songs.

In the narrative magic of the show in the closing ceremony of the Olympic Games in London,it was the beat of the tamborim (a small tambourine hit with a stick) that convinced the rigidBritish security guard to allow the friendly entry of Sorriso onto the stage of the great Olympicparty. And it was the swing of the gari-sambista that made the Englishman smile as he triedunsuccessfully to mimic the syncopated wiggles of the Brazilian’s waist. In the 2014 World CupFinal Draw, which took place in Bahia, again samba and choro were protagonists of a narrative

of a multicultural, joyful, and receptive nation. Samba, like sound, like music and dance, wastransformed in the scenic area of the shows into a metonymy of national identity globalized bythe Olympics and the World Cup: a festive and cheerful national identity with swing, energy,smiles, and embraces.

Within the boundaries of the nation, the genre also functions as a symbol of “Brazilianness,”constantly reinforced by publicity, movies, telenovelas, and varied narratives. The “way ofbeing” of the Brazilian is associated with massive recurrence with the symbolic universe ofsamba, its dance, its rhythm, and its protagonists. Possibly because of this ubiquity of sambain the national imagination, research on popular music in Brazil has dedicated a prominentspace to the genre. There are dozens of essays, biographies, and journalistic narratives aboutcomposers, broadcasters, and interpreters of samba, as well as on the Samba Schools, neighbor -hoods, and rodas that form the imagery of the genre. In the context of more systematic aca-demic research, samba has been the subject of dissertations and theses from various disciplines,which address different aspects of the practice of samba in Brazilian society. The period ofstructuring of the genre is what has attracted more attention from researchers. In regard to thiscentral theme, the emphasis is on the works of Hermano Vianna (O mistério do samba [TheMystery of Samba], 1995) and Carlos Sandroni (Feitiço decente [Decent Spell], 2001), whichcover the moment of transformation of samba into a genre that is a synthesis of nationalidentity. In the course of a few decades between the end of the nineteenth century and the1930s, samba withdrew from its origin in a marginal community to occupy the center of themass media (records and radio). For that, it had the support of various cultural mediators(journalists, entrepreneurs, producers, singers, broadcasters) and the development of a set oftechnical and formal elaborations (rhythm, melodies, themes, commercial structure, abandonmentof improvisation, assigning of authorship) that made samba into a commercial music, deeplyconnected simultaneously with amateur community activities from its origin and with commercialand professional modes of circulation.

This period will be the subject of the first chapter of Part I, entitled “The Invention of Brazilas the Land of Samba: Sambistas and Their Social Affirmation,” by Adalberto Paranhos, whodiscusses samba’s role in the 1930s in musically building a shared imagery about an essentiallymestizo Brazilian national identity. By analyzing the repertoire of some major sambistas of theperiod, the author traverses the ethnic and social streams that surrounded the consolidation of samba as a symbol of “Brazilianness,” providing an extensive interpretation of the pro-cess of legitimization of the genre. Paranhos expands Vianna and Sandroni’s discussion, devoting special attention to the role of samba in the development of a political musical practicefrom the musical repertoire. According to the author, the ideas that circulated in samba lyricswere associated with thoughts about “Brazilianness” of the time, coloring a debate thatstrengthened the notion that samba is “coisa nossa” (our thing), as in a well known song byNoel Rosa, a key composer of the 1930s.

Closely accompanying this movement of reflection about Brazilian music, choro—the instru -mental version of samba—has in recent years gone through an intense process of valorization,which has consecrated it as Brazilian instrumental music of high quality. Concurrently,investigative works on choro repertoire, composers, performers, and groups gained strength inBrazilian universities, expanding themes and knowledge about national instrumental popularmusic in the country. If samba is considered the genre that best consolidates the nationalimagination, the development of research on choro points to the recognition of the instrumentalgenre as a founding music of national music. Processed from varied repertoires of the mid-

14 • Samba and Choro

nineteenth century, choro began as a “way of playing” polkas, waltzes, tangos, and scottishes sothat by the turn of the twentieth century, it had solidified into an autonomous musical genre.In this process, choro would format a sound for samba recorded in the first decades of thetwentieth century, and it would be the subject of numerous recordings at the time. Choroinstrumentalists and arrangers such as Pixinguinha and Anacleto de Medeiros were hired bythe nascent recording industry to write arrangements for samba songs, and in the processshaped a set of styles and “genre rules” for the genre. In a sense, samba and choro are sistergenres that formed a common universe of music that sonically identified the national identity.

Choro is examined by Pedro Aragão in “Choro’s Manuscript Collections of the 19th and early20th Centuries: Written Transmission of an ‘Oral’ Tradition.” The author focuses on aspectsof oral and written transmission in Brazilian popular music through the analysis of what maybe one of the first ethnographic accounts from an insider of an urban popular music, the bookO Choro—Reminiscências dos Chorões Antigos by Alexandre Gonçalves Pinto, published in 1936.A rereading of the book (well known in the choro literature) emphasizes previously unexploredaspects such as the teaching, learning, and transmission of choro, leading to discussion of thetransmission network of choro manuscript albums that worked in parallel to the sheet musicindustry in the early decades of the twentieth century. During this period, a musical canon wasstructured, formed by recorded samba and choro, which accounts for the typically Braziliansound.

After the establishment of the canon, various artists and musical genres attempted to positionthemselves within the value hierarchy. To some extent, bossa nova can be understood as oneof those movements of obtaining legitimacy from samba and choro, featuring intellectualizedmiddle-class youth who stood on the margin of the consolidated traditional samba narrative.At the end of the twentieth century, there were diverse changes in Brazil not only in the musicalfield, but also in the economy and politics. The country became more involved with the globalcultural market, which increased accessibility to innumerable products. From the musical pointof view, some genres attempted to incorporate elements of transnational pop, dealing withtechnology and electronic sounds. The initial kick-start was given by música sertaneja (Braziliancountry music), which, since the 1980s, had sought to reprocess its rural origin in a young andcosmopolitan environment. The solution found by the “duplas” (duos) was to develop a moreelectrified sound through keyboards, electric bass, and electric guitar, abandoning the 10-stringacoustic guitar and songs with themes related to nature and country life to emphasize narrativesabout love. The música sertaneja movement was closely accompanied by groups of young sambamusicians, who invented a new marketing label and a new symbolic ethos for samba, foundedon love and electrified sounds. This is the case of the samba known as “romantic pagode,”discussed by Felipe Trotta in “Samba and the Music Market in Brazil in the 1990s.” The appearanceof romantic pagode triggered a series of conflicts over the legitimacy of samba, its imagery, andits sound practices. Such conflicts reveal tensions about the elements that comprise the discourseof national identity shared internally and presented externally. Tellingly, despite its selling outconcerts weekly in all the capitals of Brazil, pagode was not included in the closing show of theLondon Olympics, although the presence of Alexandre Pires—one of the style’s main artists—in the World Cup Final Draw shows that the legitimacy match between pagode and sambaseems nowadays less polarized and more complex.

The first three chapters of the book can be read as a summary of current debates aboutsamba, choro, and pagode, revisiting foundational narratives and contemporary movements ofBrazilian music with greater national and international projection.

Samba and Choro • 15

BibliographySandroni, Carlos. 2001. Feitiço decente: transformações do samba no Rio de Janeiro (1917–1933). Rio de Janeiro:

Zahar/Ed.UFRJ.Vianna, Hermano. 1995. O mistério do samba. Rio de Janeiro: Zahar/Ed.UFRJ.

1The Invention of Brazil as the

Land of Samba: Sambistas andTheir Social Affirmation

Adalberto Paranhos

In the gallery of national icons, the social invention of Brazil as the land of samba is an imagethat endures to this day, crossing through time despite all its setbacks in the field of Brazilianpopular music. The common denominator of the vaunted Brazilian cultural identity in thesegment of music, urban samba had to face a long and bumpy ride to go from being a marginalcultural artifact stigmatized as “something of blacks and bums” to receiving the honors of its consecration as a national symbol. This history, whose starting point can be traced to theturn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, was permeated by comings and goings, marches and countermarches, dialectically describing a trajectory that did not follow a uniformor linear path.

The directions taken by samba—more specifically by samba carioca (samba from Rio deJaneiro)—are connected to the wider context of capitalist industrial development. Asindustrialized popular music, its expansion spun in the orbit of growth of the fledglingentertainment industry, or, if you will, the cultural industry. For that, the urbanization andsocial diversification experienced by Brazil in the early decades of the twentieth century playeda decisive role.

Linked to these changes, popular music, turned into a commercial product for massconsumption, would reveal its commodity side. At least four basic factors, in my view, convergedin order to promote this process, which directly affected samba: (1) originally, a socializedcultural good (i.e., of collective production and enjoyment, with recreational and/or religiouspurposes), samba also reached the stage of production and individual appropriation, forcommercial purposes; (2) anchored in electrical recording devices, the recording industry, withits foundations based in Rio de Janeiro, advanced technologically on a large scale and steadilygained consumers in the middle- and high-income sectors; (3) self-proclaimed radio educationgave way to commercial radio, which acquired, in a short span of time, the status of the mainlaunching pad of popular music, leaving behind the circus tents and the stage revues; and (4)the production and dissemination of samba, at first almost restricted to the working classes anda population with a predominance of blacks and/or mulattos, came to be also taken up by whitemiddle-class composers and performers, with easy access to the world of radio and records.

Talking about the conversion of ethnic symbols into national symbols, including in the caseof samba, is not new at all. An extensive literature has addressed the issue, and I do not intend

to dwell on facts and arguments available to everyone. What I propose to do here is simply tohighlight just one more point of view about the same theme, understanding that, in general, ithas not been adequately explored. In other words, without pretensions to a work of a musicologicalnature, I am applying myself to the examination of a particular aspect, based on a kind of“history from below” (Thompson 1966); I will take the road of the musical discourse of composersand performers of industrialized Brazilian popular music between the late 1920s and mid-1940s,in the twentieth century, covering the period from the emergence of “samba carioca” until itsconsolidation as a musical expression of “Brazilianness.”

I seek, therefore, to focus on registries—the phonographic production—as a documentarybody. The great majority of the songs mentioned here can be listened to at the Music Collection(Acervo/Música) of the Instituto Moreira Salles. Taking as a reference the recordings of thetime, the purpose is to show evidence of how, in the field of forces outlined in the area ofmusical creation, samba was being invented as an essential element of Brazilian culturaluniqueness through the work of Brazilian sambistas (samba musicians, composers, or performers)themselves. Obviously, one should not ignore the presence on the scene of other social actorsengaged in this movement of manufacturing/invention of this tradition. However, I willconcentrate on the role played by the practitioners of samba as protagonists of a story whoseplot was not dictated solely by the action of elites and/or the state.

As the state entered the field to undertake a simultaneous operation of institutionalizationand/or re-signification of samba—especially under the dictatorship of the “Estado Novo”(1937–1945)—it acted selectively with the prospect of connecting samba with its political andideological projects, and detaching it from that which had been dissonant in relation to theideals of the government of Getúlio Vargas (1882–1954). Bumping up against the limitationsof space, I cannot dwell on the analysis of state action. I want now, though, to note that thistext is in line with the criticism that, not new, has been formulated against historiographicaltendencies that erect the state as the “great figure” or the demiurgic subject that makes history,relegating the other actors to the status of mere supporting roles, and even sometimes as a masslacking its own voice.

It is also important to remember that state action, because it is neither unique nor uniform,emerged amid ongoing tensions surrounding the legitimization process of samba. They werepresent in the trenches of Brazilian musical production, within the ruling classes and intellectualelites, and between members of the state apparatus itself. Such tensions, moreover, extendedeven to the relationship between popular music and the “Estado Novo” (New State), which fedthe illusion of one day creating a chorus of national unanimity (Paranhos 2011).

Praise the Pleasure! Samba as the National Product

In the last years of the 1920s, an earthquake of prolonged effect shook, from top to bottom,Brazilian popular music. Its epicenter was the district of Estácio de Sá, wedged between Morrode São Carlos and Mangue, near the central area of Rio de Janeiro. A stronghold of poor people,with large numbers of blacks and mulattos, it was a rich site for the associations that normallyare established between the poor classes and “dangerous classes.” Hence, they received extraattention from the police.

The cradle of the new urban samba, Estácio would not, however, have exclusivity in itsdevelopment. Almost simultaneously, “samba carioca,” born in the “city,” would climb thehillsides and spread through the periphery, to the point of being identified as “samba de morro”

18 • Adalberto Paranhos

(samba from the hill). To put itself forward as such, and, more, as a national icon, a sometimesraucous, sometimes deaf battle had to be fought. It faced what Roger Chartier (1990) calls“struggles of representations.” It became necessary to remove resistance even in the very fieldof production of samba, from the music labels and the musical habits of the maestros.

In the race of samba to assert itself as a national product, it had to leap over any number ofobstacles placed in its way. By focusing here on the area of music production, I call attentionto the need for samba to incorporate other groups and social classes, thus promoting a relativedisplacement of their racial and social boundaries. This advance toward other territories findsits most complete symbolic figuration in the relations of Estácio and Vila Isabel and thepartnership of Ismael Silva (1905–1978) and Noel Rosa (1910–1937).

Estácio de Sá, a propelling center of “samba carioca,” “carnival samba,” or “samba de morro,”was a neighborhood of simple people. The musical practices of the popular classes there includedthe talents of people who would gain places in the history of Brazilian popular music, such asIsmael Silva, Bide (Alcebíades Barcelos, 1902–1975), and Armando Marçal (1902–1947). Whencomposing the beautiful music and lyrics of “O X do problema” (The Gist of the Problem) in1936, Noel Rosa surrendered to the charms of Estácio samba, which he had long admired. Andhe expressed the attraction that a considerable part of the middle classes felt for the new typeof samba that had surfaced in the second half of the 1920s.

At this time, during the transition from the 1920s to the 1930s, the musicians of the Bandode Tangarás were shy about tinkering with “this thing of music” and messing with “radio people.”There was a significant prejudice on the part of the middle classes and elites toward samba andprofessional radio singers, which would lead Tangará band member Carlos Alberto FerreiraBraga (Braguinha, 1907–2006), the son of a business executive, to adopt the pseudonyms Joãode Barro and Furnarius Rufus (by which the “João de Barro” bird is known in scientific jargon).

Noel Rosa, meanwhile, would create a bridge between neighborhoods and various socialgroups, and move easily among the samba masters of Estácio. “The Poet of Vila” (Isabel)recognized, like no one else, the “Feitiço of Vila” (Spell of Vila) in verses with which he gavea voice to Vadico’s sophisticated melody: according to him, whoever was born in Vila neverhesitated to embrace samba, which, in poetic terms, would make the tree branches dance andthe moon rise earlier. It was not for nothing. The Vila Isabel of the late 1920s and early 1930sexuded musicality. A point of encounter for cultural activity, Vila, a middle-class neighborhood,bequeathed names of the stature of João de Barro and Francisco Alves to the history of Brazilianmusic and radio, and attracted the likes of Lamartine Babo (1904–1963) and the “strange” friendsof Noel, recruited from “people of the hill.”

But do not think that Vila cultivated hegemonic pretensions concerning the appropriationof samba, despite its contribution to the refinement of popular song in Brazil. What is evidentin the words of Noel Rosa is that samba does not belong to Estácio or Vila Isabel. It is a productof Rio de Janeiro, as is said in Rosa’s lyrics for “Palpite infeliz” (Unhappy Remark), performedby Araci de Almeida. In this composition, he also praised the neighborhoods of Estácio, Salgueiro,Mangueira, Oswaldo Cruz, and Matriz, as well as other samba-producing localities.

Unlike composers of his social origin, Noel Rosa demonstrated an attachment to things andpeople from the suburbs and the hills that, also under this aspect, transformed him into a specialtype, going back and forth between different worlds, acting as a “cultural mediator.” The singerFrancisco Alves (1898–1952) had an extraordinary ability for unearthing new things and talentswherever they arose, so that he could then record hit records. Noel went much further: in amimetic mode, he integrated himself with the “sambistas do morro,” as evidenced by his

Brazil as the Land of Samba • 19

songwriting partnerships (Máximo and Didier 1990). Is it not emblematic that the formermedical student and bohemian Noel Rosa would find in Ismael Silva precisely the partner withwhom he co-wrote the most songs? The latter was a black man little given to work who, imbuedwith the pride of a respected creative artist, lived off odd jobs and con games.

The life and work of Noel Rosa provide eloquent testimony to the movement of trans -regionalization of “samba carioca.” Generated in a certain region of Rio de Janeiro, sambamigrated, in a dynamic process of constant recreation, to other areas of the city, even lettingdifferentiated inflections shine through. At the same time, carried by radio waves, samba movedto other parts of the country, which would elevate “samba carioca” to the status of being thenational samba, while not excluding other pronunciations or dictions of this musical genre.

This recognition is present in the musical discourse of the sambistas. Samba has beenproclaimed the national symphony, the composers Custódio Mesquita and Mário Lagoemphasized in 1936, via Carmen Miranda (1909–1955), in “Sambista da Cinelândia” (CinelândiaSamba Musician). Meanwhile, the pianist Custódio Mesquita, with his usual elegance, adheredin brief passages to the rhythmic pulse of the batucada (samba percussion).

Yes, We Have Samba: Musical Nationalism

Yes, we have samba. And samba would be converted into the principal piece of Brazilian musicalartillery in the struggle waged against the “bad influences” of North American culture, which,in the popular music front, would be embodied above all by the foxtrot. If for some it wasperfectly acceptable for the same person to be a sambista and composer of foxtrots, for othersthis duality was unacceptable. If one could gather demonstrations in defense of samba as amusical symbol of national identity on both sides, the uses of a rhythm of foreign origin dividedthem.

When searching the phonographic registries, what one finds is that the samba—originallyconnected to the idea of a party with music—began to be designated as a specific genre in thefirst half of the 1910s. After seeing a substantial increase in the 1920s, both under the label ofsamba and carnival samba, it became hegemonic in the 1930s in the field of Brazilian musicproduction.

By examining the Brazilian discography in 78 rpm records (Santos et al. 1982), there is alsoevidence of a significant penetration of the foxtrot that began in the second half of the 1910s.The influence of American music genres, with the foxtrot in front, was accentuated in the 1920s.In the 1930s, the foxtrot circulated around the world with great success, and in Brazil itspresence continued to grow, especially in the first half of the decade, and afterwards was muchin evidence until roughly the end of World War II.

Armed with this scenario, one can then understand why, in 1930, in a samba amaxixado(samba with maxixe elements) by Randoval Montenegro, Carmen Miranda unloaded the ire ofnationalists against the foxtrot, this intruder, and sung to the four corners that “Eu gosto daminha terra” (I like my land). And she made a point of highlighting that the foxtrot does notcompare with our samba, which is something rare.

This was a forerunner of samba-exaltação (exaltation samba), overflowing with happinesswith the natural beauties of Brazil. While not given to share foolish jingoism—assuming, ofcourse, the possibility of jingoism existing that is not foolish—Noel Rosa was one of those whoagreed with the restrictions imposed on the fad of the foxtrot. In fact, he often turned up his

20 • Adalberto Paranhos

nose at what seemed to him Americanized, in the same way he found it deplorable to seeBrazilians singing in other languages. In the words of his best biographers, “foreign affectationssimply didn’t go with his way of being. They are something chic from posh types and infatuatedintellectuals, pure fashion, exhibitionism” (Máximo and Didier 1990: 242). From the perspectiveof Noel, Brazil is:

close by, in the country town, on the hill, in the neighborhood, on the corner. Or even inthe bar, in the dancehall, in the women’s rooming house, in Carnival, in gambling circles,in places, in short, where all Brazilians are equal. His nationalism has this sense. Of enjoying“our things.” Of preferring samba to the foxtrot.

(ibid.)

All this is summed up in a masterly way by Noel Rosa in a composition of 1933, “Não temtradução” (There’s No Translation), in which words and music are integrated perfectly together,in his attack upon those who, leaping in, just wanted to dance the foxtrot. For him, everythingthat the malandro (hustler) pronounced was Brazilian; it was not Portuguese anymore. Also,there on the hill, samba rhymes were not “I love you,” nor “hello,” “hello, boy,” or “hello,Johnny,” which could only be regarded as telephone chitchat.

In “Não tem tradução”, sound movies were accused of being the culprit for so many changestaking place. Were the “talkies” indeed the villain pointed out by Noel Rosa? Hype aside, it wasundeniable that when they landed in Brazil in 1929—bringing on board the English languageand “made in the USA” musicals—it would contribute power fully to starting many fads. Fromthe cultivation of physical appearance, to clothing, to the incorporation of everyday Englishexpressions, its influence was widespread. An admitted nationalist, Assis Valente also rebelledagainst this state of things. A mulatto of humble origins, who divided his time between the artof making dentures and the art of composing, he advised in “Good-bye,” a 1932 carnivalmarcha, that the dark-skinned dandy should let the mania of speaking English go, since it madesomeone who never attended school look bad.

The Brazilian musical scene of that time was obviously a force field, with its contests andcompetitions. Samba, a leader not only in the number of recordings as in popular acceptance,did not reign alone, as is obvious too. A survey of recorded musical genres indicated that therecording of marchas (marches) was in second place (the coupling of samba and marcha wasvery common for the two sides of 78 rpm discs, especially in the months preceding carnival).Canções (songs), waltzes (the composers were almost exclusively national), sertaneja (country),or regional music (grouping together many genres or subgenres) were recorded in large quantities.Without its same quantitative weight as before, the choro was another ever-present mode, evenunder the new name samba-choro. In its turn, samba-canção (samba-song), which dawned in1928 as a musical label, still had a relatively small number of recordings.

The fado, the tango, and the foxtrot were undoubtedly the popular “foreign” genres most invogue in the 1930s in Brazil. The greatest influence, though, continued to be exercised by foxtrots,domestic or foreign (including versions by João de Barro, Alberto Ribeiro, Lamartine Babo, andOrestes Barbosa, many of them from American musical films). Even the nationalist OrestesBarbosa figured as a coauthor of fox-canções and foxtrots, in partnership with the conductor J.Tomás. They ended up composing the fox-samba “Flor do asfalto” (Asphalt Flower) in 1931.In this, however, no one musically exceeded the quality of Custódio Mesquita, with his clean

Brazil as the Land of Samba • 21

compositions that showed signs of creative assimilation of American musical techniques, suchas in “Nada além” (Nothing More) (written with Mário Lago) and “Mulher” (Woman) (composedwith Sadi Cabral).

Under these circumstances, one can again resort to Noel Rosa as a kind of Weberian ideal-type from the samba trenches. An examination of his work is a testament to that. In a painstakingrecovery effort, João Máximo and Carlos Didier listed 259 of Noel’s songs. The vast majorityof his compositions consist of sambas, 164 in total, of which if we consider the existence ofseveral fictitious partnerships, about half are actually only by him. Well below that, he has 31total marchas, 23 of them in partnership with others. All other genres have a minimal presencein Noel’s overall production.

Yet, Noel’s popular nationalism did not allow grandiloquent raptures or outpourings. Brazilgave him a ruler and compass to design the Brazil in a loincloth, the Brazil of lack of money(of the broken ones). With eyes focused on the struggle of the day-to-day, his universe ispopulated by women, the tambourine, drums, guitar, loan sharks, and swindlers, as in “Coisasnossas” (Our Stuff), in which he sings with his small voice and conversational tone: here, onceagain, he refers metaphorically to the hustler who does not drink, does not eat, and does notabandon samba because samba kills hunger.

Noel Rosa and many other composers have nationalist traits in common, more or lesspronounced, and, whatever the differences that separated them, elected samba as the nationalproduct. With the marchinha (little march) “Yes! We Have Bananas” (interpreted by Almirante),a carnival success from 1938 onward, João de Barro and Alberto Ribeiro created a musicalreplica of a foxtrot that had gone around the world, “Yes! We Have No Bananas” by FrankSilver and Irving Cohn. The new lyrics in Portuguese amounted to a nationalistic cry of someonewho knew he was underdeveloped, but thought he still had reasons to be proud of his country.And, musically, samba gained the throne in Brazil, as Almirante sang in “Touradas em Madri”(Madrid Bullfights), by the same duo who celebrated it in their marchas.

After meeting a Spanish woman who wanted him to play castanet and take the bull by thehorns, the character in the song asserted categorically that he was from samba. Not consideringhis hostess’ lame talk, he announced that he was running away to Brazil.

These Tanned People: Samba and Miscegenation

A vital relationship historically united samba dancers and fans and/or practitioners ofmalandragem (hustles, trickery) (Vasconcelos and Suzuki Jr. 1995). The rise of samba to gainits place in the sun among national symbols led it to travel through territories full of land mines.Suffering in the early days with police raids, which did not spare the hustlers and capoeiristas(those who practiced capoeira), it was attacked as “something of blacks and bums.” The guitar,a companion of certain and uncertain hours, was disqualified as a “crook’s instrument.” It isworth noting, however, that side by side with the repression, there was also the valorizationand/or assimilation of cultural practices of the popular classes by a portion of the elite (Vianna1985).

At first, the recognition that the samba was black from birth came from white composersand performers, who did not see this as necessarily a bad thing. As in the amaxixado “O negono samba” (The Black in the Samba) (Ari Barroso, Luiz Peixoto, and Marques Porto), sung byCarmen Miranda in 1929, which mocked the awkwardness of whites who tried samba’s hip

22 • Adalberto Paranhos

undulations. A black thing that involves negaça (seduction, provocation, swing) and cachaça tocelebrate the recreational moment is, in short, a spoken sketch of the samba. A few years later,it would not be the image that other composers would make of it.

In fact, samba—in its constant making and remaking of itself—would incorporate anothercomplexion and a different tone (i.e., other dictions and tonalities), immersed in a simultaneousprocess of relative whitening and blackening of groups and social classes that dealt with it. Itspractice led it toward opposite and complementary directions, weaving the dialectic of unity ofopposites, so well expressed in the contradictory cultural exchanges made between the popularclasses and middle classes. It paved the way for the enthronement of samba as a cultural iconof the whole nation, and not just this or that ethnic or social segment.

A witness and active participant in this history of samba’s nationalization, Orestes Barbosarendered his testimony (through the voice of Araci Cortes) in “Verde e Amarelo” (Green andYellow), based on music by J. Thomaz (João Thomaz Oliveira), revealing in 1932 signs of a newera: he argued that white could rhyme with bamba (samba master), because samba is not blacknor white; it is Brazilian, green and yellow.

To enhance the climate of nationalism, this record is punctuated by chords of the nationalanthem. Moreover, in the following verses there is a quotation from “Canção do exílio” (ExileSong) by Gonçalves Dias, a romantic poet repeatedly parodied by modernists. Nothing here isaccidental: the closing recalls the yellow of the resedá flower.

Brazil seemed to fill with colors, judging by the name of some musical formations, such asthe Grupo Verde e Amarelo (Green and Yellow Group), Dupla Preto e Branco (Black and WhiteDuo), and Dupla Verde e Amarelo (Green and Yellow Duo). All this must be a symptom ofsomething, a symptom of miscegenation that came to be sung and declaimed as never beforein these lands. Its trilogy can be sought, for example, in the sequence of marchas by one of thebiggest names of Brazilian Carnivals, the white Lamartine Babo, who was from the middle class.In “O teu cabelo não nega” (Your Hair Doesn’t Deny It), written with the Valença Brothers, in1931, the mulatto woman is revered. The next year, she cedes her place to “Linda morena”(Beautiful Brunette). In 1933, he sang “Dá cá o pé . . . loura” (Give Me Your Foot . . . Blonde),with Alcir Pires Vermelho.

In summary, what is treated thematically in music was the “mixed” and “multiracial” characterof Brazilian society. Miscegenation, sometimes decried, sometimes exalted, stood in the centerof intellectual debate that put on display how the issue of national identity was inextricablylinked to the racial theme. And this would be portrayed by Almirante in another LamartineBabo marcha, “Hymn of the Brazilian Carnival,” in which he summarizes, in a way, his threeprevious compositions and plays with other national symbols: the happy brunette from joyfulBrazil, the blonde whose eyes had the green of the forests, the mulatto woman whose skin hadthe color of coffee, the country’s great export product.

The range of miscegenation in popular music opens up entirely, however, in the marcha “Édo barulho” (It’s the Noise), by Assis Valente and Zequinha Reis, with the Bando da Lua. Init, there are explicit references to brunette, blonde, mulatto, and black women. It states in aloud voice that they are all queens of equal value. The Bando da Lua interprets this song byharmonizing voices in the same way that colors and races are ideally harmonized in Brazil.

This polychromatism, the base on which is erected the myth of Brazilian racial democracy,was one of the starting points for sociopolitical discussions of thinkers ideologically committedto the Estado Novo dictatorship. But not all was consonant when the question concerned race

Brazil as the Land of Samba • 23

and the samba. Dissonant voices were also heard, breaking the apparently established harmony.Attacks of a racist nature were not lacking on the stage of disputes built around the fate ofpopular music. The “samba do morro,” for example, was a target of columnists unhappy withthe spread of this “black thing.” One of them, Almeida Azevedo, got nasty toward this style ofsamba when he wrote, in March 1935, in the magazine A Voz do Rádio. He labeled it as “ragged,dirty, smelly,” incriminating it as “bum brother” samba “that doesn’t want to get clean by anymeans.” So he appealed to those responsible for the radio stations: “If it wants to, radio cansanitize what is around that has the label of our things and demoralizes our culture and goodtaste” (cited in Cabral 1996: 55. Italic emphasis in the original).

This debate is linked, at least in part, to another discussion that now and then shook uppopular music in the 1930s. The issue of “cleaning up” and “sanitizing” samba came up, or, inthe words of Almirante (1963: 146), “the laudable interest in the regeneration of poetic themesof popular music.” It is worth remembering when the semiliterate mulatto Wilson Batistacomposed “Lenço no pescoço” (Scarf on the Neck) in 1933, sung by Silvio Caldas in a malandrostyle, this samba unleashed a controversy that has dragged on for some time. In it, WilsonBatista was referring to a certain kind of malandro with a tone of praise: he displayed his tippedhat ostentatiously, walked on the streets swinging and dragging the clogs, and carried a knifein his pocket, in addition to letting others know that he felt proud to be a shirker. The reactionwas immediate. Orestes Barbosa, in his first radio column in the newspaper A Hora, protested“at a time when hygienic poetry is made of samba, the new production of Silvio Caldas, praisingcrime through music, can’t be forgiven” (cited in Cabral 1990: 118). And, as there was noforgiveness among the guardians of morals, the censorship commission of the BrazilianBroadcasting Confederation vetoed its playing.

For a while, resistance would still pop up here and there. They all, however, would beinsufficient to stop the consecration of the samba as a national symbol and musical icon ofmiscegenation. With all that Carmen Miranda could have of a caricatural expression, char -acteristic of a “spicy exoticism” (it’s enough to mention the tropical fruit salad that she carriedon her head, in the image of her most spread abroad), she did not fail to embody the mestizoparadigm. As Hermano Vianna stated (1995: 130), “a white European, Carmen Miranda sawno contradiction in wearing a Bahian dress (using the ‘typical’ clothing of black women ofBahia), or to sing or dance samba (a music of black-African origin).”

In this context, after all, the time has arrived for these “tanned people” to “show their value,”as Assis Valente claimed in the bubbly “Brasil pandeiro” (Brazil Tambourine), recorded by theAnjos do Inferno. The gains from the nationalization of samba were not, however, divided ina fair proportion. The middle-class white singers were certainly among those who most tookadvantage of the fact of samba reaching the crest of success. The complaints of composers fromthe popular classes multiplied about the difficulty of gaining access to record labels, whichaccumulated profits from the exploitation of their work. Creators of the stature of Bide andMarçal, of black origin, turned professional, whether on radio or with the record companies,appearing as simple accompanying musicians. They, the masters, were relegated to the backgroundas percussionists. In turn, owners of the radio stations resorted to a lockout in order to maintainthe lowest possible level of payment of composer royalties (Cabral 1990: 115–116). Anyway,there is nothing new under the sun. In a class society, the accumulation of capital occurs, as arule, exactly like that.

24 • Adalberto Paranhos

The Mulatto Son of a Bahian Woman and the Rich People of Copacabana:Samba of All Classes

Even with the inequality that prevailed at the moment of the distribution of profits generatedby the business network connected to samba as a commodity, samba in general terms wouldbecome a focal and gathering point of different social classes. A Brazil, say, of a plurality ofclasses, met and reconciled around samba. A fashion that spread out, its social mobilityencompassed large segments, as was documented in a composition by Josué de Barros, in 1929,the choro “Se o samba é moda” (If Samba is a Fashion) (the B-side of Carmen Miranda’s debutrecord). In it, it was stated that samba was originally a dance of the poor; by that time, it wasalready installed in the noblest halls frequented by congressmen and senators.

New scenarios greeted samba between the late 1920s and early 1930s. And they did not passunnoticed by attentive observers of the music scene, such as Pixinguinha and Cícero de Almeida.In the unaffected interpretation of Patrício Teixeira, the partido alto “Samba de fato” (RealSamba) (which was, in fact, a samba-choro), in 1932, noted that in a samba party one couldfind not only mulatto women who could really dance the samba and the mulatto son of a Bahianwoman, but also rich people of Copacabana such as graduates with a ring of gold.

While acknowledging that blacks have the patent on samba and, further, that samba withoutcachaça was no fun, the social integration promoted by this rhythm that was nationalizing itselfwas celebrated. It is as if from the suburb to the “city,” no one could escape its pulse, enjoyingthe “Sabor do samba” (Samba’s Flavour), the title of a composition of 1935 accredited to KidPepe and Germano Augusto, and sung by Patrício Teixeira. In it, one refers to a samba partyon the hill where even a sambista in a tuxedo was seen, a sign that times were changing.

Although, in these cases of social conciliation via samba, sambistas ultimately celebrating therecognition by other social strata of the importance of their work, there will be cases in the fieldof musical production in which the harmonization of social classes will be sought deliberatelyin a programmatic way. This is the case of the classical composer and conductor Heitor Villa-Lobos (1887–1959), engaged in pulling the chorus of national unity. In his view, in line withthat of other modernist musicians, music should serve as a lever for social and political integrationunder the state’s baton as an instrument of exaltation of discipline and civic duty (Contier 1988;Wisnik 1983).

Throughout the world outside, the agenda was the unrelenting fight against class struggle inorder to prevent the advance of “communist barbarism.” And, as a guarantee, in a speech of 1936, the future Estado Novo Minister of Justice Francisco Campos (1940: 62) knew whereto turn, because only “corporatism stops the process of decomposition of the capitalist worldforeseen by Marx as a result of liberal anarchy.”

Meanwhile, without major concerns with cyclical political problems, the sambistas were, inpractice, drawing the social classes together with the sound of drumming. Even on a level purelyof sound, such a fact could be detected, for example, with the rearrangements made over timein the composition of the instrumental family of samba. When referring to the group Gente doMorro (People of the Hill)—whose recordings range from 1930 to 1934 and whose name, judgingby the origin of its fixed components, was more like a commercial storefront—Tinhorão drawsattention to the musical symbiosis that it represented:

what the group Gente do Morro did—and this was really new—was to merge the old chorogroups based on flute, guitar and cavaquinho with the percussion of popular samba inherited

Brazil as the Land of Samba • 25

from the improvisation of the drumming circles, based on refrains set to clapping. Underthe soon popularized name of “regional” [combo], what these groups came to accomplish(the leader himself of the Gente do Morro in front, with his later famous Conjunto de BeneditoLacerda) was the wedding of the choro of the little middle class with the samba of the lowerclasses.

(Tinhorão 1990: 234)

The adhesion of the middle class to samba in the midst of its incessant rebuilding had notableexamples. In addition to Noel Rosa, one could mention the law school alumni Ari Barroso(1903–1964), Mário Lago (1911–2002), the medical homeopath Alberto Ribeiro (1902–1971),and Custódio Mesquita (1910–1945), a young man of “good family” and a conductor who hadgraduated from the National School of Music. On the stylistic level, further evidence is embodiedin the appearance, in 1928, of a genre or subgenre of music—samba-canção—which soughtgreater melodic refinement, and had as a milestone “Ai, ioiô” (Oh Sweetie) by Henry Vogeler(released with success, beginning in 1929, under four different titles, and in the absence of one,boasting three lyrics).

The samba-canção—a style particularly suited to the between-carnivals period, which waspart of the then denominated middle-of-year songs—gained force at first with composers whoknew how to read music (such as Ari Barroso and Custódio Mesquita), some even with classicaltraining. Later, in a movement opposite to that of samba, stricto sensu, it would expand its reachtoward the popular classes. Historically, Cartola (1908–1980) and Nelson Cavaquinho(1910–1986) are striking examples of these cultural exchanges, as evidenced by Roberto Martinsand Waldemar Silva in “Favela” (Poor Community) in 1936, sung by Francisco Alves, exaltingthe favela of dreams of love and of the samba-canção.

The relationships between the middle classes and “ordinary people” are caught in severalsongs. In “Feitiço da Vila” (Spell of Vila), Vadico and Noel Rosa (with João Petra de Barros),two authors from the middle strata of society, had already stated that in Vila Isabel he who isa graduate is not afraid of samba greats. Three years later, in 1937, Assis Valente, with hissatirical streak, produced another of his brilliant chronicles/musical criticisms of customs. Thesong highlights the escapades of middle-class college graduates, disguised as malandros, whogave themselves to the reign of revelry during the days of carnival. “Camisa listada” (StripedShirt), despite the rejection it received from the directors of the record labels, was recorded byCarmen Miranda at the insistence of Assis Valente and achieved great success. Moreover, the“pequena notável” (notable little woman), incarnating grace in person, gave one of her mostmemorable performances with this samba-choro. In it, the character, without his college graduate’sring, appeared as someone who, in a typical hustler outfit, swapped tea with toast for cachaça,and while displaying a knife in his belt and a tambourine in his hand, let himself go in therevelry.

This state of things, naturally, only played in favor of nationalization of samba, to the extentit erased the dividing lines that could subsist, hindering its free transit through society. Andwithout this, it would have been hard for samba to exhibit its credentials as “our thing.” Afterall, as noted by Hermano Vianna (1995: 151), multiple social subjects intervened in this process,among which we must mention “blacks, gypsies, Bahians, cariocas, intellectuals, politicians,folklorists, classical composers, French people, millionaires, poets.” From there, it comes that“samba didn’t become a national music through the efforts of a particular ethnic or social group,acting within a specific territory.” Similarly, the anthropologist adds, “there has never been an

26 • Adalberto Paranhos

authentic, ready-made samba, which later turned into the national music. Samba, as a musicalstyle, was being created concurrently with its nationalization.”

None of this, however, means that it had evaporated, as if by the effect of magic, all and anyclass resentment or the perception of social/racial discrimination. The contradictions inherentin a society grounded in inequality obviously made up, of course, the day-to-day life of thesambistas. And Assis Valente, for example, did not accept what particularly affected the simplepeople. Thus, in “Isso não se atura” (This is Unbearable) of 1935, with Carmen Miranda, aftersymptomatically throwing barbs aimed at the respectable patrons of Café Nice, he attacked theissue of social inequality and the differential treatment accorded by the police. The authordenounced that the police did not allow a certain behavior of the poor sambistas, but did notbehave accordingly, as there was a fight among high-class people in a macumba (Afro-Braziliancult).

Despite the ongoing nationalization of samba, sometimes it still kept a certain distance inthe popular sectors from “party crashers” from other classes. Traces of this are also found in“Você nasceu pra ser grã-fina” (You Were Born to be Posh), a recording of Carmen Miranda.In this composition, Laurindo de Almeida mocked a lady who insisted on learning samba, withno voice, no rhythm, or anything that qualified her. She would have to understand that sambais pure swing; it was for the black in the shack who did not speak English. In the same vein,on the other side of this record from 1939, the same author portrayed a “mulato anti -metropolitano” (anti-metropolitan mulatto) who lived on the hill, and did not like the city norcinema, let alone foxtrot, because he was of the samba-canção.

Although these examples show that the musical discourse of sambistas had not reached adegree of full uniformity, there is no way to rule out that the prevailing tone pointed to a relativecommonality of classes around the samba. In this regard, I reiterate something that seems crucial.Samba, by extrapolating the territories and social groups from which it originated, was a sourceof pride for the sambistas. In a word, it acted as a factor of affirmation and socioculturalidentification of groups and social classes normally marginalized in the sphere of circulation ofsymbolic goods. In any case, they watched, with just satisfaction, the work that had sproutedfrom their talent being transformed into a symbol of “Brazilianness.”

Custódio Mesquita knew well how to interpret this feeling that took hold of the builders ofsamba in general, including the portion of the middle classes that he represented. His song“Doutor em samba” (Ph.D. in Samba) in 1933 is eloquent in itself, and it also counts on theperformance of the master of spoken-song, Mário Reis, besides featuring the exquisiteparticipation of the Diabos do Céu in the accompaniment. In this song, a sambista claimed hisring like any graduate, arguing that his profession was to advocate for Brazilian causes.

The prosthetic Assis Valente, another Ph.D. who was not a Ph.D., equally expressed thefeeling of superiority of sambistas in the art of creating popular music. The terms were almostequivalent. In the classic “Minha embaixada chegou” (My Embassy Arrived), recorded in 1934by Carmen Miranda, he noted that in the favela (poor neighborhood), there were doctors, theprofessor was called a bamba, the medicine was macumba, and the surgery was the samba.

The Samba of My Land: Final Chords

The territories of samba will remain open, equipped with moving boundaries, and in them therewill always be new rounds of fights of representation. It is enough to remember that at themoment that bossa nova took off in the late 1950s and expanded the universe of samba, there

Brazil as the Land of Samba • 27

were many indignant reactions from the most aesthetically conservative social forces, triggeringa musical debate not seen before in that country (Paranhos 1990).

Anyway, the special relationship established between the Estado Novo and popular musicconstitutes a theme of great interest for the analysis of institutional channels of communicationcreated between state agencies and the production/dissemination of the samba. I have deliberatelyput aside dealing with this issue because I cannot go beyond certain limits here. This does notmean to ignore that even before deployment of the new regime, the state began to show clearsigns of approximation with the area of popular music (the formalization of the carnival paradeby the mayor’s office of the Federal District in 1935 is an indicator of this).

Samba, which had already come to the casinos and movie screens, would see, under theEstado Novo dictatorship, the moment of consolidation of its claim as a symbol of nationalmusic. Freed of the original sin that kept it on the fringes of respectable places, at least in theofficial version, it was gaining ground. Not coincidentally, this would be the period of floweringof a big crop of civic sambas, those called “samba-exaltação,” among which “Aquarela do Brasil”(Watercolor of Brazil) by Ari Barroso stands out as the most polished example. This compositionexuded the official spirit of the time, although it did not contain, it is good to say, any referenceto the Estado Novo.

With a grandiloquent air, typical of those who transported the “monumental aesthetic” tothe field of popular music, this batch of samba-exaltação would resort to clichés of green-yellowjingoism. They would pass without any apparent difficulty from the exaltation of nature to themore or less explicit exaltation of Brazilian political life (and, by implication, the establishedpolitical regime). The spontaneous nationalism of the composers of popular and/or middle-class extraction, who were proud of their status as creators of the samba, was thus reframed inline with the Estado Novo state cultural policy. At the same time, the themes of miscegenationand class conciliation were reworked by the ideologists of the regime in view of the praising ofracial democracy and social democracy supposedly present in the country.

Not everything, however, happened to the taste of the desires of the rulers or the advocatesof the Estado Novo. The DIP (Department of Press and Propaganda) was looking, eitherthrough recruitment policies or through an iron censorship, to coerce songwriters reluctant toabandon the cult of malandragem in their sambas. That basically prompted the appearance ofan appreciable quantity of sambas exalting work by then known malandros, such as WilsonBatista (the most notorious case is that of “O bonde de São Januário” (The São Januário Trolley),a success of the 1941 carnival composed in partnership with Ataulfo Alves). Meanwhile, noteven with resources of draconian powers at their disposal could the Estado Novo silence and/orco-opt all the composers. Compositions that either fooled or circumvented the dictatorship’scensorship multiplied by the dozens. “Recenseamento” (Census), by Assis Valente (Paranhos2011: 32–34), is an exemplary work in this sense.

From this angle, we can say that, in fact, there are many sambas “of my land,” even underthe Estado Novo dictatorship. It never achieved standardization or uniformity in the productionof samba that silenced up voices of dissent, including in regard to stylistic differences. Indeed,even within the state apparatus, there was not a single monolithic thought about the meaningof the samba. The contradictions and conflicts inherent in struggles of representation arosethere as well.

In the absence of a hegemonic cultural project (Contier 1988), various proposals for discipliningthe artistic manifestations of popular origin ended up emerging. Making clear their deeply elitistrancor, a group of intellectuals linked to the state gave vent to their distaste for samba in articles

28 • Adalberto Paranhos

published in the magazine Cultura Política, edited by the DIP between 1941 and 1945. Theyelected samba as the object of a campaign driven by civilizing and educational purposes—smoothing out the primitive artistic expressions, the unruliness of sensuality, the drumming ofthe scum of the hill. The goal was not to overthrow samba—a goal conceded to be impossible—but rather to tame it.

The disputes would intensify in samba’s production area. Again, the mobility of samba’sborders was evident. And it gradually began to embark once more for unexplored territories,as a prelude to other times that were to come, scenes of the next chapters that gave birth tobossa nova. Under the rubric of samba-swing—which itself announced the presence andassimilation of North American musical elements—a composer such as Janet de Almeida broughtthe future into the present. “Pesadelo” (Nightmare) (with Leo Vilar), recorded in 1943 by Anjosdo Inferno, is rich in unusual harmonic dissonances and changes. From this point, it was ashort road to the samba “Boogie-woogie na favela” (Boogie-Woogie in the Favela) (by DenisBrean, the pseudonym of Augusto Duarte Ribeiro) in 1945, despite the reaction of those who,in honor of the national traditions, insisted on arguing that “Boogie-woogie não é samba”(Boogie-Woogie is Not Samba) (Helium Sindo).

Above the fray, hovering over its different pronunciations, samba followed its trajectory,establishing itself as a symbol of nationality. A pluralistic cultural expression, it was glorifiedas a carrier of our musical singularity. It sounded like something so natural, so utterly Brazilian,that in 1940, Dorival Caymmi proclaimed in “Samba da minha terra” (Samba of My Land),sung by Bando da Lua, that anyone who did not like samba was not a good person: he or shewas sick in the head or lame in the foot.

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em História)—Faculdade de Filosofia, Letras e Ciências Humanas, USP.Máximo, João and Carlos Didier. 1990. Noel Rosa: uma biografia. Brasília: Linha Gráfica/Editora UnB.Paranhos, Adalberto. 1990. “Novas bossas e velhos argumentos: tradição e contemporaneidade na MPB.” História &

Perspectivas, n. 3, July–December, Uberlândia, 5–111.Paranhos, Adalberto. 2005. Os desafinados: sambas e bambas no “Estado Novo.” São Paulo. Ph.D. Thesis (Doutorado

em História Social)—Programa de Estudos Pós-graduados em História, PUC-SP.Paranhos, Adalberto. 2011. “Dissonant voices under a regime of order-unity: popular music and work in the Estado

Novo.” In Brazilian Popular Music and Citizenship, edited by Idelber Avelar and Christopher Dunn, 28–43.Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press.

Santos, Alcino, Grácio Barbalho, Jairo Severiano, and Miguel Ângelo de Azevedo (Nirez). 1982. Discografia brasileira78 rpm: 1902/1964. Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE.

Thompson, Edward P. 1966. “History from below.” The Times Literary Supplement, April 7, 3–4.Tinhorão, José Ramos. 1990. História social da música popular brasileira. Lisboa: Caminho.Vasconcelos, Gilberto and Matinas Suzuki Jr. 1995. “A malandragem e a formação da música popular brasileira.” In

História geral da civilização brasileira—III—O Brasil republicano: economia e cultura—1930/1964. 3rd ed. FaustoBorém, 501–523. Rio de Janeiro: Bertrand Brasil.

Vianna, Hermano. 1995. O mistério do samba. 2nd ed. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar/Editora UFRJ.Wisnik, José Miguel. 1983. “Getúlio da Paixão Cearense: Villa-Lobos e o Estado Novo.” In O nacional e o popular na

cultura brasileira—música. 2nd ed., edited by Enio Squeff and José Miguel Wisnik, 129–191. São Paulo: Brasiliense.

Brazil as the Land of Samba • 29

2Choro Manuscript Collections

of the Nineteenth and EarlyTwentieth Centuries

Written Transmission of an “Oral” TraditionPedro Aragão

“Choro” is a genre of Brazilian urban popular music born in the last decades of the nineteenthcentury. Usually defined as the result of the appropriation by popular musicians of Europeanballroom dances (polkas, waltzes, mazurkas, and schottisches) mixed with the influences ofAfrican dances, choro was quickly absorbed by the recording industry at the time, and became—like samba—a symbol of “national music.” During the 1950s and 1960s, its popularity declined—largely due to the rise of other Brazilian musical genres (such as baião) and foreign genres(boleros, swing, and later pop music). However, the 1970s and 1990s witnessed at least two“revival movements” of choro, related largely to the emergence of new groups and virtuosos—such as guitarist Raphael Rabello (1962–1995) and more recently the guitarist Yamandú Costa(1980–). Especially during the 1990s, choro had a strong revival linked to Lapa, the bohemianneighborhood of Rio de Janeiro, where it returned to being played in nightclubs and attractingyouth in general.

This chapter focuses on “early choro” (i.e., the period of choro between the late nineteenthcentury and the 1930s). The first section is devoted to the analysis of one of the most uniquereports about early choro: the book O Choro—reminiscências dos chorões antigos by AlexandreGonçalves Pinto (1870–?). Published in 1936, the book is among the first discourses on Brazil-ian urban popular music in a period marked by an intense process of solidification of the musicindustry in the country, and points to the construction of a national musical memory in amusical practice—choro—as a factor of identity of a network formed by various social strata inRio de Janeiro. Written by a retired postal worker who was also a guitarist, the work featuresapproximately 300 profiles of popular musicians of the time, constituting one of the firstethnographic reports made by an urban popular music insider. From the methodologicalperspectives of musicology and ethnomusicology, I propose new readings of this work, empha -sizing less explored aspects of the book, such as the teaching, learning, and transmission ofchoro during Rio’s belle époque. It highlights the fact that the book represents a subterraneanand subaltern memory of popular instrumental musicians who elected choro as representativeof nationality instead of samba, which then was emerging as a symbol of Brazilian music.

In the second section, I give emphasis to the role of manuscript collections of choro, in theperiod from the end of the late nineteenth century to the early decades of the twentieth century.

Known until the present day as a musical genre based on oral tradition, choro was, however,very dependent on written records performed by musicians from the lower classes of Rio deJaneiro. I highlight, therefore, the existence of a transmission network of manuscript albumsof choro that ran in parallel to the sheet music publishing industry in the first decades of thetwentieth century. In other words, it was a society where various agents coming from lowersocial classes wrote and exchanged choro scores, forming collections of popular songs thatfunctioned—perhaps more than the sheet music industry of the period—as a powerful tool forthe dissemination and transmission of the musical practices placed under the term “choro.”

Choro: An Ethnographic Account of a Retired Postal Worker

In the mid-1930s, an old Brazilian postman named Alexandre Gonçalves Pinto, acting as if“driven by a mission” that seemed “to have been dictated by the supreme power of all things”began to write a book that would show to “now and future generations” the brilliance of aphalanx of musicians who “praised and raised genuine Brazilian music”; coming from the popularclasses in Rio de Janeiro, the task seemed as difficult as that of a “castaway who grabbed thebarge of Hope, cleaved the raging sea of disbelief.” However, in his imagination, he created“extraordinary fantasy castles,” which, with the passage of time, by the difficulties encountered,“collapsed like soap bubbles” (Pinto 1978: 207). Nevertheless, he was able to build his work: hiswriting style, labored and unconventional, gathers disparate elements that confuse the readerat first sight. His prose, at the time criticized for not following the standard norms, is presentedas a kind of bricolage that fuses elements of spoken language, slang, fragments of world views,and vernacular memories of social categories on the sidelines of history, such as those of postmen,carpenters, polishers, rail workers, and small public officials. All of this is united by a passionfor the music described. His book, however, fell into obscurity until the 1970s, when it wasrediscovered and reissued (initially in 1978 and later in 2010, both times by FUNARTE—Fundação Nacional de Arte [National Art Foundation], an institution linked to the BrazilianMinistry of Culture); O Choro, thereafter, became the starting point for a web of new meaningsand interpretations of the musical and social practices it describes. Because it is one of the fewwritten accounts dating from the period that includes the birth of choro—the end of the nineteenthand beginning of the twentieth century—the postman’s report has been, and remains, the mainreference for historical research of this genre.

Despite its importance, most rereadings of the book tend to classify it under two perspectives:the first is to consider it a lesser document, in view of its structural and grammatical deficiencies.Written in popular language, and riddled with slang and almost dialectical, the text is oftenincomprehensible at first sight, even for the Brazilian reader. This is why some choro researchers,such as Cazes, tend to classify it as “terribly badly written and full of nonsense” (Cazes 1998:18). At the opposite extreme, other scholars have adopted a kind of patronizing attitude towardan author considered “semi-literate” and “uneducated,” coming from the lower classes, a“primitive” who, while important, was not “culturally equipped for the task which he undertookwith so much love and dedication” (Vasconcelos 1977: 29). Although naive, the postman’sreport would be important as a source of understanding of the historical and social conditionsof Rio de Janeiro in the late nineteenth century that allowed the emergence of choro. This latterapproach, despite its validity, would bring into its scope this basic feature of social-historicalinterpretations, as pointed out by Hennion (2002: 121): the interruption of the artistic subject-object relation by a kind of “social screen” required for the reader to understand this reciprocal

Choro Manuscript Collections • 31

projection. In other words, the social analysis of the art would consist of replacing the analyzedobjects by the collective mechanisms of underground production by which these objects appear.Thus, what matters is not so much the postman’s naive book, but the historical and socialconditions, uncovered by its analysis, that allowed the emergence of musical practices describedin the book.

Such historical and social conditions, it is worth noticing, are brilliantly unveiled in textssuch as those of researcher José Ramos Tinhorão (1998a, 1998b), making them obligatoryreferences in academic papers on choro from the 1990s onward. Taking as its background thetext by Gonçalves Pinto, the author presents the period that includes the late nineteenth andearly twentieth centuries as a period of intense political change in Brazil, change that led tosignificant transformations of the urban setting of Rio de Janeiro, then the federal capital.Economic factors such as increased exports of coffee beginning in 1869 and the first stages ofindustrialization in Brazil led to a series of improvements in the capital. Among these were thetelegraph (1852), the first railroad lines between Rio and Petropolis (1855), the system of streetcarspulled by donkeys (1859), the gasometer (or “gas holder”) for lighting the city with gas (1860),sewage pipeline works (1864), the first telephone line (1877), and, finally, electricity (1879).Such modifications intensified in the following decade with two notable political events: theabolition of slavery (1888) and the proclamation of the Republic (1889), the decisive factors forthe emergence of a new and more complex structure of the division of labor. This fact wouldresult in the appearance of a new social class: the petty bourgeoisie, represented by small publicservice employees—civilian and military offices, Post Office and Telegraph Office, Customs,Mint, Navy Arsenal, Brazilian Central Railroad, civil and military departments, and privatecompanies in the areas of urban transport, production of gas, and public lighting (Tinhorão1998a: 194).

It is within this new social class, represented by these “small functionaries,” that choro woulddevelop; without a proper space in the cramped social framework inherited from the imperialperiod—represented by the former division between masters and slaves—these new social stratahad to create their own spaces of participation in social life, which certainly included new formsof leisure. Thus, while the wealthiest layers would seek to match the European bourgeoisie, themiddle and lower layers would find fun at family dances produced by amateur musicians whoplayed folk instruments such as the flute, guitar, and cavaquinho. In a period in which theproduction of records was incipient and the radio did not exist, these popular musicians fulfilledthe role of bringing entertainment to the social layers formed by small public officials.

This is the background of the universe described in the postman’s book, and what reflectsthis period that can be termed “early choro.” From the late 1920s onward, however, a processof transition began in a period in which the musical practices of choro musicians were linkedto dilettante musicians (who played at parties, proms, weddings, etc., but had other professions)to a period of professionalization of the choro musician, provided by the increase of phonographicactivities in the country. From the 1930s, finally, choro started a gradual process of losing spaceto Samba, which had more and more space on the radio until it was unofficially adopted as thenational music, being largely co-opted by the Vargas government (1930–1945).

In this context, Gonçalves Pinto released his book, apparently paying from his own pocketfor a single print run of 10,000 copies, an astonishing number for the time. In this sense, wecan classify the book as a kind of “counter-memory”: amidst the construction of a hegemonicdiscourse of samba from the press, radio, and records (and in a nascent, but increasingly strongform from the government), the work of the postman represented the vernacular memory of

32 • Pedro Aragão

the social group of choro musicians and lovers, in a sort of counterpoint to the dominantideology. More than that, going in the opposite direction to that of the historical and musicalbibliographies that seek to highlight only the high points of each genre or style (the greatcomposers and instrumentalists) this was certainly the first book about Brazilian music thatportrayed, without distinction, both the best and worst musicians; amateur and professional;musician and non-musician (i.e., lovers of the genre); and intellectuals and musicians linked to“high culture” (such as the folklorist Mello Moraes Filho, members of the nobility such asViscount of Ouro Preto and the composer Villa-Lobos), and musicians connected to the workingclasses (completely unknown names such as Leopoldo Pé de Mesa [Leopoldo “Foot table”] andBenigno Lustrador [Benigno “Burnisher”]).

Thus, we come to the central point of the argument: in addition to the views of those whoconsider the book only a minor work, created by a member of the popular classes, or of thosewho use it to make only one “socio-historical” approach, we can say that the work of GonçalvesPinto can be considered the first ethnography of an urban Brazilian popular music genre. Asalready suggested, his writing is a polyphonic and complex weave that brings with it manyelements: the text of O Choro mixes fragments of the carnival press of the belle époque, elementsof oral language, slang, fragments of concepts and ideas from different social strata of time(including issues such as nationality, identity, and cultural industry), references to historical,political, and everyday facts, all united by one common thread: the passion of its author for atype of music. This musical passion leads the author to do a job that could be labeled asethnographic: more than 200 “characters” of the time described in small “entries” throughoutthe book, descriptions of musical environments of the time, of parties, dances, etc. At the sametime, the book provides a clear concept of music as something that is not just a sound discourse,but that includes its entire social environment—the parties, the food, the listening public, carnival,among other things.

Read through this prism—that of a statement written by an ethnographic bricoleur whomakes a sort of mosaic of different modes of discourse—the work gains a new dimension.Through Gonçalves Pinto’s writing, we perceive the “voices” of diverse popular musicians atthe sidelines of history, and more than that, we see that the work is constituted as a narrativeplot with clear goals: to describe a group united by an identity of sound, although composedof people from different social classes; to provide a soundscape of Rio de Janeiro early in thetwentieth century, linking various neighborhoods of the city with music that was made there;and to suggest how the musicians defined what was a good and a bad musician or composer,how that music was learned, and in what ways it was transmitted.

One of the most interesting aspects of the narrative concerns the aspects of the transmissionof choro music during the belle époque. Throughout the book, you can glimpse the routine ofapprenticeship and of the movement of choros all over the city in a period in which the Brazilianmusic industry was still nascent. Overall, the book stresses the existence of a network of non-market and non-official exchanges for the dissemination and teaching of music that worked inparallel to official bodies—represented by music publishers and “accredited” schools such asthe Imperial Conservatory of Music. Thus, if a good part of the instrumentalists described,especially those who played wind instruments, had “a diploma at the Conservatory,” as theauthor makes a point of stressing as proof of their musical skills and proficiencies, the vastmajority had as their teachers musicians who were not formally linked to educational institutions,but, somehow, were founders of the “schools” of their instruments. A clear example of this isthe figure of the cavaquinho player Galdino Barreto, pointed out by Pinto and his contemporaries

Choro Manuscript Collections • 33

as the creator of a way to play the cavaquinho, and, at the same time, “the only teacher of thisinstrument.” The guitar also had its popular representatives not related to official bodies, suchas Sátiro Bilhar (1869–1927) and João Pernambuco (aka João Teixeira Guimarães) (1883–1947),both considered founders of the school of guitar in Brazil, even though, as the works of Helm(2006) and Taborda (2005) show us, the process of teaching and learning the instrument alsoembraced European teaching methods, such as those of Carcassi and Tárrega.

Apart from these exponents—great popular musicians whose exploits were celebrated byword of mouth—the book shows us that lesser-known names also functioned as agents for theteaching and transmission of this music. This is the case of Videira, a flutist and a cigarettefactory worker, responsible for a large part of the teaching of Gonçalves Pinto. Although he“played by ear,” he knew how to say on his flute “what the others who knew music said” (i.e.,referring to those who knew how to read sheet music); he started to regularly accompany Videira,as the postman described in his own way, and to play guitar and cavaquinho, turning thus intoan instrumentalist “respected in the circle of the great choro players.” Similarly, points ofencounters between musicians are also mentioned as centers of teaching and transmission ofmusic; this was the case of the residence of a certain Gedeão, classified by Gonçalves Pinto as“a great school for musicians, where the author of these lines would go to drink his apprenticeshipin guitar and cavaquinho from the source” (Pinto 1978: 17).

Besides allowing a glimpse of the issue of teaching-learning in the popular classes of Rio deJaneiro in the early twentieth century, the book by Alexandre Gonçalves Pinto paves the waytoward studies little explored by traditional musicology in Brazil: the analysis of manuscriptcollections of popular music of the nineteenth century and early decades of the twentieth century.By repeatedly mentioning in his book the importance of written records in a large number ofprivate collections, Gonçalves Pinto points out the existence of a dynamic network of transmissionof the choro repertoire that was done through copies of handwritten albums and sheet music.Similar to aspects of teaching and learning mentioned earlier, this process of transmission ofrepertoire through a network of copyists worked in parallel to the work of publishers of printedmusic: parallel and complementary, we might say, since it covered a corpus of works of composersof choros who never came to have their compositions published. Even those who enjoyed greatprestige, such as Joaquim Antonio Callado (1848–1880) and Anacleto de Medeiros (1866–1907),had only a small part of their works printed; most of their compositions only reached us throughthese books of popular musicians. This observation leads to the second topic of this chapter:the analysis of the manuscript collections of choro of the Carioca belle époque.

Oral and Written Transmission in the Choro Environment of the Belle Époque

Much of the book by Gonçalves Pinto has as its leitmotiv the description of festive aspects ofthe popular classes in Rio de Janeiro of the belle époque: through the description of parties,fueled by banquets and drink, the author portrays hundreds of “heroes” of choro, as he callsthem—people who, under the guise of respectable family heads, periodically entered into anotherdimension and “forgot everything,” leaving families and jobs for days and days because of agood choro (Pinto 1978: 61).

In such popular environments, where music was performed by minor civil servants, workers,longshoremen, postmen, street pavers, and furniture polishers, among others, many of thecompositions emerged spontaneously. Thus, songs often created by improvisation becamepopular and were passed around orally in a kind of “musical network” that covered musicians

34 • Pedro Aragão

all over the city (and often across the country). This finding explains, in part, the fact that manytimes it has not been possible to locate original scores of popular composers; in many cases,they have been lost, and in others they never came into existence.

However, in parallel to this network of oral transmission, and to some extent in addition toit, there had also been a network of written transmission, formed by musicians who were usuallywind soloists (flute, clarinet, trombone, etc.), linked to the traditions of music bands (brass orwind bands) and familiar with musical notation. These musicians had habitually formedcompilations of repertoire that they liked to play, often learned “by ear.”

This is a point about the musical transmission of choro that can be easily proved by thenarrative: the number of references to the manuscript albums of sheet music and individualmusic archives of popular musicians linked to choro in the book is remarkable. The authormakes a point of listing various pieces from his own collection and other important musiccollections of composers of the time. Some of the many examples that are observed in the book:

[about the flutist Alfredo Vianna] he left a huge archive of old and new songs that shouldbe found in the possession of his son Pixinguinha . . . [on the flutist Oscar Cabral] he hada collection that few possess, both in number and beauty . . . [about the flutist João Sampaio]he had several choro books for which he had great zeal. Nobody pulled out any music, heonly let them copy at his home under his eye.

(Pinto 1978: 35)

If the sheet music industry in Brazil in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries has beenthe focus of studies such as those of Pequeno (2000) and Leme (2006), the manuscript collectionsof choro are still virtually untouched by academic studies. Although they merit sporadic citationsby Ary Vasconcelos (1977), recognized as one of the pioneers in the study of choro of the latenineteenth century, these collections would only be studied for the first time from a musicologicalpoint of view in the work of guitarists Mauricio Carrilho and Anna Paes, who, during the years1998 and 1999, performed the research entitled Inventário do Repertório do Choro (1870 a 1920),collecting and cataloging about 5,000 handwritten pieces of sheet music scattered in variousarchives in Rio de Janeiro, such as the Mozart Araújo collection, the National Library of Riode Janeiro, and several private collections (Carrilho and Paes, 2003). Despite the importance ofthis research, other collections still remain unexplored, as is the case with the Jacob do Bandolimand Almirante archives, both belonging to the Museu da Imagem e do Som (Museum of Imageand Sound).

The study of belle époque popular music manuscript collections lets us fill in a historical gapin Brazilian musicology, and understand a series of correlated questions that address not onlymusical aspects, but also the issue of relations between music and society, particularly in thelower social classes of Brazil at the time. Questions such as: How was the music of chorotransmitted in the late nineteenth century and early decades of the twentieth century? What isthe role of written records and oral traditions in these transmission processes? Is it possible tospeak of a dichotomy between these two processes?

The question of oral and written transmission in music has been the subject of diversemusicological and ethnomusicological works. For Treitler (1992: 134), the simple phrase “writtentransmission versus unwritten transmission” implies both a parallelism—both processes wouldhave a single purpose, the transmission—and an opposition—the processes would be differentand “mutually exclusive” (my emphasis): something like the choice between sending a message

Choro Manuscript Collections • 35

by phone or by mail, to use the author’s example. However, this apparent dichotomy, whichwould have been a true paradigm of musicology and ethnomusicology—the division betweenmusically “literate” and “illiterate” cultures—would also carry, according to Treitler, misleadingperceptions: on the one hand, the notion of “written transmission” would have as a presuppositionthe idea of an object, something concrete, which can be transmitted through written symbols.Thus, to reduce the complexity of music making—which includes aspects such as pitches, timbre, rhythm, and improvisation—to a single concrete transmittable object would be somethingquestionable at the least. On the other hand, the notion of “unwritten tradition” would at firstglance imply the idea of performance from a mental repository (i.e., biological memory) of fixed melodies—a notion that would exclude any possibility of interaction with what is written.The central idea of Treitler is, therefore, that the dichotomy between “written” and “unwrit-ten” trans mission cannot be sustained in practice; furthermore, for the musicologist, since thebegin ning of the European written musical tradition, concepts such as reading, memory, andimpro visation were continuous, mutually interrelated, and interdependent aspects (Treitler 1992: 135).

Similarly, Nettl (1983: 187–189) also questions the apparent dichotomy between the oral andthe written. The author evokes studies of musicologists such as Charles Seeger and Curt Sachs,who have questioned this duality since the 1950s. For the former, what was most interesting inthe oral tradition was not the fact that it was constituted as a radically different way of teachingand learning compared to the written tradition, but the fact that these two forms of transmissionare inextricably linked. As for Sachs, cultural transmission could not be reduced to a dualrelationship, and would necessarily include four instances: the oral, the written (or handwritten,more precisely), the printed, and the recorded. These four modes of transmission, to a greateror lesser degree, were present in all cultures of the world from the second half of the twentiethcentury onward—and never with a mutually exclusive character, but with a relationship ofcontinuous interdependence. Taking the model of Sachs, for some cultures the oral traditioncould be much closer to the written than the printed: when, for example, there are a largenumber of manuscripts for a single musical document, based on the work of different copyists,the trend will be to find variant forms, just as in the oral tradition—for the simple fact that thework of each copyist will depend not only on their personal interpretation of the musical piece,but also on other factors such as forgetfulness and errors.

Going further with the discussion, Nettl also reminds us that we should not associate theconcept of transmission to the idea of closed musical “pieces”: at a deeper level, we could notthink of a repertoire as a series of “pieces,” but consisting of a vocabulary of smaller units suchas melodic or rhythmic motifs, chords, chord sequences, and rhythmic formulas, among others.In this way, the process of transmission can be studied through the prism of repertoire thatpreserves (or does not preserve) these units integrally, and how they are combined and recombinedinto larger units that are accepted as “musical pieces” in different cultures (Nettl 1983: 190).This concept is particularly useful in our analysis, as discussed below.

Returning to our object of study, it seems to have been common sense among the choromusicians in the second half of the twentieth century that choro is learned primarily throughdirect observation and oral tradition—and even when the learning took place through the score, this should only be a support for the memorization of the basic structure of the music,to be “completed” by other unwritten aspects such as “coloration” and “improvisation.” Thus,the “good choro player” can dispense with the written record, as evidenced, for example, by the

36 • Pedro Aragão

testimony of Jacob do Bandolim (Jacob Pick Bittencourt, 1919–1969), given at the Museum ofImage and Sound in Rio de Janeiro in the 1960s. For Jacob, one of the greatest exponents ofchoro in the second half of the twentieth century, there were two types of choro instrumentalists:the “sheet music stand” instrumentalist who would only be able to play by reading the score(and therefore without any ability to improvise) and the “true” and “authentic” choroinstrumentalist who would dispense with sheet music, interpreting the music with colorationand improvisation that are characteristics of choro.

If this is true in many respects, one cannot deny, on the other hand, the importance thatthe first generation of choro players themselves gave to the written record, as the book O Chorotestifies. In the book, you can find a large number of quotations that value the musicians who“knew music” to the detriment of those who did not read sheet music: Videira, a worker in acigarette factory, was a great flute player “despite playing by ear,” whereas Braguinha “playedvery badly and by ear.” On the other hand, there were good choro players who were not ableto play anything without the score. Gilberto Bombardino, for example:

was a true choro player, knew music well, but if asked to accompany a choro by ear, nothinghappened . . . At parties where he played, as long as there was something to read he [played]the music without blinking and sometimes even made flourishes in the intervals.

(Pinto 1978: 44)

It is thus seen that the issue of the written record was of great importance, even consideringthat a good musician was always valued, regardless of whether or not he read sheet music.Another factor to note is the reference to the existence of parties where there were “parts toread”: what can be inferred from the cited excerpt is that the presence of musicians readingscores at parties was something relatively common, a fact that would be unthinkable, or at leastreprehensible, in the environment of choro of the second half of the twentieth century, asmentioned above. What one can conclude from this is the fact that the modes of oral and writtentransmission seem to have been present since the birth of the genre, and it is no coincidencethat the issue appears in the work of Gonçalves Pinto and in the testimony of one of choro’smost important interpreters of the 1940s to the 1960s, Jacob do Bandolim. Comparing thesetwo, we can see that for the choro musicians described by Pinto, reading a score was somethingas valued as the fact of playing “by ear.” Thus, if, on the one hand, the flutist Videira was agreat choro musician “despite playing by ear,” Gilberto Bombardino never stopped being a “truechoro musician,” despite needing “parts to read” during the choro rodas (groups of musiciansplaying together).

Another point to be emphasized is that an essential element of choro music—the rhythmic-harmonic accompaniment—was rarely written. In fact, there are very few music scores withparts for guitar and cavaquinho in the manuscript collections that came to us from the first halfof the twentieth century, and yet the role of these instruments has always been described asvery important by reports from the era.

Hence, it follows that the transmission of choros through scores was (and still is) somethingthat included just some aspects of music making, such as the melody, for example; other aspects,such as the rhythmic-harmonic progression and the possible contingent countermelodies (whennot written), were transmitted through oral tradition. Here, we can apply what Nettl pointedto earlier: that in parallel to the concept of closed musical “pieces”—the choros—there is a

Choro Manuscript Collections • 37

vocabulary of smaller units that are transmitted and recombined repeatedly: thus, for themusicians of the time, the melody might even be available in manuscript collections (or possiblyin printed scores). Other aspects such as harmonic sequence and harmonic-rhythmicaccompaniment depended on oral transmission and were performed in musical practice. Thisperformance can be characterized as the act of choice at the moment of music making ofpossible paths for the performance of certain aspects from an existing vocabulary: the goodaccompanying player was the one who, at the same time, dominated most of this vocabularyand knew how to make the best choices in the shortest time at the moment of playing. Thus,among the repertoire of possible rhythmic figurations and harmonic sequences, the accompanistwould have to choose and combine elements more suited to the melody presented by the soloistat the moment of playing. This was (and remains) a key part of the dynamics of choro. Theguitar and cavaquinho player who made wrong choices, either by ignoring the vocabulary orby ineptitude, “fell,” according to the slang of the time, failing in the accompaniment.

Much of the manuscript collections of “early choro” was relegated during the twentieth centuryto the private archives of older choro musicians, and would have been fatally lost had it notbeen for the zeal of some of the pioneers of choro musicology, as is the case of Jacob do Bandolim.Besides being a notable mandolinist and composer, Jacob had a pioneering role in the area ofresearch in popular music, and his importance is yet to be studied. He was perhaps the firstchoro composer who sought to systematically collect and organize old music collections, takingcare to learn cataloging techniques (studying the models used in the Vatican Library and theU.S. Library of Congress), studying possibilities for the upgrading of the paper medium to othermedia (he was an amateur photographer and developed his own method to microfilm scoresthat he applied to his own collection), and made numerous “field research studies” using anopen-reel tape recorder that registered important elements of choro and Brazilian music ingeneral. (There are recorded tapes with accompanying rhythmic-harmonic formulas ofcavaquinho, with examples of “choro nordestino” and “pontos de macumba,” for example.) Afterhis death in 1969, his archive was sold to a private company and subsequently donated to theMuseum of Image and Sound in Rio de Janeiro, where it remains today (Peace 1997).

An analysis of the Jacob do Bandolim archive shows us a series of collections of choros fromthe popular classes of Rio de Janeiro at the fin de siècle. One is of the flutist Quintiliano Pinto,the brother of Alexandre Pinto Gonçalves and also a postman. In addition to four full notebooksdating from 1911 and 1912, the collection has hundreds of handwritten sheet music scores,often focusing on authors who would be completely anonymous if it were not for the descriptionsmade by his brother Alexandre in the book O Choro. With tiny and not always legible handwriting,Quintiliano Pinto recorded a great quantity of the music of the first choro flutists, such asJoaquim Callado (see Musical Example 2.1 for an example of a Quintiliano manuscript). Anothercopyist of great relevance in the archive is the trombonist Cândido Pereira da Silva (1879–1960),nicknamed “Candinho.” The conductor of the Fábrica de Tecidos Aliança band in Vila Isabel(a neighborhood of Rio de Janeiro that housed large numbers of workers in the early twentiethcentury), he left hundreds of handwritten sheet music scores of popular composers of the time;it is no exaggeration to say that much of the repertoire of choro of the late nineteenth centuryand early decades of the twentieth century came to the present day thanks to his writing (seeMusical Example 2.2 for an example of a Candinho manuscript). Jupiaçara Xavier, another lettercarrier at the time, described by Gonçalves Pinto as an “expert in the music of all the choromusicians of old,” also left 10 handwritten notebooks containing 859 songs in total. The analysisof his notebooks reveals that the scores were written by more than one person. Instead, there

38 • Pedro Aragão

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were a multitude of copyists, especially in the earlier books, which leads us to think that at leastpart of the Jupiaçara collection are actually manuscripts derived from different sources, supportingthe argument that there was indeed a network of copies and of exchanging sheet music scores.

Conclusions

Although a full analysis of all collections of music manuscripts scattered in various institutionsof Rio de Janeiro escape the scope and objectives of this work, I think some partial conclusionscan be reported. These findings can be summarized as follows. First, the importance of thewritten record of choro, particularly choro of the late nineteenth century and first decades ofthe twentieth century, was overlooked and often ignored by the genre’s bibliography up to thepresent day. Second, the record of choro compositions, placed in thousands of different manuscriptalbums and collections, always operated as a kind of “parallel environment” to the publishingindustry of the time, fulfilling its needs and serving as a means of spreading a repertoire thatcertainly “nourished” the environment of choro. Thus, much of the repertoire of the composersof this period of choro was never published, and the only way that these songs circulated wasthrough this network of manuscripts and copies shared by different musicians. Indeed, we cansay that this kind of “parallel network” of copies of handwritten scores of choro continues today.

Musical Example 2.2 Manuscript score by trombonist Candinho Silva

Although the second half of the twentieth century has witnessed the publication of severalcollections of choro scores, the precariousness and great number of errors in most of thesecollections has resulted in the “manuscripts network” continuing to be required. See, for example,the popularity reached by the handwritten instructional handouts from FUNARTE’s Oficina deChoro in the 1980s, written by mandolinist Afonso Machado and guitarist Luiz Otávio Braga,which were photocopied all over the country. It is important to note that currently, in parallelwith photocopies of manuscripts, there are private collections of digitized sheet music (usuallyin music publishing programs such as Finale) being exchanged by choro musicians; one of them, perhaps the most famous in Rio de Janeiro, belongs to mandolinist Marcilio Lopes, which brings together around 500 choro scores and is entitled O Baú do Panda (The Panda’s Chest).Third, starting with the work of Jacob do Bandolim, the work of archiving, classification, andcomparison of this vast collection of manuscripts generated a first movement of what we mightclassify as a kind of musicological work done outside the academic world and within theenvironment of choro.

Finally, the study of manuscript collections of choro of the belle époque leads us to the issueof the old dichotomy between “educated” (or “erudite”) instances versus “popular” instances,the first presupposing written traditions made in the social strata associated with the upperlayers or elites, and the latter assuming oral knowledge related to the lower layers of the population.If studies in recent decades in various fields of history (especially of cultural history andmicrohistory, with works such as those of Burke 1989, and Ginzburg 2006), and of literary theory(Bakhtin 1981, 1987) already provide us with tools that allow us to question what is reductionistin this seeming dichotomy, I believe that even the most important recent studies about Brazilianurban popular music do not escape from falling into a sometimes simplistic typology of thesecategories. Much of these studies tend to relate urban music such as samba and choro to the“oral tradition” as opposed to “concert” music that would be totally immersed in the writtenmedium.

But behold, Gonçalves Pinto presents in his book a society where representatives of thesesocial strata commonly associated with the lower classes wrote and exchanged scores, makingcollections of popular songs that functioned—perhaps more so than the sheet music industryat the time—as a powerful tool for the dissemination and transmission of sound practicesencompassed by the “choro” label. I am not suggesting by this that all members of these socialgroups used the written record, nor that it would be the only basis for the teaching, learning,and transmission of the choro repertoire. As we have seen throughout this chapter, oraltransmission was of fundamental importance, especially as it relates to rhythmic-harmonicaccompaniment practices performed by guitars and cavaquinhos. I emphasize, rather, the ideathat oral and written traditions mingled in a complex form and, thus, I seek to show howsimplistic the association can be, still present in our traditional musicology, between writtenmedia (sheet music) as symbolic of “erudite” knowledge and oral transmissions as symbolic of“popular” knowledge.

BibliographyBakhtin, Mikhail. 1981. Problemas da poética de Dostoiévski. Trad. Paulo Bezerra. 1st ed. Rio de Janeiro: Forense

Universitária.Bakhtin, Mikhail. 1987. A cultura popular na Idade Média e no Renascimento: o contexto de François Rabelais. Brasília:

UnB/Hucitec.Burke, Peter. 1989. Cultura popular na Idade Moderna. São Paulo: Companhia das Letras.

Choro Manuscript Collections • 41

Carrilho, Mauricio and Anna Paes. 2003. Inventário do repertório do Choro (1870 a 1920). Rio de Janeiro: FundaçãoRioArte.

Cazes, Henrique. 1998. Choro: do quintal ao Municipal. São Paulo: Editora 34.Ginzburg, Carlo. 2006. O queijo e os vermes. Ed. Companhia das Letras.Hennion, Antoine. 2002. La passion musicale. Ediciones Paidós Ibérica, S.A.Leme, Mônica N. 2006. E saíram à luz . . .: as novas coleções de polcas, modinhas, lundus, etc.—Música popular e impressão

musical no Rio de Janeiro (1820–1920). Ph.D. Thesis (Doutorado em História Social). Universidade FederalFluminense.

Nettl, Bruno. 1983. The Study of Ethnomusicology. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press.Paz, Ermelinda. 1997. Jacob do Bandolim. Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE.Pinto, Alexandre Gonçalves. 1978 [1936]. O Choro. Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE.Taborda, Marcia E. 2005. Violão e identidade nacional: Rio de Janeiro 1830–1930. Ph.D. Thesis (Doctorate in Social

History). Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ).Tinhorão, José R. 1998a. História social da música popular brasileira. São Paulo: Editora 34.Tinhorão, José R. 1998b. Música Popular, um tema em debate. São Paulo: Editora 34.Treitler, Leo. 1992. “The ‘Unwritten’ and ‘Written Transmission’ of Medieval Chant and the Start-Up of Musical

Notation.” In The Journal of Musicology, vol. 10, no. 2, 131–191.Vasconcelos, Ary. 1977. Panorama da música popular brasileira na belle époque. Rio de Janeiro: Livraria Sant’Anna.

42 • Pedro Aragão

3Samba and the Music Market

in Brazil in the 1990sFelipe Trotta

Visiting the Lapa district in Rio de Janeiro means diving into a musical universe where sambais the main protagonist. In different nightclubs, on the streets, on billboards, in cars, and inlocal imagery, samba is a constant sound that shapes the “scene” of contemporary Lapa(Herschmann 2007; Straw 1991). But its enormous presence in the national imagination crossesthe boundaries of this historic district. Samba occupies much of the ambient sound of Brazil—on the soundtracks of telenovelas (soap operas), in advertising, on the stages of all the majorcities of the country, and in the music business in general—strengthening its status as the“national music” every day (Paranhos 2011; Vianna 1999). But it was not always so.

Since the consolidation of samba as the national music in the 1930s, the genre has gonethrough moments of great commercial recognition and others of stagnation in which it circulatedin small spaces, urban ghettos, and restricted scenes. Although it is somewhat a simplification,we can say that samba dominated the hit parades during the first half of the twentieth century,with its commercial importance starting to decline in the 1960s, and only returning to a prominentplace in the national music market in the early 1990s. Between the 1960s and the 1990s, sambavenues attracted small audiences, consolidating a niche market that only achieved a hegemonicvisibility at certain times (such as carnival) or through specific releases of legitimized singers.In this chapter, I will discuss the process of revalorization of samba in the 1990s, which culminatedin its strong presence in the country’s music scene today. The idea that drives this reflection isthat the groups of a style of samba known as “romantic pagode” that were successful in theperiod account for the repositioning of samba in the market, despite being heavily criticized bythe press, the urban intelligentsia, and traditional sambistas (samba singers, songwriters, and/ormusicians). This operation is based on the deconstruction of a relationship we can call paradoxicalbetween samba/sambistas and spheres of the market. On the one hand, samba was always presentin the media, occupying radio stations, record labels, and showbiz since the beginning of therecord industry in Brazil. On the other hand, the genre developed imagery in its repertoire thatsystematically denied its role in the market, valuing the amateur musical practice of the rodasde samba (informal samba gatherings). This adversarial relationship with the market hinderedthe commercial success of the genre from the 1960s onward, when a strong and integratedcultural industry consolidated in Brazil (Ortiz 2001). The romantic pagode groups of the 1990swould reprocess this amateur imagery of the rodas, establishing a closer relationship with therecord labels, radio and TV stations, and showbiz agents.

Samba and the Market: The Construction of a Paradox

Samba established itself as a musical genre in the first three decades of the twentieth centuryin a peripheral urban context, performed by a poor, marginalized population, descendants ofslaves and migrants of various ethnicities. In this environment, the daily contact between relatives,friends, colleagues, and neighbors established relations of community solidarity, manifestedintensely in organizations of religious ceremonies and festivals (Sandroni 2001; Vianna 1999).Carnival was one of the principal festive events capable of bringing people together and build-ing a sense of shared belonging. The organization of parades of the blocos, ranchos, and laterthe escolas de samba (Samba Schools) would establish an agenda of celebrations and gatheringsset to the sound of the cavaquinho, pandeiro, cuíca, surdo, and tamborim—the samba instruments.This organization would persist throughout the year, connected to the rodas de samba, weeklyevents in which people mingled, sang, danced, played, drank, ate, and flirted via the musicalexperience and its symbology. The roda is an informal and community event that serves as aspace for sharing thoughts and songs. It is, at the same time, occasion “for strengthening bondsof identity and reciprocity” (Pereira 2003: 96) and a social experience that allows contact betweengroups of different origins.

Concomitant with the solidification of the roda as the fundamental symbolic core for sambaand its repertoire, some sambistas started frequenting the music world, the corridors of recordlabels, and studios of radio programs, providing sambas for the presentations of recognizedprofessional singers. The open and collective space of the improvised rodas was graduallyoccupied by an individualized composer, the author of his own sambas and beneficiary ofeventual profits from the composition. That is when, still incipient, samba became professional.Already by the early 1930s, the sambista began to discover the monetary value of the practiceof samba, which had hitherto been considered as pertaining to the public domain and collectiveuse (Sandroni 2001: 150).

However, opinions condemning the transformations of samba to suit the music marketbegan to emerge. In the 1930s, journalist Francisco Guimarães, known as “Vagalume,” statedin his book Na roda do samba that after “they industrialized” it, samba started to lose “its truecadence,” and thus was heading toward “decadence” (Guimarães 1978 [1933]: 77). Accordingto the author, the market had an evil influence on folk cultural practices. Vagalume’s book isan important indication that the tension between the community environment of the rodas andthe professionalization of the record industry and showbiz began to elicit debate, which extendedto the end of the twentieth century.

Moreover, it is not hard to notice that upon starting to consolidate as a genre of popularmusic, the practice of samba retained its existence in two spheres that, although interchange-able, at first represented two distinct forms of musical experience: the roda and the market. The presence of samba in the professional market meant a wider dissemination of sambistas’thoughts and ideas (i.e., an opportunity to gain renown and find an active voice in society asa whole). At the same time, it was always from the rodas that sambistas acquired prestige andgained a foothold in the music market. The rodas worked (and still work) not only as a placeof symbolic and emotional exchanges, but also as spaces of integration of sambistas and marketprofessionals.

Despite the debates about the authenticity of samba on the market, it can be said that untilthe 1960s, the exchange between the rodas and the market were fairly friendly. Hitherto, sambawas still conceived as a community leisure practice, where any professional benefits were

44 • Felipe Trotta

understood as a bonus. At the same time, the Samba Schools, structured from the late 1930sonward, remained as relatively independent units where sambistas acted with autonomy inorganizing carnival, the rodas, and the administration of subsidies.

The balance between samba and the market began to change when the schools becameprofessionalized and the parade activity became more profitable every year for the Samba Schools,for the City of Rio de Janeiro and its economy, and—from the early 1960s—for the new mediumof television. Gradually, the Samba School parades became a highly profitable spectacle, chang-ing their characteristics of a traditional community festival (Cavalcanti 1994: 52). With that,the space of the Samba School gradually ceased to be a place of sambas and rodas and focusedinstead on the carnival competition, while the founding sambistas were passed over in electionsfor the boards of directors, for the choice of the samba-enredo (the “theme samba” chosen forthe year’s parade), and especially in regard to the power of the schools. In the process, adiscourse among the sambistas about the valuation of samba developed that emphasized theamateur scope of the rodas, claiming their “tradition.” According to historian Eric Hobsbawm,traditions are invented when old habits and usages of social practices stop being preserved(Hobsbawm 1989: 16). The reference to the chosen past aims to establish “social cohesion” ofa particular community, legitimize authority relationships, and instill “ideas, value systems andpatterns of behavior.” The roda de samba, which operated with a non-market logic, would berevisited in songs, pictures, and samba’s own imagery. However, to circulate these values,sambistas occupied marketing spaces that were increasingly competitive, such as nightclub stages, bars, theaters, and music labels. In the 1970s, benefitting from a positive economicjuncture in the country, many sambistas recorded their own records and circulated their musicaland cultural repertoire.

The relationship between samba and the market is configured then on new bases in theframework of a great paradox: despite increasingly referring to a social environment, the symbolicreference of which is to make amateur music in a roda, samba once and for all embraces itsquality as merchandise and occupies spaces of circulation of highly professional music. Theparadox of commercialized samba was due both to the demand of a public that tuned itself tothe framework of amateur values it extolled and to the market’s own ability to maintain,disseminate, and generate profits from a practice that, strictly speaking, disdained this samemarket. In this sense, there is a complex administration of the set of amateur values of sambafrom the rodas in the professional market, characterized by gradations of amateurism andprofessionalism among the music market participants and the public of the rodas, of carnival,of the record business, and of showbiz. It was a situation that acquired new nuances with theemergence of “romantic pagode.”

Romantic Pagode

The music market in the early 1990s was characterized by a solidifying of a pop aesthetic inBrazilian song. Having as an axis what Luiz Tatit called a “gesture of mixture,” pop during theperiod reached the most diffuse fields of popular music creation (Tatit 2004: 213). It is throughthis gesture that we can understand the three most important musical phenomena of the period:música sertaneja (country music), “axé music,” and romantic pagode. The cosmopolitan treatmentof “traditional” musical practices and the nationalization of musical genres characteristic ofcertain regions and cities are common traits among them, establishing a “mixed” and pop aes -thetic that achieved huge success across the country.

Samba and the Music Market in Brazil in the 1990s • 45

From the mid-1980s onward, sertanejo duos partially abandoned the acoustic instrumentationof 10-string guitars to invest in a mediatic performance tuned with transnational sounds.Electronic keyboards, drums, electric guitars, and a large investment in lighting, costumes, andsound equipment, as well as a thoroughly planned aesthetic of the show as a commercial product,became part of the aesthetic repertoire of the duos, setting a new aesthetic and business standardfor success. The arrangements and sounds of the records and live performances sought tomusically translate the modernity of a Brazilian interior that no longer identified with thebackward caipira (hick), and was now based on agribusiness. The process began in 1982 withthe hit song “Fio de Cabelo” (Strand of Hair), performed by the duo Chitãozinho and Xororó,and 10 years later música sertaneja became the most popular national musical genre, which itremains to this day. Nationalized from its origin in rural areas of the states of São Paulo, Goiás,Mato Grosso do Sul, and Paraná, música sertaneja musically translated the pop in Braziliansong while they moved the center pole of national successes off the axis of the Rio-São Paulocapital cities.

In parallel, another urban musical phenomenon grew year by year in the fertile soil ofcarnival in Salvador, Bahia. Its nationalization began in the late 1980s, and the Bahian carnival’smusical mixture became known as axé music. The young and danceable pop aesthetic of Bahiawas nationally leveraged by the success of singer Daniela Mercury’s song “O Canto da Cidade”(City Song) (1992) and dominated the carnival scene of the country. Soon afterward, it occupiedradio stations, as well as various festivals and shows throughout the annual calendar. Animation,energy, sensuality, keyboards, a horn section, and a strong percussive apparatus form theingredients of axé music, which also adopts the structure of a grandiose stage, with tons oflighting and sound equipment.

If, on the one hand, the romanticism of country music supplied the more introspectiveemotional demands of the general public, axé responded with the young vibration of dancemusic, encouraging physical participation by this public in the musical experience. Combiningthe two trends and affirming itself as a new marketing category, the third segment of the largeBrazilian market would focus on samba. This new category of samba received several deroga -tory names and negative judgments, but won numerous audiences and established itself as alucrative market. The milestone of romantic pagode’s popularization was the great commercialphenomenon that characterized the launching of the São Paulo group Raça Negra in 1991.

The Raça Negra band was born in a periphery district of the São Paulo metropolis frominformal samba rodas that took place among friends. The professionalization of the group camefrom the positive impact of the leader Luiz Carlos’s compositions, characterized by anintrospective and romantic atmosphere. The sound was based on the levada (groove) of theguitar of Luiz Carlos (1957–), bass, keyboards, sax, and a strong percussion base (drums, tantã,pandeiro, and tumbadora), which would become a characteristic of romantic pagode, influencingdiverse other groups who achieved success in the period such as Só Pra Contrariar, NegritudeJunior, and Art Popular.

Samba was present in the sound universe of Raça Negra only as a musical reference, but themain symbolic inspiration was found in artists who were close to young pop dance music. Theinfluence of Jorge Benjor is repeatedly cited in interviews and articles published in the press atthe time. Jorge Benjor (1945–) is a versatile artist, at work in the national market since the1960s, who since his first releases has processed a meeting between samba and pop. Acclaimedby critics and the intelligentsia, his music is recognized nationwide as being strong, swingada

46 • Felipe Trotta

(full of swing), and referring to audible black roots of an idealized matrix in a cosmopolitanenvironment. Aligning with Jorge Benjor is a way to establish continuity with the gesture ofmixing processed by him, which significantly won over the public and always earned legitimacyfrom specialized critics.

However, the main ingredient of the group’s rapid rise to the top of the hit parades was itspositioning in relation to the market. Raça Negra devoted special attention to what Luiz Carloshimself calls “professionalism”; in other words, all the aspects tied to the production of shows,to the presentation, and to the public image of its members. Its strategy of entering the marketwas based on the idea of promoting good relations between impresarios, artists, and the audience.With that, they established a departure from the traditional samba universe with its historicalvaluation of spontaneity and informality of the rodas, directly opposed to the seriousness and“coldness” of the business world. For Raça Negra, the market was not an enemy, but a partner.

Anchored in the excellent reaction to the song “Caroline” by Luiz Carlos, the group’s firstalbum sold almost 750,000 copies (equivalent to a triple-platinum record, according to thecertification issued at the time by the ABPD), causing the second album to arrive shortlythereafter, simply titled Raça Negra 2. Thus, spaces closed until then to any kind of samba beganto broadcast the simple and straightforward melodies of the group, and Raça Negra paved theway for other artists of the genre, creating a new movement in the music market.

But it would not be correct to imagine that certain distant aesthetic affiliations or professionaldeterminations of partnership are enough to leverage the success of an aesthetics evaluatednegatively by critics. Raça Negra and other romantic pagode groups reached a large audienceby using musical elements that allowed an amplification of traditional aesthetics, dissolving theparadox between roda and market. Three aspects stand out: the notion of love, the sound, andthe rhythm.

It’s Love!

Love has been present in the repertoire of samba since its consolidation as a musical genre.Recursively, the sambistas share amorous situations experienced by them or people close tothem (neighbors, siblings, and friends) through their creations. Claudia Matos, a comparatistspecializing in the poetics of song, investigated the referential repertoire of samba in the 1930sand 1940s, and identified an important aspect in the genre: the lyrical-amorous. Its main themes,love and women, are “seen from an idealizing and fatalistic perspective, most often with apessimistic and lamenting expression” (Matos 1982: 46). The romantic perspective of sambaproduced since this time prefers in most cases to highlight a condition of suffering, separation,and the impossibility of love, rather than focus on seduction, on praise, and on the happinessof love. Betrayal, death, separation, and absence are topics covered in countless examples. With rare exceptions, romantic samba reaches its emotional density through suffering, whetherexplicit or expressed only by a description of a situation of separation. In lyrical-amorous samba,marriage is a “kind of business where the material advantages become affective values” andliterally represent an investment (Matos 1982: 168). Moreover, the positive feelings are, ingeneral, associated with the collectivity, with social events, with music, and with orgy, wheresex is not accompanied by an emotional or moral commitment. The community social life ofsamba is so important and gratifying that the theme of disgraced, unfaithful, or impossible loveoften appears in a quite humorous form, told in a laughable and relaxed manner.

Samba and the Music Market in Brazil in the 1990s • 47

In the traditional samba repertoire, the interlocutor of the singer-character is rarely the focus of the love. The sambista is always in a dialogue with his peers, in a social environmentor sharing confidences. The aspect of the dialogue is central to the strategies of appreciation of samba and its place in the market. In dialoguing with his community, the sambista gives asymbolic performance aimed at the community and the rituals of encounter (rodas, parties,Samba School, carnival), which commonly serve as the backdrop for these narratives. Thus, thetheme of love in the samba repertoire strengthens the links of its practice with the collectiveand amateur life experience of the rodas, away from the commercial dictates of marketindividualism. Happiness, which becomes a goal pursued by the imagery of the songs of“consumption,” is somewhat overlooked in the chronicles of these unsuccessful or impossibleloves.

The treatment of love in samba reinforces the paradox of samba in the market when itestablishes a counterpoint to the usual happy endings of cultural products available forconsumption on a large scale. At the same time, the emphasis on community narrative impliesan appreciation of the environment, more forcefully characterizing the opposition betweentradition and market. In this sense, through frustrated love, samba reaffirms its own criteria ofaesthetic valuation, and its community and symbolic links with the roda.

Conversely, the work of Raça Negra and all the romantic pagode groups from the beginningof the 1990s has happy love as its central theme. Thus, a new fact is introduced in the relationshipbetween samba and the market, opening up space for deep changes in the paradox in the lastdecade of the twentieth century. By adopting the theme of successful love as the main axis ofexpression, romantic pagode establishes in its verbal content a rather large affinity with the signsof international-popular culture (Ortiz 2001). In the production of Raça Negra, for example, aloved one is repeatedly exalted or associated with the happiness of the singer-narrator. Sexmerges with love and the beloved woman appears simultaneously as “lover, companion, soulmate, wife, child and mother-woman” (Morin 1975: 119). The idea of “making love” or “makingpassion” with the beloved woman appears in several songs, characterizing a vision of love andsex as acts of affection, focused on a specific person to whom the song is addressed and whoshares the same sentiment, which should last “a lifetime.”

While in the solidified samba repertoire the suffering of frustrated love is being shared witha collectivity, the songs of romantic pagode groups often speak directly to the loved person,whether or not in her presence. The restriction of the affective environment of the song to thecouple can be seen by the titles of several songs that establish the I-you verbal relationship:“Pensando em você” (Thinking of You), “Somente você” (Only You), “Quero ver você chorar”(I Want to See You Cry), “Só com você” (Only with You), “Sem você” (Without You), andvarious others. The direct dialogue becomes a deciding factor in the style of romantic pagode,characterizing a narrative in which music is the vector of a message addressed to the lovedperson. As a message, the popular song acquires an intense dramatic charge since it comes torepresent the hopes of reuniting the character-singer with his beloved, and thus to (re-) findhappiness. The music embodies the truth of the feeling, eliciting identifications that are alsodirect and intense from the audience.

In romantic pagode, love is the only possible path to happiness. The association between thetwo feelings is present in a significant part of the repertoire recorded by major bands, and somethemes are particularly recurrent. The high recurrence rate, especially present in the work ofthe Raça Negra band, may reflect an intentional strategy to facilitate immediate understandingby the public. At the same time, it solidifies a new “modern” samba model that is not defined

48 • Felipe Trotta

exclusively by its colloquial lyrics and melodies, but also by the adoption of a certain soundand the systematic use of another kind of rhythmic pattern, less committed to the imagery ofthe traditional amateur samba rodas.

Sonority and Rhythm

A musical genre is characterized by a complex combination of musical, symbolic, social, andmarketing elements (Fabbri 1982; Frith 1998; Janotti Jr. 2003). It is defined through a comparisonwith other genres, an interplay of similarities with and differences between their characteristicfeatures. Musically, one of the most obvious features of a musical genre is the sonority. Sonorityis an element that establishes an association with samba and its distinctive elements, includingits emphasis on amateur and community practice. It would be the base for romantic pagode toestablish a more evident distinction in relation to the already consolidated image of the genre.

The traditional sonority of samba comes from characteristic instruments such as cavaquinho,seven-string guitar, and robust percussion formed basically by pandeiro, surdo, cuíca, andtamborim. This characteristic “sound” functions as a symbolic model of genre identification,but not in an exclusive way. This is because since the beginning of the recordings of samba inthe early twentieth century, the arrangers always sought to achieve a large diversity of timbrein recorded sambas. The result is that, up to a certain point, you can hear a wide range ofsounds on samba records that expand the universe of sonic possibilities of the genre. However,from the 1970s, the “sound” of the rodas began to appear in lots of samba recordings as a wayto achieve an “amateur” legitimacy for samba, which was in difficult commercial conditions.Thereafter, a process of sound formalization of samba began, which becomes fixed around themost characteristic instruments, with which samba affirmed itself as authentic and traditional.Away from the Samba Schools, sambistas managed to occupy spaces in the music industry, andthe solidifying of an “authentic” sound was an important vector for the commercial projectionof their albums. The paradox of commercializing samba that reinforces the sonorities of amateurspaces is a stylistic characteristic of the period’s releases.

In the 1990s, the music of the romantic pagode groups reinstated a timbric diversity for thegenre, further expanding its instrumental combinations. As part of the aesthetic project ofdissolution of the paradox between roda and market, the samba band Raça Negra, for example,had no cavaquinho, and the harmonic-rhythmic accompaniment was exclusively provided byacoustic guitar and bass. In some songs, the acoustic guitar is replaced by an electric guitar, butthe performance is quite similar. The percussion is centered on drums, with pandeiro and tantãas instruments, whose function is just to introduce a change in timbre. About the tantã, itshould be noted that its implementation does not explore its various timbres in incessantimprovisations, as happens regularly in the musical practice of samba circles. In the recordingsof the group, the instrument is limited to keeping the tempo, with little variety of accents andrhythmic patterns. Furthermore, the systematic use of keyboards and saxophone is noteworthy.The saxophone is in charge of most introductions and countermelodies, and the keyboard isused “in the background,” doing what the arrangers call “cama” (bed) with chords in long notes(string pads). In more lively songs, the timbre of the keyboard is changed to simulate a hornsection, sometimes accompanying the saxophone, other times responding to their melodicinterventions. The keyboard is always present. Sometimes, it is in charge of starting the songs,in a recitative style, without any rhythmic pattern, establishing an atmosphere even closer tothe romantic ballads of international pop music.

Samba and the Music Market in Brazil in the 1990s • 49

Since the late 1970s, the synthetic sound of the keyboard has become the symbol of a particularinternational musical aesthetic, and also of a cosmopolitan insertion in the universe of masspop music. Its use is more recurrent in the background of the mix, with a sound similar to thatof a church organ, but clearly synthetic, introducing an “atmosphere” in the song. In bothupbeat and love songs, the keyboard “bed” functions as an element of harmonic continuity,establishing depth in the arrangement and increasing the perception of the chord changes. Inthe Brazilian romantic repertoire, the ambiance of the keyboard in the background brings some“modern” sophistication to the song at the same time that it magnifies the feeling of warmthand introspection. Keyboards were used sparingly in samba until the 1990s. Sambistas werealways suspicious about incorporating elements of the pop aesthetic in the sound of samba that,despite its variety of timbre, remained faithful to the referential cavaquinho, pandeiro, andtamborim. After all, “tradition” affirmed itself as a denial of “modernity,” especially of thecommercial modernity represented by the keyboard.

In the repertoire of Raça Negra, on the contrary, the use of the keyboard is basic to theassembly of their sound. Without cavaquinho, with accompaniment provided mainly by guitarand by keyboard, with saxophone incursions and rhythm guided by the drum set, the groupsolidified a sound that became a trademark. The aesthetic of the group excels in the clarity ofthe melody sung by the singer, which must be heard with no noise, interference, or comments.The percussion is light, placed at the bottom of the mix, only to drive the rhythmic pattern,which in turn performs few variations. The intention of “not complicating” with countermelodiesor surprises (rhythmic, poetic, melodic, or harmonic) is a strategy to reach the greatest numberof people, and the insistent repetition of this type of arrangement is significant. Raça Negra’schoice of this sound is immutable, recurring in almost all the songs recorded by the group.

This small variety of timbre can be understood as a repetition of a commercially victoriousmodel. However, beginning with a big success, artists tend to get some degree of autonomyfrom the record companies, and it is not uncommon to risk minor cosmetic changes in theirwork. The insistence with which Luiz Carlos and his companions recorded songs based on thissame model must be understood, then, not only as a business strategy, but as an aestheticpreference of the band. This recurrence eventually solidified the model that ended up turninginto a formula of romantic samba, ready to be adopted by other artists that aligned themselveswith these aesthetic and/or commercial objectives.

The sound of a band is not restricted to the timbre of the instruments though, but also hasto do with the way of playing them. The guitar and keyboard are sufficiently versatile instrumentsto be adopted in instrumental formations in practically all musical styles on the planet. Thesecond aspect that runs through the use of keyboard, guitar, and saxophone in the music ofRaça Negra is the rhythmic pattern it uses.

Each genre has a basic rhythmic pattern that characterizes its practice and defines its symbolicenvironment, its range of references, its imagery, its forms of musical experience, and—as acommercial consequence—its potential audience. One can recognize the rhythmic patterns inmuch of the musical repertoire that runs through society, made available (or not) by the massmedia.

Samba becomes clearly identifiable as a musical genre not exactly through a rhythmic pattern,but through a polyrhythmic pattern, characterized by a simultaneity of rhythms in which thecontinuity of the pandeiro and the beats of the surdo complement what ethnomusicologistCarlos Sandroni (2001) called the Estácio paradigm.

50 • Felipe Trotta

Samba and the Music Market in Brazil in the 1990s • 51

Over the decades, this reference model, responsible for establishing an immediate associationwith the imagery of samba among listeners, has been in constant dialogue with other patternsand other forms of musical thought conveyed through the music market, especially in urbancontexts. As a consolidated rhythmic reference, the polyrhythmic pattern of samba allowedalterations and fusions in its basic features, such as rendered by Jorge Benjor in 1963 in sometracks from his LP suggestively titled Samba Esquema Novo (New Scheme Samba). Conceivedas a variety of the rhythmic pattern of samba, the levada of Benjor’s guitar would serve 30 yearslater as a source of inspiration for the guitar of Luiz Carlos, setting up a new samba rhythm,which we can call “the Benjor pattern.” The assumed influence of Jorge Benjor in the musicalthinking of Raça Negra is manifested in the adoption of the pattern used by him in severalsongs, which established a connection between Benjor’s idea of “modern samba” and Luiz Carlos.

The Benjor Pattern

Compared with the basic rhythm of the Estácio paradigm, the Benjor pattern represents theelimination of the anticipation of the downbeat taking place every two bars (see Musical Example3.2). With this, the second bar provides an upbeat rhythmic formula and the general patternbecomes more cometric than that of the samba model, or the “old scheme.” Sandroni says thatthe Estácio paradigm was the result of a negotiation between cultural practices of marginalizedsectors of the population and “official” society, a way to include discourses and practices thatwere repressed in Brazilian identity (Sandroni 2001: 222). Similarly, the elimination of theanticipation of this paradigm and the reduction of the number of non-metered strong beatsrepresents the adoption of an aesthetic closer to the clarity of international urban music. Witha lower rate of rhythmic displacement, cultural references more specifically linked to the nationalexperience are minimized, mingling with the affirmative rhythmic codes of Anglophone pop.It is, therefore, an option for a song with greater regularity, committed to permanence, withsteadiness and a certain global intelligibility.

On the other hand, the association of this pattern with the universe of samba is maintainedby the strengthening of samba elements in its polyrhythmic constitution. Thus, the continuity ofthe pandeiro and the onset of the surdo in the second beat of each bar ensure the recognitionof the genre and intensify the rhythmic expectations of it.

By adopting a polyrhythmic pattern that refers to the conventional samba pattern, changingits standard framework, romantic pagode points to a clear goal of winning over the public,

Musical Example 3.1 Samba polyrhythmic pattern

Estacioparadigm

pandeiroorganza

surdo

52 • Felipe Trotta

establishing a dialogue with international music, gaining commercial legitimacy and occupyinga prominent position in the Brazilian music market. It thus builds a future-oriented music, inwhich the past is a residual, unimportant memory.

However, it should be emphasized that the use of the Benjor pattern by pagode groups isneither uniform nor exclusive. All the groups have adopted it to some extent, but they have notabandoned the traditional Estácio paradigm. In a way, it is as if the cosmopolitan polyrhythmbased on the Benjor pattern had coexisted with the community environment of the rodas,diluting boundaries between the two practices. On the Raça Negra debut album, the Benjorpattern was used on two songs: “Somente você” (Only You) and “Chega” (That’s Enough). Onthe next record, Raça Negra 2, only three of the ten songs are not based on that groove. All ofthe seven other songs are accompanied by the guitar of Luiz Carlos performing the rhythmpattern coined by Jorge Benjor. Among them, we can highlight “Desculpe mas eu vou chorar”(Sorry, but I’ll Cry) (César Augusto/Gabriel) and “É o amor” (It is Love) (Zezé Di Camargo),música sertaneja hits reprocessed using the new polyrhythmic pattern of samba, a strategy thatstresses romantic pagode’s belonging to transnational pop and the new aesthetic of samba.

Samba Everywhere

From the beginning of the twenty-first century, traditional samba was the agent of a completerestructuring of Rio de Janeiro’s Lapa district, a now revitalized area and nocturnal entertainmenthub in the city (Herschmann 2007). The local success of samba in Lapa can be understood aspart of a broader process of commercial redefinition of the genre in the country, which, in largemeasure, began in 1991 with Raça Negra.

The romantic pagode bands of that decade reprocessed aesthetic elements of the sambarepertoire—lyrics, sonority, and the rhythm itself—and developed a new relationship with thedemands of the market. Thus, they dissolved the paradox of the relationship between sambaand market, establishing a process of continuity and partnership between the two spheres. Thesymbolic and amateur frame of reference of the rodas no longer represents the preferredbehavioral, sound, and thematic model of samba, and shares space with other musical experiencessuch as stages and studios. Thus, samba begins to occupy commercial spaces formerly closedto the genre, such as prestigious nightclubs, lists of best-selling albums, songs most played oncommercial radio, variety shows, and even very popular telenovela soundtracks.

Musical Example 3.2 Romantic pagode polyrhythmic pattern

Benjorpattern

pandeiroor ganzd

surdo

But that did not happen without conflict. Traditional sambistas, journalists, critics, andmusicians harshly criticized the romantic pagode bands for producing a “low quality” music.The use of keyboards, romanticism, and an admitted lack of reverence for the established models,names, and songs of the traditional samba repertoire are mentioned as elements that depreciatethe work of Raça Negra and all the other bands of the period. The clash between authenticityand merchandise, already present in the 1930s, is revived in speeches condemning the associationbetween samba and the market, carried out by the romantic pagode groups.

However, it was the commercial opening conquered by romantic pagode that allowed themajor labels to invest in artists from the traditional world of samba. The most successfulexample of this investment was the Rio de Janeiro singer Zeca Pagodinho (1959–), who, in1995, launched his album Samba pras moças (Samba for the Girls) (the seventh of his career),which achieved significant sales (about 1 million copies), and has settled him on top of the

Samba and the Music Market in Brazil in the 1990s • 53

Figure 3.1 Só Pra Contrariar: O samba não tem fronteiras (Samba Has No Boundaries) album sleeve, BMG, 1995

SPCSóPRA CONTRARIAR

O SAMBA NAO TEM FRONTEIRAS

charts ever since. The success of Zeca Pagodinho, side by side with Só Pra Contrariar (whichsold 3.3 million records in 1997) and Raça Negra (1.2 million in 1997) attests to the strengthof samba as a genre that synthesizes a broad process of national identification, no longer confinedto formalizations of the traditionality of Rio de Janeiro, but a national music consumed invarious styles. From the end of the 1990s, a viable commercial space opened for samba, capableof holding not only the most cosmopolitan and romantic style, but also its most traditionalmanifestations. As samba has expanded its commercialization, tensions between the styles havebecome less and less important, building a kind of commercial symbiosis between samba andpagode. While Lapa asserts itself as the bastion of a type of traditionality in samba, openingspaces for new artists such as Teresa Cristina and Roberta Sá, pagode continues to project itselfamong the sales champions with groups such as Sorriso Maroto and Revelação, the direct heirsof Raça Negra, which is still active.

The diversity of styles and the aesthetic and commercial expansion confirmed the cleverwording of the title track of the group Só Pra Contrariar’s third album in 1995: O samba nãotem fronteiras (Samba Has No Boundaries). In this process, samba moved from Rio de Janeiroto the outskirts of São Paulo and Minas Gerais, adopted the keyboard and minimized the useof cavaquinho, tried out new rhythmic combinations inspired by the pop groove of Jorge Benjor,and sang of love with optimism and happiness. At the same time, it did not leave the rodas orthe informality of their amateur nature, but learned to live with the music market and occupyall its levels of commercial circulation, leaving behind the paradoxical relationship that fed fromthe opposition between samba and market. Redefining its boundaries and limits, samba is presenttoday in all segments of the Brazilian market, with great stylistic diversity and excellent commercialpresence, confirming its vocation as the referential music of the nation.

BibliographyBlacking, John. 1995. Music, Culture and Experience. Chicago, IL: Chicago University Press.Cavalcanti, Maria Laura V. C. 1994. Carnaval Carioca: dos bastidores ao desfile. Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE, UFRJ.Fabbri, Franco. 1982. “A Theory of Music Genres: Two Applications.” In Popular Music Perspectives, 52–81. Accessed

July 14, 2009. www.tagg.org.Frith, Simon. 1998. Performing Rites: On the Value of Popular Music. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.Guimarães, Francisco (Vagalume). 1978 [1933]. Na roda do samba. Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE.Herschamnn, Micael. 2007. Lapa, cidade da música. Rio de Janeiro: MauadX.Hobsbawm, Eric. 1997. “A invenção das tradições.” In A invenção das tradições, edited by Eric Hobsbawm and Terence

Ranger, 9–23. Rio de Janeiro: Paz e Terra.Janotti Jr., Jedder. 2003. Aumenta que isso aí é rock and roll: mídia, gênero musical e identidade. Rio de Janeiro: E-

papers.Matos, Claudia. 1982. Acertei no milhar. Rio de Janeiro: Paz e Terra.Morin, Edgar. 1975. Cultura de massas no século XX: o espírito do tempo. Trad. Maura Ribeiro Sardinha. 3rd ed. Rio

de Janeiro: Forense-Universitária.Ortiz, Renato. 2001. A moderna tradição brasileira. São Paulo: Brasiliense.Paranhos, Adalberto. 2011. “Dissonant Voices Under a Regime of Order-Unity: Popular Music and Work in the Estado

Novo.” In Brazilian Popular Music and Citizenship, edited by Christopher Dunn and Idelber Avelar, 28–43.Durham, NC, and London: Duke University Press.

Pereira, Carlos Alberto M. 2003. Cacique de Ramos: uma história que deu samba. Rio de Janeiro: E-papers.Sandroni, Carlos. 2001. Feitiço decente: transformações no samba no Rio de Janeiro 1917–1933. Rio de Janeiro: Ed.

UFRJ/Zahar.Straw, Will. 1991. “Systems of Articulation, Logics of Change.” Cultural Studies, vol. 5, no. 1, 368–388.Tatit, Luiz. 2004. O século da canção. Cotia, SP: Ateliê Editorial.Vianna, Hermano. 1999. The Mystery of Samba: Popular Music and National Identity in Brazil. Chapel Hill, NC:

University of North Carolina Press.

54 • Felipe Trotta

PART IIHistory, Memory, and

Representations

Brazil is seen as a “musical” country. This is not only because of its variety of musical genres,but also due to the legitimacy of samba and bossa nova, its most recognizable exports. However,one could add that music—and, more specifically, popular music—is ubiquitously present, andin that sense, Brazil is, indeed, very musical. In a country with a history of deep social inequalities,including the legacy of black slavery and high illiteracy rates, popular music has a fundamentalsymbolic function, including that of promoting social debate, and also the maintenance of thememory of subaltern groups.

In the previous section, the memories of samba and choro were the object of attention. Here,other theoretical aspects are updated, related in some form with memory, transmission, identity,and representation, in short history, but defined through its analytical methodology. Theseperspectives are, on the one hand, the path of “aural history”—the study of the history of musicthrough the comparative analysis of recordings—and, on the other, “oral history,” constructedfrom the study of the memories and identity of marginal groups.

The comparison of recordings has always been essential to the study of popular music, evenbefore there began to appear a “field” of knowledge with this name. In Brazil, the publicationin 1982 of Discografia Brasileira em 78rpm (1902–1964) (Brazilian 78rpm Discography[1902–1964]) is a milestone for the history of popular music. The DB was compiled by fourcollectors/researchers: Alcino de Oliveira Santos (?–1996), Grácio Barbalho (1917–2003), JairoSeveriano (1927–), and Miguel Ângelo de Azevedo (aka Nirez) (1934–). Severiano has a solidbibliographic output, culminated by the 2008 publication of the book with the content of hiscourse “MPB in Four Tempos,” which he had taught for years. And Azevedo offers his collectionof 22,000 records at 78 rpm for consultation in the Nirez archives (http://arquivonirez.com.br/).

Histories of popular music in Brazil were written, mainly by journalists or amateurinvestigators, from the examination of the DB, identifying its interpreters, authors, groups, andmusical genres. Some of them become indispensable as a gateway to academic research, giventhe variety of types of sources used (besides the discography, printed music sheets, and principallythe newspapers of the time). The possibility of access to these sources these days, thanks to theonline availability of collections of the researchers themselves—as is the case of the recordcollection of José Ramos Tinhorão digitized by Instituto Moreira Salles (IMS)—or the collectionsof historical journals—available in the National Library of Rio de Janeiro (Biblioteca Nacionaldo Rio de Janeiro, or BN)—allows a process of critical examination of popular musichistoriographic sources.

For instance, in the record collection provided by IMS, waltzes are present since the earliestmechanical recordings. When performed by bands, they have a faster tempo (for example, the

version of “Viúva alegre” [Merry Widow] by Franz Lehar, recorded between 1907 and 1912 bythe Banda do Corpo de Bombeiros [Rio de Janeiro Fire Department Band]). When the waltzesare actually songs, they are interpreted with a moderato to slow tempo (for example, “Rosas eCerejas” [Roses and Cherries] with Pepa Delgado, recorded between 1908 and 1912, and “Quandomorre o amor” [When Love Dies] with Mario Pinheiro, recorded in 1909). Ultimately, musicaltempo seems to be a key element in the characterization of the waltz, whether as a fast andwhirling ballroom dance or as a romantic serenade song. However, what was perpetuated inthe collective memory was the representation of the “Brazilian Waltz” as a piece with a slow tomoderato tempo, related to the repertoire of romantic serenades (even when instrumental).This is to emphasize that the authors of different areas of knowledge comment on the constructednature of collective memory, and thus of history. Why are some genres recognized as “national”while others, which were just as popular or even more performed, are less emphasized?Additionally, what is this “history” that we are talking about? A history of music written bymusicologists, interested in musical styles and forms? A history of music written by professionalhistorians, interested in the connections of popular music from the point of view of politicalhistory or social history? Below, we briefly identify some of the historical angles adopted in thissection.

In “Historical Recordings of Wind Bands (1902–1927),” David de Souza Pereira invites thereader to go back in time and plunge into the repertoire of brass bands, recorded in Rio deJaneiro in the early twentieth century. These pioneering recordings were made by Casa Edison,founded in 1902, one of the first established record labels in the world. Pereira handles thedocumentation and history of the music through the musicology of the performance, usingattentive listening and the help of a metronome as tools.

The representation of the trajectory of the Oito Batutas, seen as the first Brazilian popularmusicians to achieve success outside of the country, is addressed by Mara Luiza Braga Martinsthrough a critical analysis of the literature on the group, starting with the writings of Mário deAndrade in the 1930s. The author touches on controversial issues related to the authenticity of,and the possible influence of jazz on, the sound of the Batutas, along with the role assigned tothe musicians in the crystallization of the choro genre. Closing the second part, the history offado in Rio de Janeiro is discussed by Alberto Boscarino in “Fado in Rio de Janeiro: The Memoryof Portuguese Immigrants in Brazil.” The author argues that most Portuguese immigrants inBrazil were of rural origin and had no contact with fado before arriving at their South Americadestination. However, in Rio de Janeiro, especially through radio programs, fado became thepoint of reference for Portuguese nationality for those immigrants, especially in the period of1950–1970.

These last two chapters deal with the framing of memories, many of them conflicting, fromthe perspective of oral history, an area developed to deal with contemporary memory. In thisnew field, the emphasis is on an interdisciplinary perspective, with a strong anthropologicaltendency, an attitude inherent to not only contemporary historical research, but also the largearea of the humanities. Interviews, journals, memoirs, letters—with queries today greatlyfacilitated by the digitization of collections—are examined and interpreted in the light of severalstudies, mainly about memory. The Austrian sociologist based in France, Michael Pollak(1948–1992) is the reference to history, memory, and “forgetting” used by Martins and Boscarino.

Pollak spent some time in Brazil in 1987, and had two texts published by the prestigiousjournal Estudos Históricos (Historical Studies) edited by CPDOC, the reference Center forResearch and Documentation for Contemporary Brazilian History of the Fundação Getúlio

56 • History, Memory, and Representations

Vargas. The few pages of these two texts (Pollak 1989, 1992) have been the basis for variousstudies in the area of contemporary art criticism and history. In a synthetic form, Pollaksummarizes the characterization of memory as being selective, partially inherited, and with astrong connection to the sense of identity, suffering fluctuations on the basis of the momentthat is being articulated (Pollak 1992: 202–204).

Beyond these considerations about memory, it is at least useful to mention a concept thatis not necessarily mentioned by the authors of the Made in Brazil collection, but that has beenimplicitly or explicitly used in the construction of the theoretical frame of reference of doctoratesdealing with historical aspects of popular music (leaving aside trends related to sociology andliterature). We refer to the concept of “imagined community” developed in the field of politicalscience by Benedict Anderson (2008). In the process of imagining the nation, the focus ofAnderson’s text, some things are chosen to represent it while others are forgotten (ibid.: 31–32).

Among these omissions and inclusions in the historical memory construction of this imaginedcommunity is the racial element in the representations of musical identity, a theme touched byMartins in her chapter on the reception of the Oito Batutas. However, as mentioned in theintroduction to this collection, the issue of race is not an easy subject. The authors responsiblefor framing the memory related to race in the history of music in Brazil, being entangled intheir own time’s ideology, have focused mostly on the construction of the idea of nation as theconfrontation of the “Brazilian” with the “Foreign,” leaving aside the controversial issue ofhaving a group with half of its members of African descent “representing” the country in Paris.This sense of uniformity only recently has been challenged, thanks in large part to thedemocratization of access to files made possible by the digitization of documentary and audiocollections (music, radio interviews, and programs), as well as the increase in academic researchin the field. The following texts are part of this fruitful phase that has begun.

BibliographyAnderson, Benedict. 2008. Comunidades imaginadas: reflexões sobre a origem e a difusão do nacionalismo. Translation

by Denise Bottman. São Paulo: Companhia das Letras.Pollak, Michael. 1989. “Memória, esquecimento, silêncio.” Estudos Históricos, vol. 2, no. 3, 3–15.Pollak, Michael. 1992. “Memória e identidade social.” Revista Estudos Históricos, vol. 5, no. 10, 200–215.Santos, Alcino, Grácio Barbalho, Jairo Severiano, and Miguel Ângelo de Azevedo (Nirez). 1982. Discografia brasileira

em 78rpm (1902–1964). Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE. 5 v.

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4Historical Recordings of Wind

Bands (1902–1927)Waltzes, Polkas, and Dobrados in Brazil

David Pereira de Souza

Research into the recordings of popular music by bandas de música (wind bands) in the earlytwentieth century is a new theme for Brazilian musicology. Its choice was motivated primarilyby my experience as a professional musician, a member of the Rio de Janeiro Fire DepartmentBand for the last 20 years, and also by my work as a researcher. In my master’s thesis, I highlightedthe importance of the critical edition as a useful tool for the preservation and dissemination ofworks composed by the conductor Anacleto de Medeiros (1866–1907), a central figure in thehistory of wind bands in Brazil (Souza 2003), whereas in my Ph.D. I addressed historical,technical, and aesthetic questions about the early Brazilian wind band recordings, with anemphasis on an interpretive aspect central to the organization of musical meaning: the tempo(Souza 2009).

Wind bands were a major vehicle of expression of popular music during the acoustic phaseof recording in Brazil (1902–1927). First, because the metallic and powerful timbre of theseinstrumental ensembles made up for deficiencies in the technical apparatus for recording. Inthe second place, the repertoire made of mostly popular dances, besides military marches andpatriotic songs, which appealed to the general public, were also perfectly suited to the temporaldimensions of 78 rpm (revolutions per minute) records, which allowed for recordings of onlythree to four minutes. And, finally, military bands were quite numerous throughout the country.Army and military police regiments in Rio de Janeiro and major capitals, such as Salvador (inthe northeast) and Porto Alegre (in the south), kept wind bands.

Today, acoustic recordings of wind bands represent an indispensable tool for musicologicalresearch. As the score is now less seen as an autonomous “text,” the recording is taking on acentral position in critical approaches. In this sense, the study of recordings has received a newimpulse in Brazil. Recently, new works of research into the phonographic universe by researcherswith different areas of expertise have contributed effectively to add new values and revise oldconcepts. Indeed, innovative and different perspectives have emerged, whether through history,making a thorough survey of the production of vocal music (Severiano 1997) and instrumentalmusic (Santos 1982), or through sociology, carefully analyzing the technological means ofrecording and its production strategies (Vincent 1996), as well as the administrative organizationof the Brazilian music industry, its production criteria, and its mergers in specific historicalcontexts, such as the decades of the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s (Dias 2000), as well as seminalworks in the area of music itself (Franceschi 2002; Vasconcelos 1977).

Until recently, the scarcity of sources was the main challenge. The first phonograms weregenerally restricted to collectors’ private archives. Fortunately, there was a significant changein respect to this with the restoration project of the first recordings made in Brazil, whichrepresented an initiative for revitalizing the study of Brazilian music. In 2002, the PetrobrasReference Center of Brazilian Music was inaugurated, located at the Instituto Moreira Salles(Rio de Janeiro), which currently houses the record collections of two researchers: HumbertoFranceschi and José Ramos Tinhorão. By means of a modern work of digitalization, the projectmanaged to store and make available to the public (http://acervo.ims.uol.com.br/) about 100,000sound recordings, among them 950 with bands in the acoustic phase.

Another extremely important initiative was the organization of the Brazilian 78rpmDiscography (1902–1964), the only one that brings together an exhaustive amount of data forphonographic research (Santos et al. 1982). Its first volume catalogs about 7,000 titles recordedbetween 1902 and 1927, with more than 3,000 being of instrumental music, with some 1,800entries with wind bands. Among the phonograms recorded by bands, mostly for Casa Edisonof Rio de Janeiro, waltz was the preferred genre, with 404 titles, followed by polka, with 349entries, and then dobrado, with 291 recordings (Souza 2009).

Thus, the historical recordings assume a central position for the study of popular music. Infact, their playing is essential for the work to exist objectively, since the musical experience onlyoccurs when the work is interpreted. In this sense, the recording becomes an integral part ofthe process of creation, as the musicians, technological means, music producers, and audiotechnicians and engineers can directly interfere with the musical result, revealing, many times,a recreation of what the composer wrote. It is evident that the freedom given to the interpretiveact is greater or lesser depending on the musical genre and its performance context. In the caseof the repertoire for a wind band, the phonographic record assumes an even greater importancefor research, mainly because the historical sheet music (manuscripts and old editions) of thewind bands did not provide much information for their interpretation. In some cases, composerssimply did not note any type of indication. This occurs, for example, with the expressions oftempo.

After 100 years of aural transmission of music, recordings represent historical evidence thatcan provide critical information to make up for this type of musical gap: the question of tempo.But before discussing tempo, the main focus of this study, this chapter highlights the popularrepertoire recorded by wind bands, points to the emergence of the recording industry in Brazil,comments on aural research, and finally describes the methodology used, and discusses tempoof the genres most recorded by wind bands in Brazil.

The Historical Repertory of Wind Bands: Waltzes, Polkas, and Dobrados in Brazil

A repository of artistic and cultural traditions, the wind band can be considered as a Brazilianhistorical heritage. Their repertoire was always marked by an eclecticism of musical styles andmaterials, forging, gradually, a “sonorous workshop” of ideas and different sounds. Formed bywind instruments and percussion, wind bands stood out in the music industry landscape of theearly twentieth century, especially military bands such as the Army Regiment Band, the MarineBand, organized in 1808, after the move of the Portuguese Court to Brazil, and the Rio deJaneiro Fire Department Band (Rio was then the capital of the Republic), organized in 1896 byconductor Anacleto de Medeiros.

60 • David Pereira de Souza

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In order to provide music for public entertainment, the wind band recorded a repertoire ofpredominantly popular dance music, mainly waltzes and polkas, and the dobrado, a directdescendant of the quick march (from the French pas redoublé), which arrived in Brazil as thepasso-dobrado (double step). Waltzes and polkas, with their choreography of couples dancingtogether, represented a radical change in the way of dancing in the entire Western world,becoming a popular attraction also in nineteenth-century Brazil. On the other hand, since thedobrados were used to commemorate important events or personalities, some of them acquiredpopularity, and over time that popularity became independent of their commemorative orpolitical initial intent.

Although it was a characteristically martial musical genre, the dobrado was marked by adiversity of musical styles and materials in its internal structure. Generally, its title and musicalstyle were tied to the occasion for which it was composed. A good example is the dobrado“Pavilhão Brasileiro” (Brazilian Pavilion), composed by the conductor Anacleto de Medeiros inhonor of General Francisco Marcelino de Souza Aguiar, Commander of the Rio de Janeiro FireDepartment and winner of the Architecture Prize of the St. Louis World’s Fair (United States)in 1904 with the Project “Pavilhão do Brasil” (Brazil’s Pavilion Project). To celebrate this historicoccasion, Anacleto de Medeiros makes use of rhythms and musical materials that recreate thefeeling of a typical American march. In its form, the dobrado “Brazilian Pavilion” reveals thecomposed duple meter (6/8) and short phrases in the form of dialogue between melody andaccompaniment, characteristic of the style of the American marches by conductor John PhilipSousa (1854–1932), one of the most representative composers of the genre (Bierley 2009). Onpage 61 (Musical Example 4.1), we transcribe the first phrase of the dobrado “Brazilian Pavilion”by conductor Anacleto de Medeiros. The piano reduction, instead of sheet music for a band,aims to reduce the space of musical examples in the body of the text.

Similarly, the European dances introduced in Brazil also went through a process ofappropriation. As instrumental music, the waltz was gradually permeated by the melodic fluencyand expressiveness of the Brazilian modinha. As an example (Musical Example 4.2), we selectedthe first line of the waltz “Terna Saudade,” also written by Anacleto de Medeiros.

The polka in its turn assimilated the bouncy rhythm of the maxixe, a popular dance thatrehearsed its first steps in the mixed neighborhood of Cidade Nova, in Rio de Janeiro. In theearly twentieth century, this licentious dance began to spread to other parts of Brazil, and evento Europe via Paris. In its choreography with united pairs, the binary meter of polka (2/4) waspresent, as well as a syncopated rhythm inherited from lundu, a dance of Afro-Brazilian origin.In some sections of the polka (“amaxixada,” with a maxixe influence), the main melody wasentrusted to the bass instruments: trombones, tubas, and euphoniums (the “low tones”), whilethe high-pitched instruments, such as flutes and clarinets, played the design of the accom -paniment. The first phrase of the polka “Cabeça de Porco” (Pig’s Head), composed by theconductor Anacleto de Medeiros, identifies this artifice (Musical Example 4.3).

The Beginnings of Recordings in Brazil: Casa Edison

At the dawn of the twentieth century, the emerging record industry in Brazil favored the windband as an ideal instrument for the first recordings, mainly due to its tone, suitable for thelimited sonorous frequency of the rudimentary means of recording and its eminently popularrepertoire. A Czech Jew and naturalized American who later settled in Brazil, Frederico Figner(1866–1947) was one of the pioneers in the local phonographic market. In 1900, he registered

64 • David Pereira de Souza

his firm in the Commercial Registry under No. 48838, with the name of “Casa Edison,” at oneof the most strategic commercial points of Rio de Janeiro, Ouvidor Street, 107. Shortly there-after, he built a “studio” in the back room, where the first recordings on record would takeplace in Brazil.

The pioneering recordings were the result of commercial negotiations between Figner andbusinessman Frederick M. Prescott, the general director of the International ZonophoneCompany, founded in early 1901 in Germany, with its headquarters in Berlin. In a letter dated September 12, 1901, Prescott proposes to Fred Figner (seller of gramophones and records of both the English Gramophone and Zonophone itself) to create a branch of his firmin Brazil, with exclusive representation. With the offer’s acceptance, Prescott sent a technicianto Brazil in late December 1901, carrying 175 wax masters ready to record seven-inch records,and 75 for ten-inch records. Beginning at that moment, the process of recording andmanufacturing of the first albums with Brazilian music happened as follows:

The songs recorded in Rio de Janeiro, on records made of carnauba wax, were sent to thefactory of Joseph Berliner in Hanover, Germany, and transformed into copper matrices. Thesematrices, still in Hanover, pressed the records to be shipped to Brazil, and offered for sale.All Brazilian records of this time were industrially processed in the factory of Joseph Berliner.

(Franceschi 1984: 63)

But not all the wax masters reached the level of quality required for pressing. Of the 175, 174,corresponding to series 1500 and 1600, were released, and of the 75 ten inches, only 51, corres -ponding to the X–1000 series, were released (Franceschi 2002). This probably contributed tothe arrival of another recording engineer in May 1902, Mr. Pancoast. This second stage,corresponded to the recordings of the Zonophone 10.000 series, with 187 seven-inch wax mastersrecorded, and X–500, with 321 of ten inches. Thus, these first series launched in the Brazilianmarket reached a total of 733 recordings.

In October 1902, the Zonophone factory became part of International Talking Machine-Odeon. As a consequence of this, its records began to be manufactured in another measurement,whose diameters were changed from 17.5 cm (7 inches) to 19 cm (7.5 inches), and from 25 cm(10 inches) to 27 cm (10.5 inches.) Consequently, the recording time increased and the soundwas stronger and clearer in the outside part, with its augmented diameter. However, thisimprovement in the quality of the discs was only perceived starting with the 40.000 series,launched in 1904. As the Odeon label passed through the entire acoustic phase of the recordingsof discs in Brazil, we organized a table with their serial numbers, release dates and diameters(Table 4.1).

A remarkable fact in the history of recordings of popular music in Brazil was the installationof the Odeon record factory—the first in South America—on 28 de Setembro Street No. 50, inRio de Janeiro. In fact, this project was motivated by the partial shutdown of factories in Germany,just before and during World War I, which drove increased investment in the South Americanmarket. Emil Rink, director of International Talking Machine-Odeon, proposed to Fred Fignerthe realization of this bold and innovative project. Upon acceptance, a contract between Fignerand Odeon was signed on April 6, 1912. The process of the building construction and installationof machinery must have happened at a rapid pace, as on December 21, 1912, Figner was alreadyreceiving proof of the first album entirely produced in Brazil, which belonged to the 120.000series of Odeon (Santos et al. 1982).

Historical Recordings of Wind Bands • 65

From a corporate standpoint, the installation of this plant represented a very importantcommercial strategy since its functioning ranged from the recording and production of therecords to the process of quality control and marketing research, as well as the publishing ofbrochures, catalogs, and other forms of advertising. In contrast, Casa Edison had to bear theburden and expenses of copyright, and also the costs of newspaper advertisements.

The local music market place grew dramatically with the introduction of the Odeon factory.At this point, Figner had already expanded his business to other establishments, such as CasaHartlieb, of Theodore Hartlieb, based in Porto Alegre. By 1908, Figner had produced albumsfor that label, along with the 108.000 series of Casa Edison. And in 1913, with the installationof the Odeon record factory in Rio de Janeiro, the commercial relationship with Hartlieb wasenhanced with a visit to Porto Alegre of a recording engineer, Oscar Preuss. His work lasted40 days, from June 11 to July 21. These recordings were made in a back room of Casa Hartlieb,and their phonographic numbering follows the sequence from 120.691 to 120.792 (Vedana2006). In total, 102 matrices (masters) were recorded, 29 with the Band of the Tenth ArmyInfantry Regiment, including the waltz “Leocadia” (Odeon 120.701), by Edward F. Martins, andthe polka “Bella Portoalegrense” (Odeon 120.705), by Otavio Dutra (Santos 1982: 157). In thecity of Porto Alegre, Fred Figner also maintained business contacts with another phonographicestablishment: Casa A Elétrica, owned by Saverio Leonetti & Co. Beginning on July 18, 1913,Saverio Leonetti began recording albums with local musicians and groups. Following in thefootsteps of Hartlieb, these recordings were sent to the Odeon factory in Rio de Janeiro to bepressed and sent back to Porto Alegre. The records were offered for sale under the label Gaucho,registered with the Commercial Registry of Porto Alegre under the number 2.230, on July 2,1913 (Vedana 2006).

In addition to expanding his contacts with other companies, Figner succeeded in openingbranches of Casa Edison at several points in Brazil, as in Pará, located in the northern region(Santo Antonio Street No. 26, Belém), in Bahia, in the northeastern region (Conselheiro DantasStreet No. 46, Salvador), and São Paulo, in the southeastern region (São Bento Street No. 26,São Paulo), where his brother Gustavo Figner managed the business (Franceschi 2002). Ingeneral, the Brazilian record production strategy followed the trend of the international market,with recordings of popular songs, on the one hand, and of wind bands, on the other. For this,Figner invited popular singers, such as Eduardo das Neves (1874–1919) and Baiano (1887–1944),to record lundus and modinhas, and organized the first “orchestra” of a studio in Brazil: the

66 • David Pereira de Souza

Table 4.1 Casa Edison: Odeon Double Records

Label Series No. Dates Diameters

Odeon 40.000 1904–1907 27 cmOdeon 10.000 1907–1913 19 cmOdeon 108.000 1907–1912 27 cmOdeon 120.000 1912–1915 27 cmOdeon 121.000 1915–1921 27 cmOdeon 122.000 1921–1926 27 cmOdeon 123.000 Dec 1925–Jul 1927 27 cm

Source: Santos et al. (1982)

Banda da Casa Edison, whose first records began to circulate under the Zonophone label, suchas the maxixe “Fadanguassú” (Zonophone X–597), and later, under the Odeon label, withexamples including the waltz “Clelia” (Odeon 40.464) of Luiz de Souza (1865–1920), as well asthe polka “Três Estrelas” (Odeon 40.437) and the famous schottisch “Iara” (Odeon 108.111),both by conductor Anacleto de Medeiros.

Among the military bands, the Rio de Janeiro Fire Department Band was the one that stoodout in the context of the phonographic era, as shown in the following announcement:

The largest variety ever arrived at Casa Edison, Ouvidor Street, 107. The plates (records) forGramophones and Zonophones with national modinhas sung by the hugely popular Baianoand the valued Cadete, with guitar accompaniment, and the best “polkas,” “schottische,”“maxixes,” performed by the Rio Fire Department Band, under the baton of conductorAnacleto de Medeiros.

(Correio da Manhã, August 5, 1902)

Its recordings reveal an interpretive lightness surprising for a military band, especially withsuch a technically rudimentary recording system, whose capturing of sound was done primarilyby “horns” located at strategic points in the recording room. These cones (or “horns”) capturedthe sound of the instruments (or the human voice) and it was transmitted to the recording discgenerally located in an adjoining room, where the technician was. Moreover, the physical spaceof the “studio” was much reduced, which imposed the need to limit the number of musicians.This task of reducing the musical group was not simple, since the group would have to achievea satisfactory technical performance in the recording without harming the original idea of thearrangement. According to Humberto Franceschi, the recording room of Casa Edison “was anextension in the back of the Ouvidor Street 107, just over five meters wide and less than twicethat in length, [that] did not allow more than eight to 12 persons” (Franceschi 2002: 118).Therefore, the Rio de Janeiro Fire Department Band must have recorded with only one-thirdof its effective number, since it was composed of approximately 44 musicians in the earlytwentieth century (see Figure 4.1). However, it should be mentioned that this military band wasone of the instrumental ensembles that most recorded in the acoustic phase, with 335 titlesdistributed among different labels: Odeon, Victor Record, Favorite Record and others (Santos1982; Souza 2009). The recordings of the polkas “Cabeça de Porco” (Pig’s Head) (Odeon 40.621)and “Lídia” (Odeon 40.557), both by Anacleto de Medeiros, and other successes of the timesuch as the tango “Brejeiro” (Odeon 40.572), by the composer and pianist Ernesto Nazareth(1863–1934), and the polka “Fantasia ao Luar” (Moonlight Fantasy) (Odeon 40.556), by conductorAlbertino Pimentel (1874–1929), are examples of the sonorous balance between the sectionsand the rhythmic lightness in the interpretations made by this military band. With greatappropriateness, researcher Robert Philip commented that the acoustic recordings that hadsucceeded, with great effort, to achieve both technical and musical quality were the results ofa combination of things:

clever and sensitive use of the technology, care in the arrangement of players in relation to the recording horns, skill in reducing the forces to what could be accommodated . . . inuncomfortable conditions.

(Philip 2004: 29)

Historical Recordings of Wind Bands • 67

68 • David Pereira de Souza

Concepts for Aural Research

Gradually, the idea of music as the work (with the score being its finished text) is being replacedby the idea of music as an event (with the score being its draft). Musicologist Jose Bowen, inhis article aptly titled “Finding the Music in Musicology,” believes that “the score is a spatialrepresentation of only some of the elements of the temporal phenomena we call music” (Bowen2003: 425, emphasis added). Also according to Bowen, a score can be both an example and asummary of the musical event. That is, “a score can be a sample of only a single performanceof a musical work or a summary of several actual or potential performances of the same musicalwork” (ibid.). Nicolas Cook suggests, then, the use of the theater word “script” instead of “text”to designate the score. For him:

Whereas to think of a Mozart quartet as a “text” is to construe it as a half-sonic, half-idealobject reproduced in performance; to think of it as a “script” is to see it as choreographinga series of real-time, social interactions between players: a series of mutual acts of listeningand communal gestures that enact a particular vision of human society, the communicationof which to the audience is one of the special characteristics of chamber music.

(Cook 2003: 206)

In this sense, the construction of meaning depends not only on the composer but also onthe interaction between performers and listeners. Thus, the interpretive act sets up a social andhistorical process that is fundamental to the achievement of the musical work. However, DanielLeech-Wilkinson draws our attention to the problem of analysis of recorded music, because“the idea that a piece of music might be studied from a performance rather than from thenotation, or that anything interesting might be learned about music from the way it is performedis a new, and for some even a dangerous notion” (Leech-Wilkinson 2001: 1). Also, accordingto the English musicologist, a historical divergence exists between scholars and performers withregard to the approach given to musical practices, as:

Figure 4.1 Rio de Janeiro Fire Department Band (1906), with Anacleto de Medeiros in the center

Source: Archive of the Rio de Janeiro Fire Department Band

Scholars use their time, and the opportunity it gives for extended thought, to uncover, or atleast to argue for, aspects of musical structure that are not evident at first sight; performersuse their time to practice, and their insights into the music come from a process in whichinstinct interacts with physical ability and temperament, characteristics that scholars striveto erase from their work.

(Leech-Wilkinson 2001: 1)

Leech-Wilkinson therefore proposes an interpretive analysis based on spectrographic software,widely used by researchers studying bird songs, which provides a representation of the fullfrequency spectrum arranged on the axis amplitude/time. Thus, he considers that “it is possibleto examine changes in pitch—vibrato and portamento, for example—with great accuracy aswell as relative timing of pitches and tone colour” (ibid.: 7).

However, Peter Johnson argues that “much of what is shown by spectrographic analysis islittle more than a visual analogue of what we have already recognized and perceived throughlistening” (quoted in Clarke 2003: 181). In fact, the use of technical means has only confirmedwhat is analyzed empirically by a careful listening. Researcher Robert Philip, for example,confronted the recordings of violinists such as Joseph Joachim (1831–1907), made in the earlytwentieth century, with interpretive suggestions registered in nineteenth-century methods, suchas L’Art du Violon (1834) by Baillot (1771–1842). His aim was to point out which styles ofinterpretation of the early twentieth century could be identified as remnants of the nineteenthcentury. Thus, he concluded that “Nineteenth-century documents . . . suggest a strong link withthe habits of the early twentieth century” (Philip 1992: 227).

After a century of aural history, from the 78 rpm analog record to the modern formats ofthe digital age, the recording has come to effectively represent the central axis of criticalapproaches. To study the popular repertoire, the phonographic recording is essential, in thatthe written sources reveal few instructions for the playing. And in some cases, this informationis absent, as, for example, in the matter of tempo.

Listening and Analysis of Historical Records: Tempo

Music recording effectively contributed to a series of profound and definitive transformationstriggered by its invention and, later, by its use. In fact, the discovery of sound registry providedone of the most significant changes for musical practice in modern times: the dissociationbetween live performance and the musical experience. That is, the technical reproduction ofsound made it possible for the musical experience to occur without the performers (singers or instrumentalists) being physically present, representing a transformation both in the plan ofexecution and in the reception. Thus, the record engendered a new way for performers andlisteners to relate to music, by providing musical practice mediated by a technical device.

Therefore, aural research about tempo must necessarily consider some technical informationboth in the past, such as the record rotation speed of 78 rpm, and present, as with the processof transference from the original medium (analog) to the modern (digital). The action of timeand, sometimes, inadequate storage conditions contributed to a gradual deterioration of historicphonograms. Accordingly, researchers in music, audio experts and sound engineers utilizetransference in order to provide a practical and modern storage solution suitable for listeningand preservation. To this end, the sound transfer process involves procedures that should beapplied in relation to the original speed, the best equalization and, also, the removal of certain

Historical Recordings of Wind Bands • 69

audio imperfections in the original recording. That is, this transfer does not necessarily meana simple reproduction, but, effectively, an interpretive process (Leech-Wilkinson 2001).

With regard to the tempo of the music, Epstein observed that:

tempo is a consequence of the sum of all factors within a piece—the overall sense of a work’sthemes, rhythms, articulations, “breathing,” motion, harmonic progressions, tonal movement,contrapuntal activity. Yet tempo . . . is a reduction of this complex Gestalt into the elementof speed per se, a speed that allows the overall, integrated bundle of musical elements to flowwith a rightful sense.

(quoted in London 2009)

Thus, tempo is “literally, the ‘time’ of a musical composition, but more commonly used todescribe musical speed or pacing” (London 2009). It can be described in various ways, and that“[the] most familiar are metronomic designations that link a particular durational unit (usuallythe beat unit of the notated meter) with a particular duration in clock time (e.g. crotchet = 80beats/minute)” (Kernfeld 2009). To measure this pulse, the metronome was developed, which“was a metal box some 31 cm high, and . . . its calibrations were only from 50 to 160 [beats perminute]—[the scale subdivided] in twos from 50 to 60, in threes from 60 to 72, in fours from72 to 120, in sixes from 120 to 144 and in eights from 144 to 160” (Fallows 2009). From themid-twentieth century, the Maelzel metronome (mechanical) was gradually replaced by theelectronic (digital). This device is generally packed in a small box (battery-powered) with a lightat the top that indicates the pulsations. Synchronously, this luminous flash (on top of the device)goes off together with an audible click.

With specific relation to historical recordings, the methodology used for listening and analysis adhered to the following procedures. First, we chose the Instituto Moreira Salles in Riode Janeiro as the main audio collection, as it contains the largest number of acoustic recordings.As mentioned above, its digital archive has 950 phonograms produced by wind bands in the acoustic phase (http://acervo.ims.uol.com.br/). Then, we restricted the sample to therecordings made by the Rio de Janeiro Fire Department Band so that the search did not takeon unworkable proportions. Still, we limited the analysis of tempo to waltzes, polkas, anddobrados, as these genres were the most representative of that phonographic context. With this,we grouped 36 waltzes, 26 polkas, and 27 dobrados. In other words, 89 phonograms, whichcorrespond to approximately 10 percent of the total universe of available recordings of theacoustic phase in Brazil (1902–1927).

Finally, we used a digital metronome (Groovin’ GMT-200P) to verify the pulse (the unit ofduration) of a quarter note on each one of the recordings. Of course, there is always a marginof significant variation of the pulse in one recorded playing. In this sense, Justin London (2009)noted that:

Even within passages that seem to be in stable tempo, the beat rate is not mechanicallyconstant, save in performances that involve electronic or mechanical means of articulatingbeats and rhythms. Rather, in normal performances tempo systematically fluctuates withinthe bar and the phrase.

However, systematic listening to recordings of waltzes, polkas, and dobrados indicated a rangewithin which we can establish parameters for a historically informed interpretation of tempo.

70 • David Pereira de Souza

With respect to the waltzes, the pulse was between 180 and 230 bpm (beats per minute), whichclearly demonstrates a performance developed at a more rapid tempo. The polka was alreadyinterpreted at a more comfortable pace than the waltz, because its speed was measured from86 to 126 bpm. That is, its tempo usually ranged between moderate and fast. As for the dobrados,they were generally executed at a speed ranging from 112 to 130 bpm, as an inheritance comingfrom the quick march, whose pulse was fixed between 116 and 120 bpm (Lamb 2009). Thus,the tempo of the dobrado was established in one swift motion.

In short, this approach shows that instrumental popular music was played predominantlyin a fast tempo. The problem that arises is that in general, Brazilian musicology has made claimsabout instrumental music based on conclusions biased by popular song. Because of this, someresearch has indicated that the interpretative practice of band music in Brazil is marked by“mild sensuality and dolorousness, slowing down to adapt to the taste of the Brazilian mestizosong” (Granja 1984: 114–115). In a comparison between the march and the dobrado, themusicologist Régis Duprat considered that the tempo of the dobrado would be more:

comfortable, more languid; its tempo set at around 110 beats per minute. [And he asks:]Would we be able to explain it by their combination with the languor of the lundu, of thetanguinho, of the maxixe, and the widespread tropicalization that these genres gained inBrazil?

(Duprat 1979, emphasis added)

Also, according to this line of analysis, the melodies of foreign dances “were becomingdolorous in the meter, the lyrics and in the tempo” (Franceschi 1984: 87). Now, our researchwas able to advance a little in regard to the stylistic character of this early repertoire. The factis that due to lack of access to phonograms, Brazilian musical historiography did not contemplatethe attentive listening of the first recordings, perpetuating a discourse that was inappropriateto popular instrumental music. In the first decades of the twentieth century, we can say thatpopular music played by wind bands reproduced the interpretive habits remaining fromnineteenth-century European dances: the lightness of movements developed in predominantlyfast tempos.

BibliographyBierley, Paul E. 2009. “Sousa, John Philip.” In Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Accessed January 13, 2009.

www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/26305.Bowen, José A. 2003. “Finding the Music in Musicology: Performance History and Musical Works” In Rethinking Music:

Aims, Methods, and Prospects, edited by Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist, 424–452. Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press.

Clarke, Eric and Nicholas Cook (Eds.). 2003. Empirical Musicology: Aims, Methods, Prospects. Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press.

Cook, Nicholas. 2003. “Music as Performance.” In The Cultural Study of Music: A Critical Introduction, edited by MartinClayton, Trevor Herbert, and Richard Middleton, 204–214. New York: Routledge.

Dias, Márcia T. 2000. Os Donos da Voz: Indústria Fonográfica Brasileira e Mundialização da Cultura. São Paulo:Boitempo.

Duprat, Régis. 1979. Dobrados: Sleve (COLP 12.389), Album 4 of the collection Três Séculos de Música Brasileira. Riode Janeiro, Fab. Copacabana, October.

Fallows, David. 2009. “Metronome (i).” In Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Accessed February 24, 2009.www.oxfordmusiconline.com:80/subscriber/article/grove/music/18521.

Francheschi, Humberto M. 1984. Registro Sonoro por Meios Mecânicos no Brasil. Rio de Janeiro: Studio HMF.Francheschi, Humberto M. 2002. A Casa Edison e Seu Tempo. Rio de Janeiro: Sarapuí.

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Granja, Maria de Fátima D. 1984. Banda: Som & Magia. Dissertation (Master’s in Communication). CommunicationsSchool of the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro.

Kernfeld, Barry. 2009. “Beat.” In Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Accessed February 27, 2009. www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/J033600.

Kingsbury, Paul. 2006. Capturing Analog Sound for Digital Preservation. Washington, DC: Library of Congress. AccessedJanuary 12, 2006. www.clir.org/pubs/abstract/pub137abst.html.

Lamb, Andrew. 2009. “March.” In Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Accessed January 13, 2009. www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/40080.

Leech-Wilkinson, Daniel. 2001. “Using Recordings to Study Musical Performances.” In Aural History: Essays on RecordedSound, edited by Andy Linehan, 1–12. London: British Library; Book & CD edition.

London, Justin. 2009. “Tempo (i).” In Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Accessed February 24, 2009. www.oxfordmusiconline.com:80/subscriber/article/grove/music/27649.

Philip, Robert. 1992. Early Recordings and Musical Style: Changing Tastes in Instrumental Performance, 1900–1950.Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Philip, Robert. 2004. Performing Music in the Age of Recording. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.Santos, Alcino, Grácio Barbalho, Jairo Severiano, and Miguel Ângelo de Azevedo (Nirez). 1982. Discografia Brasileira

78rpm (1902–1964). Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE, vol. 1.Severiano, Jairo. 1997. A Canção no Tempo: 85 anos demúsicasbrasileiras, vol. 1: 1901–1957. São Paulo: Ed. 34.Souza, David Pereira de. 2003. Um Olhar na Produção Musical do Maestro Anacleto de Medeiros: Três Edições Críticas.

Dissertation (Master’s in Music). Post-Graduate Program in Music, Center of Arts and Letters, Federal Universityof the State of Rio de Janeiro.

Souza, David Pereira de. 2009. As Gravações Históricas da Banda do Corpo de Bombeiros do Rio de Janeiro (1902–1927):Valsas, Polcas e Dobrados. Thesis (Doctorate in Music). Post-Graduate Program in Music, Center of Arts andLetters, Federal University of the State of Rio de Janeiro.

Ulhôa, Martha T. 2008. Partituras, Performance e Escuta da Música Popular do Passado. Work paper—visiting professorat University of Texas at Austin. Accessed August 31, 2013. http://lanic.utexas.edu/project/etext/llilas/vrp/ulhoa.pdf.

Vasconcelos, Ary. 1977. Panorama da Música Popular Brasileira na Belle Époque. Rio de Janeiro: Livraria Sant’Anna.Vedana, Hardy. 2006. A Elétrica e os Discos Gaúchos. Porto Alegre: SCP.Vicente, Eduardo. 1996. A Música Popular e as Novas Tecnologias de Produção Musical. Master’s Dissertation.

IFCH/UNICAMP.

72 • David Pereira de Souza

5The Construction of Memory

about the Oito BatutasLuiza Mara Braga Martins

Introduction

The Oito Batutas (Eight Experts) were a musical group of the 1920s, led by flutist Pixinguinha(Alfredo da Rocha Viana Filho, 1897–1973) and the guitarist Donga (Ernesto Joaquim Mariados Santos, 1889–1974), whose origin dates back to Grupo do Caxangá, a carnival group headedby guitarist João Pernambuco (1883–1947). The Caxangá band animated carnival between 1914and 1919 as an attraction in a gazebo in the Largo da Carioca in the center of Rio de Janeiro,then the nation’s capital. This group was composed of more than 15 musicians, among whicheight were chosen to form a choro group with strictly professional goals: to perform in thewaiting room of the refined Cine Palais movie theater on Rio Branco Avenue. The selection ofthe musicians was made by Pixinguinha and Donga, at the request of Isaac Frankel, the movietheater manager. Furthermore, Frankel suggested that the title of a Pixinguinha tango, “Os OitoBatutas,” became the name of the band.

Beginning on April 7, 1919, the Palais run of the Oito Batutas, who performed only populargenres, caused admiration, success, and controversy. This success also appeared in the pages ofthe press at the time, and was so great that some celebrities became fans of the group. Its originalformation consisted of Jacob Palmieri, José Alves Lima, Raúl Palmieri, Luiz Pinto da Silva,Donga, Nelson Alves, China, and Pixinguinha—the last four of African descent.

The career of Oito Batutas took off. The group recorded six songs for Odeon that same year,and one of its admirers among the capital’s elite, the millionaire businessman Arnaldo Guinle(1884–1964), became its patron, funding the group’s tours around Brazil and to Paris. Thissupport had a dual purpose: to publicize the musical work of the Batutas and to collect folkmusic on sheet music written down by the members of the group.

In 1920, Brazilian authorities invited the group to perform for the royal couple of Belgium,Albert and Elizabeth, who visited Brazil. Two years later, the maxixe dancer Duque (AntonioLopes de Amorim Diniz, 1884–1953) and his partner Gaby were the first couple to dance publiclyto the sound of the Oito Batutas, in the refined Assyrian Cabaret, in the basement of theMunicipal Theater of Rio de Janeiro. Duque was a former dentist from Bahia who had spentthe 1910s in Paris, winning acclaim by dancing a stylized maxixe. It was Duque who persuadedArnaldo Guinle to finance a trip by the Oito Batutas to Paris, for a season at the elegantSheherazade Cabaret. Only seven members traveled to Paris. One Batuta, the tambourine playerJ. Thomas (João Thomaz Oliveira), did not travel due to illness. The brothers Palmieri and LuisPinto also could not travel, and were replaced by singer-percussionist José Monteiro and the

tambourine player Sizenando Santos (aka Feniano). At that moment, the group was renamedLes Batutas or L’Orchestre des Batutas.

The Batutas were the first Brazilian group to play, in Europe, the urban popular music thatwas made in Rio de Janeiro in the 1920s. They played choros, maxixes, polkas, Brazilian tango,carnival sambas, lundus, batuques, waltzes, and traditional genres such as embolada, cateretê,coco, and toada sertaneja.

In Paris, for more than six months, the contact between the Brazilian musicians and the fourAmerican jazz bands that were also performing there brought significant changes to the group,beginning with its instrumentation. The flutist Pixinguinha was given a saxophone by ArnoldGuinle, who also acquired and sent to Brazil a drum set for the tambourine player J. Thomás.Donga, a guitarist, received a six-string banjo. China, a singer, pianist, and guitarist, also earneda banjo, as did the mandolin and ganzá player José Alves, known as Zezé.

After the introduction of the new musical instruments, the group came closer to the setupof the famous jazz bands of the era. Like a jazz band, they started using instrumentation inwhich the role of woodwinds (saxophones, trumpet, trombone) was greater, and included drums,piano and banjo. However, even after their characterization as a jazz band, the Oito Batutascontinued to make choros, samba, maxixe, and Brazilian genres the highlight of their performancesand recordings.

In late 1922, the band traveled to Argentina, where it recorded 20 songs on 10 double-sided78rpm discs, compiled on CD by the phonographic label Revivendo Músicas in 1995 (RVCD-064). Then, they separated the following year. Meanwhile, in Brazil, Donga and two more Batutas, (Nelson Alves and J. Thomás), plus other musicians, formed the jazz band Oito Cotubas,while Pixinguinha and three other Batutas (China, Josué, and Ribas) remained in Argentina.After Pixinguinha and his group returned from Argentina to Brazil, and—still in 1923—theyand Donga reunited, forming the jazz band Os Batutas. From there, the musicians reunited attimes in different musical formations. After the breakup of the group in 1931, with the conductorand orchestrator Pixinguinha leading it, various orchestras were recruited for performances andespecially for recordings, in which the experience of the Batutas was crucial.

This summary of the beginning of the Oito Batutas serves to identify historical changesthrough which the group passed. However, this study intends to investigate how the band wasremembered throughout the twentieth century. The memories and records produced about theBatutas and by the Batutas themselves are often conflicting and engaged in polemics aboutcertain visions of Brazil and the history of popular music. This chapter also aims to discussaspects of the career path of the group that are not usually taken into consideration, such asthe controversies of the time about the “success” of the group and the difficulties of black musi -cians in representing Brazil. Anyway, one of the most important goals is to understand thecareer path of the Oito Batutas group beyond the landmarks of a “Brazilian musical identity.”

For this, reports of various memoirists, biographers, journalists, academics, musicologists,and musicians who wrote about the subject in different historical periods of the twentieth centuryare used as sources. In this sense, the chapter also aims to demarcate the intellectual field ofthese authors, as producers of memories, trying to understand their diverse frames of referenceabout the Oito Batutas.

As theoretical support, I used two authors that work with the history of memory, HenryRousso (1985) and Michael Pollak (1989). The path was precisely the clash of discourses of eachof the memoirists, observing the convergences and divergences between them. In the processof analysis, the most plausible hypothesis was that there was more than one framing of memory

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about the Oito Batutas throughout the twentieth century. What seems to have happened wasthat each author has built a memory about the group according to his own context and historicalview, and especially considering the background of the whole question of the “Brazilianness”of the group.

The Oito Batutas, According to Memoirists Over Time—Mário de Andrade

A modernist writer and scholar of Brazilian music, Mário de Andrade (1893–1945) was the firstauthor to write about the Oito Batutas in a book. In Ensaio sobre a música brasileira (EssayAbout Brazilian Music), Andrade (1972 [1928]) explores the Brazilian nationalist musical project.For him, the music scene in Brazil in the late 1920s was rich, but lacking an identity that wouldunite the “Brazilian race.” The formation of the Brazilian State had preceded the formation of its people, in Andrade’s opinion, it being urgent at that moment that Brazilian musicianscreate a national music, based on folk elements (more rural than urban), in order to create amusical identity for the country. A true Brazilian music would come from a mix of “formative”elements, especially African and European. Thus, for the author, a mixed, truly Brazilian musichad begun only at the end of the empire.

In this same book, the mentor of modernist musical nationalism wove brief but expressiveopinions about the group Oito Batutas, citing them with a mixture of admiration and criticism.He did not see Os Batutas as an ideal model for the search of national characteristics forBrazilian music:

But because of the success of the Oito Batutas or the choro of Romeu Silva, because of themore individual than national artistic success of Villa-Lobos, does a work have to follow intheir footsteps to be Brazilian? The normative value of successes like these is almost nil.Europe, completed and organized in a stage of civilization, looks for foreign elements to setitself free from itself . . . What Europe takes from us are the elements of the world exposition:amusing exoticism. In music, even the Europeans who visit us persevere in this search forspicy novelties.

(Andrade 1972: 32)

It is worth asking whether, regardless of nationalist projects undertaken by Mário de Andradefor Brazilian music, was the music of the Oito Batutas in fact exotic? Did Mario’s opinion aboutthe band last during the history of the group, or was it swallowed up and submerged by othermemory constructions?

The Decade of the 1930s

It is still possible to observe that, as in the vision of Mário de Andrade about the Oito Batutas,different memories about the group have always had the issue of nationalism and identity as abackground theme. The first publication extolling the Oito Batutas as a kind of founding fathersof Brazilian popular music appeared in the 1930s, particularly in 1933. It was the book Samba,by Orestes Barbosa (1978).

Barbosa (1893–1966) was a combative journalist in the Rio press, the author of several booksand a popular composer. He had financial difficulties in childhood and became a “homelesskid.” Starting as a boy, he played guitar and wrote verses. He learned the proofreading profession

Writings about the Oito Batutas • 75

and worked in various newspapers. He stood out for fearlessly denouncing, in his journalisticchronicles, the irregularities of the authorities of the time, which earned him several arrests.

In Samba, Barbosa chose this genre as the typical music of the carioca soul and, by extension,of Brazilian nationality. He was therefore one of the working-class intellectuals in the early1930s responsible for the articulation of samba as a project to express the soul of Braziliannationality. For him, samba made in Rio de Janeiro featured talented musicians and brilliantcomposers, with their own rhythm and lyrics that “Brazilianized” the language and talked aboutalmost everything. Thus, samba would be not only representative of the soul of the city, but ofBrazilian nationality.

Barbosa saw in the Oito Batutas the “precursors” of a Brazilian popular music and the triumphof popular music. However, as a memoirist, he filtered from his account of the group all thecriticism of which the musicians were targets in their time, and omitted the great nationalistdebate that crashed around them and was motivated by them.

Francisco José Gomes Guimarães (18??–19??) was another author who also thought aboutBrazilian popular music, albeit in a slightly different direction from Barbosa. Black and from apoor background, he began his journalistic career in 1896, possibly with the Jornal do Brasil,and contributed to many Rio de Janeiro newspapers. He was a crime reporter, and a chroniclerof the Navy, the courts, city council and the Central do Brasil railroad. However, starting inthe 1910s, he served as a chronicler of carnival, with which he earned recognition. Having apoor background, he could bring the ambience of popular life into the newsrooms, withoutcreating affectations that distanced him from the life of the poor people that he portrayed.

In 1933, Guimarães, better known by the nickname of Vagalume (Firefly), published thebook Na Roda do Samba, which spoke out against the invasion of “authentic samba” by artistshe considered opportunistic, who—through the appropriation of musical production by thirdparties—gained fame and fortune to the detriment of the true samba artists. Vagalume intendedto show readers who were the genuine artists of samba.

In this book, written by him in pieces, on tables in bars and cafés, Guimarães proved thathe was intimate with the “rodas de samba” (groups of samba musicians playing together), citingtheir members by name and making observations about each one. Vagalume did not mentionthe Oito Batutas group, because it no longer existed, but mentioned Donga and Pixinguinha,separately, as great samba names and old connoisseurs of the art, but who at the time of themaking of the book, around 1933, were neglecting the “good and great samba.”

By separating sambistas (samba musicians) into “sambestros” and “real/legitimate,” Vagalumefocuses on the question of national identity, worrying about the authenticity and tradition ofnational musical culture. Thus, contrary to the opinion of Orestes Barbosa, he does not considerthat the Oito Batutas are part of that pantheon of true sambistas and do not constitute, therefore,a milestone in the history of samba.

In 1936, O Choro: Reminiscências dos chorões antigos by Alexandre Gonçalves Pinto(1870–1940), known as the “Animal,” was published in Rio de Janeiro. The author was a postalclerk and a popular memoirist. In this book, which contains over 300 short biographies ofmusicians and information about choro compositions, he traces the profile of the genre from1870 to 1935.

Pinto did not mention the Oito Batutas as a whole, but cited several of its membersindividually—Pixinguinha, Donga, China, Nélson Alves, and Palmieri—calling them Batutas,praising them as musicians and listing their instruments. The author praised Donga, attributingto him the authorship of what is considered the first samba, and stated that it is unnecessary

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to speak of the glories achieved by Pixinguinha in Brazil and abroad. Unlike other authors citedhere, this popular memoirist did not address the issue of national identity, since his object ofstudy was the biography of choro musicians of their time, whether they were famous oranonymous.

Importantly, although the three authors of the 1930s, Barbosa, Guimarães, and Pinto, didnot confer the same value and meaning to the Oito Batutas group, they showed that the groupwas known, providing evidence that, at the time, the prominence of the group was unquestioned.For them, the group—or its leaders—was an obligatory reference in the early writings aboutthe history of Brazilian popular music. The most important Batutas stayed in the memory, beit in the “rodas de samba” or the “rodas de choro.”

The Decade of the 1960s

The cutout by Barbosa was resumed in the late 1950s and early 1960s by Lúcio Rangel(1914–1979), and perpetuated in the 1970s by biographers of Pixinguinha. The framing ofmemory made by Barbosa is therefore durable and almost entirely erased the criticism madeby Mário de Andrade from the scene. The latter would only be remembered in the 1990s byanthropologist Hermano Vianna (1995). Not one, but various memories about the Oito Batutaswere developed in this play of light and shadows.

Lucio Rangel was a journalist and music critic. He focused on the study of Brazilian popularmusic, and also had an extensive knowledge of jazz. From 1954 to 1956, he was the editor inRio de Janeiro of Revista da Música Popular (Journal of Popular Music), the most importantpublication of its kind to that point, gathering materials about both Brazilian popular musicand the North American and European music scenes. Through this magazine and as a critic incolumns scattered through the Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo press, Rangel was a key musicopinion maker in Brazil in the 1950s.

Concerned with what he considered the “degradation” of the Brazilian music scene of theyears 1950–60, Rangel went searching for the “true and traditional” Brazilian musical cultureat the beginning of the twentieth century. He chose the popular music of Rio produced in thefirst three decades of the twentieth century as an authentic reference for the cultural identityof the nation. It was necessary to separate and highlight the glorious past of samba and popularmusic from the commercial artificiality and the hybrid and international genres that dominatedthe radio of his time (Rangel 1962). With this perspective, Rangel focused on the figure ofPixinguinha and the Oito Batutas. The author believed that these musicians were keepers of atradition of pure musical “Brazilianness,” and therefore the group was a bulwark of this tradition.The author would even treat them as musicians who were inspired by Brazilian urban folklore.

This view advocated by Rangel in the 1950s set the tone that, henceforth, would mark allthe discussions about the Oito Batutas. It was a victorious framing of memory that gave continuityto that done by Orestes Barbosa (1930s), when he defined the musical group as founding fathersof Brazilian popular music.

It is important to note that Rangel repudiated bossa nova, which was contemporary to thatera (the 1950s), considering that the mixture of samba and foreign genres such as jazz, or evenrumbas and boleros, mischaracterized the most genuinely national genre. However, he did notponder or comment on the influence of jazz on the Oito Batutas. Again, it is possible to seehow each historical context illuminates different aspects of the Oito Batutas.

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The Decades of the 1970s and 1980s

Sérgio Cabral (1937–), a journalist from Rio de Janeiro, was the author of a monograph onPixinguinha entitled Pixinguinha, Vida e Obra (Pixinguinha, Life and Work, 1997), the winnerof the 1977 FUNARTE (National Endowment of the Arts) monograph competition. In thismonograph, Cabral, with an openly nationalist perspective, sought to disseminate what heconsidered the best of Brazilian culture. He considered that Brazil was only part of the firstworld in soccer and popular music. Hence, he made an effort to profile some of the biggestnames in popular music, to produce samba and choro shows, and write about the Samba Schools.

Within this perspective, we highlight some of the ideas of Cabral about the Oito Batutas inan interview granted to the author in 2007: “The other groups were formed due to work andrecording commitments. The Oito Batutas was the first meeting of musicians around a type ofmusic that has a lot to do with the formation of Brazilian music” (Martins 2009: 41). Thisstatement demonstrates the great importance attached by Cabral to the group in relation to theformation of Brazilian popular music. Thus, even being a contemporary author in the 2000s,his vision approached that of Rangel (1962) and Barbosa (1933) regarding the legitimacy of thegroup.

In this interview, Cabral introduced issues about the Oito Batutas that had not been mentionedby other authors, highlighting the racial prejudice that surrounded the group. According toCabral, Pixinguinha, however, made no reference to his blackness and did not feel the effectsof racism, since he “was received like a king among the most important people of his time”(Cabral 2007, cited in Martin 2007: 41), and had countless fans. He stressed also that the musicallanguage of the choro style of the Oito Batutas was black. For him, although the group had beenformed initially by four blacks and four whites, the musical ancestry of instrumentalists andcomposers had its origin in black popular culture. Cabral believes that from very early on,Pixinguinha felt he was a man of the past, a kind of guardian of Brazilian musical traditions.

A completely opposite view about the Batutas was constructed in the biography of JoãoPernambuco, produced by José Souza Leal and Artur Luiz Barbosa (Leal and Barbosa 1982).The authors gathered testimonies, such as those granted in 1980 by John Elpídeo Alves Mendes,Joca, brother of João Pernambuco and Donga, the guitarist of the Oito Batutas. They establishedan interesting confrontation between these two oral testimonies in regards to the reasons thatled to the departure of Pernambuco from the Oito Batutas.

Pernambuco, although mentor and leader of the Grupo do Caxangá—which was extinguishedby the departure of eight of its musicians to join the Oito Batutas—was not invited to the debutof the group in April 1919. For Leal and Barbosa, both the inclusion of Pernambuco in the OitoBatutas, in October 1919, and his exclusion, in late 1921, would have been decisions of thepatron of the band, Arnaldo Guinle. The departure of the guitarist would have been a traumaticepisode, and therefore very little mentioned in written works prior to the era of the publicationof the book (1982). According to Donga, in an unfavorable testimony, Pernambuco was “selfish”and asked Guinle for a large sum of money to do the work requested by the sponsor of thegroup. However, for Leal and Barbosa, the reason for discord between the patron and the guitaristwas another: the divergence concerning research material about folk music. Guinle had askedthat the material be written in scores. This was impossible for Pernambuco, because he wasilliterate. In fact, according to the authors, Pernambuco worked as a guide during the research,as a link between backland and urban culture. But when he returned from trips and presentedfolkloric themes by memory for his patron, Guinle was displeased and removed the musicianfrom the group.

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As seen from this narrative, the authors produced a series of conflicting memories, forgottenor marginalized, about episodes surrounding the Batutas. The book, however, can be consideredpartisan, as it tries to repair the alleged injustices that weighed on the life and career ofPernambuco. Despite this problem, the work is of great importance for this chapter since itshows the Oito Batutas from a discordant angle compared to previous authors.

However, in general, the Oito Batutas are positively remembered as a reference in Brazilianpopular music. It should be asked if this is a fact, since the group was also remembered as ajazz band. Ary Vasconcelos (1926–2003) brought important historical information that clarifiedthe reasons for the different musical framings of the group over time.

A journalist, a researcher of Brazilian popular music, and an advisor to the National Instituteof Music, an institution linked to FUNARTE, Vasconcelos wrote the book Carinhoso Etc in1976, which undertook a thorough research into choro, using as its source his phonographiccollection. It is important to notice that the book was constructed at a time when choro,forgotten for decades, was enjoying a rediscovery and relative success. It was the “rebirth” ofchoro as a musical genre.

In the first part of the book, Vasconcelos offered a brief history of musicians playing choro,called chorões, dividing them into six generations between 1870 and 1984, the date of completionof the book. The author placed the third generation, of which he considered Pixinguinha thegreatest figure, between 1919 and 1930, a period that coincides with the emergence of theensemble the Oito Batutas (1919) and its end (1931).

From 1870 until 1919, a long period of almost 50 years, choro was played and recordedwithout percussion. Vasconcelos revealed that the percussionist Jacó Palmieri was the firstmusician to introduce the pandeiro (tambourine) into choro, though it was not clear whetherit was during his experience as a member of the group. In fact, percussion in choro (tambourine,ganzá, and reco-reco) appears during this period, with the third generation of choro musicians.

As mentioned, in this first lineup of the Oito Batutas, the new instrumental element of percussionreceived great importance once that Pixinguinha selected musicians such as José Alves, whoalternated mandolin and ganzá, and Luís de Oliveira, who alternated the bandola and reco-reco,to join the group, along with Jacob Palmieri and his tambourine. Besides the flute of Pixinguinha,the group was largely made up of stringed instruments, such as the cavaquinho of Nelson Alvesand the guitars of Donga, Raul Palmieri, and China, before the arrival of percussion.

In the context of this text, it is important to highlight this initial instrumental formation,because in a few years the Batutas underwent an enormous change in their instrumentation. Itwas unclear from the text of Vasconcelos whether it was during the musical experiences of thegroup that percussion appeared in choro, or if they were aware of and participating in thisinnovation along with other groups who were their contemporaries.

Thus, the formation that flew to Paris in January 1922 and returned in August of that yearwas: Pixinguinha (flute), Donga (guitar), China (guitar and vocals), Nelson Alves (cavaquinho),José Alves (mandolin and ganzá), Feniano (tambourine), and José Monteiro (voice). Thesemusicians debuted in the Sheherazade cabaret and also played in another dance venue in Paris,with great success.

Shortly after returning to Brazil, the group constantly changed the team of instrumentalists,which could reach 12 or more members. From there, the instrumentation incorporatedsaxophones, clarinets, and trumpets, updating itself to join the generalized fashion of jazz bandsthen appearing. Foxtrots and shimmies, dances and songs from North America, were includedin the repertoire. It is in this context, therefore, that the Batutas were considered a jazz band.

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The Decades of the 1990s and 2000s

Another important author who polemicized memories around the musical group was Henrique Cazes (1959–). A choro musician, he dedicated a book entitled Choro: do quintal aoMunicipal to the history of the genre, in which there are numerous references to the Oito Batutasgroup.

In the book, the first striking piece of information from Cazes (2010) was that choro onlybecame a musical genre starting with the compositions of Pixinguinha in the 1910s. Until then,choro was an instrumental formation that played other genres in a “Brazilianized” way. Theauthor also affirms that the generation of choro musicians before Pixinguinha would have beenmarked by instrumental formations in civilian and military bands, such as the Corpo deBombeiros (Fire Department)—the first group to record choro in Brazil, in 1902—conductedby Anacleto de Medeiros. Cazes believes that Pixinguinha merged the musical language of thebands with the language of the rodas de choro.

Regarding percussion, Cazes reports that the Oito Batutas would not have been the first toplace it into choro, in 1919. They would have been adhering to a novelty, a trend. The authortracked down, in 1915, the first choros that contained percussion instruments in their recordings,and were pieces aimed at carnival.

Cazes disagrees with several authors who attributed the importance of the Oito Batutas tothe fact that the group made international tours. For him, the Batutas in Paris were just one ofseveral typical orchestras from various countries who livened up the city in the period afterWorld War I. Besides French dance music and North American jazz bands, there were orchestrasfrom throughout the Caribbean, such as Martinique and Cuba.

The run of the Batutas in France, which had generated so much controversy in Braziliannewspapers, as much in favor of as against the departure of the musicians for Paris, it had been“just one season of a group in a dance hall, without major pretensions” (Cazes 2010: 57). Hisconclusion was that they “functioned as just another exoticism among many in the intellectualcapital.” He argued that if there had been success on a larger scale, “there would have beenphonographic records, like the many of Cuban and French-Caribbean orchestras at this time.”(ibid.: 62). So, he was the first author to state that the Oito Batutas were not a success in Paris,being just another exotic attraction in a dance hall.

Another controversy raised by Cazes concerns the influence of jazz experienced by the groupduring its stay in the French capital. He argued against a memory constructed by others aroundthe Batutas, that they experienced a strong jazz influence in Paris, to the point of becoming ajazz band after returning to Rio de Janeiro. The intention of his argument was explicit, in thatin terms of musical language, the Batutas were not influenced by jazz. He confined this influenceto a characterization of the group in terms of dress and instrumentation. He also contextualizedthat in the early 1920s, the fashion of jazz bands in Brazil was such that any musical group,even if it did not play jazz, called itself a jazz band to attract and please the public. Accordingto the author, there was such a range of musical influences in Paris in 1922 that it would beunlikely that only jazz had influenced the Batutas.

In an interview with the author (2006), Cazes raised new issues about the Oito Batutas. Through a viewpoint of deglamorization, he polemicized the clashes around the memories of thegroup. He declared that “they were a group of cachaças (heavy drinkers) coming out of a carnivalgroup to play in a movie house,” in the sense that it was a group of heavy-drinking musicianswho made music unpretentiously, according to the opportunities that arose (Cazes 2006).

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Cazes, in his numerous controversial statements, supported or not, sliced into the memorybuilt up about the Oito Batutas by earlier writers, such as the narratives of Vasconcelos (1984),Cabral (1997), Rangel (1962), and Barbosa (1978).

Taking a different perspective, that of anthropology, Hermano Vianna mentions the Batutasin relation to the history of samba. Vianna introduces his book O Mistério do Samba (TheMystery of Samba) as “a study of the relationships between popular culture and the constructionof national identity” (Vianna 1995: 33). The author hypothesized that the transformation ofsamba into national music did not occur within a single ghetto, by samba musicians who weremarginalized and repressed by the police, but was the result of interrelationships betweenintellectuals and popular culture.

For Vianna, the friendship between intellectuals and popular artists was old and the unionof these two segments of society would have allowed the projection of samba as a nationalsymbol. The author does not deny the role of African Brazilians in the invention of the genreor the existence of repression of African-Brazilian popular culture. However, he states thatoutside of the repression, other ties united members of the Brazilian elite to the popular classes,allowing a definition of Brazilian nationality—of which samba is just one aspect—centeredaround the concept of miscegenation. So, for Vianna, Brazil was perhaps the first country inwhich the substantiation of nationality through miscegenation and traditional/urban symbolswas attempted, with relative success (Vianna 1995).

It is therefore from this point of view that Vianna looked at the Oito Batutas. The musicalgroup has become a symbol of Brazilian nationality. The author associated them with aregionalization trend that took hold of Rio de Janeiro starting in 1900. The anthropologisthighlights, however, the musical variety in the belle époque, when “foreign” rhythms such aswaltzes, quadrilles, xotes (schottishes), mazurkas, and especially the polka and several hybrids(polka-habanera, polka-chula, polka-lundu), began to live along with rural rhythms such ascateretê (Vianna 1995: 49).

It was the embrace by intellectuals of regional music, especially from the northeast, whichenabled the projection of genres such as samba as elements of national unity, and thereforegroups such as the Oito Batutas, as reference symbols of Brazilian popular music. Accordingly,Vianna is another author who takes the construction of national identity as a viewpoint fromwhich to contemplate the history of the Oito Batutas. To Vianna, the late 1920s was a periodof nationalization in music, and so Brazilian composers of that period ended up being inspiredby Brazilian folklore. But Vianna did not deny the influence of jazz, recognizing exchanges inbuilding a Brazilian music, disagreeing on this point with Andrade’s position. It can be saidthat Vianna was the only author to bring to the fore Andrade’s critique of the Oito Batutas, aframing of memory from the 1920s that had not been victorious from the 1930s onward.

The most recent scholarly work on the Batutas addressed here is the 2005 article byanthropologist Rafael Bastos. This author is a professor at the Federal University of Santa Catarina (UFSC) and coordinator of MUSA, a research group in art, culture, and society inLatin America and the Caribbean, at the same institution. His article was the first academicattempt to study the trip to Paris of the Batutas. The main hypothesis of Bastos was that thistrip boosted the career of the Oito Batutas, and especially the flutist, composer, and orchestrator,Pixinguinha.

According to Bastos, the Oito Batutas touched off several controversies in the Brazilian pressbefore its trip to Paris. The “Africanness” in the repertoire of the Batutas and their ethnicitywas troubling for many and caused controversy. It was only after the trip to Paris of Oito Batutas

Writings about the Oito Batutas • 81

that these controversial features were absorbed as positive and choro assumed, gradually, a central role in popular culture until it was recognized, linked to samba, as the symbol ofBrazilian popular music, anticipating the victory of mestizo music that Vianna situated in the1930s.

The author argued that between 1920 and 1930, while samba constituted itself as theemblematic genre of Brazilian music, a similar phenomenon occurred in Argentina with thetango, and in Cuba with the rumba. In this sense, the role of Paris was crucial in the 1920s asthe place where these Latin American musical genres were consolidated, and it was in this sameParis that jazz would become the new music to move the world. Bastos observes that after the1930s, this role of the place of consolidation of musical genres ceased to belong to Paris andbegan to be occupied by the United States.

For Bastos, there was a campaign in Paris to paint the musicality of the group as somethingunique, differentiating it from jazz bands. The author pointed out a Parisian advertisement forthe Batutas, which highlighted the fact that they were not a jazz band, but were a group thatperformed samba. The choice of samba, a percussive genre, was identified with the ethno-national characteristics of the group. Guinle, who paid for the trip, Lauro Muller, a politicianand diplomat who accompanied the group, and Duque, a maxixe dancer in Europe and artisticdirector of Dancing Sheherazade, wished to spread the music of Batutas in the world, aligningit with African percussiveness and taking it out of the narrow confines of Latin American music.Using jazz as a counterpoint, they did not hesitate to make the Batutas legitimate representativesof black music. This is one of the hypotheses of the anthropologist’s article (Bastos 2005: 184).

For Bastos, the privileged place that Pixinguinha occupied in the history of Brazilian musicwas spurred by this tour, which gave him visibility. The racist discussions regarding the groupwere silenced in Brazil after this trip.

If for Cazes (1998) the trip to Paris was nothing more than a mere display of South Americanmusicians at a dance hall, for Bastos it was instead the triumph and legitimization of “Africanness”that the group represented. This would have been the clear purpose of the entourage of theBatutas: turn them into symbols of black music, as jazz musicians were. But if the guys fromNew Orleans were Americans performing songs from their country, Les Batutas were identifiedas African Brazilians playing the samba of their homeland. Without being an extensive work,the Bastos article casts new and important perspectives on the French season. Perhaps for thefirst time, one can identify a concern about the issue of “Africanness” as a constitutive elementof national identity.

Conclusion

With the clear exception of Pinto’s book (1978), the other authors selected here have the “nationalissue” as a background for speaking of the Oito Batutas. They focused on the nationality of thegroup, its “Brazilianness,” and lit or extinguished the light while talking about the subject ofjazz bands. Of course, the Oito Batutas did not close itself to the foreign, but continued tocompose national music; it was a two-way relationship. And this is exactly the point raised bythe theorists of history, Pollak and Rousso, in their discussion of individual and collectivememory. Why was the theme of jazz bands so calculatedly forgotten by some authors? Becausein some historical contexts it could mean a motive for national discharacterization of the group,an adherence to foreign fashion. A “no” to what was national. But the Oito Batutas were Brazilianand made deeply national music. They were the heirs of the rodas de samba and rodas de choro

82 • Luiza Mara Braga Martins

of their parents, as in the examples of Donga and Pixinguinha. The Batutas were not seen onlyas a musical ensemble, but above all, for what they represented for the “Brazilianness” ofnational culture. They were emblem and symbol, perceived within a scope that ranged fromexotic to being the creators of the national cultural synthesis, made with the social, historical,and musical elements of the 1920s.

In the play of light and shadows that fell upon them, each national-historical context tookfrom the history of the group what served it. And the Oito Batutas—for its plasticity, its capacityof cultural and musical assimilation, for its versatility and for its open listening—were an objectsubject to many looks, many cutouts, many frameworks of memory, some victorious and somejust dissonant voices. The construction of these memories shows how music is an arena ofconflict and clashes, a game of contradictory talks that collide with each other. The memoryabout a particular historical event, especially if it involves issues of nationality, is not unequivocal,but wants to be. It is, above all, a struggle of visions that oppose and are added one to another.

BibliographyAlmirante (Henrique Foréis Domingues). 1963. No Tempo de Noel Rosa. Rio de Janeiro: Livraria Francisco Alves.Andrade, Mario de. 1972 [1928]. Ensaio sobre Música Brasileira. 3rd ed. São Paulo: Vila Rica; Brasília: INL.Barbosa, Orestes. 1978 [1933]. Samba. Sua história, seus poetas, seus músicos. Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE.Bastos, Rafael José de Menezes. 2005. “Les Batutas, 1922: uma antropologia da noite parisiense.” Revista Brasileira de

Ciências Sociais, vol. 20, no. 58, June, 177–196.Cabral, Sérgio. 1997. Pixinguinha, Vida e Obra. Rio de Janeiro: Ed. Lumiar.Cazes, Henrique. 2010 [1998]. Choro: do quintal ao municipal. São Paulo: Ed. 34.Guimarães, Francisco. 1978 [1933]. Na Roda do Samba. Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE.Leal, José Souza and Artur Luiz Barbosa. 1982. João Pernambuco: Arte de um povo. Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE.Martins, Luiza M. B. 2009. Os Oito Batutas: Uma orquestra melhor que a encomenda. História e música brasileira nos

anos 1920. Doctoral Thesis. Niterói, Universidade Federal Fluminense.Pinto, Alexandre Gonçalves. 1978 [1936]. O Choro. Reminiscências dos chorões antigos. Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE.Pollak, Michael. 1989. “Memória, Esquecimento, Silêncio.” Estudos Históricos, vol. 2, no. 3, 3–15.Rangel, Lúcio. 1962. Sambistas e Chorões. Rio de Janeiro: Francisco Alves.Rousso, Henri. 1985. “Vichy, le grand fosse.” Vingtième siècle, vol. 5, 55–80.Silva, Marilia Barboza and Arthur Oliveira Filho. 1979. Filho de Ogum Bexiguento. Rio Janeiro: FUNARTE.Vasconcelos, Ary. 1984. Carinhoso Etc. História e inventário do choro. Rio de Janeiro: Gráfica Editora—Livros.Vianna, Hermano. 1995. O Mistério do Samba. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar Ed/Ed. UFRJ.

InterviewCazes, Henrique. 2006. Interview given to the author after “Palestra no Centro de Referência da Música Carioca,” Rio

de Janeiro.

Writings about the Oito Batutas • 83

6Fado in Rio de JaneiroThe Memory of Portuguese

Immigrants in BrazilAlberto Boscarino

In a 1994 documentary video, I watched the artistic career of a fado singer based in the city ofRio de Janeiro. In it, one detail is striking: clinging to an ear of corn, in the middle of a cornfieldlocated in northern Portugal, the fado singer Maria Alcina (1939–) sings and gives thanks forthe tribute and for the recognition of her homeland, the concelho (county) of Castro Daire, thussymbolizing the union of the Portuguese immigrant with the land that provided seeds, althoughthe fruits have been harvested in another country, specifically in Brazil. The above video is titled“Distinguished Portuguese in Brazil” and is available on DVD (a reproduction of the originalon VHS, Malta Editora, 1994).

I identify a great deal with the symbolic act of the aforementioned singer, with her attachmentto the land, because my maternal grandfather was also a Portuguese immigrant who settled inthe city of Rio de Janeiro, bringing his native customs and traditions, regional folk music, anda Portuguese guitar. Manuel Mendes was his name and he was a native of Aboadela, in Amaranteparish, located in northern Portugal. According to the reports of my grandfather, the Portugueseguitar was not an instrument widely used at that time (the 1930s) by youth in the north, as itwas a typical accompanying instrument for fado, which was associated with the city of Lisbon.Thus, my grandfather, coming from a typical rural region of Portugal, arrived in Rio de Janeirowith his guitar, which together with fado would subsequently become marks of identity. Thecuisine, religious principles, and regional music would be mixed with the cultural environmentof fado, which was hummed by my grandfather and heard through the radio at home, representinga cultural heritage for his children and Brazilian grandchildren. In Portugal, my grandfatherwas a farm worker from Amarante, and in Brazil he was “Portuguese” in the broadest sense, ofcommunity, encompassing the Lusitanian identity.

The individual paths of fado singers and people involved with the world of fado in Rio deJaneiro interviewed by me (mostly Portuguese immigrants) are similar, in that in Portugal manydid not know fado. When they arrived in Rio de Janeiro and organized their communities, theycultivated rural regional traditions. Considering the remoteness of their homeland and theirmeeting with new musical and cultural references due to contact with a new culture, they asserta collective memory, increasing the sense of belonging to the Portuguese community in urbanareas. In Brazil, instead of becoming farmers and fishermen, they become workers in textilefactories or work in sales. According to the reports of individual Lusitanians, what unites allthe different paths in musical terms is fado, which they know through radio programs.

Portuguese Immigration in Rio de Janeiro

In the sixteenth century, when overseas expansion took place, the Portuguese arrived in Brazil.They occupied the Brazilian coast, dedicating themselves to the cultivation of primary products,to the activities of exploration, and, later, to the extraction of gold and precious stones. It isestimated that between 1500 and 1700, some 100,000 Portuguese emigrated to Brazil, a phasethat can be classified as a period of “restricted immigration.” In the years that lie between 1701and 1850, a period called “transitional,” the entry of 600,000 Portuguese immigrants was registeredin Brazil. With the arrival of the Portuguese Royal Family in 1808, there was a change in thesocial landscape of the city of Rio de Janeiro. That year, two-thirds of the population wascomposed of blacks, mestizos, and mulattos. With the end of the slave trade in 1850, thePortuguese migration to Brazil started to show a progressive numerical increase as a result ofreplacing slave labor with the paid work of European and Asian immigrants.

The history of the Portuguese between the late nineteenth century and the mid-twentiethcentury is characterized by large international migratory movements, with a large outflow ofpopulation to Brazil. Between 1851 and 1960, a period in the history of immigration in Brazilcalled “mass immigration,” a large number of Portuguese settled in the city of Rio de Janeiro(Lobo 1994, 2001; Oliveira 2001). According to the IBGE—the Brazilian Institute of Geographyand Statistics—in a little less than 20 years (1872–1890), the population of Rio de Janeiro almostdoubled (from 274,972 to 522,651 inhabitants), with about half of the latter being Portuguese(267,664). Therefore, as the records tell, there was a wide acceptance of the Portuguese theatercompanies in Rio de Janeiro, as well as an increased presence of Lusitanian musicians in Brazil.In 1920, the proportion of Portuguese dropped to 14 percent of the local population.

The history of the organization of the Portuguese colonies in the city begins in the secondhalf of the nineteenth century, when the urban area of Rio de Janeiro expanded, projecting theoccupation of the city to outlying areas that, at the time, consisted of large farms and pastures,which were allotted for sale and civilian occupation. Streets and avenues were constructed,districts and administrative regions demarcated, and train service was extended to service thenew inhabitants, composed of blacks, mulattos, and immigrants, the latter mostly Portuguese.

The projected urban configuration drove industrial activities, commerce, and the variousservice sectors, integrating immigrant laborers with the new contours of the city. And that ledimmigrants to exercise their citizenship, following the guidelines of the state, which establishedin the citizen a behavior reflecting the social order tied to work. This was a transitional periodbetween the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, when the Rio de Janeiro Lusitanian CharitableSocieties, the Regional Houses of Culture, and the social and sports clubs, such as GinásticoPortuguês, Clube Guanabara, and Clube de Regatas Vasco da Gama, emerged. The Portugueseculture could be exercised and spread via theaters in the city, which hosted fado music, whichwas present in the operettas and magazines of these theaters. From this point on, fado, associatedwith some patriotic Lusitanian symbols, came to represent the national identity of Portugueseimmigrants in Brazil.

The largest share of Portuguese immigrants established in Rio de Janeiro came from ruralareas of northern Portugal. After arriving in this Brazilian city, they sought social integrationin order to enjoy the opportunities they were offered in an urban center in the process ofmodernization. In general, Portuguese immigrants from rural areas had traditional musicalpractices specific to their region (such as vira and cana-verde), but once in a city began to usethe Portuguese guitar, as well as fado music, as elements of identification and distinction. I can

Fado in Rio de Janeiro • 85

affirm that it was common to hear a Lusitanian immigrant say things such as: “I’m from northernPortugal, but here I am mostly Portuguese, urban, and modern.” It was fado that began tosustain the discourse of the immigrant, as it entered the twentieth century as a modern Portuguesemusical genre and national preference, softening the cultural differences between each groupof Portuguese immigrants.

Lusitanian immigrants who arrived in Rio de Janeiro sought to establish their homes insimilar locations to those in which they lived in their homeland. Those immigrants who workedin Portugal with the land sought a similar space in which to settle, preferring the outskirts ofthe city; the port workers found residences around the Gamboa district in the port area of Riode Janeiro; the fishermen built homes near the sea. In addition to maintaining the subsistenceactivities that supported their families in Portugal, these Portuguese integrated themselves intothe urban economic system, such as in commerce, factories and the service network, workingas drivers, tram drivers, ticket collectors, bakers, and tailors, among other professions.

I return to the memory of my grandfather, using him as a reference for the Portugueseimmigrant hosted by Rio de Janeiro in the 1930s. After his arrival, he held various jobs of anurban character, working as a Light (the electricity company) tram driver, a bus driver, and atruck driver. In the latter instance, his job was to transport vegetables and foodstuffs betweenthe Mercado São Sebastião (St. Sebastian Market, a stronghold of Portuguese immigrants fromthe north and west of the city of Rio de Janeiro) and the farmers markets of greens andvegetables in every city neighborhood. In our house, there was the cultivation of some foodtypes for family consumption, a continuation of the daily habits of my ancestors from a ruralarea of northern Portugal, who planted cabbage, lettuce, tomato, corn, coffee, mango, guava,pitanga, and grape—from which wine was extracted and produced in the backyard. This smallplot of land that housed us outside the city of Rio de Janeiro was fertilized and seeded not toprovide an alternative for food self-sufficiency, but to remind us that man must maintain arelationship of respect and love for the land.

Characteristics of Portuguese Fado

The fado appeared in Portugal during the first half of the nineteenth century as a popular songgenre, being acknowledged as a Lusitanic musical expression. It may have originated from chantssung by the Moors who inhabited the region during the Middle Ages or it may be a variantfrom the medieval Cantigas de Amigo (Friend’s Songs) or the Cantigas de Sátira (Satire Songs).Other hypotheses link it to Brazil: it may be a derivation of the Brazilian lundu, taken to Lisbonby Portuguese sailors in the early 1820s or even formed from Brazilian dance suites (Carvalho2003; Castelo-Branco 1994, 2010; Nery 2004; Osório 1974; Pimentel 1989).

According to Portuguese anthropologist Joaquim Pais de Brito (1994) and Pinto de Carvalho(2003), the fado was consolidated in four steps. Initially, from the 1830s, it was disseminatedand embraced by the marginal people of Lisbon (prostitutes, rascals, vagabonds, etc.). However,during the last quarter of the nineteenth century, it was appropriated by Lisbon’s dominantclasses. Between the end of the nineteenth century and the 1920s, it was assimilated by themusical theater as a musical genre. In the 1930s, a new context allowed the professionalizationof musicians and singers and the slackening of censorship by the Estado Novo (New State)political regime.

As a musical genre, the consolidation of fado song occurred in two phases. During the first,in the 1920s, it became a constant and fundamental element of the Portuguese musical theater,

86 • Alberto Boscarino

despite having been present in earlier productions as popular song since the 1880s. In the second,in the 1960s, it was based on the compositions of Alain Oulman for singer Amália Rodrigues.

Important discussions about fado involve traditional instruments, new instrumental forma -tions, the technical training of musicians, and musical hierarchy in the organization of itsharmonic and melodic accompaniment. The standard accompaniment is based on a Portugueseguitar and an acoustic viola, usually with a second guitar and/or a viola-baixo (bass viola)—inBrazil known as violão-baixo (acoustic six-string bass guitar). The Portuguese viola correspondsto the Brazilian acoustic guitar, tuned, from the highest pitched strings to the lowest, in E-B-G-D-A-E. The Portuguese guitar is formed of pairs of strings—doubled or in octaves—and itsmost used traditional tuning is known as “fado tuning:” B-A-E doubled and B-A-D octavated.

There is a specific hierarchy in the instrumental structure required for the interpretation ofthe genre. The instrumental formation is usually headed by the first guitarist; however, thisposition may be performed by the viola player providing he or she is very experienced. Theviola is responsible for the rhythmic and harmonic foundation, and the viola-baixo by theharmonic path of the bass. The guitar is the greatest instrumental expression of fado, featuredas a sort of support to the lead vocals, complementing the melancholic musical ambience witharpeggios, trills, and solos interspersed in the singing.

The Portuguese fado is a genre capable of representing the sociocultural identity of theLusitanian people. Fado is music, but it is also the act of suffering and singing, and is theaffirmation of melancholy and nostalgia, these feelings so ingrained and dear to the heart ofPortugal. The fado knows to dress itself, knows how to play, determines what, how, and whocan play. The fado knows how one has to listen to it. In its lyrics, there is a knowledge and aflavor—the singer cries, describes symbols and certain Portuguese myths, presenting the themesthat structure the musical discourse, such as the constant references to the city of Lisbon andthe neighborhoods of Alfama, Bica, Bairro Alto, and Mouraria, the calls of street vendors, thePortuguese guitar, bullfights, and the misfortune of the houses of prostitution. The singers havea distinctive way of dressing, usually a black suit for men and a scarf, also black, wrapped aroundthe neck of the women. With his or her vocal style, the performer presents the tenseautobiographical drama in the lyrics, and, as a counterpoint, the guitarist supports the lamentof the singer, like a friend’s comforting shoulder for the song’s suffering, an instrumentalextension of the spoken text, composing thus a single expressive phrase. There seems to be,during the presentation of fado, a dialogue between the singer and the guitarist—a narrative ofmelancholy and longing that moves the listener deeply. In the typical houses of Lisbon, calledCasas de Fado (Fado Houses), the presentation of this music created its own symbology, involvingthe viewer, who usually maintains a respectful attitude in relation to the performer when, atone point, he or she asks for “silence because fado is going to be sung.” At this time, the waiterssuspend service to the public so that the artist, with gestures and expressions (sometimesexaggerated) can express the feeling of absence characteristic of this musical genre.

Fado in Rio de Janeiro

This unique environment for the dissemination of fado was reproduced in Rio de Janeiro byimmigrants who settled there, who rerecorded traditional songs and created new works, manyof them recorded later in Portugal by prestigious singers such as Amália Rodrigues (1920–1999)or Francisco José (1924–1988). The performance spaces were concentrated in the Casas de Fadothat were opened from the 1950s to the 1970s, a dozen establishments located mostly in the

Fado in Rio de Janeiro • 87

neighborhoods of Copacabana and Ipanema. Radio and television programs also contributedto the spread of the genre and to the sociocultural integration of the Portuguese community,especially the radio programs of fado singers Manoel Monteiro (1909–1990) and JoaquimPimentel (1910–1978) and the television show of de Francisco José.

The form of reproduction of the fado musical genre in Rio de Janeiro was preserved in itsformal structure, including with regard to the themes that inspire its lyrics. However, some newworks were created in Brazil from a combination of other musical genres with fado, such asfado-marcha, fado-fox, fado-baião, and fado-samba, giving authenticity to authors and performersin the city.

The arrangements, in addition to using the various instrumental combinations inherent inthe fado universe, also employed electric guitars, cavaquinho, and tambourine, seeking anapproach to different cultural patterns.

The singer Baiano (1870–1944) made the first recording of fado in Brazil, “Fado Português”(Portuguese Fado) (Zon-o-Phone 10.009), in 1902. Until today, this recording stands as the firstof its kind recorded in the world, predating even the pioneering recordings registered in Portugal.The fado phonograms recorded in Rio de Janeiro until 1935 exposed the pioneering singers ofthe genre in Brazil, such as Baiano, Cadete (1874–1960), Eduardo das Neves (1874–1919), andMário Pinheiro (1880–1923), and numerous recordings of singers Manoel Monteiro, JoaquimPimentel, and José Lemos. While researching the fado discography in Brazil between 1902 and1964, I found records of more than 700 recordings of the genre, which can be understood inthree stages in accordance with Table 6.1.

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Table 6.1 Fado in the Brazilian Discography

Stages Period Phonogram characteristics Number of Main interpretersphonograms

Phase 1 1902–1927 Mechanical recording 134 Baiano, Cadete, Mário PinheiroPhase 2 1928–1935 Electrical recording 180 Manoel Monteiro, Joaquim PimentelPhase 3 1936–1964 Expansion of fado Around 386 Adélia Pedrosa, Francisco José,

phonographic market Gilda Valença, Olivinha Carvalho,Maria Alcina

Source: Santos et al. (1982)

Profile of the Immigrant: The Singer Maria Alcina

In my reflections, I think of social networks that emanate from cultural practices alreadymentioned, which can be observed through the concept of “artistic worlds” and “social types,”explained by Howard S. Becker (1977). According to the author, the artistic world is organizedthrough a network of individuals and relationships established between these individuals in themaking of art; this encompasses musicians, actors, composers, musical instrument makers, andthe public, and conventions and actions that allow the existence of cooperative activities for thedevelopment of a product (Becker 1977).

Seeking to understand the structure of this art world, I sought to analyze the social networkof the Portuguese colony established in the city of Rio de Janeiro, based on oral accounts of itsmembers. The interviews provided by singers, musicians, listeners, and broadcasters showed

the predominance of integrated artists who sought to emulate the traditional Lisbon model ofperforming fado, establishing and reproducing conventions (perceived in the way of dressing,singing, and decorating the environment) to disseminate and preserve traditional Portuguesemusic culture.

The story of fado in Rio de Janeiro came to reveal the configuration of an artistic world thatemphasizes the name and commitment of performers, musicians, composers, and broadcasters,such as Adélia Pedrosa (1948–), Manoel Monteiro, Joaquim Pimentel, Antonio Campos (1934–),Francisco José, Tony de Matos (1924–1989), Olivinha de Carvalho (1930–), José Chança (1935–),Antonio Ferreira, Xavier Pinheiro, and, among other artists, the figure of the fado singer MariaAlcina, highlighted here. Considered the main Portuguese fado singer living in Brazil, the singerMaria Alcina (Alcina Maria Pinto da Costa Duarte, from Cetos, Castro Daire, Portugal, bornon March 12, 1939) arrived in Rio de Janeiro in 1953, at 14 years of age, from the north regionof Portugal. Like other immigrants established here over the first decade of the twentieth century,the singer said in an interview in February 2011 that during her childhood she did not hearfado in Portugal, but only local traditional music.

Maria Alcina began her singing career in 1959 at age 20, already in Rio de Janeiro, initiallyas a guest on the radio program of the “king” of carnival (Rei Momo) Edson Santana at RádioVera Cruz, with a participation of 15 minutes per program. After three months of activity onthis show, she debuted her own program called “Maria Alcina: The Voice from Overseas,”broadcast between 1959 and 1964. Rádio Vera Cruz, along with Maria Alcina’s show (theprogramming comprised 30 minutes of Portuguese music and 30 minutes of Brazilian music),had a history of fado programs, in which it presented the singers Manoel Monteiro and JoaquimPimentel in the 1930s and 1940s. In the following decade (the 1950s), the presence of fado inRio de Janeiro intensified, not only due to the movement and establishment of Portuguese artistsin the city, but also due to the increase in the number of phonograms recorded and the appearanceof fado houses in some parts of Rio’s Zona Sul (South Zone).

In 1964, Maria Alcina performed for seven months at the fado house “Lisboa Antiga,” ownedby another singer, Adélia Pedrosa, and located in São Paulo. Later, she returned to Rio deJaneiro as one of the attractions of the restaurant “Fado,” owned by Antonio Mestre, on PompeuLoureiro Street in Copacabana. Maria Alcina sang in other fado houses of Rio de Janeiro, such as “Adega do Mesquita,” “Corridinho,” the restaurant “Galo,” “Lisboa à Noite,” “Casa daMariquinhas,” and “Cantinho da Severa.” Along with her presentations in fado houses, thesinger participated in soap operas and sitcoms on Brazilian television networks, in addition totouring throughout Brazil and South America. The singer Maria Alcina’s discography includesthree albums, four singles, and a CD released by record label Som Livre.

Maria Alcina was the owner of A Desgarrada, a typical Portuguese restaurant located in theIpanema neighborhood, and was an entrepreneur and singer between 1976 and 2000. Therestaurant was a place dedicated to Portuguese cuisine and culture, with weekly performancesof fado, which hosted many of the fado singers and musicians living in the city, and fado singerswho were passing through Brazil. The establishment had a typical Portuguese menu and 13professionals in the restaurant kitchen. Maria Alcina worked daily in the administration of theestablishment until 6 p.m. After this, she presented herself as a singer, receiving numerousartists and personalities such as António Chainho, Amália Rodrigues, Carlos do Carmo, MárioSimões, Adélia Pedrosa, Teresinha Alves, Maria de Lourdes, Esther de Abreu, Paula Ribas,Manoel Taveira, Sebastião Manoel, Mário Rocha, Olivinha Carvalho, and Hélia Costa, amongother characters in the Portuguese cultural universe.1

Fado in Rio de Janeiro • 89

After many years in Rio de Janeiro, in 1974, Maria Alcina traveled to Portugal and spent amonth there, performing at the Casino Estoril in Lisbon at the invitation of the PortugueseGovernment. During this short period, she also sang in some fado houses in Lisbon, althoughshe felt some prejudice on the part of Portuguese fado artists, who asked Alcina to sing only atcertain times, as if she—as a singer regarded by Lisbon residents as an immigrant singer—hadan inferior quality compared with local fado singers. This impression of the fado singer ofdiscrimination between performers of fado immediately brings to mind some considerations ofMichael Pollak on collective memory, since the author believes that memory can be constructedas a collective and social phenomenon, open to continuous transformations (Pollak 1992). Therespected fado singer in Brazil, where she is seen as “Portuguese,” is overlooked in Portugal,where her status suffers the stigma of being “immigrant.” Even being a guest of the Portuguesegovernment, Alcina was not fully welcomed in the Casas de Fado in Lisbon. However, thememory of this fado singer has an inestimable value, because her experience can be reported,she is alive and active in the musical context of fado today, and her talent seems indisputableto me because of the quality of her voice and her performances in shows, one of which I hadthe pleasure and joy of watching recently in the Casa do Minho, located in Rio de Janeiro. Ittook almost 20 years for Alcina, after being able to assert herself as a fado singer in Rio deJaneiro, to return to Lisbon, where she was then honored as she deserved.

In fact, this account began with a reference to a video documentary of the artistic career offado singer Maria Alcina. In this video, there is the record of an event that occurred on September19, 1993, in which Maria Alcina received a tribute in Castro Daire, her birthplace, known byher as “my village.” On the occasion, the singer was invited to inaugurate an avenue namedafter her, and speaking at the event, said that Avenida Maria Alcina is not only for her, butrepresents the realization of the dream of the Portuguese immigrant who, from afar, plantedroots in Castro Daire, according to the fado singer, “in such a beautiful avenue.”2

The narrative of the video shows that the Portuguese from the mountainous region soughtthe future (in this case, the future meant success) through immigration, a path that realized thedreams of many Portuguese. The film begins and ends in the village of Castro Daire, the birth-place of Maria Alcina, and ends with a scene in which the singer sings in the middle of acornfield, clinging to an ear of corn, like those who feel, and want to show, that they are partof the earth. In the film, she recalls her childhood, when she sang starting at the age of five anddreamed of castles, to be a princess. Then, while giving thanks for the tribute, she seems toreturn to the time of her childhood, but this time to declare that the castles are already verysolid, since, like other immigrants from Castro Daire, she was successful in her career in Brazil,a country that welcomed her along with her countrymen. In her moving statement, the singergave thanks for the recognition in front of her Portuguese peers, friends, and family who hadnot left their village.

Fado in Rio Today

In her account, the fado singer Maria Alcina evokes the collective memory of the Portugueseimmigrant, because she points out that before she was recognized as an artist, she worked inRio de Janeiro in various areas of commerce. Considering it from this perspective, the personalstory of Maria Alcina resembles the life story of most Portuguese immigrants. However, herstatus as an immigrant and fado singer has a difference when it is compared to that of others:

90 • Alberto Boscarino

her accomplishment is not merely economic, for the craft of the fado singer is present throughouther life, even in those moments when she became a businesswoman at her restaurant “TheDesgarrada.”

The story of Maria Alcina tells the story of thousands of Portuguese immigrants who cameto Brazil to rediscover Portugal, with its multiple accents and cultures, unifying its nationalidentity through the music of fado. Nowadays, fado is considered a music genre revered inLisbon by both traditional singers and a new generation of young performers and composerswho reinvigorate the genre at the same time they maintain its traditions. However, it is worthnoting that, having been appropriated by the Salazar dictatorship (1928–1968) as music for thepropaganda of that political regime, fado was forgotten and repudiated after the end of dictatorshipin Portugal (1974), reappearing on the Portuguese cultural scene in the last two decades of thetwentieth century, reinvigorated by the voices of young groups and performers such as Madredeus,Dulce Pontes, Mísia, and Mariza.

In Rio de Janeiro, despite decades of effort on the part of singers rooted there, fado is notpresent in the lives of the young children and grandchildren of Portuguese immigrants, and isbecoming a declining genre in the city. The fado houses closed, the radio programs ended,Brazilian television stopped showing programs on aspects of Lusitanian culture, and there isno center of tradition to learn the art of fado, whether sung or played, and almost no morefado musicians.

The lack of recognition of artists who worked for the dissemination of fado in Rio de Janeirois evident because most of their names are not present in the academic literature available orin the entries in the Portuguese music dictionaries, such as Enciclopédia da Música em Portugalno Século XX (Encyclopedia of Music in the Twentieth Century in Portugal, 2010), organizedby musicologist Salwa Castelo-Branco. Nor are these artists included in the entries of Brazilianmusic dictionaries, having been placed in a cultural condition of anonymity, waiting for anofficial recognition that, justly, would permit them to be included in the context of the otherartists and fado performers who contributed to the creation, dissemination and preservation ofthis musical genre in the world.

During the twentieth century, the artistic world of fado was associated with the spaces ofdiffusion of the musical genre and Portuguese culture, which included the fado houses, radioand television programs, and sound recordings and images registered on 78 rpm discs, LPs,cassette tapes, video tapes, CDs and DVDs. At the turn of the twenty-first century, theimplementation of new technologies tended to broaden the scope of disclosure and the socialnetwork associated with fado, transforming its artistic world.

Given the importance of fado as a unifying element of the social identity of the Portuguesecommunity in Brazil, it is the community itself, in the form of bloggers, who take the reins ofpreserving the individual careers and keeping alive the collective memory. In order to mitigatethe circumstances of such an unfavorable picture for the maintenance of the genre in the city,I must emphasize the efforts of some Luso-Brazilian descendants who work in the organizationand maintenance of blogs and websites to disseminate and preserve the memory of the fado inBrazil, making biographical data about fado singers, photos, and discographies, among otherinformation, available on the Internet. The site of Adélia Pedrosa, organized by her daughter,Claudia Tulimoschi, and the blog of the researcher Thais Matarazzo are worth highlighting.Their individual actions fit into the concept of the integrated artist defined by Becker (1977),and can be understood through the metaphor of drift (Becker 1982), a concept that helps define

Fado in Rio de Janeiro • 91

the transformations occurring in an organized artistic world that tends to resolve its problemsin a natural and gradual way. Thus, the related agents in this process end up accepting thechanges occurring as a transition or natural adaptation, aiming thus to rescue and maintaintheir traditional forms of culture.

Notes1. Along with these artists, Maria Alcina also cites in an interview granted to me the name of various musicians

connected to fado in the city, such as the guitar players Mario Rui, Antonio Rodrigues, Antonio Maria Velho,Antonio Silveira, Lafayete Ramalho, José Manuel Rocha, and guitarists Xavier Pinheiro, Armando Nunes, CaçulaHilário and Leonel Vilar.

2. Cited in DVD Maria Alcina. Portugueses ilustres no Brasil (1994).

BibliographyBecker, Howard S. 1977. “Mundos artísticos e tipos sociais.” In Arte e sociedade—ensaios de sociologia da arte, edited

by Gilberto Velho, 9–26. Rio de Janeiro: Zahar.Becker, Howard S. 1982. Art Worlds. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.Carvalho, Pinto de. 2003 [1903]. História do fado. Lisboa: Dom Quixote.Castelo-Branco, Salwa (Org.). 1994. “Vozes e guitarras na prática interpretativa do fado.” In Fado: vozes e sombras,

124–141. Lisboa: Museu Nacional de Etnologia.Castelo-Branco, Salwa (Org.). 2010. Enciclopédia da música em Portugal no século XX. Lisboa: Círculo de Leitores.Enciclopédia da música brasileira—erudita, folclórica e popular. 1998. 3rd ed. São Paulo: Arte editora.Lobo, Eulália Maria L. 1994. Portugueses en Brasil en el siglo XX. Madrid: Editorial MAPFRE.Lobo, Eulália Maria L. 2001. Migração Portuguesa no Brasil. São Paulo: Hucitec.Nery, Rui Vieira. 2004. Para uma história do fado. Lisboa: Publico/Corda Seca.Oliveira, Lucia L. 2001. O Brasil dos imigrantes. 2nd ed. Rio de Janeiro: Zahar.Osório, Antonio. 1974. A mitologia fadista. Lisboa: Livros Horizonte.Pimentel, Alberto. 1989. A triste canção do sul: subsídios para a história do fado. Lisboa: Dom Quixote.Pollak, Michael. 1992. “Memória e identidade social.” Revista Estudos Históricos, vol. 5, no. 10, 200–215.Santos, Alcino, Grácio Barbalho, Jairo Severiano, and Miguel Ângelo de Azevedo (Nirez). 1982. Discografia brasileira

em 78rpm (1902–1964). Rio de Janeiro: FUNARTE, 5 v.

InterviewAlcina, Maria. 2011. Interview at Maria Alcina’s home in Méier, February 2, 2011. Rio de Janeiro, MP3 audio archive

(82 minutes).

FilmographyMaria Alcina: Portugueses Ilustres no Brasil. 1994. Rio de Janeiro: Malta Editora Ltda. DVD (52 minutes), sound, color.

Consulted WebsitesAdélia Pedrosa. Accessed January 14, 2011. http://adeliapedrosa.blogspot.com/.Claudia Tulimoschi. Accessed January 14, 2011. http://clautulimoschi.blogspot.com/p/fado.html.IBGE. Accessed October 22, 2009. www.ibge.gov.br/brasil500/index2.html.Thais Matarazzo. Accessed January 12, 2011. http://thmatarazzo.bloguepessoal.com/.

92 • Alberto Boscarino

PART IIIScenes and Artists

Attuned to perspectives of cultural studies relating to popular music, this section has somereflections based on the concept of the scene, considering it as advantageous for the study notonly of specific genres, but also of coexisting and articulated styles and practices. It is the caseof drum & bass, tecnobrega and manguebeat. Also included is a discussion of the sexually chargedperformance of Ney Matogrosso, along with the impact on listening practices caused by twoalbums that make clear the “metabolization” of various aesthetics and traditions. In this sense,the chapters of Part III discuss genres and artists active from the 1970s onward, immersed inmass media, making an unceremonious bridge (see the interview with Lenine) between theinternational and the national. Not surprisingly, most of these chapters deal in some way withissues of judgment. Especially at the beginning of the twenty-first century, the variety of stylesof popular music in Brazil has promoted a conflict over musical “quality.”

The national-versus-foreign clash and the discussions about quality are nothing new. Bossanova received criticism from some quarters regarding its connection to jazz. Popular musiccritic and researcher José Ramos Tinhorão (1997: 30–31) came to mock the nicknames TomJobim and Johnny Alf: why the Americanized “Tom” and not “Tonico” or “Tonho,” in theBrazilian way? In the early 1960s, some artists formerly affiliated with bossa nova, such as CarlosLyra and Nara Leão, adopted a more politicized stance, influenced by the ideas of leftistintellectuals, and turned their production to themes and aesthetics related to the city slums andpeasants. With the military coup in March 1964, the defense of Brazilian popular music, alreadycreating the “MPB,” against the supposed dumping in Brazil of products of the cultural industry,became a highly politicized issue of resistance. In 1965, the influential broadcaster TV Recordhad in its cast some of the leading artists of popular music, who weekly starred on programssuch as O Fino da Bossa (Elis Regina, Jair Rodrigues, and their guests) and Jovem Guarda(Roberto Carlos, Erasmo Carlos, Wanderléia, and their guests). The first was dedicated to theMPB, in the process of canonization as quality music. The second was of “youth music,” theiê-iê-iê (from the “yeah yeah yeah” of the Beatles), taken by most opponents of the politicalregime as alienating, alienated, subservient to U.S. imperialism, and of dubious quality. However,in mid-1967, the Jovem Guarda program surpassed O Fino da Bossa in terms of audience. MPBartists intensified their militancy. In a maneuver of the TV station, partly to promote the newprogram about to debut—Frente Única MPB (MPB Single Front)—some major MPB composersand performers, led by Elis Regina, participated in what became known as “the march againstthe electric guitar,” on July 17, 1967 in São Paulo. About that time, the playwright Chico deAssis put it this way: “I knew that behind the guitar sound, there was a lot of trash of Americanrock ready to land in Brazil. It wasn’t Zappa, no. Not Zeppelin. It was something else . . .” (Calliland Terra 2010: 26’00”). Others, such as Chico Buarque, Caetano Veloso and Nara Leão, did

not want to participate. According to Veloso, Leão even said that it resembled a “fascist march”(ibid.: 28’01”).

This division of ideas and charged emotions had one of its high points soon after in October1967, during the Third International Festival of Brazilian Song, on the same TV Record. It wasa competition and, as at the time music was one of the main vehicles of political manifestation,the audience was comprised of very heated followers. The songs awarded the first four placeswere an expression of the moment: “Ponteio” (Strumming, by Edu Lobo and Capinam) and“Roda Viva” (Rat Race, by Chico Buarque) in first and third places, respectively, fitted intoMPB; “Domingo no Parque” (Sunday in the Park by Gilberto Gil) and “Alegria, Alegria” (Joy,Joy by Caetano Veloso), second and fourth places, appeared at an intersection of internationalcontemporary music, especially rock, and Brazilian sounds. And above all, Gil was accompaniedby Os Mutantes, while Veloso was backed by The Beat Boys, both rock groups. According toVeloso, “to do songs with a rock band and electric guitar was a political attitude and diametricallyopposed to the attitude of the protest march” (Callil and Terra 2010: 28’29”). The aesthetic ideasthat shaped Tropicalismo, which was much farther reaching than just the music, became public.

“Marks of a Recent Antropofagia: The Listening Practices of the Albums Acabou Chorareand Selvagem?” by Jorge Cardoso, analyzes the practices of listening linked to these two albums,by Paralamas do Sucesso and Novos Baianos, respectively. Assuming that the absorption offoreign influences is an aesthetic and ethic trademark of Brazilian culture, the author evaluatesthe social use conferred upon those albums, relating it to the poetic projects of Antropofagiaafter the period of Tropicalismo.

Issues regarding performance lead us to “I Sing Everywhere: An Ethnomusicological Lookat the Performance of Ney Matogrosso,” in which Sérgio Gaia Bahia discusses the career ofsinger Ney Matogrosso. Bahia analyzes the idiosyncratic performances of the artist who, sincethe 1970s with rock and later with MPB, has been stirring the debate about sexuality. Althoughwell established in legitimized MPB, Matogrosso’s performance has sometimes been an objectof contention.

Until the mid-1980s, Brazil was not in the circuit of presentations of international rock and pop bands. During the 1970s, few artists performed in the country; among them were Santana (1971and 1973), Alice Cooper (1974), Rick Wakeman (1975), and Genesis (1977). In the follow ing years,Queen (1981), The Police and Peter Frampton (1982), and Van Halen and Kiss (1983) visited.

For those who are younger than 30, it is hard to imagine what happened in January 1985.A rock festival with more than 10 major international attractions? This was a dream, thetype of thing we knew happened in Europe or the United States, but here in Brazil . . . itonly became believable when the day came, with the line at the entrance and a ticket in hand.

(Piza 2005)

“How great that I lived to see the day that the Brazilian rock—rock in Brazil!—would betreated in this way!” said Lulu Santos, guitarist and songwriter, during the soundcheck beforehis concert at Rock in Rio 1 (Globo TV Broadcast 1985: 02’10”). Later, he and other Brazilianartists considered that they were treated by the production and foreign technicians as second-class attractions (Alexandre 2013: 220–227; Bryan 2004: 260; Gavin 2011: 04’42”).

The first Rock in Rio festival was organized by the advertising professional Roberto Medina,through his company Artplan, and sponsored by other large-scale entities (Organizações Globo,beer brands, private banks). The media coverage of the event began months before and wascompared to that of the World Cup. Artists were wrapped in glamour, their steps monitored

94 • Scenes and Artists

in the city. The “City of Rock,” built on a plot of 250,000 square meters, housed the biggestlight and sound system (on three stages) in Brazil’s history up to that time; the 10-day festival(January 11–20, 1985) received over 1 million people. The country’s reputation was not goodfor shows of this size due to the lack of infrastructure. Medina had reported that some of theentrepreneurs with whom he came into contact during the organization of the festival laughedwhen they learned what and where it was (Biaggio 2000). The choice of artists was controversialbecause of its heterogeneity: veterans of MPB and international pop, new wave bands, heavymetal, and BRock—Brazilian rock from the early 1980s sung in Portuguese—and the greatestbeneficiary of the event.

Rock in Rio 1 happened at the peak of a decade that had started with a dictatorship andended with direct elections for president. BRock sounded fresh and was associated with thistime of transition by many young people who, at that time, identified themselves less with MPB.The populous marches in favor of direct elections, in 1984, demonstrated the involvement ofyoung people with the political moment. The festival, which took place in the week of the(indirect) election of the first civilian president in 21 years, directed its advertising to this fact.Television commercials claimed that “more than concerts, [it was] a historic moment!” and that“the dream was becoming reality,” an attempt to bring together ideas of national pride, politics,publicity, and art. On January 15, with the choice of Tancredo Neves as the president of theRepublic, thousands of people attended the festival in green and yellow, and artists unfurledBrazilian flags; the band Barão Vermelho changed their lyrics, which mentioned “the birth ofa happy day” to “the birth of a happy Brazil.” Reporters from TV Globo referred to it as “thecelebration of democratic rock.”

As a result of the popularity of the festival, pop, rock, and metal bands—those that alreadyexisted and those that formed from all the enthusiasm—recorded albums. Brazilian artists, aswell as lighting, sound, and studio technicians, became more professional upon coming intocontact with the technology. International bands included Brazil in their tours, and the numberof concerts offered increased considerably (Alexandre 2013: 227–228; Gavin 2011).

Following Rock in Rio, 1986 brought the Real economic plan that controlled inflation formonths—in 1985, the rate had been 233 percent per year—and the music industry heated up(Dapieve 1995: 201). BRock bands sold more than ever. RPM—Pirata ao Vivo (RPM—PirateLive, Epic, 1986; Sony Music, 1999) sold over 2 million copies; Legião Urbana II (EMI, 1986)sold more than 1 million. For the record companies, Brazilian bands were great business,especially BRock ones, since they significantly reduced costs by not hiring musicians, orchestras,composers, and arrangers, or renting foreign studios for recordings and mixes. Bands dideverything, unlike many of MPB’s established performers (Dias 2000: 82–86; Picolli 2008: 64).

From 1987 onward, there was a new period of recession and the market slowed, demandinga containment of the enthusiasm. Apparently, there was only room for artists with big sales(Brandini 2004: 47).

MTV Brazil was inaugurated in October 1990, initially as a UHF channel with irregularreception, and later becoming part of a package of cable TV subscriptions, which continued tohinder its unlimited access. In any case, its existence increased the production of domestic videoclips, which had been virtually nonexistent until then.

Following an international trend, smaller labels consolidated a continuous fragmentation inthe processes of music production in the early 1990s. In 1989, when Collor was elected presidentby 35 million voters with an important percentage from outside the big cities, “there was asignificant change in the relationship between music and politics” (Dapieve 1995: 202). Thesevoters were a public for another kind of music, especially the duplas sertanejas (country duos)

Scenes and Artists • 95

who had come to dominate the media. Even BRock, which had established itself some yearsearlier, suffered from the shift to the aesthetic of the countryside and had reduced mediaticspace and record sales. In 1990, the telenovela (soap opera) Pantanal, set in the center-west ofBrazil, in a rural context, was a huge success. It was followed in subsequent years by others thatrevolved around cocoa farms, livestock raising, and rodeos.

Although the economic environment did not seem promising, consuming technology,purchasing imported instruments and equipment and maintaining updated information hadbecome easier, with the change of attitude of the Collor government in regard to imports.

At the start of the 1990s in Recife, young artists initiated the manguebeat movement, whichachieved legitimacy in both academic circles and with journalistic critics. Its greatest representa -tive, Chico Science & Nação Zumbi, appears at the center of the discussion of Herom Vargasin relation to the negotiation between tradition and global pop culture in the chapter “ChicoScience & Nação Zumbi: Hybridity and Experimentation in the Manguebeat Movement.”

Although outside the mainstream, but connected and equipped by technology and thereforemore informed and inserted in the world than in any other era, artists moved forward into thetwenty-first century. Tecnobrega resulted from the merger of the brega repertoire with electronicequipment in Belém in Pará state, and it has occupied a prominent position in the music marketof northern Brazil. Conflicts involving cosmopolitanism and the allocation of the label of “poorquality” to tecnobrega are at the core of Paulo Murilo Guerreiro do Amaral’s discussion in“Cosmopolitanism and the Stigma of Tecnobrega Music.”

Ending Part III with “Mixing in the Global Margins: the Making of Brazilian Drum & Bass,”Ivan Paolo Fontanari offers a history of drum & bass in São Paulo, the largest and most populouscity in South America. Based on a semantic analysis of the relations between samples in themusical narrative, field observation and the narrative of informants, the author states that theelectronic scene builds a sense of belonging through cultural references broader than thoseavailable locally, contributing to the living of critical experiences in the lives of the youth of theurban subaltern classes.

BibliographyAlexandre, Ricardo. 2013 [2002]. Dias de luta. O rock e o Brasil dos anos 80. 2nd ed. Porto Alegre: Arquipélago Editorial.Biaggio, Jaime. 2000. “Os dez dias que abalaram o Brasil.” Revista Showbizz, no. 174, Editora Abril, January.Brandini, Valéria. 2004. Cenários do rock—Mercado, produção e tendências no Brasil. São Paulo: Olho D’Água/FAPESP.Bryan, Guilherme. 2004. Quem tem um sonho não dança—Cultura jovem brasileira nos anos 80. Rio de Janeiro: Record.Dapieve, Arthur. 1995. BRock—O rock brasileiro dos anos 80. São Paulo: Editora 34.Dias, Marcia Tostas. 2000. Os donos da voz—Indústria fonográfica brasileira e mundialização da cultura. São Paulo:

Boitempo Editorial.Gavin, Charles. 2011. JB—Charles Gavin fala sobre o Rock in Rio 1985. Jornal do Brasil. Accessed October 8, 2013.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=8kniJQW6eCg.Globo TV Broadcast. 1985. Accessed October 8, 2013. www.youtube.com/watch?v=4uwdq8R5I-o.Piccoli, Edgard, Ed. 2008. Que rock é esse? A história do rock brasileiro contada por alguns de seus ícones. São Paulo:

Editora Globo/Multishow Livros.Piza, Rodrigo. 2005. Especial—Os 20 anos do Rock in Rio I. Whiplash.net, February 26. Accessed October 8, 2013.

http://whiplash.net/materias/especial/000723.html.Tinhorão, José Ramos. 1997 [1966]. Música Popular—Um tema em debate. 3rd ed. São Paulo: Editora 34 Ltda.

FilmographyCallil, Ricardo and Renato Terra (directors). Uma noite em 67. Brazil: VideoFilmes, Record Entretenimento e BNDS,

2010. DVD edition, 85 minutes.

96 • Scenes and Artists

7Marks of a Recent Antropofagia

The Listening Practices of the AlbumsAcabou Chorare (Novos Baianos) and

Selvagem? (Paralamas do Sucesso)Jorge Cardoso Filho

Contemporary Antropofagia (Anthropophagy)

With this chapter, I intend to analyze the listening practices developed in relation to two albumsof Brazilian popular music, Selvagem? (EMI-Odeon, 1986), of the band Paralamas do Sucessoand Acabou Chorare (Som Livre, 1972), of the band Novos Baianos. The objective is to assessthe social use given to such albums related with the poetic projects of antropofagia after theTropicalismo period. From a working hypothesis according to which the digestion of externalinfluences, their absorption, and “turning them into something else” are marks that are bothaesthetic and ethical marks of Brazilian popular culture, I decided to investigate how theappropriation of those albums by the public followed such themes. To identify the hegemonicways the albums were listened to, I followed the methodology developed by the Colombiantheorist Jesús Martín-Barbero (2001), from his map of mediations. Thus, the investigation beganwith a historical reconstruction of the expectations of listeners and the aesthetic possibilitiesavailable in their respective contexts, to thereafter infer traits of the listening that was developedat the time.

The map of mediations proposed by Martin-Barbero comprises two planes: one synchronousand the other diachronic, both tensioned by two axes. On the diachronic plane, there are Cultural Matrices, at one extreme, and Industrial Formats, at the other, so this plan refers tothe historical changes of the relationship between social movements and public discourse. On the synchronic plane, Logic of Production at one point and Reception Competences at theother extreme. Each of these points in turn is cut by a kind of mediation: between the CulturalMatrices and Logic of Production are the institutionalities, which constitute the mediation ofconflicting interests (such as state, minorities, and market), seeking to defend their projects andenforce their worth. Between the Cultural Matrices and Reception competences are thesocializations, generated in daily life, responsible for establishing community ties. Between theLogic of Production and Industrial Formats are the technicities that induce certain perceptualoperators in the subjects. Finally, between the Reception Competences and Industrial Formatsare the ritualities, which constitute “grammars of action,” where the social uses of the variousformats are consolidated, such as the norms of behavior related to certain genres (watch television,participate in a pop music show, attend the opera) (Martin-Barbero 2001).

By identifying these different mediations, the possibility arises of assessing how certainlistening practices are mostly activated in a given context, since in the interactive relationshipestablished between listeners and music, there are always the limits imposed by physical, symbolicand culture skills, by the environment, history-technique circumscription, and traces of sociality,for example. This does not mean, however, that other listening experiences are impossible, onlyless likely, because they suffer the influence of these elements.

The listening practices are conventions activated by listeners to relate to any musical expression.They consist of the ideological, aesthetic, behavioral, symbolic, and physical aspects, so thatthey demonstrate a pragmatic know-how. They develop in this way, supported in the relationshipsbuilt by critics, musicians, and listeners themselves.

As these agents are engaged in a similar way in a relationship with a particular album ormusical genre, one can see a recurring listening practice, which holds the potential to becomethe hegemonic listening practice in that context. Our hypothesis is that a listening practice thatwas established beginning with Tropicalismo can be identified in more recent Brazilian musicalexpressions. Thus, the listening practices of Acabou Chorare and Selvagem? are diachronicexamples of the same cultural practice: antropofagia.

Countercultural Mediations in the Acabou Chorare Listening

The cultural matrix of Acabou Chorare is related to the historical and aesthetic aspects of the1970s, particularly after the development of Tropicalismo in Brazil—during which time thecountry experienced a worsening of the dictatorial regime—as demonstrated by the Americanresearcher Christopher Dunn (2001). The Novos Baianos are not considered a specific band,but a community, a state of mind. A group of friends gathered around some ethical-politicalvalues, and a passion for music, for soccer and for an alternative way of life, which also revealsan aspect of the cultural matrix of the period’s counterculture movement.

This is the context in which the counterculture is understood and assimilated as a way oflife in Brazil: in the wake of the Beat Generation and California Summer of Love movements in1967. Although the dictatorship imposed harsh repression, the Brazilian counterculture movementfunctioned more as an adaptation to international movements than as a form of resistance tothe dictatorship.

Accordingly, the juvenile utopia of building a more humane society, with solidarity andsupportive of free love and sex, was a tonic. There was a constant challenge to the hegemonicinstitutionalities that were explicit in everyday actions: the habit of growing long hair and usingbody adornments by the men, and the free exercise of sexuality on the part of the women. Theresistance, therefore, was not explicit in the lyrics of the songs, but in the attitudes of the youngbands and the era’s youth.

In turn, the modernization through which the country passed favored an increase in theconsumption of music reproduction devices, such as turntables and tape players, which allowedyouths supportive of counterculture to explore their musical sensibility through listening,regardless of the songs being played on commercial radio. Therefore, the technicities imposedthemselves, linked to the ideals of community life and closeness to nature, as were suggestedby the counterculture.

This element points to the field of ritualities operating in the context of the album’s release.From counterculture community bonds tied to the standard industry reproduction format ofLPs or cassette tapes, it appears that Acabou Chorare was usually heard in conjunction with

98 • Jorge Cardoso Filho

others. It was a celebration of the youthful ideal of fellowship through sensible experience,through both listening and the use of drugs—mostly marijuana, but also other psychoactivesubstances such as LSD.

As it circulated in areas considered more alternative, the sociality that was built around these young fans of counterculture communitarianism was based in an almost tribal relation-ship, highly emotional, in which music was one more aggregating element. Soccer, the ideal of a simple and nonprofit life, and life lived together at the country house Cantinho da Vovóin Jacarepagua, in Rio de Janeiro, where the Novos Baianos lived between 1972 and 1973, were all fundamental elements for the album’s listening practice.

The group’s performance incorporated a certain naturalism, with which the rural environmentof the country house matched well. In addition, there was no specific figure of a lead singersince Moraes Moreira, Paulinho Boca, and Baby Consuelo all took turns on the vocals, dependingon the song. In terms of performance, this stance was consistent with countercultural slogansand broke with the tradition of the solitary MPB and bossa nova interpreter, introduced in the1960s.

These factors demonstrate that, at the time, listening to the Novos Baianos also meantsharing the values they represented. Although it is not possible to sustain a relationship of deter -mination, this sharing of values is a horizon toward which the set of mediation componentspoints, which ultimately worked in the development of the experience.

Many people had the experience of playing together and participating in life in the community,but the core members who participated in the recordings were Luiz Galvão (1937–), MoraesMoreira (1947–), Baby Consuelo (1952–), Pepeu Gomes (1952–), and Paulinho Boca (1946–).They released their first album, É Ferro na Boneca in 1970 on RGE. That was followed by AcabouChorare (Som Livre, 1972), Novos Baianos F.C. (Continental, 1973), and Linguagem do Alunte(Continental, 1974). The following albums have been released without the participation ofMoraes Moreira, who pursued a solo career: Vamos pro mundo (Som Livre, 1974), Caia naestrada e perigas ver (Tapecar, 1976), Praga de Baiano (Tapecar, 1977), and Farol da Barra(CBS, 1978). All utilized the standard industrial formats of the time, 33 rpm long play albumand cassette tape, exploring the characteristics of the concept of albums. Occasionally, the bandalso launched singles with two songs. In Infinito Circular, released in 1997 by Globe/Polydor,the group reunited to record a live work. The base of the release was the CD, the compact disc.

The emphasis on counterculture communitarianism was a trait of the reception competencerequired on the occasion of the launching of Acabou Chorare and favored a context ofappropriation for its songs in which few felt involved (a value trait that, even today, remainsactive in musical segments in Brazil, in a revival movement of the musical collectives).

For this reason, the impact of the work of the Novos Baianos was so dependent on intellectualsand artists attuned to Tropicalismo, and alternative periodicals such as Bondinho and Flor doMal (Dunn 2001). Brazilian journalist and composer Torquato Neto (1944–1972) played animportant role in the dissemination and implementation of the counterculture in Brazil, as wellas the promotion of Novos Baianos concerts. He regarded them as the best that existed at thetime. In his column for the Rio de Janeiro newspaper Última Hora in 1971, he made passionatecommentaries about the Novos Baianos. They were so recurrent that, to some extent, theysounded like radio locution (by the repetition and pedagogical tone) (Neto 2004). In the September21 edition of the column Geléia Geral, he stated that those who had not bought and enjoyedthe Novos Baianos single released by Phillips (now Universal Music) were wasting time. Then,on January 5 and 7, 1972, he demanded that André Midani, president of the Phillips label at

Marks of a Recent Antropofagia • 99

the time, launch the album of a Novos Baianos concert. On February 25, 1972, he announcedthe band’s concerts in Recife and Salvador and demanded the record’s release once again.

This direct tone, with an intimacy regarding the group—as well as others that appeared inthe column, such as Gal Costa, Gilberto Gil, Caetano Veloso, Capinam, Hélio Oiticica, and JulioBressane—allows the inference that this music was heard by a very specific audience, an affectivecommunity that frequented similar places, had common tastes, and shared values. Such aframework, consistent with the context of reception, reverberates in the contemporary listeningpractice of the album.

As Acabou Chorare came into contact with the main representatives of the counterculturein Brazil, specialized critics were indifferent to the album’s release. The popular appeal, however,was enormous. The album sold over 100,000 copies in its first year of release, which was a greatdeal at that time for musicians of limited circulation. Songs such as “Brasil Pandeiro” and “PretaPretinha” started to be part of the repertoire in student music circles and were constantlyperformed on radio. The dialogues with Brazilian musicalities (such as frevo and choro) introducedthem to larger segments of the public and brought the band back to the city where they hadfirst come together, Salvador, to participate in the Carnival, upon a trio elétrico.

The group’s contact with another MPB figure, João Gilberto, also Bahian, allows a betterunderstanding of this phenomenon of receptivity. Life in Rio de Janeiro afforded constant contactbetween members of the community of the Novos Baianos and the master of bossa nova, so heplanted important seeds in the poetic proposal of the young Bahians: the incorporation of basesof samba and regional repertory, and his “loaning” of his prestige to the group.

This reference to João Gilberto is made clear in various interviews with members of thegroup (Galvão 1997; Moreira 2007), but, more importantly, can be seen in the very title of thealbum. “Acabou chorare” was a phrase of João Gilberto’s daughter, Bebel Gilberto, issued in thelanguage “portunhol” (a hybrid of Portuguese and Castilian that does not exist as a formallanguage, but is used by some Brazilians while in Latin American countries) that she learnedas a girl. The album’s title is a kind of bricolage, because the very music of the group followsthis principle that sustains itself in a bricoleur listening.

The emphasis on naturalism and communitarianism also manifests itself expressively on thealbum’s divulgation pictures (easily found online). In one of them, we can see the Novos Baianosunder trees, some seated, others standing, sons and daughters, wives and husbands. All verycolorful. One wears a shirt of the Brazilian national soccer team of 1970, another of the BahianSport Club. A counterculture atmosphere prevails.

The image shows the “state of the new Bahian spirit” (Moreira 2007) to which group membersused to refer in their interviews. An adult in the state of childhood, who builds new values whilejoking and playing. In his testimonies about Tropicalismo, Gilberto Gil insisted on the fact thatthe new did not have to exterminate the old, but by its own commitment and effort the newdestroyed old age (Calado 2010). That is, experimentalism breaks tradition and builds anothertradition. Therefore, childhood, the new, is not taken as synonymous with naivety, but as acondition of the possibility of creation. The image of parents and children together on the coveris a mark of this understanding: generations united by community values and passion for musicand soccer. The minimalist album cover (Figure 7.1) portrays the remains of a communal meal.

Then, this listening practice is supported by the stylistic features of different musical genres:sometimes it is a listening for dancing (thanks to the incorporations of samba), sometimes itis a rebellious listening (with rock riffs), sometimes a contemplative listening (with a bossa novabeat). It expresses itself in different ways of using the body, whether through the very musical

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Marks of a Recent Antropofagia • 101

resources employed or through the lyrics. The listening practice is thus supported by a necessaryappropriation of the codes of different musical expressions to compose the countercultureexperience with the music of Novos Baianos. This bricoleur listening does not respect hierarchy,is not based on discipline and rigor, but in the free experimentation, including experimentationin the very ways of relating to music—less marked by the hegemonic institutionalities andtechnicities of the 1970s.

BRock: Barbarism and Savagery in a Synaesthetic Listening

The Paralamas do Sucesso’s 1986 album Selvagem? (Savage?), in turn, is associated with a culturalmatrix of political democratization in Brazil and the emergence of BRock: rock produced by

Figure 7.1 Novos Baianos: Acabou Chorare album sleeve

Source: Graphic design and photos by Antonio Luis (Lula)

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Brazilian bands in the 1980s. Selvagem? sold about 650,000 copies in its first year of release andis among some of the decade’s most prestigious rock albums, alongside Legião Urbana’s Dois(EMI, 1986), Titãs’ Cabeça Dinossauro (WEA, 1986), RPM’s Rádio Pirata Ao Vivo (CBS, 1986),and Ultraje a Rigor’s Nós vamos invadir sua praia (Warner Music, 1985).

The band, which is still active, released its first album Cinema Mudo in 1983 on EMI-Odeon,with which they remained throughout their career. This was followed by the albums O Passodo Lui (1984), Selvagem? (1986), D (1987), Bora Bora (1988), Big Bang (1989), Os Grãos (1991),Severino (1994), Vamo Batê Lata—Paralamas ao vivo (1995), 9 Luas (1996), Hey Na Na (1998),Acústico MTV (1999), Longo Caminho (2002), Uns Dias Ao Vivo (2004), Hoje (2005), Rock inRio 1985 (2007), Brasil Afora (2009), and Multishow Ao Vivo (2011). Over about 30 years ofexistence, the Paralamas do Sucesso have maintained their core of guitarist and vocalist HerbertVianna (1961—), drummer João Barone (1962—) and bassist Bi Ribeiro (1961—), althoughother musicians have been incorporated over the passing years. They have accompanied thechanges of the industrial formats (LP, cassette, and CD) without much resistance or adherenceto technologies.

The aesthetic reception of the songs of the Paralamas do Sucesso was controversial in the1980s, due to the distancing of their style from the generic brands of rock. This means thattheir work demanded a reception competence different from that traditionally establishedwithin the genre. It also interests us to investigate the principle that motivates this weakappropriation of the generic coding of rock. The 1980s was a period in which Brazil went throughthe process of political democratization after more than 20 years of military dictatorship. The movement of the Direct Elections Now, in 1984, was a landmark of popular demand forparticipation in national politics that reverberated in the musical verses of many BRock bands,as in the song “Inútil” (Useless), by the band Ultraje a Rigor, which makes a well-humoredcriticism of the indirect choice of President Tancredo Neves by an electoral college, and “GeraçãoCoca-Cola” (Coca-Cola Generation), by the band Legião Urbana, which pointed out paths ofengagement for urban middle class youth linked to consumption.

Bands such as Titãs, Blitz, Barão Vermelho, RPM, Engenheiros do Hawaii, Kid Abelha e osAbóboras Selvagens, Ira!, Aborto Elétrico, and Gang 90 & As Absurdetes, among many others,emerged in this context and constituted BRock (Dapieve 2004; Ulhôa 2003, 2004). Although itmay not be possible to characterize it as a self-conscious movement or a defined poetic project,there was a very favorable situation for the emergence of BRock as a musical movement in the1980s.

Brazilian journalist Arthur Dapieve (2004) suggests that this effervescence was the result ofthe process of egocentrism through which MPB had passed, which had been celebrating itselfin festivals promoted by TV networks, the “MPB-80” and “MPB-81” festivals. According to theauthor’s perspective, just as rock had become “bourgeois” in foreign countries, MPB had becomea caricatured and bloated musical expression, which was costly for the record companies (dueto expensive artists and repertoire). This pointed to a context of lower investment in the soundsof MPB. The format of rock bands, whose composers were the musicians themselves, with muchless instrumentation, had a lower cost. According to the journalist, if MPB had been importantas the soundtrack of protest and political struggle in the 1960s and 1970s, it had lost its forcein the 1980s, when it adhered to established formats (Dapieve 2004: 23).

The very logic of production at its intersection with cultural matrices put the mass media,especially television programs, as fundamental institutionalities of musical experience (such asthe Cassino do Chacrinha and Globo de Ouro, both of TV Globo, along with Programa do Raul

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Gil, on TV Tupi and later on TV Record); also the first edition of the Rock in Rio festival in1985, considered by many cultural critics as a Brazilian Woodstock, was a landmark event. Boththe TV and Rock in Rio are factors that made the consumption patterns of the urban middleclass, a seemingly minority segment of society at the time, more visible.

Initially, the musicality of the BRock bands did not include rhythmic elements or instrumentscharacteristic of the Brazilian sound identity (Ulhôa 2003). It seemed even to have an importingof the English sonority, adapted to ideological elements and the Portuguese language, whichpredominated in the lyrics. BRock gradually digested and transformed these characteristics,using, among other things, oblique humor, mockery, and irony as traits of their lyrics andperformances (such as Blitz and the Gang 90 & the Absurdetes), while others used punk aggression(such as Plebe Rude).

The cultural matrices of Brazilian society, then, instituted the need for a politically engagedmusic, which positioned itself against the censorship by the military government. In the 1980s,the answers to this need were found in the British punk and new wave movements; therefore,BRock united these influences.

With regard to operative technicities, it is not possible to support that large reconfigurationswere taking place. Brazilian recording studios already had 24 channel decks and the field ofproduction and recording had already professionalized itself, following the business model ofthe music industry. The long play album and cassette tape were the main delivery mediums,which allowed the exploration of the album format, hegemonic in rock since the late 1960s, asa fundamental commercial product of BRock. These albums gave the genre a chance to producea finished product and follow the general trend of ritualities of rock, involving nightclubs andforming collections. The typical listener was, therefore, the owner of a turntable or cassetteplayer, an album collector, and knew punk and new wave bands such as The Sex Pistols, ThePolice and The Clash.

The Paralamas do Sucesso did not bet on this context of visibility of rock (and consequentexploitation of its codes) for interaction with Selvagem?, although their first two albums (CinemaMudo and O Passo do Lui) were close to these traditional repertoires. The label’s press release,signed by label manager Luiz Antônio Mello, at the time of release of Cinema Mudo, positionsthe band as linked to the sound of The Police.

The increased appreciation of the Paralamas’ sound was, therefore, associated with the linkthat was made in the press release. O Passo do Lui highlighted the capacity the band had toexploit European influences to compose something close to the national repertoire. As pointedout by Veja magazine in a 1983 issue, the band had managed to build its own style from theinfluence of “gringo” bands. The use of witty and intelligent lyrics were notable, as were theenergy of the interpretations and ballads with a commercial format, such as “Óculos” (Glasses)(França 2003).

The Veja magazine commentary indicates that there was an expectation of the elaborationof a poetry more clearly supported by the characteristics of Brazilian music. In this sense, afield of expectations was constructed as much about BRock as about the Paralamas. Selvagem?was the result of this context of expectations and of the band’s experimentation with othersounds. From the analysis of active mediations, it is possible to identify that the interactionwith the album was marked by a reticence to employ the more rigid grammars and conventionsof the genre, both on the part of the musicians and their listeners. Listening to Selvagem? wasnot simply like listening to European rock in a Brazilian style. There seemed to be somethingnew there, there seemed to be a listening that adhered to an alterity and to rock’s strange sounds.

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The first contact that the listeners of Rádio Cidade, in Rio de Janeiro, had with Selvagem?was through the work song “Alagados,” a track that mixes the sound of Jamaican ska, in itsopening, with rock chords and politically engaged lyrics. For BRock in general, disseminationthrough radio was fundamental to generate the required reverberation among the public andto open space in media such as television.

Along with the album, music journalists received an account of the objectives and influencesof the band, through a commentary by the record producer Liminha about the work of recordingwith the Paralamas do Sucesso. These texts intended to create a specific “framework” as to howthe record should be heard, as can be seen in the following excerpt: “Selvagem? is an albumwith no tricks. We are not in search of roots or conciliations. We are stimulated by the experienceof opening a door that gives onto a larger room than the one we’re in” (Paralamas do Sucesso,cited in França 2003: 98).

The frame suggested by the band to define their own work attracted the trade press, as wellas listeners, and both began to evaluate the new album from the Paralamas as an attempt toexplore African sounds and Jamaican and Caribbean rhythms, and consequently to expand themusical boundaries of rock. These sounds, while appearing in English punk, new wave, and skabands, expanded the musical boundaries of Brazilian rock of the 1980s. França (2003) reportsthat at the time the songs played on the radio, listeners called constantly, both praising andcriticizing. On the one hand, the risk taking, the new sound, and the themes were valued, while,on the other, there was a tone of betrayal of rock, because they did not use traditional elementsof the genre.

This type of reaction related by the journalist is an indication of how successful the “framing”was, and thus also indicates how Selvagem? knew how to rescue the important legacy of theBrazilian Tropicalismo movement. This rescue is manifested materially in both the album andthe band’s performances.

In the performances—because they circulated on variety shows, lip synching their songs onprograms targeted to the mass audience, such as Cassino do Chacrinha, Raul Gil, and Show daXuxa—the band seemed to recognize the condition of “underdevelopment” and “precariousness”as a possible poetics for BRock. That does not mean the band bet on crude or amateur elements(to the contrary, they were extremely professional and had large investments from EMI), butthere was an understanding that those were the cultural matrices from which BRock could besuccessful.

On the album, the dialogue with Tropicalismo happens in several ways. The first is througha partnership with the Tropicalismo singer-songwriter Gilberto Gil, who contributed to thelyrics of one of the compositions on the album, “A Novidade” (The News). This demonstratesthat the poetic proposal made by the band won the support of an icon of Brazilian mass-popularmusic, who, in the mid-1960s, insisted on the hybridization of different musical traditions as acondition of creating a musical aesthetic. Another manifestation of this rescue is the actualcover of the album, which features a teenage boy (Peter Ribeiro, Bi Ribeiro’s brother) wearingan Indian costume, with the questioning title Selvagem?.

What is at stake in terms of what the image represents is, in this case, the possibility of arecovery of the “original condition” of Brazil, indigenous and paradisiacal, after the civilizingprocess in which it was inserted. Hence, the self-irony and ambivalence of the proposition madeon the album cover, while honoring that “original” aspect of Brazilian culture, questions thepossibility of reconnecting that tradition to modernity, in the context in which the album wasreleased.

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The ambiguity of the cover also facilitates the construction of a carnivalization effect, by theuse of colors and semi-nudity. The ambiguity is celebrated, and not avoided in any way. It ispart of the logic of this barbaric/savage being, to be transformed by means of a reinvention ofthe savage myth, which is originally from Brazil—an aspect that was taken by the ManifestoAntropofágico, of the poet Oswald de Andrade, as a condition not of underdevelopment, butof artistic creation itself.

Some interviews with Herbert Vianna offer evidence that there was an artistic principle thatguided the album. França (2003) reports that in an interview in 1986, Vianna clearly states thatrock was, and would continue to be, a general anthropophagy, that it was the nature of the rockto appropriate all that was available.

The comments made about Selvagem? at the time of its release, however, reflect the uncer -tainties of a public that was still suffering the shock of provocation made by the band. JournalistLuiz Carlos Mansur punctuated that “the impression is that the record will cause amazementat the least” (Mansur cited in França 2003: 101). The critic Antônio Mafra emphasized thechanges in the band’s way of playing, the lyric writing, and in aspects of rock itself. He said:

the new work is too strange for those standards. It has African traits reinvented by theJamaican language and that of the Caribbean. At the same time it is too Brazilian, isn’treverent to the European style, and manages to maintain the personality of the Paralamas.

(Mafra cited in França 2003: 101)

Arthur Dapieve (2004), retrospectively, brings a commentary on the reception of Selvagem?that demonstrates the satisfaction of the public who joined the proposal made on the record,

Figure 7.2 Paralamos do Sucesso: Selvagem? album sleeve

Source: Designed by Ricardo Leite

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and whose listening practice has become standard for the receptions of later generations. Hementions the fact that the album was presented and received as a parameter for the future ofrock, in the official show for the album’s release, at Canecão, in Rio de Janeiro.

This implies that the future of rock that loomed for Brazilian listeners, in that context, wasof a sound open to encounters with the “other,” with sounds that had hitherto been unexploredby Brazilian rock. This openness to otherness, in the case of the record, was a black musicalityalready mediated by the Caribbean appropriation, which appeared on songs such as “Alagados,”“Melô do Marinheiro,” “Marujo Dub,” and “Selvagem,” which enhanced the sounds of LatinAmerica and Brazilian music through the use of technological resources—a phenomenon thatOswald de Andrade (1978) called “technical barbarism.”

This practice of listening manifests itself physically in the dance and the body of listeners,but it is not a body stigmatized by the general rules of English rock of the 1980s. It is a malleablebody, tropical, savage. It is a listening with taste, smell, color, and touch. Synaesthetic. Assuggested by the questioning of the very title of the album Selvagem?, this body is not “tamed”by rules and conventions—be they social, civilizational, or of a musical genre.

The inconstancy of the savage soul itself favors this opening to the new, to the “other,” that,being the object of cannibalism (antropofagia), transforms the cannibal himself, as Braziliananthropologist Eduardo Viveiros de Castro (2002: 191) explains. The “other” is related to theencounter with sounds, rhythms and expressive elements that are unusual in comparison tothose usually employed on the occasion. Hence the malleable body, changeable and impossibleto be determined and categorized. Listening to Selvagem? becomes a bodily commitment, a dia -logue between the senses, and not merely the exercise of hearing. Brazilian rock becomes BRock.

When Martha Ulhôa (2003) describes the curiosity of an English historian when hearingBRock songs and not finding any traces there of Brazilian music, it is possible to question ifwhat he was looking for in those songs might be the savage otherness traditionally establishedby European musicology.

An “Anthropophagic” Banquet

The experiences that were promoted by these two albums of Brazilian mass-popular music resultfrom a practice of listening oriented by Tropicalismo proposals from the 1960s, and by theAntropofagia movement of the 1920s. From them, it is possible to think about common traitsof Brazilian mass-popular music and explore aspects of an “anthropophagic” poetics that, whileit seems initially linked only to the musical and artistic movements (Tropicalismo in the 1960sand 1970s, BRock in the 1980s, and the manguebeat movement in the 1990s, for example), gobeyond the limits of the works and spill over into aspects of Brazilian culture more broadly,revealing features no longer of the objects, but of the culture and tradition to which these objectsbelong.

Antropofagia is not just an aesthetic feature, but also ethical (Andrade 1978). A modus operandi of Brazilian culture reveals itself as it comprises the kind of appeal that works such asSelvagem? and Acabou Chorare propose to the listener, and the type of repertoire that theyactivate. This is not a repertoire that is based on the linearity of identity narratives, but on anAmerindian perspectivism. In a response to criticism established by the early Jesuit missionariesof the customs of the indigenous (who quickly “forgot” the teachings of their catechizers andreturned to the savage life), Castro (2002) states that the Amerindian perspectivism is, in truth,

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an affirmation of an essential ontological incompleteness that submits to fixity and thepermanence of transformation and a type of transubstantiation.

The “anthropophagic” Latin American expression did not hide its sexual references, as didthe Europeans—who started from a Christian cultural matrix, based in sin and guilt. Theoriginal condition of America was of freedom from such values, hence the possibility of havingnudity as a recurring element in its poetic universe. The interest in the unknown and themanifestation of the primitive were other traits of the “anthropophagic” Brazilian movement,which preached a “desire for assimilation and digestion, by an antropofagia understood as anorgiastic ritual cannibalism of artistic creation” (Subirats 2001: 56).

“All at the same time now,” as in the record of the Titãs (Tudo ao mesmo tempo agora, WEA,1991). The mixture of genres, types, and sounds. Underdevelopment as a starting point. In thissense, there is the actuation of a set of ideals that involve the engagement of the listener (aswell as his or her repertoire) in a very specific way. These ideals shift, not just the listening, butthe listener him or herself from his or her own initial condition as a recognizer of genreconventions, to a position of monitoring the progress of the performance of the songs. Like thecannibal, who transforms him or herself by digesting foreign influences, the listener can transformhis or her performative skills and relationship with the songs by listening to these albums.

The alterity as aesthetic dimension is interesting because it allows us to think that there is atype of effect that takes the body not only as a support or constraint, but as a condition ofpossibility of the experience of the “other.” In this case, it is a listening experience that transformsthe experience the listener has of him or herself—I listen, realizing bricolage operations, involvingall my senses, and thereby discover/invent skills to relate to these songs. This experience is notlocated solely within the scope of the interpretive process (deciphering the codes of the genre),but is also linked to the competencies of body use in order to celebrate the meeting with theunexpected, with this “other” that is presented to me during the performance of music.

Songs such as “Mistério do Planeta” and “Tinindo, Trincando,” on the part of the NovosBaianos, as well as “Selvagem” and “A Novidade,” on the part of the Paralamas do Sucesso,activated operations of bricolage of repertoire and/or dances and the synaesthetic sensibility,this time not in the scope of poetry, but from the listening itself. This activation involves theintroduction of a performativity specific to the listener’s body.

Both Brazilian antropofagia and Tropicalismo claim this valorization of the body as a matrixcondition of the experience of the world, in a way that interacting with the world signifiesaffecting and being affected. Transform and be transformed. Consume the environment at thesame time as one is consumed by it. Both the vital and symbolical processes depend on thisrelation of incorporation of elements of the world by the being and of the being by theenvironment.

In reference to the Novos Baianos, this appropriation of the environment in the musicalexperience starts with a post-Tropicalismo naturalism, in which electrified musical fusions had already been established, which allowed a dialogue with musical expressions such as frevo,samba, and choro. The dialogue with counterculture and rock later enabled the group toincorporate, in hybrid songs of samba and choro, the sound of the guitarra baiana (Bahianguitar), an instrument derived from the pau-elétrico and developed by the duo Dodô & Osmar for the Carnival of Salvador in the 1950s. The sound of the guitarra baiana was basedon a combination of cavaquinho and the electrification of the guitar, on an instrument of fivestrings, which adeptly synthesized the dialogue between different traditions (a regional instrument

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modified by modern technology). Hence, this process of social use is characterized as a bricoleurlistening.

In Selvagem?, this alterity is manifested from a “primitive/savage” that appropriates thetechniques and sounds in a tactical manner, that is, without the uses established by the hegemoniclogic of the rock music genre, to which the band was connected. The emphasis on appropriationrecycled from dubs and delays and the dancing and swinging bodily appeal present in the songswere evidence of this synaesthetic appropriation that reversed the logic of cultural productionof the rock genre made in Brazil until then.

The idea of a “primitive” who appropriates the techniques and technologies in a tacticalmanner is present in the notion of technized-barbarian formulated by Oswald de Andrade, andreveals something about the musical movements that appear in the contemporary period (Dunn2001; Mota et al. 2008). They have presented, at some time or in a certain sense, inversions inthe practices of hegemonic listening. Just as noise and distortion, which were considereduncomfortable in music, and appeared in rock as poetic elements of subversion, the antropofagiaheritage appears in these albums as an element that promotes subversion and opens new horizonsof possibilities.

To analyze the instituted/instituting experience is therefore to operate with the politicalrecords and uses of sensibility that, on the one hand, can be programmatically driven andshaped in a specific context, but, on the other hand, do not preclude the eruption of unpredictableaspects that transform sensibility itself. Acabou Chorare, in 1972, and Selvagem?, in 1986,rescued a common trait of the Brazilian cultural and artistic manifestations that had alreadyappeared in the Week of Modern Art, in 1922, in Cinema Novo and in Tropicalismo: the openingto the “other.” That access to the common element of poetic art occurred in a unique manner,beginning with the resources and songs that the two bands employed in the specific contextsin which they were inserted.

Certainly, this type of listening practice was possible thanks to the framework of negotiatedand evidenced values both in the 1970s and 1980s, and to the hegemonic mediations acting inthese contexts in Brazil. Evidently, these factors do not impede the questioning of other possibleexperiments in that context, taking into account the residual and emergent mediations and thedynamic processes of resistance that were there. This, however, is a subject for another time.

BibliographyAndrade, Oswald. 1978. Do Pau-Brasil à Antropofagia e às utopias. Obras completas de Oswald de Andrade. 2nd ed.

Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira.Calado, Carlos. 2010. Tropicália: a história de uma revolução musical. São Paulo: Editora 34.Dapieve, Arthur. 2004. BRock: o rock brasileiro dos anos 80. 4th ed. Rio de Janeiro: Editora 34.Dunn, Christopher. 2001. Brutality garden: Tropicália and the emergence of a Brazilian counterculture. Chapel Hill, NC:

University of North Carolina Press.Dunn, Christopher. 2002. “Tropicália, counterculture and the diasporic imagination in Brazil.” In Brazilian popular

music and globalization, edited by Charles Perrone and Christopher Dunn, 72–95. New York: Routledge.França, Jamari. 2003. Os Paralamas do Sucesso: vamo batê lata. São Paulo: Editora 34.Galvão, Luiz. 1997. Anos 70: novos e baianos. São Paulo: Editora 34.Martin-Barbero, Jesus. 2001. Dos meios às mediações: comunicação, cultura e hegemonia. 2nd ed. Rio de Janeiro: Editora

da UFRJ.Moreira, Moraes. 2007. A história dos Novos Baianos e outros versos. Rio de Janeiro: Língua Geral.Mota, Regina et al. 2008. “Antropofagia e transe: ensaios coletivos.” Anais do IV ENECULT. Salvador: UFBA.Neto, Torquato. 1971a. “Em tudo quanto é boca.” In Torquatália: obra reunida de Torquato Neto, edited by Paulo

Roberto Pires, 231–232. Rio de Janeiro: Rocco.Neto, Torquato. 1971b. “Adiado o concerto pirata.” In Torquatália: obra reunida de Torquato Neto, edited by Paulo

Roberto Pires, 282–284. Rio de Janeiro: Rocco.

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Neto, Torquato. 1971c. “Transas, transas, transas.” In Torquatália: obra reunida de Torquato Neto, edited by PauloRoberto Pires, 303–304. Rio de Janeiro: Rocco.

Subirats, Eduardo. 2001. A penúltima visão do paraíso (ensaios sobre memória e globalização). São Paulo: Studio Nobel.Ulhôa, Martha. 2003. “BRockin’ Liverpool: significado e competência musical.” Em Pauta (Revista do PPG em Música

da UFRGS), vol. 14, no. 23, 43–61.Ulhôa, Martha. 2004. “Let me sing my BRock: learning to listen to Brazilian Rock.” In Rockin’ Las Americas—The Global

Politics of Rock in Latin America, edited by Debora Pacini Hernandez, Hector Fernandez-L’hoeste, and EricZolov, 200–219. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press.

Viveiros de Castro, Eduardo. 2002. A inconstância da alma selvagem. São Paulo: Cosac Naify.

DiscographyNovos Baianos. Acabou Chorare. SomLivre, 05022, 2001, compact disc. Originally released in 1972.Paralamas do Sucesso. Selvagem?. EMI Odeon, 31C 062 421273B, 1986, 33 1/3 RPM.

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8Cosmopolitanism and

the Stigma of TecnobregaMusic

Paulo Murilo Guerreiro do Amaral

Presentation

To think of the Amazon as the place of the “primitive” and the “exotic” is not new. For “good,”and probably since the creation of Greenpeace (1971), the region has gained internationalattention, becoming the repository of hope for the sake of the planet’s survival. For “evil,” bycontrast, it has gone on to resonate in the world with underdevelopment, backwardness, andinsecurity.

However, in addition to the region of virgin and mighty rivers, “untouched” forests, andexuberant fauna, another Amazon has emerged, of big and chaotic multicultural metropolisesopen to opportunities and advancement, connected to the global world, and producers,consumers, and disseminators of cosmopolitan cultural practices, for “good” or for “evil.”

Starting from this ambiguity, in this chapter I intend to discuss the musical production oftecnobrega (tacky techno), a type of electronic music peculiar to the state of Pará, in northernBrazil, considered in “bad taste” and widely disseminated and consumed in the city of Belémsince the 2000s, especially in peripheral regions and by the popular classes.

In the first instance, the tecnobrega term already can in some way contain in itself “good”and “evil,” within a neoliberal colonialist vision that considers as “good” its aspect ofcontemporaneity (actuality) and cosmopolitanism (in the sense of encompassing a universallanguage) assigned to electronic music—tecno (techno). The “evil,” in turn, would be ingrainedin brega (tacky, cheesy) music, related to a secular, outdated, and “ridiculous” national traditionthat values the excessive appeal to sentiment. However, what is posited as “good” and “evil”gains, in this work, another dimension, less clear in terms of this relationship of opposition,and also less poetic, as in the songs and great love stories through which one hears, sees andfeels, in diametrical opposition, “good” and “evil.”

The city of Belém, capital of the state of Pará, is part of a metropolis of about 1.5 millioninhabitants and reveals a landscape of multiple musical scenes, the most apparent being thoseof rock bands, groups that play regional-local music, and groups that play brega songs, fromwhich tecnobrega emerged as a recent phenomenon with national visibility. Among these localscenes, brega is the most prominent, both by the profusion and by the variety of events, includingromantic dances, band concerts, and also festivals and performances wrapped in the rhythm oftechno.

In the article entitled “What is Bad Music?,” sociologist Simon Frith (2004) is baffled by themusic that he enjoys and others do not. In my case, however, what puzzles me are exactly thesongs that others appreciate, but that seem strange to me (at first), exactly for being connectedto the idea of “bad taste.” However, I venture to say that both of us share the same need, toreflect on these songs, although we have been touched by them in different ways, or despite themotivations of Frith having been more “worthy” than mine, so to speak.

Driven by this feeling, I decided to investigate tecnobrega in Belém, which, like any musicperceived as “bad taste,” “degraded,” “of poor quality,” or “lousy,” does not normally constitutean object of study for music historians and sociologists, ethnomusicologists, and even less sofor composers and musicologists.

The “bad taste” assigned to tecnobrega lies in its sociocultural/historical connections and theway this music is produced in that locality. Regarding the first aspect, tecnobrega consists of akind of contemporary regional techno-version in the 2000s of brega, which in its turn hadestablished itself in various parts of Brazil, starting in the 1960s, as a music of “poor quality”related to the aesthetic taste and way of life of the popular classes in large cities. In relation tothe second aspect, tecnobrega came to mean a kind of dance music characterized by acceleratedpulse, an emphasis on percussive sound, use of computer technologies in the procedures ofsound manipulation, and appropriation of different musical genres popularized in this cityparticularly through television, radio, and festas de aparelhagem (sound equipment parties).These were devised in the 2000s by DJs, music producers, and popular musicians from Belém’speripheral areas.

The festas de aparelhagem, similar to the Jamaican sound systems, consist of a type of rovingdance club that for over half a century (since the 1950s) has roamed the outskirts of Belém.Depending on the size, type of equipment used at these events, and the value of material goodsinvolved, they are moved on carts, small utility vehicles, or even in some cases by closed truckswith a high load capacity. Between one route and another, the parties are installed in the middleof the street, in vacant lots, concert venues, and under huge half-open sheds that resemble smallboats or aircraft hangars. In any of these spaces, among others, members of the popular classesgather to listen to music, sing, dance, and enjoy all the equipment. They also act as freeindependent radio broadcasters, busying themselves in disseminating musical genres, singers,and artistic groups absent from the cultural mainstream.

Within these structures, called aparelhagens, are a variety of computers and electronicequipment with which the DJs play music and put into action visual effects of various kinds,such as artificial smoke, lighting, or even in some cases hydraulic mechanisms that make theaparelhagens move. The multimedia nature of the aparelhagem and an evident technologicalappeal implicit in the equipment and in the computer music itself make the festas de aparelhagemthe reference of greatest force and impact for tecnobrega—in terms of advertising and visibility—compared to bands, about which we comment below.

Despite the reference and the impact of the festas de aparelhagem for tecnobrega, the musicis related mainly to studio work, where music producers use computers, Internet, and freeprograms downloaded from the Web in various procedures and techniques of soundmanipulation, such as: (1) the mixing—superposition of sounds; (2) sampling—digital appro -priation of sound samples; and (3) looping—repeating of musical fragments. After the soundtreatment, music files are saved on computers for later use in the studio, in concerts of bands,in festas de aparelhagem, and in making audio media—CDs—for informal trade in central Belém,

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in tourist sites in Pará, in places or situations with a heavy flow of people, and in their ownfestive spaces (Guerreiro do Amaral 2009).

Another aspect of tecnobrega resides in presentations of bands whose performance spaceshave musical instruments, contrasting with all the technological paraphernalia that makes upa festa de aparelhagem. Also, the use of physical instrumentation by tecnobrega bands pointsout a bond of temporality with the era of the establishment of brega music in Pará in the 1960s(and also in Brazil, prior to that). Simultaneously, it seems to counter the virtuality of thecomputer music represented by studio production and by the festa de aparelhagem.

Historical Overview

Tecnobrega was the result of two related musical movements: locally, it had an immediate originin brega-calypso, which is a type of music that combines the sounds of electric guitar with theLatin American and Caribbean influences of merengue, zouk, bolero, cúmbia (Costa 2004), soca, and calypso; nationally, it consists of a deliberate association with brega, consideredmediatically as a form of sentimental music of poor taste, disseminated in the country since the1960s and directly influenced by the Jovem Guarda (Young Guard) movement (Araújo 1988,1999, 2007).

The history of the Jovem Guarda establishes the mediatic construction of the discourse thatstigmatized brega as “grotesque.” Before that, however, this movement had formed close rela-tions with what was more contemporary, urban, and popular of Western artistic-musicalproduction: rock. In the early 1960s, Brazilian singers and musical groups such as RobertoCarlos, Erasmo Carlos, and Renato e Seus Blue Caps met in a youth “movement” (supportedby a television program and coverage in the press), becoming idols in the four corners of thecountry. Covers of British rock (Fróes 2000: 64) in the Portuguese language elucidated whatbecame known in Brazil as iê-iê-iê, which corresponded to a more “gentle,” and more sentimental,mode of rock. Thus, Jovem Guarda trod a somewhat discordant path in regards to the romanticlegacy of national music, even though it kept alive themes such as those related to love, forexample.

After a peak period, Jovem Guarda lost ground in the early 1970s among the intellectualizedurban middle classes that, at that time, were more appreciative of protest music in response tothe military dictatorship established in the country (Araújo 2002, 2007; Fróes 2000; Napolitano2001). At the time, the emphasis on romance became more marked and the consumption ofthe movement’s artists moved from more developed urban centers to the interior of the country,although in the big cities it “maintained a loyal following among the poorer sections of thepopulation, and began to be pejoratively called brega” (Vianna 2003). Following a path thatpoints to a relation of contiguity between rock and brega, Jovem Guarda inspires, in a certainway, the structuring of tecnobrega, stretched between cosmopolitanism and the stigma, or perhapsbetween “good” and “evil.”

Between the 1950s and the 1970s, traversing the more rocker phase of Jovem Guarda, thebrega “wave” propagated in different corners of Brazil, in a more fervent mode in the north,northeast, and central-west. In Belém, segments of the popular classes amused themselves inromantic dances away from the city center, in clubs and nightclubs that hosted popular dancesthat received the name of sedes (headquarters) (Costa 2004: 119–120), as opposed to the termcabaré (cabaret), which was historically related to bohemianism and prostitution (Xexéo 1997: 7).

112 • Paulo Murilo Guerreiro do Amaral

The brega musical practices in Belém at that time had a more romantic character, influencedby traditions such as bolero, for example. Meanwhile, the intellectualized urban middle classesadhered to the alleged spirit of modernity and reputed quality given to the genres and especiallyartists belonging to the MPB, an acronym that legitimized “good” Brazilian music.

After 1980, in turn, more danceable types of music, filled with regionalisms and otherinfluences—national and/or foreign—became more popular in these gatherings. This is the case of lambada, a mixed danceable local folk music with a fast tempo, with the musical elementsof carimbó (Guerreiro do Amaral 2003; Maciel 1983), maxixe, forró, the Dominican merengue,and Puerto Rican plena, and also attached to the sensual globalized Latin dances such as cúmbiaand salsa (García 2006). This period was also characterized by the support of brega by Belém’srecord companies and radio broadcasters.

During the 1990s, the national brega was affected by the weakening of its commercial relationswith record labels and radio broadcasters. Consequently, artists and bands of Belém started toinvest in alternative media, particularly in musical aparelhagens (Neves 2005). The remediatiza-tion of brega established itself as a propitious scenario for the emergence of tecnobrega in thenext decade.

Stigma and Cosmopolitanism

Importantly, despite the numerical strength of its circuit and its large regional commercialprojection, tecnobrega is a type of music with a strong stigma attached. It is closely related tothe cultural consumption of the popular classes and is judged by economic elites and intellectualsto be music of “bad taste” and of “low quality.” The term “stigma” refers to the research ofCanadian sociologist Ervin Goffman (1986) entitled Stigma: Notes on the Management of SpoiledIdentity, in which the author explores the feelings of the individual “stigmatized” about himselfand in relation to those considered socially “normal.” The stigma is a threat to the community,and also constitutes a deterioration of a personal identity that is not in line with the standardsset by society. This creates social stereotypes and categorizes the individual in models that, inthe case of the stigma, represent degraded identities that reflect atypical and unacceptablesituations.

From the point of view of those who suffer the stigma—of being brega, for example—societyusurps opportunities and possibilities, and nullifies their individuality by imposing power patterns.To deviate from these patterns means being on the fringes of society and of social controlmechanisms; hence, this is why the “stigmatized” is classified as a pernicious element and devoidof potential.

The author in question recognizes three modalities of stigma: first, the person finds him orherself discredited in relation to any social interactions, such as occurs with individuals affectedby definitive physical deformities; the second is the individual guilt derived from what can beconsidered as character weaknesses, such as being gay, engaging in excessive passion, and beingdominated by vices; and the last deals with differences related to nationality, religion, and race,and can be propagated from parents to children.

The above work presents the idea of stigma from two perspectives. In the first, Goffman(ibid.) proposes understanding the stigma beyond strictly psychological parameters, adjustingit to the macro-interests of sociology through social classifications—attributes recognized aspositive that make up the category of “normal”—while the negative attributes constitute the

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category of those that deviate, and therefore are “stigmatized.” In a second perspective, “normal”and “stigmatized” no longer represent static categories and become established according tospecific social processes. This second perspective approaches the complex evaluative transit oftecnobrega, since it opens the possibility of thinking in the “normal” and “stigmatized” categoriesmore smoothly. Goffman, however, presents the positive attributes only as positives and negativesonly as negatives, not taking into consideration less determined flows of hegemonic voices that are stigmatized (becoming “subaltern”) and vice versa. Currently, the national prominenceof some tecnobrega artists such as Gaby Amarantos has reprocessed this stigma and made positive traits initially assessed as negative, such as piracy, exaggeration of lights and colors,and romanticism itself, founding elements of a desire for an effective and highly seductivecosmopolitanism.

Tecnobrega is a musical practice whose production “largely results from processes oflocalization of global currents and aesthetics, through the creation of complex webs of appro -priations and processes of social imagination” (Fradique 2003: 25). The transnational referencesin tecnobrega, therefore, are sets of signs that point to the idea of cosmopolitanism, which isseen as a positive value: the “good.” Such references are anchored both in sounds such as thoseof the electric guitar and of electronic music and in the use of elements that establish connectionswith a number of genres spread across places such as French Guiana, Colombia, Puerto Rico,Guadeloupe, and Martinique.

In the musical ethnography Nationalists, Cosmopolitans, and Popular Music in Zimbabwe,the ethnomusicologist Thomas Turino (2000) considers cosmopolitanism as being all that refersto cultural objects, ideas, and positions that are globally widespread, although they are still veryspecific to certain segments of the population in given countries. This is a translocal determinationabout the constitution of specific types of habitus and of cultural formations. However,cosmopolitanism implies conceptual practices, technologies, and frameworks implemented inspecific locations and in people’s lives. Consequently, cosmopolitan cultural formations areinvariably local and translocal. Also, according to this author, the practice of cosmopolitanismis not limited to isolated locations, that is, it can also occur in other areas, regardless of geo -graphical distances. Thus, modes of the cosmopolitan life, ideas, and technologies are connectedthrough different media, contacts, and exchanges, which Turino calls “cosmopolitan loops”(Turino 2000: 7–8). The constitution of similar habitus, which provides the connection betweendifferent cosmopolitan groups through media, underlies social communications, alliances, and competitions.

In a similar way of thinking, Hannerz (1999) demonstrates the possibility of practicingcosmopolitanism without leaving home. In the postcolonial perspective, this would bring as aconsequence the exercise of dominion of the external world (the center, the global) by theinternal world (the periphery, the local). Processing sounds electronically in accordance withglobally circulating technical and aesthetic possibilities—as occurs in tecnobrega studios—wouldbe a cosmopolitan attitude practiced locally, able to establish local, translocal, and global culturalconnections.

According to Hannerz (ibid.), being involved with the culture of the other is the most authentic foundation of what calls itself cosmopolitanism, a postmodern principle in whichglobal culture must be understood not only as a repetition of uniformities, but also as theintertwining of diversified local cultures. Any musical manifestation understood as exogenousand adequate, with aesthetic purposes, should be understood as “other.” In the words of singerGaby Amarantos:

114 • Paulo Murilo Guerreiro do Amaral

I have very diversified roots, which come from samba, which come from brega, which comefrom MPB, which come from jazz, which come from blues, which come from gospel music. . . So I’m a mix of all this, and it resulted in this that I am.

(Guerreiro do Amaral 2009: 180)

Therefore, in the musical and social universe of tecnobrega, the understanding of cosmo -politanism occurs insofar as singers, producers, and DJs come to know which musical trendscirculate in the global sphere, recognizing a positive value in their use. The cosmopolitan feelinglies in the fact that human beings find themselves constantly interested in knowing where otherpeople come from, and also representing social, political, cultural, and territorial belonging,which can range from “local phenomenological circumstances to the most distant levels ofregional, national, international and transnational integration, whose influence is variably presentin the lives of social agents” (Ribeiro 2003: 20).

To this perspective, I add the important role of technology, to the extent that it enables thecontact of producers with global demands of creating, of listening, of musical taste, and trendsin mass music. The musical producers of tecnobrega act in a cosmopolitan way in their studios,where through the computer and Internet they can listen to music from other space-times, aswell as exchange sound files, information and technology with professionals who can live onthe corner of their street or in another country.

The Splendid and Powerful Ruby

The reflections on cosmopolitanism involve two macro aspects, one related to the fact of thenative cultural involvement with alterities that circulate in comprehensive niches of the globalizedworld, and the other concerning the valuing of the cultural products that activate specificidentities to local/regional expressions, even if they are impregnated by the “stigma” of the bregaclassifications. Embedded in these macro aspects are behaviors, musical/cultural practices, andmusical discourses that construct feelings and cosmopolitan actions capable of neutralizing (tosome extent) the stigma.

Being and acting cosmopolitan are linked to a conceptually more stark perspective, wherethe notion of cosmopolitanism encloses not just one dimension of space, corresponding tophysical movements and/or access to the world of alterity via technologies, but also a dimensionof time, from which tecnobrega incorporates, under technological mediation, references derivingfrom the present and other eras, past and/or future. The permanence, in the present, of thereferent “musical band,” is an example of the incorporation of dynamics of the past. On theother hand, the future and “modern” dimension can be exemplified starting from the notionof the festa de aparelhagem, as I comment upon below.

The existence of the equipment of an aparelhagem comprises a plan of a mystical andimmaterial order, taking into account metaphors and meanings in which its invention is situated,and another of a concrete order, involving their physical and hydraulic structures, of audio,computer technologies, video, lighting, and visual effects.

Since the establishment in 1952 of the first aparelhagem, named Esplêndido Rubi (SplendidRuby), the mystical and immaterial plan of the equipment was built on two relations: one refersto the desire of its owner to baptize it with the name of a splendorous precious stone (ruby),while the other confers upon the stone, at the same time, a hexagonal cut and the form of aspacecraft.

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116 • Paulo Murilo Guerreiro do Amaral

To become later O Poderoso Rubi (The Powerful Ruby), the aparelhagem went through varioustransformations, or “evolutions”—to use a native term. The changes took place both in termsof the sound equipment itself, such as the addition of turntables, increasing the number ofspeakers, and the conversion from valves to transistors (Costa 2004: 84), as much as in respectto its shape, which evolved from a box to a structure that enclosed a way of being, thinking,dreaming, and of projecting itself in space-time.

The central structure of the Ruby aparelhagem, in which are concentrated the mysticalrelationships involving the stone and the spacecraft, corresponds to a mobile metal constructionwith articulated parts. Through a hydraulic system, the structure moves alluding to the proceduresof a spaceship, such as the takeoff and changes of course to the left and right.

Inside the structure where the DJ “pilots the spacecraft” are computers, laptops, and soundequalizers and amplifiers, plus a microphone used by the DJ to communicate with the public.

Visual effects constitute one more attraction for the festas de aparelhagem. When the Ruby’sstructure moves, for instance, a smokescreen is formed at the base of the “spaceship,” whichcorresponds to the effect of activity of thrusters. Snippets of footage captured at the time of theparties are projected on screens positioned behind the structure of the Ruby, along withanimations with the aparelhagem logo, signs, and images of planets, asteroids, and the spaceshuttle, among others.

Figure 8.1 The Powerful Ruby aparelhagem (January 15, 2006)

Source: Image captured by the researcher

15 3:11

The lighting, also understood here as a visual effect, is made by white and colored lights thatframe the central equipment, fixed and mobile spotlights installed in scaffolding adjacent to themain structure, and multifocal reflectors directed toward the audience.

Returning to the temporal dimension, the future here corresponds to an idealized and notyet achieved space-time. If, on the one hand, it can be achieved, on the other hand, it belongsto the universe of dreams and immateriality. I refer to the future, represented here by a spaceshiptaking off, on track to break the barrier of space-time.

While the past is brought to the present through memories, elapsed circumstances, sounds,and stories about people and places, the future is no more than rhetoric, as, in fact, no one willever get there. Despite this, what is to come stimulates creativity, in the present of the partiesand through the truths emanating from the know-how of the DJ who operates the aparelhagem,from a discursive and multimedia universe that gains materiality and verisimilitude.

For the DJ, the future becomes real to the extent that ideals are transformed into concretepossibilities, which, in the case of Ruby, does not correspond to the music in itself, but to“quality,” to “innovation,” and to “dynamism”—again making use of native terminology—ofthe futuristic sound produced in the present time. Nevertheless, one cannot reach that futurein another way other than crossing space-time inside a “spaceship,” which takes off from the

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Figure 8.2 Inside the aparelhagem (September 24, 2006)

Source: Image captured by the researcher

immaterial future, crosses galaxies, and lands in the real-present, transforming it. In this sense,to arrive in the context of a time that is still yet to come involves the idealization of the presentduring the festa de aparelhagem, making it futuristic, either by the central structure of theaparelhagem emulating a spaceship, or by access to the universe desired through a passage, “O Portal Intergaláctico” (The Intergalactic Portal)—another name given to the Ruby aparelhagem—which is the spacecraft itself.

Final Considerations

From the contemporaneity, the technological appeal and the universalism impregnated intecnobrega emerges the idea of understanding this aesthetic-musical expression as being ofcosmopolitan character, despite the stigma of “bad taste,” which in the first instance does notfit that trait.

The space-time negotiation in tecnobrega music materializes in various references to genresthat cross places and times to be converted into local hits. Elements of cúmbia, of funk carioca,of pagode, and of carimbó—to name a few—are appropriated by tecnobrega music producersand work in the construction of cosmopolitan identities. Still, much more of the stigma of beingbrega is from its relation with the peripheries than from the sound itself or the way it isproduced; the music touches on the condition of not being legitimated in cultural mainstreams.

The issue of the non-legitimacy of tecnobrega in the universe of the other (who attaches thelabel of aesthetic “bad taste” to tecnobrega) ambiguously relates to an aspect of cosmopolitanismthat simultaneously emphasizes distinction and conformity. By this, I mean that while thismusic reveals particularities, the example of the regional/local and national elements, in it wealso observe aspects such as computational music, found in larger universes of contemporaryglobal production. The remaining question is, in this sense, what comes to represent “good”and “evil.”

If the “primitivism” of regional music represents “evil,” a facet of “good” may lie in acousticmusic production, as in the case of folkloric groups. In the case of tecnobrega, the musical“good” would be supported in computer music, for its cosmopolitan character, while “bad,”can be understood in terms of “misrepresentation” of the idea of the compositional work, nowdone with the computer and not by those who “know” music.

Despite modernity as a negation of the past, the idea of cosmopolitanism applied to tecnobregaand other brega sounds established in Pará embodies the intersection of different temporalities.While the present is represented prominently by contemporary musical genres melded to thetecnobrega beat, the past is alluded to via local and translocal sonorities linked to history andregional musical background, as well as through the maintenance of musical practices oftecnobrega in bands, although this music is professed as eminently computational and itspopularity derives mainly from the notable events of integrated technologies that are the festasde aparelhagem. In its turn, the time to come is found in futuristic metaphors related to equipmentand to technological innovations.

Being cosmopolitan is to practice cosmopolitanism, even as holding cutting-edge technologicalknowledge and being plugged into the global world constitute native responses to the stigmaof being brega, including the assertion of a brega musical identity starting with the positivizationof the label marked in postures and attitudes of aesthetic, mediatic, marketing, and socialopenness. The current meteoric success of Gaby Amarantos in the big national media reflectsthe question well.

118 • Paulo Murilo Guerreiro do Amaral

The history of mass culture is full of situations in which previously stigmatized musicalexpressions begin to gain social prestige. Although tecnobrega has not fully experienced thisparadigm shift, as with samba or jazz, it is important to say that it is associated with the emergenceof new social forms that were previously non-hegemonic, emerging on the political scene andthrusting against “good taste” and the restriction that this kind of distinction inflicts on thatwhich represents contrariness.

There is no doubt that tecnobrega alludes to new configurations of social power of theperipheries, instituted, on the other hand, through activities that are unorthodox and alsocontrary to the idea of “authentic” culture. This is the case of forró in the Brazilian northeast,which traded the zabumba (bass drum), triângulo (triangle), and sanfona (accordion) for electricand electronic instruments. Lambadão cuiabano (from the city of Cuiabá, Brazil), raggamuffin(an electronic branch of reggae), and kuduro (dance music that animates events in Africa andsuburban ghettos of Lisbon), among other examples spread through the world, are expressionsthat “violate” “roots music,” which, in its “purity,” corresponds to music of “superior” quality.

In intercultural contacts, the existing flow in power relations implies the movement of agentsand imagined subaltern popular manifestations through allegedly hegemonic cultural, political,social, and economic spaces. This is the aspect that distinguishes the cosmopolitanism erectedin dominant circuits from that born in the cultural peripheries. Therefore, this is the reasonthe cosmopolitanism in tecnobrega cannot be understood without taking into consideration thestigma attached to this music and its protagonists.

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Record.Araújo, Samuel. 1988. “Brega: Music and Conflict in Urban Brazil.” Latin American Music Review. vol. 9, no. 1, 50–89.Araújo, Samuel. 1999. “Brega, samba e trabalho acústico: variações em torno de uma contribuição teórica à

Etnomusicologia.” Revista Opus, vol. 6, no. 6.Araújo, Samuel. 2007. “O fruto do nosso amor.” In Lendo Música: 10 ensaios sobre 10 canções, edited by Arthur

Nestrovsky, 163–178. São Paulo: Publifolha.Costa, Antonio Maurício Dias da. 2004. Festa na cidade: o circuito bregueiro de Belém do Pará. Ph.D. Dissertation Social

Anthropology—Faculdade de Filosofia, Letras e Ciências Humanas, Universidade de São Paulo, São Paulo.Fradique, Teresa. 2003. Fixar o movimento: representações da música rap em Portugal. Lisbon: Dom Quixote.Frith, Simon. 2004. “What is Bad Music?” In Bad Music, The Music We Love to Hate, edited by C. Washburne and

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no. 6, May. Accessed October 15, 2013. www.nuevomundo.revues.org/index2181.html.Goffman, Ervin. 1986. Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity. New York: Touchstone.Guerreiro do Amaral, Paulo Murilo. 2003. O carimbó de Belém, entre a tradição e a modernidade. Master’s Thesis

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etnografia da produção do tecnobrega em Belém do Pará. Ph.D. Dissertation Ethnomusicology—Post-GraduateProgram in Music, Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul.

Hannerz, Ulf. 1999. “Cosmopolitas e locais na cultura global.” In Cultura global: nacionalismo, globalização e modernidade,edited by Michael Featherstone, 251–266. Petrópolis: Vozes.

Maciel, Antonio Francisco. 1983. Carimbó—um canto caboclo. Master’s Thesis Linguistics—Instituto de Letras, PontifíciaUniversidade Católica de Campinas, Campinas.

Napolitano, Marcos. 2001. Seguindo a canção: engajamento político e indústria cultural na MPB (1959–1969). São Paulo:Annablume.

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Ribeiro, Gustavo Lins. 2003. “Cosmopolíticas.” In Postimperialismo: Cultura y política en el mundo contemporáneo.Barcelona: Gedisa, 17–35.

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Turino, Thomas. 2000. Nationalists, Cosmopolitans, and Popular Music in Zimbabwe. Chicago, IL, and London: Universityof Chicago Press.

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9Chico Science & Nação Zumbi

Hybridity and Experimentation in the Manguebeat Movement

Herom Vargas

Introduction

The manguebeat musical and cultural movement energized the city of Recife, the capital ofPernambuco state, in the early 1990s and left its mark on Brazilian popular music. Its proposalwas to expand the city’s music scene with contemporary pop information, also including localtraditions. The radical stance criticized what it considered the inertia of public powers andcultural agents, as well as the sameness of radio programming.

To achieve their goals, some young people, attuned to what was happening outside commer -cially successful music, took upon themselves the duty of building a new musical state of mindin the city. The tools used were the actual work of promotion, a rich regional tradition, popmusic (rock, rap, electronic), the new possibilities of digital culture, and cultural and experimentaltechniques for selection and mixing. Their position was opposed to two fronts they consideredharmful to creativity. One referred to the artists who defended a certain “purity” or “authenticity”of regional musical culture against the “invasion” of songs “imposed” by the media of São Pauloand Rio de Janeiro in the southeast, more urbanized cities with rich economies that concentratedthe main agents of the music market (press, radio and TV stations, and record companies).This discourse about the defense of tradition also shaped local cultural policies and was defendedby the writer and playwright Ariano Suassuna (1927–), a leader of the Armorial Movementdeveloped in the 1970s. The second front criticized by the young musicians was the radio andTV stations with their schedules that were closed to local musical diversity and did not exposenew work.

Various groups and artists from Recife who were interested in boosting the circulation oflocal music information linked themselves to manguebeat. There were creative artists fromtraditional culture, leading scenemakers, popular singers, and even young people related to punk, rap, rock, and electronic music, as well as poor or middle-class musicians, and culturalagents such as entrepreneurs, producers, journalists, and artists from other areas, such as cinema,theater, and literature. However, by the scale of its experiments, one band eventually became a symbol of the pop rebirth in Recife: Chico Science & Nação Zumbi (CSNZ), led by singer-songwriter Chico Science (1966–1997). Two albums, Da lama ao caos (From Mud to Chaos,1994) and Afrociberdelia (1996), both released by Sony Music Brazil’s Chaos label, are the startingpoints for the interpretation of the role played by CSNZ in Brazilian popular music.

Experimental in nature, the main characteristic of CSNZ’s work was the blend of componentsof traditional music from Pernambuco with elements of globalized pop music. As root andantenna, the group’s attitude revealed two aspects: on the one hand, it opposed those who,according to it, thought of local culture as an inert repository of calcified perennial traditionsin an idyllic past; on the other hand, an experimental propensity for hybridity resumed a symbolicdynamic fundamental to Brazilian culture (and to some extent, Latin American), since itsformative period, based on mixtures and fusions, in the hybrid plasticity and flexibility of genres.

Popular Music, Cultural Hybridity, and Miscegenation

In looking at popular song in Brazil, we must take into account the culturally mestizo intrinsiccharacter that emerges in many of its artistic expressions, to a greater or lesser degree. In culturalstudies, the term hybridization has been used, beginning with the Argentine anthropologistGarcía Canclini (1995), to characterize cases in which processes occur that mix elements ofvarious origins. Unlike the concepts of miscegenation, more applied to ethnic processes, hybridityhas its semantic field connected to limited and circumscribed cultural spaces, as suggested bythe historian Serge Gruzinski (2002: 31).

When reflecting upon popular music in Brazil, one cannot discard the historical dynamicsof miscegenation between Africans, Europeans, and indigenous natives, and its implications invarious fields of life. This mestizo cultural environment enhanced the promiscuous structureof popular music in a variety of genres, in forms of singing, rhythms, and instruments createdand developed not only in Brazil, but throughout Latin America (Crook 2009; Vargas 2007).These are cases in which songs were produced by combinations of distinct cultural elements,always with the flavor of everyday life, sometimes in forms that are veiled or explicitly violent.Such processes expanded even more when songs came to be marketed by industrial processesand consumed in the modern urban market.

In fact, every culture is always under construction and in constant touch with what is aliento it, since there are no completely closed symbolic systems. However, I want to emphasize that,unlike most closed societies, where the external contacts are weak or hampered, and whoseidentity is based on more stable elements, there are, on the contrary, societies that built theiridentities and their symbolic production exactly from mixtures because of their own historicalcircumstances. Some authors—García Canclini (1995), Haroldo de Campos (1972), AlejoCarpentier (1988), Severo Sarduy (1972), Martin-Barbero (1993) and Serge Gruzinski (2002)—each in their own way, identify the characteristics of this second case as a general characteristicof Latin American cultures. It should be noted that the decentralized approach of hybrid culturaldynamics tends to turn rigid border demarcation lines porous to transform them into areas ofinclusion rather than exclusion.

This is clear from the observations of North American ethnomusicologist Larry Crook (2009:29) about Brazilian musicians. Besides indicating that musical and cultural hybridism in Brazilare, in part, a product of one of the most mixed societies that exists, Crook highlights the skillof instrumentalists in blurring the boundaries between traditional musical genres and those ofother domestic or foreign origins, such as cultural mediators crossing social classes, interests,and standards of taste.

If we focus on Brazilian popular music, another indication of the hybrid aspects of the songsis seen in the observation of José Miguel Wisnik (1987: 123) in respect to their transitivecharacteristics in relation to the theoretical divisions of the folk, mass industrial, and erudite

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cultural fields. Established since the late nineteenth century (but already the result of severalprevious mixtures), the urban song became a typical hybrid product in which tradition relatedwith modernities coming from the urban universe and from capitalist development in theproduction, distribution, and consumption of cultural commodities: in it are aspects of typicalstandardization of mediatic products, musical and poetic elements derived from “erudite music,”and, finally, traces of traditional manifestations of ancestral origins. However, even receivingthese multiple influences, it is impossible to reduce urban song to any one of these culturalfields, since it will remain a complex synthesis of sound, poetic, and corporal equations.

The manguebeat: Tradition and Modernity, Diversity and Hybridity

In hybrid contexts, boundaries between genres tend to get lost, made fluid by the creative forceof the syntheses. They are multiple processes that, for purposes of analysis, can be didacticallythought of as two-way: on the one hand, tradition is reorganized in new tunings with con -temporary elements; on the other hand, contemporary information is reconfigured whencontaminated by the local scene and gains new meanings, which should not be confused withsimple updating. Such procedures require, on the part of the artist or cultural producer, a strongconsciousness of the present that best defines what is contemporary and should be used and,at the same time, the wisdom to evaluate the creative incorporation of the traditional past. Thus,the emphasis of this artistic work will be on the selection of both traditional and contemporarycomponents and, subsequently, their possible fusions, reorganization and recreation. The resultof this “anthropophagic” practice is the synthesis of new artistic-cultural configurations, asexemplified in CSNZ’s songs, compelling examples of the hybrid mechanism. In the group’swork, both the local traditions of music and culture and pop music elements were re-semanticizedwhen placed in contact.

As indicated earlier, manguebeat started with music made by young people from Recife whotried to occupy promotional spaces opposed to traditional media—radio and TV stations andnewspapers—that were hardly open to what was new and local. Except during carnival time,when frevo took over programming, the major broadcasters just passed along the pop musicsuccesses from the Rio de Janeiro–São Paulo axis.

The cultural policies of the municipality and the state government of Pernambuco were alsocriticized for giving little incentive for new work of “local” pop music. Rather, the orientationseemed to support more traditional songs that Fred Zero Quatro, leader of the band MundoLivre S/A and one of the important figures of manguebeat, called a “middleman’s posture.” Themeaning of the band’s name, “Mundo Livre” (Free World), is an ironic play on the Westernworld naming itself in opposition to the old communist countries, while the initials S.A. (SociedadeAnônima), refer to a publicly traded company with no individualized owner. According to themusician, such a stance meant an opportunistic use, under the cloak of scholarship, of traditionalmusic information by the musicians attached to the Armorial Movement, created in the 1970sby writer Ariano Suassuna (who was also Secretary of Culture of Recife and Pernambuco). Inthe words of Zero Quatro (1998: 31), this “middleman’s posture” had to do with the copyingof traditional musical heritage and its dissemination in a “more educated” guise.

As radical and rough as it might be, according to Zero Quatro, the criticism is revealingabout the way the Armorial Movement was formed. Begun in 1970, the Armorial had as ageneral proposition the production of a Brazilian art based in the folk backcountry culturalroots in opposition to the constant appeal to composers and artists of foreign influences seen

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as obstacles to building a genuine identity for the national art. It was a revival under an eruditescope of artistic and cultural elements (music, visual, oral, and symbolic) from the IberianPeninsula via the Portuguese colonization, with Christian and Moorish influences and those oflocal and indigenous cultures, kept almost inert in the arid hinterlands of northeastern Brazil.According to its ideologues, the aspects that remained—some instruments, certain types ofsinging, poetic and musical structures, the iconography of coats of arms, among others—wouldbe sources and definers of an important essence of Brazilian art, a kind of cultural symbol, sincethey were deep (stuck in the northeastern backlands) and distant (in time and space) traces ofwhat was first synthesized in Brazilian lands.

According to Suassuna, it was an aesthetic production linked to the magical spirit of thefolhetos de cordel, to the images of popular woodcut prints, to the sounds of rustic folk instrumentsand backcountry music forms (Suassuna 1977: 39). Music received special attention and wasone of the prominent languages. Under the leadership of Suassuna and composers Cussy deAlmeida and Antônio José Madureira, the Armorials built a musical conception based on thesongs, singing, and instruments of the northeastern backlands, understood as marks of anancestral sound in Brazilian music.

The Armorial aesthetic, according to the then young musician Fred Zero Quatro, was definedas “cultural plunder” and more than that, it was the conceptual basis of official cultural policiesand of the thinking on the part of the cultural elite of Recife. In addition to denouncing the“middleman posture,” Zero Quatro suggested two more complementary positions betweenthem and opposite the Armorial. The first, called “enthusiast/incentive,” would consist ofindicating to producers of traditional musical manifestations the mechanisms for a more efficientdissemination of their work at national and international levels, and better recording techniques.Without appropriation or another type of aesthetic intervention, they would be given thecurrent and effective conditions for their activities to be better known through greater ease ofmovement in the music market. The second approach, identified as “receptive,” requiresincorporating tradition, but without treating it as authentic or as an ancestral source of essences.According to Zero Quatro (1998: 31), new musicians let themselves be influenced by traditionand used it for enrichment and improvement. They did not treat ancestral music as theimpregnable origin. Instead, they used it as raw material for the new pop music that was beingmade in Recife.

Both the “enthusiast/incentive” behavior and the “receptive” indicate the two bases ofmanguebeat: while the former served as the instrumentalization of traditional music for itsdissemination in modern media at national and international levels, the second dealt with the“anthropophagic” cultural procedure, hybrid in its essence. It is no wonder that manguebeathad two emphases in relation to culture: on the one hand, it was based on the mixture oftraditional and contemporary, retaking in part the “anthropophagic” cultural dynamic; on theother hand, it maintained and energized the dissemination of traditional manifestations at thesame level of the music of young people who wanted to create and experiment with the culturalelements of Recife.

Some metaphors were used by the mentors of the movement to facilitate the understandingof its proposals. These terms are in the text Caranguejos com cérebro (1994) (Crabs with Brains),written by Fred Zero Quatro initially as a press release, but which gained the air of a manifestoand was printed in the liner notes for the album Da lama ao caos, of CSNZ. His centralargument related the biological richness and diversity of the mangrove ecosystem, fundamentalto the geography of Recife, with local culture. Recife is cut by six rivers, with much of the city

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built on cleared land and mangroves; its smells and the crabs that inhabit them are elementspeculiar to the urban scene. Thus metaphorized, the mangue concept summarized the projectthat was born.

At the beginning of the manifesto’s text, the mangrove ecosystem is explained as a coastalarea of mixing between the waters of the sea and rivers, a link rich in organic material andimportant in the food chain of many beings. Due to the consistent biological activity and therichness in nutrients layered in the mud, the mangrove marsh attracts many animals, especiallythe crab, and is seen as a place of fertility and the gestation of life. From this complex system,notions of fertility, diversity, and hybridity emerge as metaphors that define the natural richness,diversity, and the mixed peculiarities of the musical culture of Pernambuco.

Elsewhere in the text, in view of the situation of the stagnation of the city, the propositionof cultural intervention is clear:

To inject a little energy in the mud and stimulate what remains of fertility in the veins ofRecife, [from] a core of exploration and production of pop ideas [which begins to be] generatedand articulated in various parts of the city [and thus] engenders an “energy circuit,” able toconnect the good vibes of the mangroves with the worldwide network of the circulation ofpop concepts.

(Zero Quatro 1994)

The intention to link “the good vibes of mangroves” with “the network of pop concepts”meant joining the rich cultural diversity of Recife and Pernambuco with globalized culturalinformation, especially with the music present in the channels of mass communication, andbuilding what is defined as pop culture. As a result, they created one of the main images of thescene: “The parabolic antenna stuck in the mud,” a visual translation of the connections betweentraditional and contemporary, regional and globalized.

Beyond the swamp and the antenna, another constant image in the theoretical propositionof the scene is that of the crab, a crustacean that lives in the mangroves. Besides feeding onorganic debris, the crab plays an important role in ecosystem dynamics: in digging holes, itaerates the sludge, facilitates the movement of water, and promotes the turnover of nutrients.Besides this natural work, its socioeconomic function is great too, because, sought by peoplewho sink their feet and hands into the mud (the “impressive sculptures of mud,” as say thelyrics of the song “Rios, pontes e overdrives” (Rivers, Bridges and Overdrives, on the album Dalama ao caos), it is a source of nourishment for, and survival of, the poor riverside communities.

In the case of the proposal of manguebeat, the crab assumes two connotations: one is usedto designate the man exploited by the system, a critical social issue that appears in the lyricsfor several songs; another is the metaphorical indication of the importance of digging in themud to remove from it the nutrients needed to renew the situation, to actively participate indiversity and organizational exchanges that occur in the mangrove and put oneself in the broadprocess of hybridization that occurs in that ecosystem. Thus, beyond the image of oppression,the participants in manguebeat also act like crabs, in the sense that they seek to oxygenate thecity and, with the satellite dish, to connect to the entire network of contemporary information.

The proposals of manguebeat have risen as an adaptation of teachings that came from punkrock and, in part, from hip-hop, especially the famous “do it yourself.” In other words, ifconditions are not favorable, you should create a state of cultural ebullience so that your musicmight be known. Thus, some young people set out to create such conditions, especially by

entering into contact with media channels, whether local or of greater scope. One action wasto hold concerts in Recife to attract audiences. Another was to count on the support of journalists(as cultural mediators) who covered what was happening in the city, as was the case withMarcelo Pereira, the culture editor of Jornal do Commercio, and José Teles, who contributed acolumn in the newspaper and provided news about the local scene. A third action involved anew medium for everyone in the mid-1990s: the Internet. Members of the mangue scene beganto create sites and online radio to amplify the scene. At the same time, some producers werecreated to support the growing movement in Recife, behind the backs of public authorities andlocal media. An important case was that of Paulo André Pires, creator of the Abril Pro-Rockfestival (April, 1993) and the first manager of CSNZ (Vargas 2007: 98–104).

Besides this mediatic context, there was at the time the aesthetic concept of electronic music,musical genres founded in rhythmic patterns synthesized by sequencers or digitalized in samplers

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Figure 9.1 Chico Science & Nação Zumbi: Da lama ao caos album sleeve

chico science & nagao zumbid a l a m a a o c a o s

that made it possible to create new rhythms and timbres, especially from mixtures with instru -ments and regional rhythms made by various artists of the region such as, for example, DJDolores.

Thus, if the construction of the scene was crucial to give consequence to the musical experiencesof these young people, technological innovations and the media of the time intensified theexperiments and hybridizations between the traditional and the contemporary. In the case ofmanguebeat, the diversity of groups and musicians—punks, rockers, rappers, and traditionalartists (members of maracatu, cirandeiros, emboladores)—along with the proposition of hybriditybetween local musical traditions and globalized aesthetic information were two of its foundations.

At the same time, musical creation attentive to these two bases was also a product of certainindividual sensibilities capable of materializing these two great vectors of the movement in art.This is the case of CSNZ.

Origin and Formation of CSNZ

The initial core of manguebeat formed from the amalgamation of two groups of young people, most of them born in the second half of the 1960s. The first group was composed ofFred Zero Quatro, Renato Lins (known as Renato L.), Xico Sá, H. D. Mabuse, and Hélder Aragão(DJ Dolores) in Recife, all middle class (the first three were college students), interested inmusic, and influenced in adolescence by punk rock. Of these, only Fred played music—he hada band called Mundo Livre S/A, created in the 1980s. Through Mabuse, they met Francisco deAssis França, the future Chico Science, his friend from Olinda, a city close to Recife, who added to the core a second group with his colleagues Jorge Du Peixe, and the musicians LúcioMaia and Alexandre Dengue. Chico Science and Du Peixe had known each other for a longtime, were both DJs, and liked hip-hop culture. In 1989, with electric guitarist Maia and bassistDengue, they created the Banda Loustal, whose name, quoting the name of the French designerJacques de Loustal, showed another cultural influence: comic strips. This group is the origin ofCSNZ.

Besides rap, the fundamental influences of Science, Du Peixe, and others of the second groupwere soul music, funk, and rock; from funk and soul music, musicians such as James Brownand Curtis Mayfield; in rap, Sugar Hill Gang, Kurtis Blow and AfrikaBambaataa; and in rock,the classics such as Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, and Jimi Hendrix. From the meeting, otherpreferences were shared: the Brazilian Jorge Benjor, electronic music, and the works of Africanmusicians such as the Nigerian Fela Kuti and the Cameroonian Manu Dibango.

Less constant, but with great depth, there were also the traditional musical genres of popularfestivals occurring in Olinda and Recife: since childhood, the boys heard maracatus, cocos,cirandas, caboclinho, and many other songs, dances, and folguedos in the streets. Some justwatched from afar; others were taken by their parents. All, however, carried the influences ofthis local music.

A major shift occurred when Science surrendered to calls from friend Gilmar Bola 8 to hearthe bloco Lamento Negro in Peixinhos, a poor suburb of Olinda. There, the acoustic intensityand power of its rhythmic percussion caught Science’s attention. Lamento Negro was createdin the wake of the emergence of the blocos afro in Salvador, Bahia, in the 1980s, as Olodum,Muzenza, IlêAiyê, AraKetu, and MalêDebalê, which were the fruits of another hybridity: samba-reggae, a mix of Afro-Brazilian rhythms (samba and candomblé drumming) and Afro-Caribbean(Cuban salsa and Jamaican reggae).

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However, as for Lamento Negro, Science thought there should be a shift from samba-reggaeto maracatu de baque virado (maracatu of the turned-around beat). First, maracatu had agreater sonorous impact, because of the deep timbre of the group of alfaias (large bass drumsused in maracatu). What sparked the musical interest of Science, and that of his colleague DuPeixe, was the search for a beat that would provide a good integration with the codes of rap,funk, and rock and had an intense and different “swing.” Second, such an approach also revealedan inclusion of regional music in order to favor the rhythm from Pernambuco to the detrimentof that of Bahia. Although it seemed to be a certain “local boosterism,” the young people whocreated manguebeat put themselves in an underground posture going against the music industrythat supported the successes of Bahian axé music as a musical fashion, especially in the summer.

The contact of Science and his group Loustal—Du Peixe, Maia, and Dengue—with the blocoLamento Negro was the central node for the creation of another innovative hybridization: thedrums of the bloco, the baque (beat) of the maracatu, Maia and Dengue’s rock electric guitarand bass, and the songs of Science, with the characteristic rhythmic intonation and singing ofrap, raggamuffin and embolada mixed together.

On the first official presentation of the new CSNZ in June 1991 in the city of Olinda, thesound was considered unusual. Success grew with other presentations in Recife and, finally in1993, in the first Abril Pro Rock, a music festival in Recife, organized by entrepreneur PauloAndré Pires. The recognition of the group of eight members (Science, Maia, Du Peixe, andDengue, and the percussionists Gilmar, Gira, Canhoto, and Toca Ogan—the latter an importantfigure in Candomblé) came that year with reports in the major press and a tour with concertsin Belo Horizonte and São Paulo.

The group signed a contract with the multinational music company Sony, and its Chaoslabel, for the launch, in 1994, of its first album, Da lama ao caos (From Mud to Chaos), andwent abroad for the first time for performances in five European countries and in New York,the latter with Gilberto Gil. Over two years, there were shows at major festivals in Brazil (FreeJazz Festival in São Paulo, Hollywood Rock in Rio de Janeiro, and other editions of Abril ProRock in Recife), another European tour, this time with the group Paralamas do Sucesso, andthe release of their second album, Afrociberdelia, in 1996.

The group’s critical and commercial success was interrupted tragically with a car accidentthat killed Science on February 2, 1997. Until today, the group has performed only as NaçãoZumbi and has released several CDs on smaller labels or in an alternative fashion without thereach it had in the beginning. But undoubtedly, the brand of CSNZ has a place in the historyof Brazilian music with the creativity of its poetic-musical blends.

Two Songs of CSNZ

In the music production of CSNZ, it is possible to detect new and creative appropriations oftraditional elements within the realm of popular music. The characteristics of this work are theexperimental and unorthodox uses of various musical genres and festivities of Pernambuco—maracatu, coco, ciranda, embolada, and some percussion instruments—mixed with contemporaryelements of rock, funk, and rap. In addition, there was its insertion into the realm of pop musicand its production and promotional structure (record company, presence on telenovelasoundtracks, a relative success on radio stations, presentations in Europe and the USA), a typicalroute within the framework of recognition in the market of cultural goods.

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In the first two albums, there are songs whose lyrics and arrangements enable us to recognizethe strong use of the maracatu tradition within the territory of pop music. The musicalcharacteristics of the maracatu nação or maracatu de baque virado, with a doubled beat, areseldom present in a “pure” state, but always in fusions with other musical elements. In the debutalbum, the proposal to replace the drum set with alfaias and caixa (snare drum) changed theexpected sound. For example, on the track, “A Cidade” (The City) (Da lama ao caos), the beatsof the alfaias reveal a peculiar mix between the syncopation of maracatu de baque virado andthe beat of funk, a rhythmic relation present also in other arrangements. There is also the steadybeat of the ganzá, rolls of the tarol (a shallow, double-headed snare drum) with accents at certaincounterpoints, and a second caixa with accents on the second and fourth beats of the bar, aform used in rock, which highlights another hybrid aspect. The electric guitar comes in twodistinct forms: one that reproduces a funk riff alternating with accents that accompany thesyncopation of maracatu, and another that produces distorted chords as in heavy metal. Theguitar solo comes from the tradition of rock with the exploration of timbres and effects providedby pedals and distortion, sustained notes, and a reasonable use of noise (Galinsky 2002: 135–136).

The fusion of rock and maracatu is in part justified by a sound relationship, particularly theintensity of the bass notes and the sound volume. The absence of the drum set is not perceivedas the acoustic strength of the beat of the drums fills this lack. In fact, both genres are linkedby the percussive force to songs that ask the body to dance, because their origins are in African-American musical traditions based on rhythm. It is likely that from this come the reasons forthese additional and thought provoking contacts. In describing this relationship, Crook (2002:237) points out that prior to the amplification of sound and the strength of the electric instrumentsof rock, the acoustic impact of a group of 25 maracatu musicians was already shaking the streetsof Recife and vibrating the bodies of those who accompanied them.

In this hybrid, instruments and genres lose their direct relationship with their supposedoriginal meanings. Maracatu and rock cease to be exactly as they were in their respective contextsand loosen themselves from the restricted sense of impregnable essence. Rather, each is openand re-functionalized from mutual contact and fusion. Such changes occur by the unorthodoxuse of their respective formulas and the exploration of new timbres of the instruments in differentcombinations. This process is one of the peculiarities of the hybridity of CSNZ.

The song “O cidadão do mundo” (Citizen of the World, from Afrociberdelia), with lyrics byScience and music by CSNZ and producer-guitarist Eduardo Bidlovski, is another example ofhow some hybridisms occur. As Galinsky (2002: 138–144) notes, this track has four clear partsin which appear, more or less mixed, rhythmic, melodic, instrumental, and vocal aspects fromfour music traditions involved in the compositions of CSNZ: funk, maracatu, heavy metal, anda hybrid of rap, raggamuffin (an accelerated Jamaican singing) and embolada (singing in a fastmeter, rhymed, full of alliterations and improvisation in which two singers challenge each otherwith teasing and good humor). An initial part (until 00:25 of the recording) is played in funkrhythm with bass, guitar, and drum set (used on this second album, along with the percussion).The second part (from 00:25 until 00:50) keeps the previous melodic line of the voice while theinstrumental base turns into the maracatu baque virado with gonguê, tarol, and the typicalsyncopated beat on the drums. Both parts are repeated until the song arrives at the third section(02:16 to 02:52), played with just bass, drum set, and percussion; the vocal by Science producesa hybrid of rap, raggamuffin, and embolada atop a typical funk groove, transformed by thepresence of the sound of a berimbau. The last section (2:52 to the end) transforms the third

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part, without singing, into trident hardcore rock because of distorted guitar and the intensesound of other instruments, made out of place by the strange presence of the berimbau.

What connects the sections is, on the one hand, the contiguity between the syncopations ofthe alfaias and of the bass drum of the drum section. However, the principal efficiency of thecombination is in the sonorous strength of maracatu, which, as indicated, is similar to the highvolume of rock in its heavy version.

The song “O cidadão do mundo,” within the melodic pattern of the mixolydian modecharacteristic of some northeastern melodies, was recorded with a slight effect of distortion.The high speed of the diction, the repetition of notes, and the small amplitude of the tessitura,features common to the traditions of singing in rap, embolada, and raggamuffin, are importantaspects of the mixes of CSNZ. This shows that none of the genres is used separately andautonomously, making it difficult to precisely define where one or the other lies. As a hybridproduct, the boundaries between each of the genres crumble and their respective and privateformulas dissolve at the borders.

The lyrics of “O cidadão do mundo” bring new uses of narrative forms and folk regionalexpressions in citing festivals, situations, and characters. With words of regional usage and anemphasis on the popular accent of Pernambuco in the pronunciations, the words describe aviolent situation in which a poor kid steals things in a street market and the escape of a characterwho sings to participate in maracatu. Hence the quote from maracatu masters such as Veludinhoand Salu (Salustiano). It also evokes the Recife manguebeat scene of the 1990s (“Nação Zumbi,”the onomatopoeic “zumzumzum of the capital,” “smart crab emerging from the mangrove”).In the hybrid singing in the third part, Science redoes the route of survival of a street boy in astreet market through images, like scenes from a movie or rustic prints from a cordel booklet,including calling for Doctor Josué de Castro (1908–1973)1 a leading researcher of hunger as asocial issue. Referring to the fantasies of the characters of the cordel woodcuts, the poor boy’sactions are told in singing using local expressions.

Another important aspect in the lyrics of this song lies in the use of the maracatu traditionthat brings direct references to the nação (nation—a term that defines the name of a maracatugroup), to the calunga (a doll that represents the association and is attached to the banner raisedduring the bloco’s parade), the presentations of the components and their banners, and to theceremony of the coronation of black kings present in the merriment.

On the same disc, on its first track—called “Mateus enter”—there is a revealing parallel.Besides mentioning Matthew, a crafty hero of maracatu, the lyrics indicate a type of callingfrom the people of the streets for the common party in all the toadas (songs) of maracatu.Science urges the public to listen to Nação Zumbi and dance to its music to make the dust rise.If we compare the three examples of the toadas, in which the “nation” rejoices with the peoplerequesting its presence at the party, we can see the structural closeness. An example is “Bomdia, seu Amauri / Tá Galdino aqui de novo / Pra fazer seu carnaval / Pra o senhor e pra o seupovo” (Good morning, Mr. Amauri / Galdino is here again / To make your carnival / For youand for your people) (cited in Moses Neto 2000: 106).2

The contact of the maracatu group with its audience in the street is an important elementfor the functioning of the celebration and for the production of cultural meaning. Almost inthe same manner as the great masters of revelry and their respective nations, CSNZ binds itselfto the people, who are its audience, through the call and the communion, with a right to musicand the joy of the party.

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Hybridism, Hybrid Cultures, Creativity, and Innovation

Based on the context and the proposals of the manguebeat movement, the two songs used asexamples show the dynamic hybridity of the work of CSNZ in its lyrics, rhythms, andarrangements. It is clear that the genres and poetic-musical formulas are relativized, displaced,and re-semanticized in the body of songs, which makes the network of established meaningscomplex. For example, in the lyrics, local characters and expressions are amalgamated in themiddle of songs that are not typical for them. In the strictly musical field, rock, funk, and soulmusic, represented by instruments and parts of their rhythmic structures, are re-functionalizedby contact with the percussion and syncopation used in maracatu that obviously were notoriginally used with them. On the other hand, it is not just about using drums and othertraditional instruments, but mainly about altering the patterns of both local and globalizedgenres, creating unusual sound textures and distinct rhythmic patterns. It is through the contactsestablished between different musical languages and systems that the hybridity appears in theexperimentation of the band.

The strength of the coming together between traditional and contemporary is not simply inthe strangeness that emerges, but in the innovative results of the conjunctions that mobilizeboth simultaneously. Tradition and contemporaneity are reorganized in favor of radical newopenings: if the first gains, in new clothing, global knowledge, the latter acquires unusual andcreative profiles.

However, it is important to emphasize one aspect about this approach. Works such as thoseof CSNZ, in which local elements are mixed with globalized aesthetic information, exist in areasonable quantity, especially nowadays with digital technological and communication resources.There is no doubt that, by their very nature, digital technologies, contemporary media, theInternet, and all the ramifications of globalization have denationalized and recontextualizeddiverse and distant cultural information. But what gives substance to the group’s productionis, in addition to the created experimental procedures, the relationship established with a contextcharacterized historically by intense cultural miscegenation. It is the mobilization in favor offusions and this contagion present in the cultural weave that gives meaning, ultimately, to theproduction of CSNZ. In other words, this process is not limited to be just the product of thetechnological environment because technology, while important, does not produce mixtures byitself. The success of innovation has to do, above all, with the particular cultural-aestheticbackground context, and especially with artists attentive to mestizo dynamics as basiccharacteristics of culture that give meaning to hybridizations. The work of CSNZ is an exampleof this.

Notes1. A physician and scientist from Recife of international renown. He studied the social phenomenon of hunger in

Brazil from a multidisciplinary point of view, diverging from the approaches common at the time. In 1946, hereleased his most important book, The Geography of Hunger. Even having received several international awards,he had his political rights revoked by the military dictatorship in 1964 and went into exile in France, where hetaught at the Sorbonne. He died in 1973 without ever having returned to his country.

2. Two more are on the album Maracatu Atômico, especially on the tracks “Que baque é esse?” (What is This Beat?)and “Luanda, vem ver” (Luanda, Take a Look at This), both from Maracatu Nação Erê, a group formed byunderprivileged children in Recife.

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BibliographyCampos, Haroldo de. 1972. “Superación de los lenguajes exclusivos.” In América Latina en su literatura, edited by César

F. Moreno, 279–299. México DF: Siglo XXI.Carpentier, Alejo. 1988. La música en Cuba. 3rd ed. La Habana: Letras Cubanas.Crook, Larry. 2002. “Turned-around beat: maracatu de baque virado and Chico Science.” In Brazilian popular music

& globalization, edited by Charles Perrone and Christopher Dunn, 233–244. New York: Routledge.Crook, Larry. 2009. Focus: music of northeast Brazil. 2nd ed. New York: Routledge.Galinsky, Philip. 2002. “Maracatu atômico:” tradition, modernity, and post-modernity in the mangue movement of Recife,

Brazil. New York: Routledge.García Canclini, Néstor. 1995. Hybrid cultures: strategies for entering and leaving modernity. Minneapolis: University

of Minnesota Press.Gruzinski, Serge. 2002. The mestizo mind. New York: Routledge.Martín-Barbero, Jesús. 1993. Communication, culture and hegemony: from the media to mediations. London: Sage.Neto, Moisés. 2000. Chico Science: a rapsódia afrociberdélica. Recife: Comunicarte.Sarduy, Severo. 1972. “El Barroco y el Neobarroco.” In América Latina en su literatura, edited by César F. Moreno,

167–183. México DF: Siglo XXI.Suassuna, Ariano. 1977. “O movimento Armorial.” Revista Pernambucana de Desenvolvimento, vol. 4, no. 1, 39–64.Vargas, Herom. 2007. Hibridismos musicais de Chico Science & Nação Zumbi. São Paulo: Ateliê Editorial.Wisnik, José Miguel. 1987. “Algumas questões de música e política no Brasil.” In Cultura brasileira: temas e situações,

edited by Alfredo Bosi, 114–123. São Paulo: Ática.Zero Quatro, Fred. 1994. “Caranguejos com cérebro.” Booklet of the CD Da lama ao caos, de Chico Science & Nação

Zumbi.Zero Quatro, Fred. 1998. “Vivemos a longa era da pilhagem.” Suplemento Cultural—Diário Oficial do Estado de

Pernambuco. 31. January–February.

DiscographyChico Science & Nação Zumbi. 1994. Da lama ao caos. CD 850.224/2–464476 Chaos/Sony Music. Brazil.Chico Science & Nação Zumbi. 1996. Afrociberdelia. CD 850.278/2–479255 Chaos/Sony Music. Brazil.Maracatu atômico. 2000. CD MA 001 África Produções/Associação Cavalo Marinho. Brazil. [Various artists].

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10I Sing Everywhere

An Ethnomusicological Look at thePerformance of Ney Matogrosso

Sergio Gaia Bahia

My sexual energy is something that I just release, you know? I don’t do this to win overanyone . . . It is something that . . . I walk on stage and I release it; I release it for all, withoutdistinction, and it affects men and women.

(Ney Matogrosso)

Ney doesn’t rely on labels. While he has a very strong pop side, he also has a connectionwith the music that is more, shall we say, classical.

(declaration of a fan)

I think Ney’s not just a singer. He is a performer, an actor of the song.(ibid.)1

An artist who challenged the limits of behavior linked to gender. A performer who, evenrecognized for his sensuality, possesses a “classical” sophistication in the eyes of the public. A singer who does not just sing, but who, according to his fans, interprets songs like an actoron stage.

This chapter aims to discuss how popular music articulates social values and parametersthrough its interpreters. It intends to explore how the work of these artists expresses andchallenges models of social relationships, moral codes and collectively shared ideologies. In thespecific case of Ney Matogrosso, we will see that such a process acquires a radical character dueto the historical-cultural context of his performances in Brazil. In this sense, his artisticperformance figures as a clear example of the dual relationship between music and societypointed out by Seeger (1977), according to which music has the power to reflect models ofsocial behavior, while it contributes to changing them. In some countries, including Brazil, thistwo-way relationship gained particular dimensions due to the importance of popular music inthe universe of local imagery. It is a context in which urban and mediatic music influence thevery way people see themselves and how they relate to their sociocultural values. Let us look,in the Brazilian context, at the role of Matogrosso in the construction of this imagery.

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A Strange Creature Appears in Popular Music

Ney de Souza Pereira was born in 1941 in the State of Mato Grosso, near the border betweenBrazil and Paraguay. With homosexual preferences, aspirations towards the fine arts, and adefiant personality, the young Ney Matogrosso experienced a confrontational relationship earlyon with his father, who was conservative and in the military. He ended up leaving home at 17when he moved to the capital Brasília and later to Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, where hejoined the band Secos & Molhados in 1971.

Only two years later, the band became a success in Brazil with a debut album that even todayis considered one of the most innovative classics of national rock. Its blend of English progressiverock and Brazilian music, combined with lyrics with literary pretensions, drew attention to thegroup, which became a commercial phenomenon. Visually, starting with the early shows,

Figure 10.1 Secos & Molhados: debut album sleeve, 1973 (Matogrosso is the “head” on the left foreground)

Secss &melhades

Matogrosso appeared on stage with body ornaments of all kinds—painted face, a skirt ofribbons, and feathers on his head—singing in an extremely high, countertenor register andsexually teasing the audience. Thus appeared an artist whose expression was based on a strongtheatricality and a sexual provocativeness that challenged the limits of what was socially acceptableas masculine or feminine.

The impact caused by this attitude was increased in the context of the military dictatorshipthat had ruled Brazil since 1964. In the early 1970s, the pressures of the regime in terms ofcensorship and the threatening of individual freedoms led some artists to go into exile andfrustrated the utopia of transformation through art that had mobilized much of the Brazilianleft in the period. Allied to this, there was a policing of the actual behavior of the population,and everything that did not fit into the government’s manual of “good morality” was automaticallybanned. In this sense, the emergence of Matogrosso and Secos & Molhados on the local scenewas a challenge to the dictatorship, not through a defined political discourse, but by an artisticstance that defied the official standards of behavior. In the great definition of Queiroz (2004:20), it was a stance that, though not partisan, was still politicized.

Yet, despite all the impact and success of Secos & Molhados, about a year later Matogrossowould leave the group to pursue a solo career that has now lasted four decades. Dubbed by theBrazilian press as “the chameleon,” his work during this period is marked by several changesof direction, alternating shows of exuberant theatricality and sensual provocation with othersof sober visuals and controlled performances. Musically, Matogrosso explored various musicalgenres over the years—samba, choro, baião, and classical music—with occasional returns to therock ’n’ roll from the beginning of his career.

Among the shows of this period, this essay discusses Canto em qualquer canto (I SingEverywhere), which premiered in 2004 and toured Brazil and Europe in 2005. Conceived bythe television station Canal Brasil as a year-end special, the show sought to offer an overviewof the artist’s career, in which he sang his hits while accompanied by a guitar quartet. Thecharacter of the retrospective allows us to carry out here both a timely analysis of the show anda more comprehensive look at the career of the performer.

The Pop Recital and the Issue of Refinement

In the way it was recorded on CD and DVD, the show Canto em qualquer canto is a sobervisual spectacle. Its musical concept led Canal Brasil and the performer himself to opt for a leanvisual look, leaving more space for the music to emerge. The four supporting musicians wearpants and discreet shirts and form a semi-circle on stage of a typical chamber concert, whilethe singer stands in the center as if he were a classical soloist. His white attire recalls the glitterof previous shows only in the small pieces of metal that rise up the sides of his legs and gobehind his body, resembling a Mexican mariachi’s pants. Behind the musicians, no scenarioadorns the theater stage, except for a backdrop, on which are projected images and coloredlights.

All these details demonstrate, at first sight, a mixture of visual aspects derived from theclassical and popular universes that did not escape the perception of the artists themselves.“We’re doing a recital, but it’s pop, it’s not classical music, right?” said Matogrosso, with fashiondesigner Ocimar Versolato in the “making of” segment of the show’s DVD. The very ambiguityof the term “pop recital” seems to define the whole aesthetic approach to Canto em qualquercanto. Musically, the accompaniment is provided by four guitarists who are well trained in the

Ney Matogrosso—I Sing Everywhere • 135

classical universe, three of them alternating acoustic guitar with other instruments: RicardoSilveira, a jazz guitarist, plays acoustic guitar with steel strings and a semi-acoustic guitar; ZéPaulo Becker plays acoustic guitar with nylon strings and a viola caipira; and Pedro Jóia, theonly Portuguese musician to join the group, alternates flamenco guitar with lute. Meanwhile,Marcello Gonçalves, contrary to the rule, is the only one to remain with the same instrumentthroughout the show, a seven-string acoustic guitar, typically used in choro.

The use of musical notation, the counterpoint between the guitars, the technical precisionof the musicians, their spatial arrangement on the scene, and their unobtrusive outfits, amongother aspects culturally related to the erudite universe, led artists and audiences to classify theshow as refined. “It is a refined and rich work. It has subtlety, but it also has force, it has beauty,it has simplicity, but it also has virtuosity,” said Becker in mid-2007 (Bahia 2009: 49). Part ofthe public interviewed by this researcher found that the songs from the show “are treated withrespect and always stay sophisticated and pleasant to hear.” The very statement that opens thischapter—“while he has a very strong pop side, also has a connection with music that is more,shall we say, classic”—points to this sense of refinement. Moreover, such a feature is not perceivedby the people only as a quality, but mainly as something that differentiates Matogrosso, somethingthat would highlight him in the midst of a production disseminated by the mainstream industry.

This perception seems to be rooted in a kind of bipartite social reading. On the one hand,it identifies a kind of routine established by the culture industry from disposable items, but thatpenetrates into the unconscious of an audience that consumes them uncritically (Eco 2004: 299).On the other, it classifies some artists as figures that are exceptions to this rule, which wouldproduce a type of discourse that goes beyond the superficial level and reaches the listener withdepth. Needless to say, this is a reading produced by viewers who call themselves consumersof refined music. Some research done with this audience has revealed that, at least in Brazil,for most artists who are characterized by a constant appeal to dance, the body and sexualityare associated with superficiality (Ulhôa 2000: 1–13). On the other hand, music centered on agreater melodic and harmonic development, for example, is usually related to profundity. Thistype of classification in reference to values that accompany the music is historically perceivedas intrinsic to the music itself. There are, for example, the contrast between the Platonic notionof a music of pitch tones (which dispenses with the constant pulsing of rhythm, as occurs inGregorian chant), and the contrary notion of a music for the body, based on the pulse thatkeeps you “planted” in the ground and invites you to dance (Wisnik 1999: 99–106). Anotherreading of a sociological type puts, on the one hand, the music of pitch tones as somethingculturally related to the intellect, rationality, aesthetics, and “civilization”—values, in turn,traditionally associated with erudite, white, and European culture. On the other hand, the musicfor the body is held as something related to “primitivism”—a category of bourgeois origin thathere refers to the black music genres strongly based in rhythm, such as soul, rock, and samba(Frith 1998: 127). In other words, the statements of people about Canto em qualquer cantocategorizing it as an art form related to the notion of music of pitch tones, carrying with itsstrong bias toward the erudite, sophisticated, and, by extension, intellectualized: music for themind (Wisnik 1999: 99–106).

But would the watcher of the DVD of the show not be surprised by a singer who makessensual insinuations almost the entire time in front of the audience and the cameras? Hisdiscreet white shirt did not prevent him from leaving his chest almost always on display (heeven took off the shirt several times during the tour of the show, when he switched to wearinga black costume). Likewise, the context of what we refer to as recital did not create obstacles

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Figure 10.2 Matogrossos’s white outfit on the Canto em qualquer canto cover

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for the performer’s moving sensuously during the songs and frequently glancing slyly at theaudience. In this sense—and completing the ambiguous nature of the show’s pop recital—Cantoem qualquer canto marks the identity of an artist who, despite having an “erudite” bias in thepublic eye, appeals to the body for the driving energy of his performance.

In fact, none of these aesthetic aspects—visual or musical, “erudite” or “popular,” “intellec -tualized” or “bodily,” “superficial” or “deep”—can be attributed only to the performer, to themusicians who accompany him, or to the music they produce. All are factors that make referenceto the social values characteristic of the culture in which the performance takes place. This socialand, therefore, collective aspect is the point to which we will now call attention.

Performance and Collective Values

Popular music, as we know, is a universe that often strongly stimulates the collective partici-pation of the public. Admirers of a certain genre of music usually identify themselves as members of the same “tribe”—a term commonly used to refer to the teenage audience, forexample. What is rarely commented upon is the desire to participate from the point of view ofthe musicians themselves. The popular mediatic music is naturally full of values related tourban-industrial society: technical ability, professionalism, and the relevance of the individualcontributions of each member in a work group (the band) (Frith 1998: 53). When it comes,then, to musical genres culturally identified as “high level” (jazz and progressive rock, forexample), this adds up to an expectation as to the virtuosity of each individual artist, a valueinherited from the classical universe. But in a world that was rapidly rationalized, the demandsfor efficiency—and the concomitant separation between expert musicians and the “lay” audience—have led people to a constant search for participation and for community through music (Medina1973: 50–51, 55).

In the voice of the musicians who were part of the show Canto em qualquer canto, thisprocess occurs quite clearly. According to Silveira, “all have equal weight in this work.” “Weare the supporting cast of this show, but also fundamental,” said Becker on the same issue.“Each one was responsible for an equal number of arrangements, we wrote and worked togetherfrom that,” commented Silveira on the creative process of the show’s arrangements. “Thus it isone thing, creative, that I like to develop together with them,” Matogrosso himself said abouthis participation in the arrangements. All these statements point invariably to a collective sense.Here, the individual work of each musician appears always in favor of a group situation, wherethe highlight of any one of the members—even the singer himself—is never mentioned. Althoughthis approach points to collective values typical of the folk universe, on the other hand, it dilutesaspects inherent to the professionalized context of urban popular music, where issues of contractsand hierarchies are often established. For the realization of an artistic work, however, the senseof community seems to be something fundamental to the musicians, in a way that hides thesepower relations. It is the group that represents the primary goal.

This quest for communion, of course, has also expanded to the viewing public, whose reciprocaldesire for interaction, throughout Canto em qualquer canto, is widely demonstrated. Accordingly,one of the aspects that seem to attract people to attend the show concerns the experience thatthe performance offers as “ritual.” When we think of ritual, two things usually come to mind:(1) a certain degree of organization and redundancy to which actions and words are established(Peirano 2003: 9–10); and (2) a certain transformative capacity in relation to individuals wholive the experience. It is not only a clear sequence of actions that defines a concert of popular

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music as ritual (purchase of ticket, lines to enter the theater, marked seats, rules of etiquetteand silence before the start of the show, a predetermined order of the songs to be played, theencore moment, etc.), but also the transformation of the public present.

All of us who have attended shows of artists we admire can testify about the experience ofbeing transported by the artistic expression—and transformed by it. Among Matogrosso’s public,I collected statements such as: “There has been a lot of pain and hearing him has been an escapevalve. He has been very meaningful for me”; or even, “I, who was repressed, managed [fromcontact with him] to discover my sexuality . . . discover my identity, find my way, my career,have determination, gain respect.”

These are strong statements, from people who clearly saw themselves in the performer thatthey admire and were transformed by him—a process that certainly included, at some point,direct contact with his live performance. In this sense, we can say that these fans have experienced,in relation to the artist, a kind of script that characterizes every ritual and every performanceas such: they entered an environment surrounded by special circumstances (usually a theaterfor shows outside the common work and socializing sites); attended the expected show, in whichat a certain moment, they accessed a kind of “limbo” (a dimension, outside of the everydayworld, to which artistic expression had the power to transport them); and returned to everydaylife when the show ended, already transformed in some way. Originally systematized fromtraditional contexts (Turner 1987: 25), these stages of ritual are easily adaptable to the type ofcontext referring to Matogrosso. It is through them, even according to Turner, that theperformance presents its reflective aspect (i.e., the process by which people see themselves inartistic expression and, from this, find a way to better understand themselves).

This transformative power of performance does not occur, however, only with the public inrelation to the artist, but equally with the artist in relation with himself. The aforementionedrestraint of the debut show of Canto em qualquer canto was considerably abandoned duringthe tour that followed. This researcher witnessed one of the tour’s shows in the city of Recifein 2005 and the memory is, above all, one of surprise. The performer who had maintained amore elegant and discreet sensuality throughout the show for the DVD gave way to a moredaring artist, explicit, and even slightly aggressive in his stage attitude. Matogrosso came closerto the audience with his sensual dancing, looked the audience in the eye in a more affirmativeway, stripped off the top part of his outfit at various times, and passed his hand over his genitals—something that he probably would not have done in front of Canal Brasil’s TV cameras. Whenasked about this change of attitude, the artist replied as follows:

Yes, yes, I changed outfits and changed my attitude. I realized that I could offer much moreof myself. And I saw that the more I offered, the greater the audience’s positive reaction.They liked it, you know? So it was something like that, it was not that costumed [Matogrossoof other shows of the past], but there was something else I could release, right? And as Ireleased it I understood what it was. This all actually, for me, works as great therapy, right?It’s always been like this. It is the moment my unconscious sets itself free.

As his unconscious “set itself free,” the artist “began to understand what was happening.”But this process of self-knowledge, even though it happens at an individual level, is only possiblethanks to the collective nature of the performance. The constant collective stimulation is preciselywhat enables the artist to achieve certain states of consciousness outside of the normal statesof everyday life. It is a process aided, moreover, by other elements of the live context. Among

Ney Matogrosso—I Sing Everywhere • 139

them, Matogrosso has already mentioned, for example, the sense that certain outfits cause inhim. According to him, some of them have given him the impression of emanating some “extraenergy” during concerts, while others have made him feel as if he embodied a “mythical ancestor”(Vaz 1992: 114, 120). Another statement in the same direction was given to me: “I delight inthis thing, it’s something that takes me to an unconscious side, well, you know . . . Indian, black;you know those ‘rituals’? For me it is this that frees me.”

The “rituals,” in the way he puts it, seem to acquire a specific meaning: they are mysticalforces that emerge from his unconscious and act during moments of his shows, “to free theunconscious,” “to free the rituals,” or even to embody a “mythical ancestor” on stage. Theseaspects lead us to question another side of the performer: his actor side, the process by whichMatogrosso “embodies” characters in live performances to convey his music. Let us see howthis process occurs that leads the public to perceive him so clearly as an “actor of the song.”

Drama and Song

Some interpreters of popular music around the world are at the top of musical performers whoare considered “actors” by the public: David Bowie, who arrived at an extreme with his alterego Ziggy Stardust in the 1970s; Peter Gabriel, since his phase with Genesis, at the same time;and Freddie Mercury with Queen in the 1980s; among others. In Brazil, Ney Matogrosso is oneof the artists who enjoy such recognition.

But this perception to relate drama and song does not only affect the public. Studies haveshown that popular music has aspects that approach theater’s own logic. The first of theseaspects concerns the role of who is singing. The interpreter, when he sings, “transcends” hisown identity as he becomes, in the words of Frith (1998: 169–170), the first-person narrator ofthe song, the character who gives us his speech. This character, necessarily, is always telling astory: about someone who left him long ago (“Changes,” Black Sabbath), about some love withoutwhich he cannot live (“All of Me,” Marks/Simons), about someone being “gently” thrown out(“Hit the Road,” Ray Charles), about someone who ran away from home (“She’s LeavingHome,” McCartney/Lennon), or about someone who thought he was the greatest and suddenlyfound himself with nothing (the revolutionary narrative of “Like a Rolling Stone,” Dylan).

About the narrator, two details can be told. First, he is someone who possesses all the aspects related to the context of a character (Middleton 2002: 251). He has a personality, forexample, that is melancholic in “Changes” or aggressive in “Like a Rolling Stone.” He belongsto a social class, for example, suggested by the lyrics of the song (someone middle class in “She’s Leaving Home”). A social class also suggested by the song’s genre—it would be difficultfor the narrator-character of “All of Me” not to be perceived as a member of an elite class, dueto the cultural reading itself that is usually done of jazz as a sophisticated genre. A geographicalorigin revealed, for example, by the accent of the singer—the typical way of singing of rappersleads us immediately to African-American communities; reggae sung by The Police or by BobMarley have distinctly different origins, even if we do not know either artist. A life situation,as the character may have been abandoned by their partner or sent away. A mood: sad, hilarious,tragic, and so on.

The second detail about the first-person narrator is about whom he is addressing whensinging. In this case, he may be addressing a loved one who is far away and will not return, aclose friend, or even himself. But one thing in popular song never seems to vary: the character

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in the song is addressing his listeners. Based on this assumption, we can even say that the singerperforms a dialogue when he transmits his song, especially when his interlocutor is found inthe audience before him and gives him immediate responses. Singing along, applauding, booing,or just staying silent are reactions that instantly affect the way the artist on stage will continuethe interpretation of his piece. Therefore, the receiving person’s role is equally important forthe result of the musical discourse.

In other words, we in the audience are also, in a certain way, actors in this context, especiallyat a live performance. Accordingly, it can be said that our “character” also transcends our realidentity. No woman in the audience needs to be the beloved to whom the verses of “Changes”are addressed. No man in the audience needs to be the one who is being sent away in “Hit theRoad.” However, this does not prevent us from taking part in the narrative of the songs. Thisis because we are used to taking a certain role within a narrative so that we can follow it—aswould a spectator who assumed the role of the detective while watching a crime-investigationmovie (Cubitt 2000: 144–145).

As one can see, the narrative of the song with the narrating character and his story appearsas the territory within which the artist and listener communicate and where each one plays arole. In this process, the separation of real person and character occurs on both sides. How-ever, for the performer to convey his song convincingly, he must give us the impression thathe and the narrator have merged into one. It is necessary that we do not perceive the borderseparating the person from the artistic role that he assumes (Tatit 1986: 10). It is necessary,finally, that the context surrounding the narrating character, as well as the story he tells, betransmitted by the interpreter in as real a manner as possible.

In this sense, the definition of Matogrosso as “actor of the song” appears justified by hispublic. Of the several statements taken from the public, one of the most emblematic was thefollowing: “Each song performed by him causes us to visualize a character, even if we haven’tseen him interpret it.” Or: “I realize that Ney Matogrosso has a very great ability to put all ofhimself into the song.” If he is able to merge at this point with the first-person narrator, thiscapability certainly does not lie only in his theatrical resources, but in the way he unites theseresources to give life to the character and his story. In other words, we can say that if the artistis perceived by his audience as an actor of the song, it is because he is able to enact Frith’smaxim (Frith 1998: 169–170), according to which song is theater.

But, as we put it at the beginning of this chapter, one of the theatrical resources of Matogrossothat differentiates him from other artists has to do with his sexual expression. Let us look,therefore, at what role sensuality has in the moment of stimulating the audience to immerseitself in the music’s narrative.

Sexuality and Performance

Sexuality in the work of Matogrosso was not always expressed the same way in different phasesof his career, nor did it always have the same role in his contact with the public. The differencebetween his initial phase and the era of Canto em qualquer canto, for example, becomes visiblewhen comparing the content of the DVD of the show with videos of Secos & Molhados perform-ing live. In his first phase, Matogrosso rarely smiled. His career at that time was too affectedby repression in politics and behavior to allow for uncompromising performances. The hipundulations and sensual provocations of the artist were often accompanied by a serious expression

Ney Matogrosso—I Sing Everywhere • 141

on his part. According to his biographer, that seriousness did not fit the image people had ofgay men, who were thought to be affected and too happy by the more prejudiced members ofthe public. Therefore, the fact that during a Secos & Molhados concert he simulated having sexwith a member of the band, as he stared at the audience with a serious and unchanging expression,confused many spectators. Thus, the first phase of the artist’s career was marked mainly by asensuality that confronted the repressive atmosphere of the time.

Over time, however, Matogrosso started to realize that what was scandalous in his performancewas beginning to be accepted without problems by his public, ever growing and faithful. Thischange in the audience influenced him in such a way that he began to soften his performanceand develop traits that would become characteristic: sly expressions, suggestive looks, lightnessin dealing with the spectators, and, especially, smiles. Today, he defines the relationship of theaudience with his sensuality as a big game: “Today, my relationship with the public is this: weare old acquaintances . . . and that’s the game I’m playing now, you know? [laughs].”

This relationship has therefore come to be defined by an increasingly playful approach. Sincethe mid-1980s, the irony has gradually become more recurrent than the challenge. Taking Cantoem qualquer canto as an example, this irony is present in various songs. In “Amendoimtorradinho” (Roasted Peanuts) (Henrique Beltrão), Matogrosso ends the song lowering his bodyslowly until he is supported by his hands on his knees, in a totally suggestive pose directedtoward the audience, accompanied by a discreet smile. In “Lábios de mel” (Honey Lips) (WaldirRocha), the artist’s poses of offering himself contrast with the theme of “romantic love” in thelyrics. In “Bamboleô” (Shaking It) (André Filho), the performer undulates sensuously throughoutthe song, which can be viewed by many as being “effeminate,” while at the same time he issinging that money and women are what matter in life, as a typical heterosexual man wouldsing. This type of contrast usually produces positive effects, both on men and women.

Loosely speaking, we know that prejudice against behavior perceived culturally as “effeminate”exists in different degrees in different countries. Matogrosso seems to justify the acceptance ofhis sensuality in a Brazilian and conservative culture simply because he “gives it for all” andtherefore “affects everyone.” However, such an attitude seems to mean different things dependingon the moment. One of the women interviewed, 58 years old, stated that “in the time [of Secos& Molhados], Ney became an idol for my generation, because in a time when everyone wasrepressed and everything was forbidden, he literally showed his ass to the world!” This kind ofstatement has an aspect less commented upon by the interpreter, but equally important. Therewas, especially early in his career, a good portion of the public who saw and approved hisdefiance in the face of the behavioral standards of the dictatorship.

On the other hand, when referring to the latest phase of the artist, another admirer consideredthat his sexual expression reaches the public “because he is neither man nor woman, right?”This statement seems to be more in line with what Matogrosso considers as one of his greatcareer-long searches: challenging the preconceived boundaries between what is regarded asmasculine and feminine (Vaz 1992: 58). About this intention, our argument is that the use ofirony has become the ultimate weapon of the performer for his sensuality coming to be acceptedas it is today. Recent studies related to feminist theory place irony as a powerful weapon ofdefiance. Its logic would be to affirm the values of the contested speech, so as to bring thisdiscourse under suspicion (Rainford 2005: 3), and in doing so denotes that this discourse is notthe only valid alternative for behavior (Haraway 1990: 197). These ideas seem to be in line withthe approach practiced by Matogrosso over time. Less than seeking the affirmation of a specific

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model of sexual behavior, the artist shows that he seeks to achieve a widening of frontiers. Thatis, he is not asserting one sexual category (homosexuality, heterosexuality, bisexuality, and soon) over another, but trying to get people to see human beings as less classifiable in terms oftheir behavior in this area. “My limits went far beyond and were much more flexible,” is oneof his favorite statements about his most rebellious times.

From the standpoint of performance, this irony, while challenging limits, always expresseditself in various aspects of his work: the vocal register culturally understood as “feminine” beingsung by a man; a series of costumes worn on stage that has far exceeded the look of Canto emqualquer canto in terms of glitter and extravagance; the choice of repertoire that is many timesdeliberately provocative, the most famous example being the song “Homem com H” (Man withM) (Antônio Barros). In the song, the artist, despite his assumed preference for men, singsloudly that he is an homem (man) with a capital H, demonstrating an undeniable irony inrelation to macho culture. Add to that the stripteases that have become common in his showsand we have several features that use the ironic component to shake people up.

Another essential detail for the gradual acceptance of Matogrosso’s sensuality concerns theexisting relationship between the repressive forces of society and an attitude of defiance. Thisrelationship, as argued by Foucault (1988: 45), is much more complex than a simple confrontationof opposing vectors. According to the author, the repressive forces tend to be more normativethan annulling. Societies do not usually completely halt the practice of sex, but put it in termsof what “can” and “can not” be done. In this sense, a personal story reported by Matogrosso isrelevant here. The performer says that even in childhood, one of the priests of the school heattended asked if he had fooled around with girls. Given a negative answer, the priest changedthe question to “and boys?” And he, frightened, replied once more in the negative. The content,in itself repressive, of these questions had however the effect of revealing to the boy a possiblereality that he had not even perceived. In this sense, the artist’s personal experience fully ratifiesone of Foucault’s central ideas: the repressive vector can be understood as something less thanannulling, to the extent it helps to bring to light “secrets” about sex. In other words, to insinuatethat “you can not” fool around with boys, you are saying at the same time that fooling aroundexists among boys.

On the other hand, the author also identifies in the opposing force a particular pleasure inescaping the repressive vector, in getting around it, fooling it, or even provoking it. Here,another story told by Matogrosso serves as an example. In Recife, during the dictatorship, agroup of soldiers entered his dressing room after a performance, in order to demand explanationsof a sexual movement made during the show. He received them naked, seated on a couch, andleft the soldiers completely befuddled. The result was that the interview did not last 10 minutes.They ordered him to make that move “less often” in coming shows and withdrew from thedressing room. These stories about the performer help us to reaffirm the idea that sexualexpression and the power that represses it do not annul each other. They actually intertwineand incite each other (Foucault 1988: 48).

Under this logic, Matogrosso would not be seen simply as an oppositional force that brokethe cultural norms of his time, but as the expression of a truth already recognized by thoserules—even if that is denied from time to time. Accordingly, we agree that one of the meritsof the artist was to have expressed this truth in a relevant space in Brazil: the space for artisticexpression disseminated by the mainstream media. Acting in this space, he helped to affirmthat men also had a right to be sensual and that forms of “masculine” behavior might be broader

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than those defended by conservatism. It is understood, therefore, that the artist served as amirror of sociocultural standards and simultaneously as a vector for transformation of thesesame standards. It was in this sense of this mutual relationship between art and society thatthis paper sought to address important aspects of Ney Matogrosso’s performance, always fromthe point of view of Brazilian, urban, Western, and mediatic society, in which it has developedfor over 40 years.

Conclusion

Throughout this chapter, I have tried to demonstrate how the work of a performer, in the realmof popular music, involves questions of moral values, ideas, attitudes, behaviors, and variouscultural parameters, and how the performance, as a collective process, puts these factors intodebate, acting as an arena of affirmation or the disputing of positions. Thus, we described, asmentioned at the beginning of the chapter, the ability of popular music to comply with theprocess identified by Seeger (1977), according to which music reflects social values, whileinfluencing the transformation of behavior. In this sense, we saw that Matogrosso represents,in the Brazilian context, a clear example of this mutual relationship, which is one of thefundamental premises of ethnomusicology.

Thus, by proposing an ethnomusicological essay about a popular and mediatic artist, I seekto promote the understanding of processes relative to our own social context, since it containsthe performance of which we take part.

Note1. Statement in an interview granted to this researcher. All the statements of the artists who joined the project Canto

em qualquer canto, as well as of Matogrosso’s audience, mentioned in this essay were drawn from interviews forthe book Ney Matogrosso: o ator da canção, published in Brazil in 2009. The few exceptions will always be specified.

BibliographyBahia, Sergio Gaia. 2009. Ney Matogrosso: o ator da canção. 1st ed. Rio de Janeiro: Editora Multifoco.Cubitt, Sean. 2000. “‘Maybellene’: Meaning and the Listening Subject.” In Reading Pop: Approaches to Textual Analysis

in Popular Music, edited by Richard Middleton, 141–159. 1st ed. New York: Oxford University Press.Eco, Umberto. 2004. Apocalípticos e integrados. 6th ed. São Paulo: Editora Perspectiva.Foucault, Michel. 1988. História da sexualidade 1: a vontade de saber. 16th ed. Rio de Janeiro: Edições Graal.Frith, Simon. 1998. Performing rites: on the value of popular music. 2nd ed. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.Haraway, Donna. 1990. “A Manifesto for Cyborgs: Science, Technology and Socialist Feminism in the 1980s.” In

Feminism/Postmodernism, edited by Linda Nicolson, 190–233. New York: Routledge.Medina, Carlos Alberto de. 1973. Música popular e comunicação: um ensaio sociológico. 1st ed. Petrópolis: Vozes.Middleton, Richard. 2002. Studying popular music. 1st ed. Philadelphia: Open University Press.Peirano, Mariza. 2003. Rituais: ontem e hoje. 1st ed. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar.Queiroz, Flávio de Araújo. 2004. Secos & Molhados: transgressão, contravenção. 2004. Master Thesis. Humanities Center.

Universidade Federal do Ceará, Fortaleza.Rainford, Lydia. 2005. She changes by intrigue: irony, femininity and feminism. Amsterdam: Roto P.Seeger, Anthony. 1977. “Porque os Índios Suyá Cantam para Suas Irmãs?” In Arte e Sociedade: Ensaios de Sociologia

da Arte, edited by Gilberto Velho, 39–63. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar.Tatit, Luiz. 1986. A canção: eficácia e encanto. 1st ed. São Paulo: Atual Editora.Turner, Victor. 1987. The anthropology of performance. 1st ed. New York: PAJ Publications.Ulhôa, Martha T. 2000. “Pertinência e música popular: em busca de categorias para análise da música brasileira

popular.” In Actas del III Congreso Latinoamericano IASPM, 1–13, Santiago, Chile: Asociación Internacional parael Estudio de la Música Popular—Rama Latinoamericana (IASPM-AL).

Vaz, Denise Pires. 1992. Ney Matogrosso: um cara meio estranho. 1st ed. Rio de Janeiro: Rio Fundo.Wisnik, José Miguel. 1999. O som e o sentido: uma outra história das músicas. 2nd ed. São Paulo: Companhia das Letras.

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DiscographyBeatles, The. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. London: EMI Records Ltd., 1994. Compact disc, originally released

in 1967.Black Sabbath. Black Sabbath Vol. 4. São Paulo: Gravadora Eldorado, 1997. Compact disc, originally released in 1972.Charles, Ray. The Genius Hits the Road. Los Angeles: Rhino Entertainment Company, 1997. Compact disc.Dylan, Bob. The Essential Bob Dylan. New York City: Columbia Records, 2000. Compact disc.Sinatra, Frank. The Capitol Years (Box Set). London: EMI, 1998. Compact disc.

FilmographySantiago, Marcelo (director). Ney Matogrosso. Canto em qualquer canto. Universal Music-Brasil, 2005. 1 DVD

(85 minutes); English subtitles.

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11Mixing in the Global Margins

The Making of Brazilian Drum & BassIvan Paolo de Paris Fontanari

In early 2012, I experienced a surprise in relation to the history of the Brazilian drum & bass(D&B) DJ Marky: I found a promotional video for the city of São Paulo in which he starred(São Paulo Tourism/City of São Paulo 2010a). In the video, Marky presents himself as a residentof the city where he has been acquiring his musical background for 37 years—his age. He repeatsa refrain common among local DJs: You can combine D&B with house, techno, jazz, and bossanova. He associates this possibility with the characteristics of São Paulo: a metropolis wherepeople from different parts of Brazil and the world circulate. Marky shows how he made themixes to compose the soundtrack of the promotional film Unimaginable (São Paulo Tourism/City of São Paulo 2010b), whose objective is the international promotion of tourism in the city,showing its positive aspects by featuring prestigious people in the areas of cinema, cuisine,design, graffiti, and music, who seek inspiration for their creations there. Marky was thus legitim -ized for a generic international audience as a contemporary representative of São Paulo in thefield of music.

For Marky and D&B to star in advertising for the city of São Paulo, they had to travel a longroad. The DJ gradually projected himself to broader audiences, expanding the possibilities ofconstruction of meanings around D&B. Although its spread has not been massive, it was a longcrossing of ethnic and class boundaries, plus transatlantic borders between countries such asBrazil and England. I try to describe this trajectory in this chapter.

The development of D&B, among the subgenres of the electronic music, is the one thatmotivates more debate about issues of class and ethnicity (e.g., Collin 1998; Hesmondhalgh andMelville 2001; James 1997; Reynolds 1998). It was created by black and white DJs and producersin an underground music scene in London, in the course of musical experimentation withsynthesizers, sequencers, and drum machines initiated by DJs and producers of house music inChicago in the 1980s (Rietveld 1998: 15–26).1 Its “breakbeats” are characteristics that differentiateit from house and other subgenres created in the early 1990s, such as techno and trance. Itscounter-metric or syncopated rhythm draws from percussive traditions of African origin, incontrast to the European metric tradition with which house, techno, and trance are associatedrhythmically. The creation of jungle, the direct precursor of D&B, arguably paralleled theintegration of young black Britons in the “rave culture” (Reynolds 1998: 253), which in the late1980s and early 1990s was a mass youth movement in the UK (Rietveld 1998: 58–60). Someconsider jungle the first relevant black British musical expression (Reynolds 1998: 259).

During the fieldwork I conducted in São Paulo in 2005, D&B DJs emphasized the influenceof reggae, ragga, rap, and hardcore techno on the “essence” of the subgenre—central to the

ever-growing and malleable stylistic variation. According to them, D&B can be mixed with avariety of musical genres and subgenres, sound effects, and samples; it can also be played onturntables or on acoustic and electric instruments without losing its identity (Fontanari 2008:197, 237). This is perhaps one of the main keys to understanding the great appeal of D&Bamong urban periphery youth of São Paulo in the late twentieth century and later among wideraudiences.

In this chapter, I discuss the process of the dissemination and aesthetic transformation of D&B in Brazil and its subsequent reinsertion, already in a “Brazilianized” version, in theinternational scene, as well as its “return” to Brazil after this reinsertion. I focus on the dynamicsbetween the aesthetic transformations of D&B and the professional paths of DJs and producerswho participated in its introduction and transformation in Brazil.

The musical narratives—that is, the sound rhetorics built from the hierarchization and thecombination of socioculturally meaningful sounds—seem somehow to produce and reproducerelations established between social actors in other dimensions, such as the personal historiesand relationships of exchange—as suggested by DJ Marky himself in the promotional piece withwhich I introduced this chapter. It would therefore be a heuristically fruitful way to graspsociocultural logics.

The approach proposed here is a possible way to investigate how musical aesthetics andmusical genres are transformed, but also how the transformation of musical aesthetics potential -izes changes in the careers of DJs and vice versa, and how these two instances are related tomixed, hybrid, and rapidly changing processes of identity construction, characteristic ofcontemporary cultural exchanges that are common in the history of Brazilian popular music.

Social, Musical, and Historical Precedents

Jungle was disseminated in Brazil starting with clubs in poor and working-class neighbor-hoods of São Paulo, located in a peripheral band that surrounds the older, central neighborhoods.In the latter, the main services of municipal and state administrations, offices of multinationalcompanies, corporate headquarters of telecommunication companies, the stock exchange,universities, museums, concert halls, and the residences of the economic elites and middle classesare historically located. The central region formed by these neighborhoods also has the greatestconcentration of income in the country, is one of the most populous cities in the world, andhas one of its largest concentrations of capital. Paulistanos (people from the city of São Paulo)clearly perceive the physical and symbolic boundaries between “center” and “periphery,” corres -ponding to levels of education, forms of cultural expression, ethnic origins, and different materialconditions of life. It should be noted that class differences in Brazil in general reflect ethnic-racial differences, and as the proportion of the non-white population increases, the income leveldecreases (Telles 2004: 199)—a relationship quite visible in São Paulo.

Since the 1970s, musical genres formatted outside of Brazil, made with electronic synthesizersand performed mechanically by means of vinyl records, shook up nightclubs in the neighborhoodsof the periphery. Many of these districts were formed in the decades of the 1950s through the1980s, concentrating a low-income population in irregular self-constructed housing, with limitedaccess to education, health, transportation, and recreational spaces (Caldeira 2000: 45–56; Durham2004: 382; Seabra 2004). For the large young population residing there, nightlife, especiallydancing and musical sociability in clubs and discotheques, has crucial importance for recreationand the construction of meaning in life. These are places for romantic and friendly meetings,

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contrasting sharply with the weekly routine of the population and the work places in whichthey have subordinate roles. The musical preference of some of these young people for this kindof foreign music, however, contrasts with their social peers who identify with popular genresof Brazilian music such as samba, forró, and sertanejo, and their respective forms of sociability.

Two socio-musical movements of foreign origin and with distinct characteristics had a greatinfluence in this scene, starting in the 1970s, and provided the basis for the subgenres of electronicmusic such as jungle to make sense for young people from the periphery in the 1990s. The firstwas the bailes black (black dances), which began in Rio de Janeiro in the 1970s and soon spreadto other capitals in the center of the country (Vianna 1997: 29); in São Paulo, they were aphenomenon predominantly featuring young blacks in spaces in the historical center and northernand southern areas. Consisting of mobile dance events, this movement was of great importancein spreading North American funk, soul, and later rap, and the formation of black identity inBrazil (Fry 1982: 15). There, the public danced in choreography to mechanical music, and blackBrazilian artists such as Gilberto Gil, Jorge Ben, and Tim Maia performed, with James Brownas one of the main international icons (Magnani 2003: 34–35).

The second movement was started by a single, highly influential club called Toco, where inthe early 1970s DJs brought about the introduction of the “disco” model and musical repertoirefor low-income youth of São Paulo. From the 1980s onward, other clubs were created in theperiphery, especially in the Zona Leste (East Zone), in a less precarious peripheral region betweenthe central region and the metal-mechanical industrial pole of the state of São Paulo in citiesbordering the southeast. Attracting young people of diverse ethnic origins, the musical experienceof this movement was not associated with black identity in the same way, although black youthswere much of the audience.

These were the movements of musical internationalization with the greatest influence on theoutskirts of São Paulo in the second half of the twentieth century. They were also importantprecedents for the emergence of Brazilian funk and rap in the late 1980s.

The Initial Introduction of Drum & Bass in Brazil

Although black identity was more explicitly valued in the black dances, jungle began to bepopularized in the city in discotheques in the Zona Leste of São Paulo in the early 1990s. Thisprocess reveals the deepening of interest of DJs and this public in musical genres that initiallyhad little or no immediate relationship with the dominant genres of Brazilian music like samba,pagode, forró, and sertanejo. There was also no relation with nationalized genres such as rock,punk, and pop—preferences of a minority of low-income paulistanos. At this point, cosmopolitanvalues and the advent of digital technology related to communication and cultural productionhad already impacted the youth of the periphery, albeit in a rarified form. These values arousedtheir interest in references that were far from their more immediate urban experience.

If music is a way to express worldviews, and generational, gender, ethnic, and class identities,as well as symbolically recreate the DJs and their public’s urban experience, then the knownmusical genres were outdated. They were formatted in historical, geopolitical, and technologicalcontexts that were different from that in which the DJs were living. But how did the DJs of SãoPaulo arrive at jungle?

Jungle is a mediatized electronic subgenre. It was created at a time when the sounds couldbe separated from their physical sources, manipulated with equipment or even createdsynthetically. The most recognizable traits of jungle are the high speed, ragga-style rhymes of

148 • Ivan Paolo de Paris Fontanari

MCs; the synthetic, dense, syncopated, percussive polyrhythmic bases at about 170 BPMs; sub-bass frequencies, raggae influenced bass riffs, and sound effects such as sirens and barking dogs.It has also been briefly described as “break neck beats coupled with half time bass lines” (James1997: 1). Its diffusion to audiences different from those that composed the social scene of itscreation did not depend necessarily on the people who produced it. The musical tracks couldtravel alone, by mail or in a backpack, recorded on vinyl records, or in any other medium.

Not coincidentally, all the pioneering DJs in the spreading of jungle in São Paulo worked inrecord stores. There, in an era without the Internet, they had privileged access to releases fromthe electronic dance clubs in London and New York. DJ Julião was one of them. Around 1993,he presented jungle in the first club dedicated to underground electronic music on the peripheryof São Paulo, the Sound Factory, opened in the Zona Leste in 1991. Julião, however, opted fortechno, while Marky, who played house and hardcore in the same nightclub, adopted jungle.During this period, artists such as Prodigy, Moby, and Altern8 exercised great influence throughMTV Brazil, helping to spread the subgenres of breakbeat electronic music in the country.

The great majority of the most influential DJs in São Paulo was musically socialized andstarted professionally in the midst of the two movements mentioned above. Very few, however,projected themselves beyond the local scene. Those who managed to do so specialized in specificsubgenres throughout the 1990s. This was the case with Marky (Marco Antonio da Silva, bornin 1975) and Patife (Wagner Borges Ribeiro de Souza, born in 1976). In 1995, Marky appearedat the discotheque Toco (East Zone) and Patife at Arena (South Zone). Like them, two othersincluded jungle amid a repertoire of techno and house: DJ Koloral, at the Palace discotheque(South Zone) and DJ Andy, at the Overnight (South Zone) (Assef 2003: 183). These pioneersknew each other, had attended and performed at each other’s parties, and were followed byother young DJs. Club owners, DJs, and the local middle-class public, however, reacted to junglewith the prejudice they felt toward the inhabitants of the periphery in general and did notsupport this subgenre (Fontanari 2008: 209–212).

In parallel to what happened in São Paulo, between 1995 and 1996, British producers suchas Goldie and LTJ Bukem headed an aesthetic transformation in jungle, which led to a divisionbetween underground producers and DJs who remained attached to the label “jungle,” andmainstream ones, such as them, who turned their work toward the big music industry, forwhom “drum & bass” was a label to differentiate their style (James 1997: 55–69; Reynolds 1998:268). In D&B, improvised and unintelligible rhymes of MCs in ragga language; fully synthetic,dense, syncopated, percussive polyrhythmic bases at about 170 BPMs; sub-bass frequencies,raggae influenced bass riffs; and sound effects such as sirens and barking dogs were attenuatedor taken out, thus distancing the style from its ragga and rave music origins. Commentatorson the British electronic music scene associated these features with a “threatening” socialenvironment for the middle classes and local authorities. Its protagonists were unemployed orlow-income black and multi-ethnic youth, consumers and sellers of marijuana, amphetamine,and crack. Jungle was broadcasted by pirate radio stations and produced with illegal samples(Collin 1998: 249; James 1997: 20; Reynolds 1998: 259), and was therefore the image of a sounduniverse “outside the law.” However, it is difficult to find stories and sociocultural analyses thatwent deeper into this scene, which was well exploited by media sensationalism.

The sound references distinguishing jungle have been replaced by others, such as lyrics inthe song format and elements of established genres such as jazz, bringing it closer to the dominantradiophonic format in the big music industry. This change had an important impact on itssocial image, expanding its commercial possibilities. Thus, jungle was “civilized” and renamed

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“drum & bass.” The London MC 5ive’0 called this transformation “white bwoys’ bizniss,”associating its conformity with racism (Belle-Fortune 2004: 21), which reveals the role of jungleas a symbol of black British identity, which young descendants of Jamaican immigrants helpedconstruct. It is worth noting, however, that more than half of the influential DJs and producersof jungle/D&B in the UK were white (Reynolds 1998: 259).

The disclosure of this transformation was almost simultaneous in London and São Paulo,although its context of appropriation in Brazil was different in many ways. The ethnic compositionand cultural references of the São Paulo population are quite different from those in London.In Brazil, there is not a clear association of D&B, by the DJs and enthusiasts, with ethnicidentification. On the other hand, D&B is associated with the “periphery,” a region inhabitedby a population that is poorer and more nonwhite, from which emerged almost all the pioneeringD&B DJs in São Paulo.

I have not obtained reports of drug consumption and trafficking associated with jungle inSão Paulo, although the problem of violence and drugs permeate the daily lives of young peopleon the periphery in a more devastating way than for middle-class youth. Rather, the electronicmusic in the periphery can be perceived as a peaceful alternative, edifying, and somewhat naive,a diversion centered in the dance music experience, uniting youths from different neighborhoodsaround a musical language of cosmopolitan ethos. It was the opposite, moreover, of the dominantforms of musical sociability in the periphery, associated in varying degrees with drug use,violence, male domination, and personal relationships in the neighborhood, and to a musicaltaste stimulated by the national cultural industry.

The setting in which São Paulo D&B DJs circulated until the mid-1990s was local. Theirrecreations expressed the changes produced with the use of the mixer and turntables in the actof performance of the repertoire produced by British labels. The phonographic material releasedlocally consisted of the actual vinyl records imported by the DJs or CDs with compilations byEuropean producers produced in Brazil, such as the CD Any Time (Fieldzz Discos, São Paulo,1996), with hits played by Marky at the disco Toco when his name was still Marky Mark.

This framework, however, began to change in 1995 when Marky began his mediatic projec-tion, albeit sporadically. On one occasion that year, he performed on the popular Programa daXuxa, which was broadcast on national television and directed at children, with perform-ances by Brazilian artists (Assef 2003: 199). Looking at photographs of the time, obtained atthe Toco club, we can see him next to telenovela (soap opera) actors and musicians with greatnational mediatic projection, hired as entertainers for parties (Toco Dance Club: The HistoryDVD 2005).

A unique event for the mediatic popularization of D&B in Brazil was the Free Jazz Festivalin 1997, an international festival of contemporary popular music held simultaneously in Rio deJaneiro and São Paulo. This edition presented Goldie, a major contributor to the transforma-tion of jungle into D&B. This fact shows the potential of this subgenre at the time to interestthe organizers of that year’s festival, which had a great impact on the prestige of D&B in thecountry. The small group of DJs that played D&B at that time in São Paulo was the biggestbeneficiary, although each DJ has capitalized on this impact differently, as shown below.

Until then, the relationship between the DJs and the audience was close. Marky started aprocess—soon followed by his colleagues—of withdrawing from the clubs in the periphery,simultaneous with the increase in demand for his performances elsewhere. His performancesin local places accessible to low-income youth, the regulars, became sporadic.

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The Internationalization of Local DJs

In 1997, Marky and Patife made their first trip to London. There, for 22 days, they got to knowclubs and figures in the D&B scene and bought a lot of records (Assef 2003: 180), but did notmake any professional contacts. Back in Brazil, Patife decided to do one night only of D&B ina club in which he played in the Zona Sul, got the license to use the trademark for the jungle/D&BMovement, set up by London DJs, and began to use it. Some months later, on his second tripto London, Patife took with him newspaper articles about the effects of the Free Jazz Festivalin 1997, CDs with mixes made by Marky, and videos of parties in São Paulo. The materialinterested DJ Bryan Gee and entrepreneurs Edo Van Duyn and Oliver Brown, associated withthe Movement brand. A reciprocal relationship began between them. The following year, Geeand Roni Size, influential DJs from London D&B, played in São Paulo (Assef 2003: 181).

In 1998, the Lov.e discotheque was inaugurated, specializing in electronic music, in VilaOlimpia, a neighborhood in the middle of an intense urban renewal that involved numerousbuildings with offices of multinational companies. Its “conceptual” nightclubs with high ticketprices attracted young people from the middle and upper classes of São Paulo and various partsof the country. Lov.e was promoted from its inauguration on as the best home for electronicmusic in Brazil, with state-of-the-art sound and lighting systems and sophisticated decor. Marky—the DJ who had begun to be known nationally, associated with the new D&B—was invited tohead Thursday night. This fact was crucial to the local image of D&B, hitherto unknown to themiddle classes of the area.

Also in 1998, Van Duyn was in São Paulo. Impressed with the performance of Marky atLov.e, he invited him to perform in London. He said the DJ had changed the rules and directionof D&B (Assef 2003: 182). He was referring, probably, to the resulting sound of virtuosity inthe handling of the mixer and turntables, supported by an extensive knowledge of musicalrepertoire, for which Marky has always been recognized since the beginning of his career in theEast Zone. Added to that are his sense of humor and his performance skills: an expressive body,mesmerizing and uninterrupted gestures in his handling of equipment, or his facial expressionsof joy and ecstasy. According to the impressions of individuals with experience collected in theresearch field, these issues fell into the positive stereotypes commonly associated with Braziland Brazilians, differentiating him from London’s D&B DJs. In general, introspective and serious,with rigid bodies, they had not explored this dimension of communication with the public northe technical limits of the equipment in the same way as Marky. Later, Van Duyn moved toSão Paulo where he established an office of his agency of DJs. Marky then began a circuit ofindividual presentations in electronic music clubs in several countries around the world. Patifefollowed the same route, although he initiated more intense international traveling only in 2000.

In 1998, in the track of the international and local rise of D&B, the record company Tramain São Paulo created the SambaLoco label, specializing in the production of DJs and Brazilianproducers of electronic music. In 1999, SambaLoco released CDs of DJs and producers of D&Bfrom São Paulo with tracks created by themselves or by other Brazilian and European producers,such as Sounds of Drum’n’Bass, of Patife, Sarau of XRS Land, and É Música! by Ram Science.In 2000, it launched Audio Architecture by Marky, and Aí Maluco! by the duo Drumagick, alongwith several others in the following years, becoming the main channel for the dissemination ofBrazilian electronic music productions.

These events legitimized D&B in Brazil for the white middle-class public. The São Paulomedia became interested in Marky and D&B after their recognition by London DJs, although

Drum & Bass—Mixing in the Global Margins • 151

they already had considerable local recognition. Culture supplements of newspapers of widenational circulation now reported on and commented about the parties of Marky and othernational and foreign DJs in São Paulo. With this media impact, adding to coverage in alreadyexisting websites specializing in electronic music, Marky and Patife began to be hired for partiesand festivals of electronic music in various Brazilian cities. Many boys, in addition to the youthof the periphery, were inspired by their image, became interested in D&B and turned into DJs.

The Musical Translation of the Internationalization of Local DJs and itsNational Resonance

A Remix for the English to Hear

Until that moment, Marky and Patife had established an interchange with London DJs whoplayed a dominant role in the worldwide dissemination of D&B. Their main currency of exchange,beyond their recognized talent, was the audience they had formed in São Paulo. However, thefact they had not released any music tracks of their own creation limited the expansion of theiraudience and their professional careers. All the CDs released under their names until 2000, suchas Any Time (1996), Workin’ the Mix (Paradoxx 1999)—when Marky was still “Marky Mark”—and The Lowdown 7 (Knowledge Magazine, UK 1999) and Audio Architecture (2000), when hewas known as “Marky,” along with Sounds of Drum’n’Bass (1999) of Patife, were compilationsof tracks from other producers that they played in their sets.

Pressured by the expectations of others, or even inspired by the experience of travel throughseveral countries, in 2001 Marky and Patife launched their first remixes of their own authorship.They bet on already tested combinations: by XRS on the track “The Secrets of the FloatingIsland ’99” (Sarau, 1999), with themes and instruments that refer to Brazilian and Latin musicabove the D&B beats; by the duo Drumagick on the track “Favela Jazz” (Patife, Sounds ofDrum’n’Bass, 1999), in which they used as the main theme a characteristic phrase of the hornarrangements of samba rock of the 1970s; by the singer and composer Max de Castro, singingover broken electronic beats (Samba Raro, Plot 1999); and by Ram Science and Marky andPatife themselves, who remixed tracks on the CD Changez Tout—Samba Pra Burro Dissecado(Trama 2000) by the Brazilian singer and composer Otto. The difference, in relation to previousremixes, is that the choices of Marky and Patife now had a precise focus, yielding a combinationmodel that popularized them based on the transnational interchange they had established: D&Bwith MPB, a genre with national and international prestige. With this combination, they couldbuild a multifaceted identity in Brazil and abroad, as DJs of Brazilian D&B. They thus inaugurateda process of aesthetic transformation that was a product and a mechanism for the extension oftheir international professional careers.

A symbol of the beginning of this authoring process is the remix produced by Marky andXRS of the song “Carolina Carol Bela” (Carolina, Beautiful Carol), composed in 1969 by JorgeBen and Toquinho—MPB composers, singers, and guitarists. This remix was released in Brazilwith the original title of the song on Marky’s CD Audio Architecture II (SambaLoco 2001),mixed with tracks from UK producers. In the same year, it was launched on the internationalmarket by the London label Movement, on the CD The Brazilian Job with the same format asbefore. This time, however, it was accompanied by two more remixes of songs by Braziliancomposers interpreted by singer-songwriter Fernanda Porto (born 1965): her own “Sambassim”(Samba-Indeed/Samba-Yes/Samba So), remixed by Marky, and the bossa nova song “Só Tinha

152 • Ivan Paolo de Paris Fontanari

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Marky and XRS built the remix of “Carolina Carol Bela” from two samples taken from theoriginal, transformed and incorporated into the D&B language. The first is a counter-metricguitar phrase of four bars repeated four times that introduces the original track; the second isthe vocal refrain sung in Portuguese as a call-and-response by Toquinho and Jorge Ben. Theoriginal tempo of the samples (approximately 84 bpm) was adapted to the tempo of D&B (176bpm), and set at 88 bpm.2 The samples are therefore superimposed on a rhythmic base in atempo that is a little more than double the original and adjusted to the repetitive pattern ofelectronic dance music, as I tried to reproduce in the “mixing chart” in Figure 11.1.

So in his version of “Carolina Carol Bela,” Marky and XRS combined distinct musicallanguages, producing a musical narrative of hybrid identity. To compose this track, they chosetwo samples of renowned artists in the history of Brazilian popular music of the second half ofthe twentieth century, producing what can be considered one of the first “Brazilian D&B”compositions. In it, D&B and MPB are joined in an aesthetically innovative way. The musicalpath of D&B until then had been far from Brazilian genres. The musical path of MPB wasdistant from those who, since the 1980s, had formatted electronic dance music in a dynamicof cultural flows, mainly between Europe and the United States (Collin 1998; Hesmondhalghand Melville 2001; Reynolds 1998; Rietveld 1998). Marky and XRS had musically synthesizeda peripheral connection between São Paulo and London, England and Brazil. With technicalexpertise and aesthetic sensitivity, they symbolically mediated the imagery of Brazil for theBritish public, presenting it with a contemporary approach through the electronic beats thatbest permitted this expression: the rhythmically sinuous breakbeats of D&B. To these beats,they added a musical background gained in their musical socialization, thus changing “the rulesand direction of D&B,” according to the impresario Van Duyn.

If the national and international prestige of the track, and of the MPB genre and artists,contributed greatly to the impact of this remix, on the subjective level, it was part of the musicalrepertoire that Marky and XRS had heard during childhood. Records of the songs’ composerswere part of the record collections of Marky’s father (Assef 2003: 190). In addition, Jorge Ben,a multi-genre composer of extensive works, contributed to the formation of the MPB genre—in the same way as had Toquinho—and is also an important reference in the movement of thebailes black, and was part of the cast of Brazilian musicians with international reach. He wastherefore one of the icons of the personal history of Marky and many other DJs who socializedon the outskirts of São Paulo. The recreation of D&B from MPB, and MPB from D&B, waspart of the process of redefining his identity as a DJ at this moment of the internationalizationof his career.

Remixing is quite common in the field of electronic dance music. In 2002, Marky and XRS made a new remix of “Carolina Carol Bela,” now released in the 12-inch vinyl format for the label V Recordings, of London DJ Bryan Gee, and titled “LK.” The new version got theconventional format of radio song, becoming 1 minute and 10 seconds longer, and having the rhyme and the refrain sung in English by the London MC Stamina as the main element ofits narrative.

The theme of the sung lyrics follows the pattern of improvisations made by D&B MCs, withreferences to the actual event where the music is being performed in public: “It’s the way thatwe play this sound/it’s the way that we bring this sound to you.” The guitar phrase of the first

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version, a central element, is transformed into the base upon which the MC sings. Only a blockof the second half of the first version was retained in the second half of the second version.Thus, in this new mix, the message expressed by the rhyme and the refrain sung in Englishreceives more emphasis. This increases its radiophonic appeal for the anglophone public comparedwith the previous version, aimed at the dance floor with vocal samples in Portuguese. Thepresence of a London MC certainly increased the potential acceptance of the track by Britishaudiences. Unlike the former, whose transnationality was restricted to musical elements, thisnew remix expresses the transnational union of performers.

In 2002, Marky and Patife had already performed in a circuit of big electronic music festivalsin the UK, such as Homelands, in the Movement tent, on the same stage as globally influentialDJs such as Roni Size, Bryan Gee, and LTJ Bukem. If with the first release entitled “CarolinaCarol Bela,” Marky and XRS had obtained the recognition of DJs and producers of D&B fromaround the world, the radiophonic version of “LK” assured its dissemination among widerinternational audiences, as on the occasion when Marky presented “LK,” accompanied by MCStamina, on the popular music program Top of the Pops on the BBC television network inLondon in July 2002. Further evidence of the international success of “LK” was the presentationof Marky and Patife in the opening celebrations of the soccer World Cup in Tokyo the sameyear.

These facts reveal a moment of recreation of D&B in a broader context of the emergence ofthe figure of the DJ in the field of Western popular music. From being a mere “executor,”hidden in his cabin, seen in some quarters as a threat to the jobs of instrumental musicians(Thornton 1995: 34–51), he came to have his own authorship recognized and to occupy aprominent space in the clubs. He gained ground in official events as an international characterand acquired prestige in the field of popular music. Marky and Patife, on the cusp of this processand supported by the musical language in which they specialized, and which they had recreated,as they had in the Brazilian musical image that existed abroad, were recognized as cosmopolitanBrazilian figures.

A Remix for the Brazilian to Hear

This new thrust of the international path of Marky and Patife had new national developments,now for the MPB audience. One particular track, produced at the same time as the remix of“Carolina Carol Bela,” epitomizes this process. It is “Sambassim,” composed and played byFernanda Porto: white, middle class, with a classical and popular music education and a longhistory as an interpreter and performer of MPB and composer of soundtracks for movies. Thistrack was released in 2002 on her first CD (Fernanda Porto, Trama) with various MPB songsatop D&B beats. Prior to that, “Sambassim” had already been released on the CD The BrazilianJob (2001), remixed by Marky, and on the CDs The Brazil EP (Trama—V Recordings, 2001)and Cool Steps: Drum & Bass Grooves (SambaLoco, 2001), remixed by Patife.

In “Sambassim,” Porto brings up, from her perspective as a singer of Brazilian popular music,the musical identity of the track—and therefore the theme of the mix of samba and D&B—arelationship perceived in the world of DJs as somewhat ambiguous, but always present. DJs andthe D&B public on the periphery rejected samba and other genres derived from it, such as bossanova, MPB, pagode, and axé music, but it was precisely the combination of D&B with the formerones that contributed to the increased prestige of D&B DJs. Bossa nova and MPB, in themselves,

156 • Ivan Paolo de Paris Fontanari

were far from their urban periphery experience and intellectual baggage, while pagode and axémusic were part of a set of national genres associated with “common” taste, with the nation’scultural horizon and provincial social relations limited to the neighborhood.

The mixes that make up “Sambassim” produce, just by the alternation of rhythm andcombinations of instruments, a critical listening between the samba and D&B musical identities.The contents of the lyrics contribute to further disorienting the listener. The narrativerepetitiveness and the self-referentiality of the rhymes of the D&B MCs are reproduced. Therepetition of the song’s verses, meanwhile, also corresponds to a common form of traditionalBrazilian music with African roots, such as the partido-alto samba, sung in call and responseand cited in the text itself.

“Sambassim,” on the Fernanda Porto CD, begins with a guitar phrase soon after a few barsof percussion overlaid by synthetic sound effects. In the first stanza, Porto, with a bossa novavocal gesture atop the D&B beats, announces that her samba has no conventional instrumentsof the genre, such as pandeiro (tambourine) and tamborim, and that she, even not knowingmuch about samba, can also play it, since she has incorporated samba indirectly in her experience.In the second stanza, she reiterates the preceding stanza, saying she has never been to a traditionalroda de samba (samba circle), but her samba has the same “swing,” “repique,” and “drumming.”It does not matter if she does not have the proper musical instruments to play samba, such asthe reco-reco and agogô, because she can sample them.

Saying that her samba is a contemporary experience, which combines electric guitar andD&B with a digitalized cuíca sound, Porto wonders, then, if what she makes is in fact samba,although the D&B percussion has a “beat” with twice the speed of the “beat” of samba. It is“samba yes (or samba so),” even with the accelerated “beat,” she concludes. She adds in the laststanza that after having made this “experiment,” she already thinks she “knows everything”about samba, and so continues sampling and “samba-ing.” The title of the track is a punreferring to this hybrid identity: “Sambassim.”

Porto verbalizes practices performed by DJs in their mixes, as had Marky and XRS in thetracks mentioned above. She is well remembered by D&B DJs in São Paulo for this track andher interpretation of the bossa nova “Só Tinha que Ser com Você,” remixed by Marky, Patife,and Marote (The Brazilian Job, 2001). Originally an outsider in the world of D&B in São Paulo,she began to move about there, as Marky and Patife did in the universe of MPB, in a way thatwas critical to the aesthetic boundaries of this field.

“Sambassim” expresses another kind of musical exchange, established now between D&BDJs and Brazilian musicians. Even before Porto’s composition was released on her 2002 CD, itwas played by Marky and Patife for D&B audiences. As with “LK,” “Sambassim” was remixedother times, such as by the DJ and producer Mad Zoo, on the Patife and Mad Zoo CD TramaD&B Sessions (Plot 2003). It turned out to be a collaboration between MPB musicians and DJsof great importance in the construction of Brazilian D&B and its dissemination in Brazil. Eachfigure in this process, however, appropriated D&B in a unique way, developing their own musicalidentity.

This combination model continued to be used in subsequent years by its pioneers and otherlocal producers, providing a repertoire that set the identity of Brazilian D&B. There are severalexamples: “Easy Boom” (with samples of “Take it Easy My Brother Charles” by Jorge Ben [JorgeBen, Universal 1969]) and “Funkiada” (with vocals in Portuguese by Max de Castro) producedby Drumagick (Vinyl 12”, SambaLoco 2002); “Copacabana,” produced by DJ Andy (Vinyl 12”,

Drum & Bass—Mixing in the Global Margins • 157

Phuturistic Bluez, US, 2003); “Highlights” (with a sample of “Realce,” Gilberto Gil [Realce,Warner 1979]), “Rudebwoy” (with samples of “Bebete Vãobora” by Jorge Ben [Jorge Ben, Universal1969]), and “Dia de Sol” (with vocals by Gilberto Gil) produced by Marky and XRS for the InRotation CD (Innerground Records 2003); and “Que Pena” (written by Jorge Ben [Jorge Ben,Universal 1969]), remixed by Patife and Mad Zoo for the Patife CD Na Estrada (Plot 2006).

On the other hand, as D&B DJs of the same generation as Marky and Patife rememberedwhen I interviewed them in 2005, D&B did not develop as a scene of experience and sociabilityaround music along with its iconic figures, a fact that I interpreted in a previous work (Fontanari2008: 275) as being a result of, among other things, the great difficulty in overcoming the ethnicand class barriers in São Paulo, as well as in Brazil.

As D&B’s DJs approached the cultural industry, the DJs of the next generations, who weresocially rooted in the periphery, took the opposite path. Many of them, as I have seen atautonomous parties held in districts of the periphery of the Zona Leste, dedicated themselvesto rescuing the repertoire of jungle from the early 1990s, seeking to revive the spirit of earlyD&B in São Paulo. The perception of this public in relation to Marky and Patife was ambiguous:it admired them and took them as a reference, while at the same time criticizing them for havingdistanced themselves from the periphery and the “true public of D&B.” Their withdrawal wouldhave generated, first, a vacuum of DJs in the periphery and, second, an audience vacuum incentral São Paulo. The public’s admiration for them, however, above all, was based on the factthat they grew up like them in the periphery and reached far beyond it.

Rewinding

The route of the D&B in Brazil is part of the process of intensification of global cultural flows.Young residents on the outskirts of metropolises in Brazil and England took possession of thesame musical code, giving it their own meanings. The participants in this scenario shied awayfrom dominant cultural flows and established their own globalization projects.

The professional paths of Patife and Marky, as well as their musical recreations, are mixedup with the path of D&B in Brazil. Although this idea may seem a cliché, it symbolizes theanthropological approach to music as a field of expression, often conflicting, in which subjectsexert their agency in the search for professional space and the affirmation of their identities.The path taken by these DJs and producers shows us that the “vertical” expansion of the D&Bpublic across boundaries of class, ethnicity, nationality, and aesthetics seems to be exactly whatlimits its massive “horizontal” expansion. It is a paradoxical musical identity, “easily combinable,”but full of “inextricable essences.”

For the young people rooted in the periphery of São Paulo, D&B may be an “exotic” subgenreethnically identified and aesthetically critical of the dominant genres in their midst, performingwith a pretense of aesthetic refinement and cosmopolitanism. For the middle-class publicattending the nightclubs in São Paulo, it is one of several musical options of the beginning ofthe twenty-first century. For audiences of MPB, it would be a rereading of MPB from theperspective of an exotic musical language that is Afro-diasporic and contemporary. For foreignaudiences of D&B, it can be a local rereading of a familiar language.

D&B audiences are diverse. Its musical and socially multifaceted character at the same timelimits and allows the construction of different meanings. People from various parts of the worldmove through São Paulo—as Marky remembered in the city’s tourism publicity—more easilythan its inhabitants cross ethnic and class boundaries, as the path of D&B itself shows.

158 • Ivan Paolo de Paris Fontanari

Notes1. An important distinction in the field of electronic dance music production is between “DJ” and “producer.”

Although they may be the same person, the DJ (disc jockey) plays tracks recorded in various types of media insocialization spaces using a mixer to manipulate them. The producer creates tracks or remixes at home or in thestudio, using physical or virtual synthesizers and sequencers, or even conventional musical instruments, makingthem ready for implementation by the DJ.

2. I thank sociologist Pedro Ferreira for the correction about the tempo of the tracks.

BibliographyAssef, Cláudia. 2003. Todo DJ já Sambou: A História do Disc-Jockey no Brasil. São Paulo: Conrad.Belle-Fortune, Brian. 2004. All Crews: Journeys Through Jungle/Drum & Bass Culture. London: Vision.Caldeira, Teresa. 2000. Cidade de Muros: Crime, Segregação e Cidadania em São Paulo. São Paulo: Editora 34/Edusp.Collin, Matthew. 1998. Altered State: The Story of Ecstasy Culture and Acid House. London: Serpent’s Tail.Durham, Eunice Ribeiro. 2004. A Dinâmica da Cultura. São Paulo: Cosac Naify.Fontanari, Ivan Paolo de Paris. 2008. Os DJs da Perifa: Música Eletrônica, Mediação, Globalização e Performance entre

Grupos Populares em São Paulo. Ph.D. Dissertation in Anthropology. Porto Alegre: Universidade Federal do RioGrande do Sul.

Fry, Peter. 1982. Para Inglês Ver: Identidade e Política na Cultura Brasileira. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar.Hesmondhalgh, David and Caspar Melville. 2001. “Urban Breakbeat Culture: Repercussions of Hip Hop in the United

Kingdom.” In Rap and Hip Hop Outside the USA, edited by Tony Mitchel, 86–110. Middletown, CT: WesleyanUniversity Press.

James, Martin. 1997. State of the Bass. Jungle: The Story So Far. London: Boxtree.Magnani, José Guilherme Cantor. 2003. Festa no Pedaço: Cultura Popular e Lazer na Cidade. São Paulo: Hucitec/UNESP.Reynolds, Simon. 1998. Generation Ecstasy: Into the World of Techno and Rave Culture. Boston, New York, Toronto,

and London: Little, Brown & Company.Rietveld, Hillegonda. 1998. This is Our House: House Music, Cultural Spaces and Technologies. Aldershot: Ashgate.São Paulo Turismo/Prefeitura de São Paulo. 2010a. “DJ Marky & São Paulo.” Accessed October 16, 2013.

www.youtube.com/user/cidadeSãopaulo.São Paulo Turismo/Prefeitura de São Paulo. 2010b. “Making off Unimaginable.” Accessed October 16, 2013.

www.youtube.com/user/cidadeSãopaulo.Seabra, Odette C. de Lima. 2004. “São Paulo: A Cidade, os Bairros e a Periferia.” In Geografias de São Paulo: Representação

e Crise da Metrópole (Volume 1), organized by Ana F. Carlos and Ariovaldo U. Oliveira, 271–311. São Paulo:Editora Contexto.

Telles, Edward E. 2004. Race in Another America: The Significance of Skin Color in Brazil. Princeton, NJ: PrincetonUniversity Press.

Thornton, Sarah. 1995. Club Cultures: Music, Media, and Subcultural Capital. Hanover, NH: Wesleyan University Press.Vianna, Hermano. 1997. O Mundo Funk Carioca. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar.

DiscographyAndy. Copacabana. [+ Drumagick. Get It (Make Me High)]. Phuturistic Bluez (US), PB013, 2003, vinyl 12” record.Drumagick. Aí Maluco!. SambaLoco Records, T 400/238–2, 2000, compact disc.Drumagick. Easy Boom/Funkiada. SambaLoco Records, SLV 003, 2002, vinyl 12” record.Fernanda Porto. Fernanda Porto. Trama, T 004/590–2, 2002, compact disc.Marky Mark. Any Time. Fieldzz Discos (BR), 1996, compact disc.Marky Mark. Workin’ the Mix. Paradoxx (BR), 1010018–1, 1999, compact disc.Marky. The Lowdown 7. Knowledge Magazine (UK), KN 2.12 LWDN 07, 1999, compact disc.Marky. Audio Architecture. SambaLoco Records, T 900/370–2, 2000, compact disc.Marky. Audio Architecture II. SambaLoco Records, T 004/554–2, 2001, compact disc.Marky. The Brazilian Job. Movement (UK), MOVCD002, 2001, compact disc.Marky & XRS. In Rotation. Innerground Records (BR), INN 003CD, 2003, compact disc.Marky & XRS. LK. V Recordings, V035, 2002, vinyl 12”, 45 RPM, white label.Max de Castro. Samba Raro. Trama, T 500/062–2, 1999, compact disc.Patife. Sounds of Drum’n’Bass. SambaLoco Records, T 200/148–2, 1999, compact disc.Patife. Na Estrada. Trama, T8022, 2006, compact disc.Patife e Mad Zoo. Trama D&B Sessions. Trama, T 006/829–2, 2003, compact disc.Otto. Changez Tout—Samba Pra Burro Dissecado. Trama, TEND/120–2, 2000, compact disc.Ram Science. É Música!. SambaLoco Records, T 200/098–2, 1999, compact disc.XRS Land. Sarau. SambaLoco Records, T 001/097–2, 1999, compact disc.

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Various artists. The Brazil EP. Trama & V Recordings, T 002/555–2, 2001, compact disc.Various. Cool Steps: Drum & Bass Grooves. SambaLoco Records, T 300/523–2, 2001, compact disc.

FilmographyToco Dance Club: The History, independent release, 2005, DVD.

160 • Ivan Paolo de Paris Fontanari

PART IVMusic, Market, and

New Media

At the beginning of his influential book The Language of New Media, the new media theoristLev Manovich argues that we are currently in a “media revolution” characterized by “the shiftof all of our culture to computer-mediated forms of production, distribution and communica-tion” (Manovich 2001: 16). It is not very difficult to agree with Manovich when observing theuniverse of musical production and circulation around the planet. For two or three decades,music production in the studio has left its analog base to become fully mediated by computertechnology. In the last years of the twentieth century, the digitization of audio formats and thebroadening of the reach and speed of the Internet have severely shaken the models of musicdistribution, beginning with the emergence of MP3. During all these years, the cheapening ofthe home computer, with increasingly greater processing capacity, has allowed amateur andprofessional musicians to manipulate recorded or electronically generated sounds with accessiblehome equipment. The culture of the sampler, of the mash-up, of the remix, and of musicalcirculation through platforms such as YouTube has significantly altered our ways of accessing,sharing, and experiencing music. Already in the first decade of the twenty-first century, thepossibility of collaborative creations associated with the “Web 2.0” has intensified the exchangeof content and recreations of video, music, and texts available online. In a certain way, theinteractivity and wide circulation of content has decreased the distance between production andconsumption, establishing a highly fruitful middle ground. Luciano Caroso’s chapter analyzesprecisely this connection between strategies and techniques of music production and circulationthrough the Internet. Titled “Ethnomusicology in Cyberspace: Samplertropofagia and Viralityin YouTube Videos,” the chapter discusses two cases of videos that circulated through YouTubethat embody what he calls “samplertropofagia.” In both, original materials are musically andvisually reworked to generate new audiovisual products that, in some form, went viral.

We live in a “convergence culture,” as pointed out by the media scholar Henry Jenkins,interconnecting media and technological supports in a dual insertion: a “top-down corporate-driven process and a bottom-up consumer driven process” (Jenkins 2006: 18). Between the twoflows, varying gradations of movement of products with diverse levels of quality andprofessionalism populate information territories on the Internet and beyond. Reflectingspecifically on the music market, Wired magazine editor Chris Anderson argues that digitizationproduces a broadening of the diversity of commercially available music, and that it becomesprofitable, even with low sales. According to him, this phenomenon has an effect on the saleschart, which he calls the “long tail,” which decreases the distance between the most and theleast sold in the music market (Anderson 2006). Thus, the market can deliver a greater numberof artists, since the costs of storage and logistics are suppressed, so that a wider range of artists

can operate professionally. In a way, it is possible to say that currently musical production isavailable to all, and not restricted to a select group chosen by the major labels.

A recent case of unexpected worldwide circulation of music via the Internet is the song “Ai Se Eu Te Pego” (Oh if I Catch You), released on YouTube by Brazilian artist Michel Telóin late 2011. Within months, the video reached the mark of 100 million views (in December2013, the count was 540 million) and launched Teló in the international market. In 2013, theartist was on the cover of the report of the International Federation of the Phonographic Indus-try (IFPI), and he won the Billboard Latin Music Award for Best Song of the Year. The successof Teló’s song is an example of the bottom-up consumer-driven process, which surpassed theconven tional models of the industry of the late twentieth century and incorporated a variety ofstrategies. In this case, the release of the song’s music video was helped by soccer player CristianoRonaldo of Real Madrid, who performed Teló’s choreography from the video while celebratinga goal in a game in the Spanish championship. Sung in Portuguese, the music became popularin an unusual way in the anglophone market, ensuring a large audience worldwide.

Thinking about the practices in popular music today means frequently coming across aspectsof its mediatic circulation and uses of new media. An European soccer player dancing choreog -raphy from a Brazilian music video available on YouTube is far from being a conventionalmodel of music dissemination, but in this case it became highly effective. This process causedchanges in the traditional music industry, which was forced to alter procedures and to useresources from the Internet and other alternative channels for the dissemination of its products.

In the chapter “Structural Transformations of the Record Industry and the Music Market inBrazil 2000–2010,” Leonardo De Marchi discusses this issue, taking on the hypothesis that themusic industry has been organizing itself as a business for goods and services sold via digitalchannels by new intermediaries. According to him, the political and economic strength of theseintermediaries determines the effectiveness of using technology and the reach of certain meansof dissemination featuring such actors. In a competitive market, the strategies of circulationreconcile creativity and financial power, coalescing certain groups of artists in platforms andcirculation models that are more advantageous, while others face acute difficulties of circulationand promotion of their music. It is evident that Teló’s success, for example, has been integratedinto a system of musical circulation that passes through these intermediaries with greaterdistribution capabilities, further expanding the circulation of his music.

Chapters from Part IV deal with topics related to specifics of contemporary music in urbanlife, crossed by technology, uncertainties, and creativity.

BibliographyAnderson, Chris. 2006. A cauda longa. Rio de Janeiro: Campus.International Federation of Phonographic Industry. 2013. 2013 Digital Music Report. London: IFPI. Available at:

www.ifpi.org/downloads/dmr2013-full-report_english.pdf. Accessed July 20, 2014.Jenkins, Henry. 2006. Convergence Culture. New York: New York University Press.Manovich, Lev. 2001. The Language of New Media. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.Teló, Michel. Ai Se Eu Te Pego. Official video (Assim você me mata). Available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=

hcm55lU9knw. Accessed July 20, 2014.

162 • Music, Market, and New Media

12Ethnomusicology in Cyberspace

Samplertropofagia and Virality in YouTube Videos

Luciano Caroso

YouTube, Virality, and Samplertropofagia

YouTube and other video sharing sites have played an important role in the behavior ofcontemporary society in recent years, proving to be a powerful means of interaction amongpeople. These sites have strongly informed both the production and enjoyment of videos, givingrise to an idiosyncratic audience, with its own aesthetic demands. Strangelove (2010) suggeststhat they have promoted the transition from a pre-existing audience, based on television culture,but already acting as an interpreter of meanings, for a “post-television audience,” hyperactivein both the consumption and production of audiovisual information.

Among other things, this hyperactivity is constructed by the possibilities of interactivity andinteraction offered in contexts of cyberspace. In virtual environments, interactions “create virtualand hyper-real experiences that are at times indistinguishable from the real or are impossibleto find in real-world context” (Lysloff 2003: 237).

Circulation, restructuring, and re-signification of content are factors that tend to prevail invirtual environments where digital information is the raw material for creative processes anddissemination. From this point, two concepts can be consolidated: one that relates to proced-ures for recycling and remixing, as well as the creativity and techniques they involve (Sampler -tropofagia), and the other concerning the dissemination of information and its specificconsequences (virality).

In 2009, after having his guitar broken by United Airlines baggage handlers during a trip,Canadian musician Dave Carroll sought reimbursement from the company, unsuccessfully. So,he decided to record a video clip telling the story, and then put it on YouTube in July of thesame year. A week later, the video had over 3 million views and a few thousand other videosmaking reference to it.1 A Google search for the term “United Breaks Guitars” returned morethan 9 million results. The case was reported in newspapers such as The Wall Street Journaland on television networks, including CNN, BBC, and CBS, among others. The video spreadquickly through websites and information sources on the Internet, setting up a complex networkof reactions and discussions, which were also part of the countless other videos that can beconsidered copies, remixes, appropriations, parodies, and references to the original video. Thus,a process of virality was established.

Digital culture brought other connotations to the word “virus” and as a consequence alsoexpanded the meanings of “viral.” Cyberculture theorists from various areas with many

perspectives have discussed issues of virality on digital networks (Parikka 2007). The virality invideos is usually a somewhat complex nuanced process, and it can emerge from moments of relaxation, humor, parody, weirdness, and a host of other situations. Normally, through theInternet’s many pathways, these videos come to be mentioned in links or codes able to “embed”them into the pages of any website, even though they were originally hosted by YouTube oranother similar type of site. From there, they begin being watched and recommended by anincreasing number of people, in growth that is usually exponential for some time. Dependingon the degree of controversy aroused by the video, it may attract a lot of discussions and newsstories, and it is sure to be replicated, reprocessed, and appropriated for a variety of uses, gainingmany other connotations, different from the original. Also, the video’s protagonists are likelyto experience some level of celebrity and that the mainstream media may report on thephenomenon.2

Carroll’s video, which can easily be classified as a video clip assembled from a song with aconstruction of ironic staging around the lyrics, is associated with a good example of virality.However, it triggers a fundamental principle of cyberculture, which is the use of a combinationof social and communicative practices related to the combination, collage, and remixing ofdigital information. Such practices have a globalized character and are fundamental in the con-text of “new media” (Lemos 2005). The use of media fragments and waste as creative raw materialcan be called “recycling,” “remixing,” “mashup,” among many other designations. Bastos (2003) suggests the neologism “Samplertropofagia” (sampler + cannibalism) to describe suchprocesses, seeking to incorporate the cannibalism concept that Oswald de Andrade (1890–1954)presented in his Manifesto Antropofágico (“Anthropophagic” Manifesto), of 1928. According toAndrade (2007), Antropofagia is an attitude of absorption and swallowing of exogenous culturaland artistic influences, which may have turned into a typical Brazilian way of being (seeIntroduction).

A sampler, in turn, can be defined as a device that records and plays fragments of soundknown as samples. Through controllers such as keyboards or computers, samples can be usedin the recording and/or playback of music, replacing synthetic sounds, resulting in a morerealistic reproduction of instrument performances such as of drums, bass, and piano. Thesample itself of digitized sound can also be called a “sampling.”

One can note, however, that the reuse of what is absorbed and the creation of new versionsand interpretations of old content are traits inherent to any cultural product, and have alwaysbeen essential features of communication and the transmission of knowledge. And, of course,the use and reprocessing of audio fragments as a compositional device is something that pre-cedes the Internet and the concept of cyberspace by decades. Musique concrète, a key elementof a broader context known as “electronic music,” can be seen, historically and conceptually,as an important matrix of Samplertropofagia in music and, later, in its relation to image inaudiovisual productions.

In several of the videos that will be mentioned here, Samplertropofagia is a crucial aspect ofthe creative processes involved in the production of sounds and images. It is also one of theprincipal modelers of the form and aesthetics of the musical expressions that characterize them.In this context, Samplertropofagia acts as a means of rebuilding a pre-existing discourse, bringingto it new connotations and meanings from the same discourse, through visual, lyrical and/orsound associations.

164 • Luciano Caroso

Furagato 5000 and “Funk do Tapa na Pantera”

In the short informative text in its profile on Myspace,3 Furagato 5000 defines itself as “a projectof funny songs,” which emerged “as a joke.” Formed by the Rio de Janeiro DJs Rafael Armênio(Rafik), Pedro Herkenhoff, and Rafael Grego, the group was dedicated, between 2005 and 2007,to the production of music videos that had a motto of “momentary hits on the Internet,” suchas the video of Jeremiah, a man who was arrested for drunk driving a motorcycle and had hisarrest caught on tape by a tabloid television show.

The intent of fun, of merriment, is suggested in the use of the terms “fun” and “funny songs,”as well as in the slogans that give rise to its videos, generated from “momentary hits on theInternet.” The social networks and YouTube are the group’s preferred ways of realizing anddisseminating its production, and it had published ten videos on YouTube by October 2007.4

The name is a pun that refers to the production company “Furacão 2000” (Hurricane 2000),5which has been producing shows and records of funk carioca in the state of Rio de Janeiro since1980.6

Not by chance, six of the ten videos contained in the Furagato 5000 channel have the word“funk” in their titles. This is a common practice among Brazilian users,7 mainly disseminatedby YouTube and embedded in a larger context, which is a worldwide phenomenon, as suggestedby López Cano (2007) and Strangelove (2010): a tendency toward the composition of audiovisualpieces with a musical purpose, which make use of appropriations of other videos that havebecome famous on the Internet, commonly arising from events considered comical and bizarre,and often also tied to other media such as television.

Among Brazilians, in the practice of making this type of video, there is a strong tendencyto use the electronic beat known as tamborzão (big drum), which is very recurrent in funkcarioca, hence the widespread use of the term “funk” in the titles of the videos. What interestsus more closely here is to investigate the form in which this processing is realized in the videosof Furagato 5000, and seek to identify recurrent compositional elements in the practice of musicalcutting and pasting.

The concept of the “beat” in funk carioca does not refer only to the percussive instrumentation,and is not an exclusive reference to the sounds of drums and percussion instruments. A beatmay contain synthesized or sampled sounds referring to keyboards and wind instruments, amongothers. The beat known as “tamborzão” is the consequence of a process of nationalization/Antropofagia and results from the importing of rhythmic references of Miami Bass, plus African-Brazilian elements, such as the use of candomblé and capoeira drum sounds and rhythmicpatterns (Palombini 2012).

In funk music of this nature, the tamborzão usually converses with another element, whichis what Rafik calls “sampled:” a term that refers to the procedure of extracting the audio fromthe original video (typically the voice) and putting it in a sampler. As a consequence, areconstruction occurs of the discourse(s) of the “character(s)” of the original video, which bringsnew connotations to the “audiovisual funk” produced from this. Therefore, this procedure endsup exerting considerable importance in the aesthetic of the final product.

The “Funk do Tapa na Pantera” (Take a Toke Funk) is an interesting example of theoperationalization of this procedure. Although not the longest-lived video of Furagato 5000,8it is their video with the oldest posting date and with the highest number of hits on theirYouTube channel: almost 891,000 by July 7, 2012. In the context of the group’s videos, thisnumber is significant because it represents more than four times the sum of views from their

Samplertropofagia in Cyberspace • 165

second most popular video, the “Funk do velhinho que comeu e não pagou” (Funk of the OldMan Who Ate and Didn’t Pay). The basis of “Funk do Tapa na Pantera” is the video “Tapa naPantera” (Take a Toke), a short film produced and directed by young film makers Esmir Filho,Mariana Bastos, and Rafael Gomes in 2006. The short film shows a sexagenarian lady talkingabout marijuana use. With phrases such as “I’ve smoked for thirty years, every day, and I’mnot addicted” and “I smoke a pipe because what’s bad for you is the rolling paper,” the textdeclared comically, trying to draw attention to the condition of the addict who does not recognizeher own addiction. The film was posted on YouTube even before its official launch, and had asignificant impact, becoming very popular among Brazilian users of the site.9

The “Funk do Tapa na Pantera” is a music piece composed (in great part) with soundexcerpts from the movie. The order of appearance of portions of text in the short video wascompletely modified as it was used in the funk song. Apparently, the intention was not to“scramble” the excerpts, completely changing the meaning or turning the result into rhetoricalnonsense. What happens is exactly the opposite: the meaning of what is said in the text of theshort video is kept in the funk song, but the discourse is completely restructured, rebuilt.

Thus, the text takes on new connotations and emphases. For example: in the short, thelongest paragraph is the one in which the character tells how she forgot her own name andended up at the doctor as a result. None of this was utilized in the funk video. However, alaugh, that even being the longest does not stand out among the many others voiced by herduring the entire short, gains great importance in the funk version, as much rhythmically asformally.

Table 12.1 represents the structure of “Funk do Tapa na Pantera.” Capital letters indicatesections of 16 bars each. The introduction and coda have no rhythmic basis or constant definedpulse. Lower-case letters indicate subsections of four or eight bars. As is standard in this typeof representation of musical forms, A’ and A’’ indicate variations of A. For subsections, due tothe large number of variations, I opted for Arabic numerals. The sections that do not haverelated subsections were considered unsusceptible to division.

166 • Luciano Caroso

Table 12.1 Form of “Funk do Tapa na Pantera” with sections of 16 bars and subsections of 4 or 8 bars

Sections Introduction A B A′ C A D A′′ B Coda

Subsections e1f1e2f2 g1h1g2h1 e3f3e3f4 i1i2 e4f1e2f5 e3f6e3f7 g1h1g2h1

Some events are understood as variations, including: rhythmic modification by repeatedsyllables (for example, “fuma aqui, ton-to-ma o chá” was considered a variation of “fuma aqui,toma o chá”); insertion or deletion of elements such as laughter or speech (examples, “Vocêquer?” or “Margaridaaa!”) at the end of each subsection of four bars; and momentary suppression(also for about four bars) of the “tamborzão.”

The rondo form, so recurrent in Western music, ensures the unity of the composition, whichhas A as its theme and principal support: “fuma aqui, toma o chá, fuma aqui, toma o chá.” Theevents that cause the variations are subtle changes, but enough to keep the listener’s interestduring the hearing of the whole piece. Thus, it was possible to use a significant number ofsubsections, considering the total length of the song, without causing abrupt changes that couldbe considered undesirable.

Repetition, of course, is not an element unique to the musical context of DJs and electronicmusic in general, being a characteristic present in almost any kind of music. In the videos ofFuragato 5000, the repetition of parts of speech emphasizes the reconstruction of discourse increating slogans and in emphasizing of the message one wants to send, besides being importantfor the rhythmicity of the music. One of the most recurrent examples in their funk is therepetition of short syllabic snippets, simulating a sort of “stuttering.” This procedure even takesplace, in a generalized way, in funk music of the same type, with the same compositional pattern,as a result of the use of loops, which is very common among DJs.

The musical examples below show the procedure just mentioned, in the treatment of thephrases “fuma aqui, toma o chá” or “cinco “real” pra fazer caridade,” respectively, of “Funk doTapa na Pantera” (Musical example 12.1) and “Funk do velhinho que comeu e não pagou”(Musical example 12.2).

Samplertropofagia in Cyberspace • 167

Musical Example 12.1 Transcript excerpt of sampled speech in “Funk do Tapa na Pantera”

Musical Example 12.2 Transcript excerpt of sampled speech in “Funk do velhinho que comeu e não pagou”

In larger cycles, usually every two or four bars, the funks of Furagato 5000 also tend to repeatthe speech excerpts chosen for their composition. With regard to form, this procedure, associatedwith the intervention of the other sound elements, follows a path that hybridizes practices thatare common throughout Western popular music and in electronic music styles such asminimalism. Thus, for example, the repetition of themes and the periodic insertion of newelements into a sequence of sound events that seem always to repeat themselves coexistharmoniously and give a unique character to the compositions of the group.

The videos of Furagato 5000 reflect compositional procedures and aesthetics that are invogue in contemporary practices, especially those that are urban and maintain interfaces withaudio and video manipulation and reprocessing technologies. These videos are obviously withinthe context of what is called here Samplertropofagia and are a type of production on sites suchas YouTube, within social networks, and on the Internet in general, with a very natural way ofspreading, many times in a viral form. It is this aspect with which I will deal overleaf, by wayof a case study.

fun ma qui ton mu eha fun ma qui ton ton mu eha fun ma qui fun ma qui fun ma qui ton ton mu eha

cin cu re au ci cu re au cin q cin q cin cu re au pra fa ze ca ri da di

Singing the National Anthem

On August 19, 2009, a video was posted on YouTube by an unknown user and had the title“Victoria cantando o Hino Nacional” (Victoria Singing the National Anthem).10 The footagehad been produced months before in the Legislative Assembly of São Paulo. The singer wasinvited to sing the National Anthem; during a solemnity, she goes out of tune, misses and mixesup the lyrics, “invents” parts of the melody, and seems to be doped during the performance.

A little over a week passed and the video seemed destined to go the way of most of thosewhich are posted on the site: to be seen by no more than 100 spectators (Wesch 2008). However,around August 29, 2009, something began to happen: the video started to gain links on socialnetworks, blogs, and other Internet sites, and experienced a sudden growth in views. I startedmonitoring it on August 31, when it already had more than 385,000 views.

Measurements were made every 12 hours, for four days, until the user removed the video,according to YouTube. There was an average increase of about 66,000 views with eachmeasurement, with a peak of about 150,000 between the first and the second time the data wascollected, on September 1, 2009 at 1.30 p.m. During the monitoring period, the video had thefollowing “social activity” (Baio 2008): 2,240 comments, 728 reviews, and 787 favoritings.11

Furthermore, it was viewed 591,197 times.In a study about a possible fraud that occurred in the number of views of a video that briefly

became the most viewed on YouTube worldwide, Andy Baio (2008) investigates the comments,reviews, and favoritings made through the site’s system as “social activity.” What the authorcalls a social activity is restrictive, as it takes into account only the manifestations of YouTubeusers through their interaction tools for the videos. In this case, something much more complexand rich can be seen as a social activity, and it also happened outside of YouTube, which, inturn, had the role of reflecting part of this process. Here, the dissemination was the result ofan intricate network of interactions and events.

The case of the “Victoria Singing the National Anthem” video can be considered specialbecause of its national impact. It was reported in many television programs and other sourcesof traditional journalistic information, in their “physical” and online formats, beyond, obviously,all the reaction that happened on the Internet. It provoked an intense discussion, mixingingredients from the strong symbolism of the national anthem through alcoholism, drug abuse,ridicule, fun, and creativity.

To begin a discussion, the description of the original video and the commentary posted withanother video are interesting. First, the description:

In the Legislative Assembly of São Paulo, Victoria sings the National Anthem apparentlydrunk. However, the reason for the wavering voice of the singer is now clear. Apparently, itall happened because of a labyrinthitis medication. I respect the singer, and when I saw thisscene, I immediately admired her even more. In fact, I saw all this as a gesture of protest.

The other comment made by the same YouTube user was: “Look at my videos of Victoriasinging the national anthem COMPLETELY DRUNK!”

Without belaboring the incompatibility of the discourses, where, at one moment, he “showsrespect for the singer,” and in another, blatantly and bluntly emphasizes her alleged drunkenness,it seems clear that they intended to make the video go viral. The posture of the user suggeststhey were aware the contents could generate controversy and interest—so much so that the

168 • Luciano Caroso

aforementioned commentary altered the tone of the conversation. Whereas exaltations to themusic and the singer were previously predominant, mentions of the “Victoria Singing theNational Anthem” video and references to the fact that the singer makes mistakes and seemsdrunk are seen with more frequency after the intervention of the user.12

The ability to leverage the views and popularity of other videos in the same context,transforming them into “subviral videos,” is a characteristic normally presented by a viral video.This is, in large part, the responsibility of a feature of YouTube videos that relates videos thatare being displayed. This is done from the titles and keywords contained in the videos in question,among others. This explains, also, the fact that many have titles and keywords that have nodirect relation to their content. In this case, strategies for visibility normally occur.13

The transcript below is the description of one of the videos that appeared as related to the“Victoria Singing the National Anthem”:

We never forget our first viral video . . . Yeah, I got my first viral video! And you know whogave it to me? Victoria. With her saga of the National Anthem she gave me a chance to posta video that had long been shelved on my laptop. I posted the video on Youtube and in threedays I had over 60,000 hits, 300 positive comments, 150 reviews, 17 attacks, and a deaththreat. Incredible, right? I was afraid of the reactions and took the video off the air. Too late.It had already been reproduced and spread over the Internet. Afterwards I thought, I thought,I reedited some parts and posted it again. I’m not doing anything wrong, or offending anyone.14

A practice known as “literal video versions” has also been recurring on YouTube. These aremusic video parodies “whose original images are superimposed on a version of the song, thelyrics of which describe, literally and ironically, what is happening in the video” (Zuazu 2010).In the appropriations of “Victoria Singing the National Anthem,” as in many other Brazilianvideos posted on YouTube,15 an analogous phenomenon with somewhat different characteristicsoccurs: it produces, through images, literal references to the lyrics of a particular video. This isfrequently done in two ways: in the first, iconography reinforces the discourse of the song in aliteral description. In another form of literalism, normally with admittedly humorous intentions,the iconography tries to change the discourse of the song, giving it new meanings. Sometimesthis is with ironic intentions, other times it shows other meanings of a word not used in thesong. For example: in one of the remixes inspired by “Victoria Singing the National Anthem,”the word cruzeiro, which in the national anthem refers to the Southern Cross (Crux), is associatedin the video with the image of the one-cruzeiro coin, an old Brazilian currency. The wordinstante, which in the anthem has the sense of “moment” or “occasion,” is linked in the videoimage to an instant noodle mix.

In a week of observation, I identified 85 copies of the original video, as well as 67 othervideos that could be considered remixes, parodies, and references to “Victoria Singing theNational Anthem.” It is a rich universe of behaviors, which demonstrates creative processes oftransmission and dissemination.

The association of a particular video and its context with other events that were spread overthe Internet, or became popular through it, is interesting to note. I found, for example, parodiedreferences in videos that associated the alleged drunkenness of Victoria with another video thatalso became viral and showed television presenter Fernando Vanucci, also apparently drunk,commenting at the end of the 2006 World Cup. One of these parodied remixes included scenesfrom a third famous video, “Keyboard Cat.”16

Samplertropofagia in Cyberspace • 169

In another video, a “fan” of Victoria requests, with irony and humor, that others leave thesinger alone. It was a direct reference to the video of a fan of Xuxa Meneghel, who requestedsomething similar in regards to the presenter at the time, during which she started a commotionon Twitter by defending her daughter, who had made a spelling error in a message posted onthat site. The video of Xuxa’s fan, in turn, was one of the countless references to another verysuccessful video where a fan of Britney Spears also asked everyone to leave the singer alone(LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!).17

A video can aggregate a variety of appropriations. This is the case of “Victoria Singing theNational Anthem,” which resulted in several developments, such as imitations, parodies, montageswith political connotations, people giving their opinions, mentions in the title and keywordswith no direct relationship to the content, all sorts of oddities, etc. For example, one can find“funks” produced with the audio of the original video and used as the basis for a series of photoswith literal descriptive intentions.18 One can encounter a fusion of the same audio with imagesof other videos, such as the one that shows the arrest of Jeremiah, or the fusion of said audiowith an electronic base and photos that refer to what happened.19

The event certainly brought inconvenience and embarrassment for its protagonist, the singerVictoria. In many of the interviews she gave, she emphasizes this side, reporting issues arisingfrom labyrinthitis, such as the use of medications she blames for her condition during the videorecording, and warns that she will take legal action, demanding the “withdrawal from theInternet” of the content that made reference to her.

It is very common that those involved, who consider themselves harmed in cases such asthis, claim that they will go to court to make “those responsible” remove any references to themfrom the Internet. In a context that has extremely complex characteristics of dissemination ofinformation, identity processes, and legal proceedings, etc., is this even possible? How to knowwho, how many, and what to sue? What does “taking information off” the Internet mean, sinceit is digital and capable of immediate replication, ad infinitum?

The same visibility that annoyed her also offered the singer a unique opportunity to “returnto the media.” Even being a recognized name on the national scene, her performance space andprofessional exposure at that time could not be compared to her years of intense success, inthe 1960s and 1970s. And everything changed for some time after the big impact of the video.She also has assimilated the possibilities of the Internet as a disseminator and generator ofsociability.

Final Thoughts

This chapter begins by calling attention to cyberspace as a differentiated and appropriatedmeans for creative practices, of interactivity and the dissemination of information, such as thosethat were treated here. Also remember that these practices, because of the environment in whichthey occur and the hyperactivity in the production and consumption of audiovisual information,eventually demand an aesthetic of their own, which is confirmed in the “samplerthropophagic”procedures discussed as a reconstruction of discourse and literalness. Such procedures areinherent to digital media and to the technologies utilized, and end up influencing the aestheticsand culture of the context in which they are inserted, as happens similarly in other contexts,as in the example of electronic music. If we look at YouTube as a cultural system, we note thatthis is fostered and formatted by its user, and therefore:

170 • Luciano Caroso

aesthetic values, cultural forms and creative techniques are standardized through means ofcollective activities and judgments of the social network, forming an informal and emergent“art world.”

(Burgess and Green 2009: 89)

The studied context, where visual information is a key element, keeps a specificity that isworth being emphasized: the image in the final product seems to be a consequence of theintention to make music. We recall, for example, the self-description of Furagato 5000: “aproject of funny songs.” This makes it clear that despite the group basing its creation in audiovisualraw material, its primary goal is a musical structure. For no other reason, the most commonpractice is to call the result “funk.” This does not mean that a hierarchy is established suggestingthat music is more important than the image. Because, in this practice, the video happens firstand, in turn, is the excuse for the composition of audio. But the lasting impression is that whatyou see is a result of what you hear.

This is particularly true in the videos of Furagato 5000 and continues to be relevant in asignificant body of appropriations, within the process of virality of a video such as “VictoriaSinging the National Anthem,” where the theme is a musical piece (in this case, the nationalanthem), and one of the most important facts feeding the whole discussion and resulting uproarwas the singer having perverted its traditional format. And, besides, as mentioned above, thereis a worldwide trend toward a multitude of audiovisual uses, through sites such as YouTube,with its potential for dissemination and interactivity, where Samplertropofagia is primarily atthe service of music: among many other practices, those known as “shred” and “autotune” maybe cited.20

Processes of digital information transmission stand out due to the speed and extent to whichsuch information can be disseminated, differentiating the environments in which they move,bringing to them a set of behaviors rooted in these possibilities and range of movement. So,events happening in the space of cyberspace spread very quickly, sharpening people’s creativity,sometimes in the appropriation of elements related to such events for reprocessing and recreation,sometimes in the interactivity exerted by the publication of these reprocessed recreations andby the interaction, sometimes hyperactive, through communication tools.

The videos used in this study demonstrate that there is often a particular dynamic: processesof virality trigger others of Samplertropofagia. This, in turn, needs virality in order to flow, andthus ends up feeding back into itself. This chapter aims, through case studies, to explain andanalyze some of the specifics of Samplertropofagia and virality we have encountered and tobring to light elements of this dynamic for discussion.

Notes1. The video in question is available at http://bit.ly/unitedbreaksguitars_caroso, and was accessed on July 15, 2014,

when it passed 14.1 million views. This address is a redirection. This procedure will be adopted in this chapterwhenever there is a reference to videos posted on YouTube or other sources of electronic information containingaddresses that are long and/or unintelligible.

2. The concept of virality applied in this chapter was built from existing case studies in Caroso (2010), includingthose listed here, but was also influenced by the experience of Wesch (2008).

3. Available at www.myspace.com/furagato5000, accessed on July 15, 2014.4. The channel Furagato 5000 on YouTube is accessible at the address www.youtube.com/user/furagato5000), and

was accessed on July 5, 2014.5. In Portuguese, the word “furacão” means “hurricane.” “Cão,” in turn, means “dog” and “gato” means “cat.” The

verb “furar” means “to pierce, stick, or thrust,” hence the pun plays with the logic of furacão, changing it to theact of piercing a cat.

Samplertropofagia in Cyberspace • 171

6. The company’s Facebook fan page is acessible at www.facebook.com/furacao2000oficial. Accessed on July 15, 2014.7. Four of many examples: “Funk da Menina Pastora” (http://bit.ly/funkmeninapastora), “Funk do Sarney”

(http://bit.ly/funkdosarney_caroso), “Funk do Pica Pau” (http://bit.ly/funkdopicapau), and “Aquecimento da GloboFunk” (http://bit.ly/globofunk). Accessed on July 15, 2014.

8. This post is of the video “Funk do Jeremias.” In Caroso (2010: 104–116), there is a discussion about how the“Funk do Jeremias” emerged and spread through the Internet, as a precursor in Brazil of this kind of funk.

9. The videos “Funk do Tapa na Pantera” and “Tapa na Pantera” can be accessed, respectively, at http://bit.ly/funktapanapantera_eng and http://bit.ly/tapanapantera_eng. Accessed on July 15, 2014.

10. One of the available copies can be accessed at http://bit.ly/victoriahino. Accessed on July 15, 2014. “Victoria” isa pseudonym.

11. This refers to when a user marks a particular video as their favorite, through a command.12. The comment of the user made during the publication of “Victoria Singing the National Anthem,” was available

until at least March, 7, 2012, when I did my last query. Right now, it seems, for some reason, hidden or deleted.Nevertheless, whoever pauses to read the comments for the video, from the oldest to the newest, can still see thechange in their tone, from the moment that “Victoria Singing the National Anthem” went viral. Comments aboutit can be accessed from http://bit.ly/usuariocomenta. Accessed on July 15, 2014.

13. The set of techniques for optimizing the visibility of websites on the Internet is known as SEO (search engineoptimization). You can get more information at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Search_engine_optimization. Accessedon July 15, 2014.

14. Video and description available at http://bit.ly/hinomussarela. Accessed on July 15, 2014.15. Three of many examples: “Eu & Você ~ * CatchSide *.* (:” (http://bit.ly/euevoce), “Chupa que é de uva—melhor

de todos!” (http://bit.ly/chupauva), and “Beber, Cair e Levantar” (http://bit.ly/bebercairlevantar). Accessed on July 15, 2014.

16. The video with Fernando Vanucci is available at http://bit.ly/vanucci_drunk. The “KeyboardCat” in http://bit.ly/keyboardcat_youtube and the parody remix, which associates the two to Victoria, is available at http://bit.ly/victoriavanucci. Accessed on July 15, 2014.

17. In order of appearance: the “fan” of Victoria (http://bit.ly/victoriaempaz), the fan of Xuxa (http://bit.ly/xuxaempaz),and the fan of Britney (http://bit.ly/britneyempaz). Accessed on July 15, 2014.

18. As in, respectively: http://bit.ly/funkdavictoria and http://bit.ly/victorialiteral. Accessed on July 15, 2014.19. In order of reference: http://bit.ly/victoriajeremias and http://bit.ly/victoriacanaremedio. Accessed on July 15, 2014.20. The videos posted on YouTube with the designation of “shred” are a kind of parody (of audio) of the performance,

in video, of instrumentalists (usually virtuosos and recognized artists). Those called “autotune” usually containscenes of television news, interviews, etc, where the dialogues of the interlocutors are modified to resemble melodies.These, not rare, follow conventional song forms present in Western music and are frequently given instrumentalaccompaniment. A more detailed description of these phenomena can be found in Caroso (2010: 32–34).

BibliographyAndrade, Oswald de. 2007. “Cannibalist Manifesto.” In Art and Social Change: a Critical Reader, organized by Will

Bradley and Charles Esche, 94–98. London: Tate/Afterall.Baio, Andy. 2008. “New Video Overtakes ‘Evolution of Dance’ for #1 Spot on YouTube.” Blog. Waxy.Bastos, Marcus. 2003. “Samplertropofagia: a cultura da reciclagem.” In Anais do XXVI Congresso Brasileiro de Ciências

da Comunicação—INTERCOM. Belo Horizonte. http://bit.ly/bastos2003. Accessed on July 15, 2014.Burgess, Jean and Joshua Green. 2009. Youtube e a Revolução Digital. Trad. Ricardo Giassetti. São Paulo: Aleph.Caroso, Luciano. 2010. “Etnomusicologia no ciberespaço: processos criativos e de disseminação em videoclipes amadores.”

Ph.D. Dissertation. Salvador: Universidade Federal da Bahia. http://luciano.caroso.com.br/caroso_tese.pdf. Accessedon July 15, 2014.

Lemos, André. 2005. “Ciber-Cultura-Remix.” Paper presented at meeting “Sentidos e Processos.” São Paulo: Itaú Cultural.http://bit.ly/lemos2005. Accessed on July 15, 2014.

López Cano, Rubén. 2007. “Por qué no te callas.” Blog. Observatorio de Prácticas Musicales Emergentes. http://observatorio-musica.blogspot.com.br/2007/11/por-qu-no-te-callas_20.html. Accessed on July 15, 2014.

Lysloff, René. 2003. “Musical Community on the Internet: An On-line Ethnography.” Cultural Anthropology, vol. 18,no. 2, 233–263.

Palombini, Carlos. 2012. “Funk Carioca and Música Soul.” Blog. Proibidão. www.proibidao.org/funk-carioca-and-musica-soul/. Accessed on 15 July, 2014.

Parikka, Jussi. 2007. “Contagion and Repetition: On the Viral Logic of Network Culture.” Ephemera: Theory & Politicsin Organization, vol. 7, 287–308. http://bit.ly/parikka2007. Accessed on July 15, 2014.

Strangelove, Michael. 2010. Watching YouTube: Extraordinary Videos by Ordinary People. Digital Futures. Toronto:University of Toronto Press.

Wesch, Michael. 2008. An Anthropological Introduction to YouTube. Video. YouTube. http://bit.ly/wesch2008. Accessedon July 15, 2014.

Zuazu, Maria Edurne. 2010. Literal vídeo versions. Blog. Observatorio de Prácticas Musicales Emergentes. http://observatorio-musica.blogspot.com.br/2010/07/literal-video-versions.html. Accessed on July 15, 2014.

172 • Luciano Caroso

13Structural Transformations of

the Music Industry in Brazil1999–2009

The Reorganization of the Record Market in the Digital Networks

Leonardo De Marchi

Introduction

During the twentieth century, the music industry became an important element in thedevelopment of popular music. Having record companies as the main intermediaries betweenartists, media, and the public, this business introduced diverse artists and played a role in theconsolidation of distinct musical genres. However, in recent years, the business has experiencedprofound transformations. The introduction of organizational, technological, and culturalinnovations in the recorded music market has enabled the development of new forms ofproduction, distribution, and consumption of recorded music, reshaping relations between theartistic community, record companies, and consumers.

Faced with such phenomena as the free sharing of files and declining sales of physical discs(physical media), much has been speculated about the future of this business. It was even saidthat technological innovations would make the labels anachronistic and expendable once theartists could directly access their audiences through the digital technologies of communication.In this sense, it was believed that a free market of recorded music would emerge, in which itwould be able to access any type of music without being influenced by the record labels. Thatwould mean the end of these companies’ control of musicians and consumers.

However, the development of a market for products and services related to recorded musicin digital networks raises doubts about this interpretation. A watchful eye on this trade via theInternet, mobile telephony, and digital television reveals that instead of being a directcommunication between musicians and fans, it has shifted to being done by e-business companiesthat are connecting musicians and record companies with consumers, innovating in offeringservices. Insofar as digital communications networks have become strategic to the business ofmusic, such companies turn into the new intermediaries of the market for recorded music.

It is interesting to note that there is a certain differentiation between these companies. Thereare some who work only with autonomous artists (those who produce their records withoutthe help of record labels) and independent record companies, and others who also work withother artists from major record companies. The control of these catalogs seems to have a direct

relationship with the possibility of expanding markets for these new intermediates, since theelectronic businesses that manage only the work of independent artists and independent labelsare restricted to the Internet, while those that work with the major labels can enjoy agreementswith cell phone companies or digital television, accessing consumers via distinct digital networks.

This indicates that the emerging digital market of recorded music is structured in terms ofgradations of access to digital content. This unequal access appears to be less related to thetechnological capacity of each company than to the reproduction of power relations thatcharacterized the market for physical discs that somehow moved on to the digital environment.After all, if the catalogs seem to play a crucial role in the development of these new intermediaries,this means that the traditional music industry agents have an influence on this new digitalmarket. The resulting question is: how can this affect the production, circulation, andconsumption of music in Brazil?

The answer to this question requires an analysis of the structure of the Brazilian recordedmusic market in the digital networks, and this is the purpose of this chapter. The hypothesis isthat digital content is the key factor for the development of electronic businesses related tomusic, which reproduce the power relations of the market of physical discs in the digital networks.From the comparative analysis of the websites of electronic companies that deal with recordedmusic, we seek to demonstrate the development of distinct categories of mediation in the digitalmusic market. The conclusions reached at the end of the analysis allow us to refute theoriesabout some free market of cultural merchandise in the digital networks, pointing to barriers tothe diffusion of musical innovations in the Brazilian music market.

Instead of adopting an economistic perspective about the organization of this culture market,which would prioritize the technological aspect in the way it exploits the material resources, weprefer to apply a sociological approach here. Specifically, we adopt a political-cultural approachto the markets (Fligstein 2001). In this sense, it is assumed that the markets work as fields(Bourdieu 1977), a locus where disputes for specific interests occur between social agents endowedwith unequally distributed capital (economic, symbolic, social, etc.). Insofar as they interact,these agents impose domination systems among themselves, which allow the recognition ofwhich are the “dominant” and the “dominated.” It is precisely this interpretation of powerinequalities that generates a “local culture” of the market, with “culture” understood in the senseof webs of significance (Geertz 1973). This local culture allows social agents to develop strategiesof social reproduction or market-field power gain. This implies that economic action is: (a)historically formed; (b) culturally conditioned; and (c) considers the social structures of markets,which makes it inherently political. Thus, we seek to show the power relations that shape thedevelopment of a certain business.

The Formation of the Brazilian Music Industry 1900–2000

The contextual nature of the political-cultural approach requires a historical analysis of theformation of a given market. Therefore, the following is a brief statement of how the powerrelations were structured between national and multinational record companies in Brazil andof them with the local arts community.

The beginning of the recording industry in Brazil dates back to the early twentieth century.The business model that established itself in the country can be understood by observing thecareer of the most iconic character of this era, Frederico Figner (1866–1947), with the foundingof Casa Edison and a wide distribution network of discs recorded in Brazil and pressed in

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Germany through an agreement with International Talking Machine-Odeon. In 1912, Fignerbuilt Odeon, the first record factory in Latin America, responsible for the vast majority of about7,000 records launched in Brazil (Franceschi 2002).

From the 1930s onward, however, multinational corporations such as the U.S. firms ColumbiaRecords and RCA-Victor, and the British EMI, which bought Figner’s stake in Odeon, startedto invest directly in the country, competing with local businesses. These corporations establisheda close relationship with radio stations, which then were becoming the primary means of nationalcommunication.

However, it should be noted that the little existing data on the record business during thisperiod suggests that the phonograph was not the main source of income for Brazilian musicians.In fact, radio seemed to be the more attractive activity for local musicians. The literature aboutthe major artists of the time indicates that the organization of the radio stations allowed themto hire interpreters, composers, and arrangers who produced diverse content for the company(jingles, albums, interludes between radio dramas, etc.). From their work on the radio, manymusicians secured contracts to record albums and give concerts around the country (De Marchi2011).

The modernization of the Brazilian music industry only began in the 1960s. To understandthis phenomenon, one must consider that the period initiated a process of reshaping the set ofcultural industries in the country. From the late 1950s onward, the country adopted an economicpolicy of accelerated industrialization, also known as “developmentalism.” In a matter of decadesthe Brazilian economy would shift from agricultural to industrial and its population from ruralto urban. Such a political project of industrial development required the expansion of telecom -munications systems and resulted in the development of cultural industries (Ortiz 1994).

In this sense, a critical factor for the growth of the record market in the country was theadvent of television. In the late 1950s, the first private broadcasters emerged in São Paulo andRio de Janeiro. The “song festivals,” as they were conventionally called, were among the mostimportant products for the music industry. These were contests of unpublished compositions,whose interpretations were transmitted in real time. The available literature on these programssays that they were very successful among the urban public, who migrated from radio to thenew medium (Mello 2003). The soundtracks for telenovelas were another product related tomusic that achieved great commercial success. From 1970 on, the launch of a telenovela wouldbe accompanied by a record containing compositions of popular local and, later, internationalartists. The success of the soundtracks and of the song festivals was such that the Globo TelevisionNetwork, which had now become the main network in the country, would create its ownpublishing company and record label, Som Livre, to commercialize these products. What isdifferent in this phenomenon is the relationship maintained between the record companies andtelevision stations. Organized differently than the radio stations, the television companiescontracted a limited number of interpreters and arrangers/composers in their cast, preferringto establish partnerships with the record labels. Even Som Livre was a label with a timid policyof hiring artists, preferring to be a mediator between the Globo organizations and other labels.Thus, the record companies started to maintain a strategic proximity with television companies,which became the main means of mass communication in the period of the military dictatorshipin Brazil (1964–1985).

At the intersection between economic growth promoted by the accelerated industrializa-tion process of the country and the transformations of the telecommunications market, thephonographic industry grew impressively. The data of the era demonstrate a vigorous expansion

Transformations of the Music Industry • 175

between the 1970s and the 1980s. For example, between 1967 and 1980, the consumption ofturntables grew by 813 percent (Ortiz 1994: 127). Between 1965 and 1972, growth in recordsales was 400 percent (Morelli 2009: 86) and the record companies’ revenue increased by 1,375percent between 1970 and 1976 (Ortiz 1994: 127). The culmination of this process occurred in1979, when the IFPI—International Federation of the Phonographic Industry—recognized Brazilas the sixth most lucrative record market in the world (Dias 2000). If seen as a whole, thesefigures indicate an important phenomenon: it is at this moment that the record companiesstarted to play a key role in mediating between Brazilian musicians and the national market ofcultural goods (De Marchi 2011; Morelli 2009).

The rapid growth of the consumer market would attract other multinational record companiesto the country: Warner, Elektra & Atlantic (WEA) in 1976, Capitol Records in 1978, and Polygramin the latter year. Soon, these corporations would verticalize their productive structure andinvest in hiring both big national artists and in licensing foreign titles. They also tightened theirrelationships with telecommunications companies, both investing in advertising and takingadvantage of illegal practices such as “jabá” or “jabaculê,” the local version of “payola.”

The administrative innovations implemented by multinational corporations that settled inBrazil at that time created a strong differentiation between them and the record companies ofdomestic capital, controlled by the families of their founders or small entrepreneurs. Soon, asmall group of record labels would account for 70–80 percent of records sold in Brazil (Dias2000), with only one of domestic capital, Som Livre, as mentioned above, which had as its mainactivity the licensing of recorded music of other record companies, and not the hiring of localartists.

During the 1970s, the national record companies gradually began to occupy market nichesstill unattractive to major labels, such as música sertaneja (Brazilian country music), músicanegra (black music), romantic “brega” music, or gospel music, with occasional commercialsuccesses. Meanwhile, multinational corporations preferred to work with MPB and, from themid-1980s onward, with emerging national pop rock, with little connection to the domesticfirms. During this period, the major labels concentrated on all the functions of discoveringartists and of production and distribution of records, as well as dissemination in mass medianationwide. Thus, the multinational record labels became the main agent of local musicproduction, with an important catalog comprised of both established and new artists.

In the 1990s, however, a movement of flexibilization of this productive activity began. Thevery large multinational record labels began to employ new management techniques to reduceproduction costs. Highlights of the various measures include: (a) the choice of digital compactdisc (CD) as the sole product; (b) outsourcing of production systems and distribution of discs;and (c) the adoption of a new policy of artistic production, which gave emphasis to artists andmusical genres with popular appeal at the expense of innovative aesthetic proposals. Theconsequences of these decisions are manifold. For now, suffice it to say that it was instrumentalin causing a decentralization of phonographic production, with the emergence of new nationalindependent record labels (De Marchi 2006).

Unlike traditional Brazilian music labels, this new independent production was characterizedby companies managed through administration techniques very similar to those of the majorlabels (in fact, many of these entrepreneurs had stints in management positions in multinationalcorporations and applied the acquired knowledge to their own companies) and were well struc -tured, with their own production systems, and, in some cases, distribution of discs. As majorlabels decreased investments in developing new local artists, such independent producers would

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not only take that over, but also would continue the careers of established artists who were nolonger interested in meeting the productivity goals of the multinationals. Soon, the independentshad become the main launching pad of music in Brazil.

Another feature of this new independent production is that it does not position itself as acounterpoint to the major labels or to their periphery. The new independent producers beganto compete or collaborate with major labels, performing specific and strategic actions. Interestedin the ability to launch artists that the new national independent labels presented, the majorlabels started providing services to the most prominent local companies. Thus, a new localculture was established in the recorded music market, according to which the major labels werebusy with artists with high sales and the nationals exploited niche markets, sometimes associatingwith each other or competing with each other.

This decentralized system of phonographic production also allowed the musicians themselvesto do their works with their own capital. Taking advantage of the ease of recording their songsand of the networks of service providers for record labels to distribute their works, many artistschose not to sign contracts with record companies, multinational or national. Thus, anothercategory of music production developed, which is classified in this chapter as “autonomousartist.”

The immediate result of this fragmentation of production was a new cycle of growth in therecord market: between 1990 and 1999, sales of CDs and DVDs grew by 114.38 percent in units(De Marchi 2011), coming to generate U.S.$ 1,394.5 million in 1996 (Yúdice 2007). At thismoment, Brazil returned to being recognized as one of the major international markets forrecords.

Structural Changes in the Brazilian Music Industry 1999–2009

In the late 1990s, however, this virtuous circle was showing signs of exhaustion. Beginning inthe year 2000, it is possible to see a continuous decline in sales of CDs and DVDs in retailstores. A reading of the data provided in the annual reports of the Associação Brasileira deProdutores de Discos (ABPD, Brazilian Association of Record Producers) shows that between1999 and 2009, the Brazilian recorded music market declined 72.66 percent in units sold.Particularly, the consumption of CDs dropped significantly: 78.17 percent in the same period(De Marchi 2011).

This decrease reflects the occurrence of distinct simultaneous phenomena. One of them isthe increasing consumption of counterfeit or “pirate” discs. According to the data provided byABPD, the consumption of pirate copies rose from 3 percent of the total market in 1997 to arecord 52 percent in 2002, maintaining that average thereafter. While it is apparent that theconsumption of counterfeit products has become an important form of access to recorded musicin Brazil, independent researchers have shown the inaccuracy of the adopted methodology anda strong ideological bias in the reports of the IFPI and national associations related to the musicindustry (Karaganis 2011).

In fact, the piracy argument ignores profound changes in the production, distribution, and consumption strategies of recorded music. One example is the neglect of the increasingconsumption of recorded music via personal computers and cell phones. It is important to notethat official information about the different consumption practices of digital music recordingsin Brazil is still limited and inaccurate, and sometimes contradictory. For example, accordingto a report from the IFPI (2012), 44 percent of Internet users in Brazil download music files

Transformations of the Music Industry • 177

through some sort of site without the permission of the copyright holders. Nevertheless, thedigital market for recorded music in the country has been growing steadily in recent years.Another report from the same institution (IFPI 2011: 76) indicates that in 2009, the incomegenerated through commercial digital activities corresponded to 17 percent of the income earnedby the record companies, grossing $38.1 million.

Another factor critical to understanding the decline in album sales in stores lies in innovativedistribution strategies adopted by autonomous artists and small independent labels. Seekingescape from dependence on major labels to distribute their albums, diverse artists and micro/smallrecord companies have started to use alternative means to directly access their consumers.Although there are no precise data on these new distribution practices of recorded music, discsare sold in live concerts, newsstands, and even in churches and temples. Increasingly, digitalcommunications networks are also becoming a strategic means for the distribution of theseproducts.

It is clear, therefore, that the Brazilian music industry, as well as that of the world, isexperiencing a transformation in structures of production, distribution, and consumption.Technological and organizational innovations allow agents of this market to take new approaches.For example, consumers may decide not to buy physical discs in stores any more, but to downloadthem over the Internet. Recognizing this new practice of consumption, independent artists canuse digital networks to distribute their records, refraining from record companies for such.Therefore, the traditional local culture of the music industry that was formed around the labelsis altered. This directly affects the power relations of this market, leaving room for innovationin the forms of commercialization of recorded music. In this sense, the digital market becomesstrategic for musicians and record labels. So, now it is necessary to understand how this digitalmarket of recorded music is organized and operates.

The Organization of the Brazilian Music Industry in Digital Networks

The first moments of digitalization of recorded music and their channels of distribution causeda strong impact on observers and agents of the culture and communication markets. In orderto explain the causes and consequences of new forms of production, distribution, andconsumption of digital content, an argument developed whose strength lay in the simplicity ofits technological determinism. Overall, it was stated that the digitalization of cultural goods andthe net organization of the Internet revolutionized the markets of communication and culture.First, it was believed that they would abolish barriers to market entry, to the extent that theymade storage and distribution cheaper and more efficient. So, it was enough for any producerto find their “niche” through continuous innovation of sales strategies (Anderson 2006). Onthe other hand, the organization in the form of a network would release the flow of digitalcontent, creating a never-before-experienced abundance. In this sense, phenomena such as thefree sharing of music files between users (peer-to-peer file sharing systems) in the late 1990sseemed to clearly indicate the end of an era of control over the flow of cultural goods by largeintermediary agents (i.e., record labels and mass media) and the start of a free-market culturein which the relationship between producers and consumers of cultural goods would becomemore direct (Leonhard and Kusek 2009).

In fact, the emergence of e-business companies offering different access services to recordedmusic through digital communication networks was noted: MySpace, YouTube, iTunes, Spotify,

178 • Leonardo De Marchi

Last FM, and Pandora are some of the most prominent enterprises that involve economicactivities springing from digital music content. An e-business company here means any businesswhose operations of management, finance, innovation, production, distribution, sales, andrelationships with employees and customers are realized via the Internet or other computernetworks (Castells 1996). A “digital media company” here refers to an e-business dealing largelywith music, video, and/or other media. Unlike labels, companies such as those mentioned abovedo not produce or own the copyright to the content they work with. Distinct from retail musicstores, they exercise distinct functions: they are platforms of communication between artistsand fans (social networking sites), re-transmitters of recorded music and streaming video, andeven resellers of digital recorded music.

Their activities begin to be significant from the economic point of view. According to datafrom IFPI (2011), revenue derived from the digital recorded music market grew 5.3 percent in2010, corresponding to U.S.$ 4.6 billion. The activities in digital networks are already equivalentto 29 percent of the earnings of the record companies. As sales of physical discs decrease andaccess to digitized cultural goods expands, such digital media companies gain importance forproducers and consumers of digital content, becoming the new music industry intermediaries(De Marchi, Albornoz, and Herschmann 2011).

However, if at first it was assumed that digital networks constitute a market without restrictionsfor these entrepreneurs, the practice has presented a different situation. A close look at thesecompanies reveals a significant variation in terms of their ability to innovate in services. Butwhat would cause such a distinction between digital media companies?

Finding an answer to this question mobilized an investigation conducted between February2009 and February 2010, based primarily on the analysis of 150 sites of autonomous artists,major and independent record labels, and different digital media companies related to recordedmusic operating in Brazil (De Marchi 2011). The evaluation criteria of these pages were: (a) theamount and nature of the services and products offered; (b) catalogs offered; and (c) clients ofthe pages (if only individuals, or companies too).

At first glance, the technological aspect seemed a likely determining factor of the characteristicsof the digital media companies. After all, one of the fundamental differences between the majorsand independents was in the technical and logistical capacity of producing discs on a large scaleand distributing them throughout a given geographical territory. It is revealing to compare thetools used by digital media companies. Both large multinational and small national companiesuse similar technologies, preventing the characterization of a clear distinction between suchenterprises. For example, they use the same social networks on the Internet to communicatewith their customers (YouTube, Facebook, Twitter). In some cases, small digital media companieshave developed strategies of decentralization of sales of their products and services that can beconsidered more sophisticated than those used by large corporations, which restrict their activitiesto the sale of recorded music on their sites. Even Apple, which seeks to establish a complementaryrelationship between its hardware and software, does not stand out in this market by thetechnology it offers. In fact, many of the users of its hardware (iPod, iPhone, or iPad) use digitalcontent obtained from other sources that do not come from its iTunes virtual store. Thus, thevariety of services offered cannot be explained by the technological aspect.

However, the picture changes appreciably when comparing the digital content offered. Asdigital media companies are providing services, having certain digital content becomes vital fortheir development. A catalog deemed valuable (i.e., containing artists and compositions of

Transformations of the Music Industry • 179

commercial or artistic success) can allow a digital media company to enter into agreementswith customers that enable it to operate not only on the Internet, but also through cell phonesor digital television. However, the control of the catalogs depends on the ability of eachintermediary to negotiate with the agents of the music industry. And this is where one beginsto notice differences between the companies.

Among the digital media companies surveyed, only 8 percent had the catalogs of the majorlabels available, while 33.33 percent worked only with independent artists and labels, and 58.67percent had autonomous artists. The analysis of this data led to the formulation of three idealtypes of digital media companies:

1. Large intermediaries: Companies that administer and distribute the catalogs of major labels,independent labels, and autonomous artists for both primary consumers (cell phonecompanies, Internet portals, international digital media companies) and individuals.

2. Small and medium-size intermediaries: These only work with independent labels andautonomous artists. These companies operate as brands that unite different artists, attractinga critical mass of users in order to sell goods and services or advertising on their pages.

3. Autonomous artists: Artists without a record contract who develop their own access channelsto the public to publicize their work and sell products directly to their fans. They use theirwork as a brand to attract consumers.

These categories are not mutually exclusive. Rather, such ventures operate on different levelsof the digital recorded music market, enabling them even to establish relationships that aremore of cooperation than competition. However, each type of intermediary’s ability to formmarkets varies greatly when analyzed individually. The presentation of individual cases willclarify this statement.

As an example of a large intermediary, one can take the company iMusica (www.imusica.com.br/). Headquartered in the city of Rio de Janeiro, in southeastern Brazil, iMusica is partof the holding company Ideiasnet SA, which owns stakes in companies in the technology andtelecommunications sectors. Created in 2000, it was the first company to distribute and selldigital recorded music online in Brazil. From the moment it started to have the catalogs of allthe major labels and leading independent national companies, however, iMusica started to diversify its services: in addition to being a retail store of digital recorded music, it becamea distribution platform of digital content (white label), a content aggregator, a converter ofrecorded music into digital formats, and an agent for companies seeking copyright authorizationfor digital distribution or for projects that related the company’s brand to the sale/distributionof digital content together with the record labels, among other services. So, it began to servedifferent customers, such as record labels, music publishers, publicity agencies, Internet portals,retailers, and cell phone operators.

According to the information available on its website, by 2010 the company served 19 cellphone companies in 16 countries, had 278 million users via cell phones and 10 million on theInternet, and worked with a catalog of 20,000 record labels, managing 10 million licensed musicfiles. Additionally, it served as a platform for the transfer of catalogs of artists and Brazilianrecord labels for international online stores such as iTunes and Spotify. Figure 13.1 allows oneto view the spread of businesses that the company has.

The illustration shows that the company has managed to create a dense network of consumers,containing not only individuals, but also companies from different sectors. This allows it to

180 • Leonardo De Marchi

Transformations of the Music Industry • 181

further expand its public. Through the companies it serves, iMusica reaches customers via cellphone, as well as the Internet. It is important to note that it was the only digital media companyin Brazil that worked with all cellular operators during the study period.

Figure 13.1 iMusica’s position in the chain of intermediaries

A small intermediary company such as Trevo has a distinctive profile (www.trevodigital.com.br/). Headquartered in the city of Curitiba, in southern Brazil, the company was foundedin 2007 by two local entrepreneurs and its activities had ended by 2012. It worked exclusivelywith the works of autonomous artists and independent national record labels, and its businessstrategy restricted it to operating on the Internet, selling digital recorded music. With the paymentof a monthly fee by subscribers, it managed and sold MP3 files through its central site or viaan interesting device labeled “portable shop,” a window that decentralized the sale of digitalfiles to connect consumers to the company’s sales system through the artist’s own website.Moreover, it developed a specialized service (Trevo Box) for the use of works that it managedin commercials, film and television soundtracks, and advertising. Figure 13.2 illustrates therelationship the company had with its customers.

It can be noted that in spite of managing a considerable amount of content (the companyowned 2,000 licensed songs from 200 registered artists by February 2010), the type of productoffered (works of autonomous artists) limited and specialized its customers (fans of autonomousartists). This decreased the likelihood of attracting large primary customers (companies), andthus expanding its market. One consequence of this was the absence of Trevo Digital in the cellphone sector.

There are currently a large number of artists without contracts with record labels who areoffering their works on the Internet. Becoming responsible for producing their own albums,these musicians also assumed the functions of distribution and promotion, using the Internetas the primary means of access to fans. The observation of different sites revealed the systematicrepetition of some commercial strategies, which allows using one example as a paradigm of this

Production Distribution Dis./Consumption Consumption

MajorRecord

Companies

Musicians

IndependentRecord

Companies

iMusica

Mobile operators

On line recordshops

Digital Television

FinalConsumer

FinalConsumer

182 • Leonardo De Marchi

phenomenon. In this sense, the group Móveis Coloniais de Acaju (MCA) is one of the mostprominent cases.

Formed in 1998 in the city of Brasília (in the Federal District), MCA is a pop rock band.Bypassing major record labels and independent record labels, this group is noteworthy for itsinnovative way of managing its own career. As with other autonomous artists, live concertswere its main source of income. However, since 2008, it became a private company, atransformation that allowed it to receive money both from the state and the private sector tocarry out its activities. During the research, this band-company had produced three CDs anda DVD.

In order to distribute its production, MCA makes intensive use of digital networks. Theobservation of its site (www.moveiscoloniaisdeacaju.com.br/) reveals that the band-companyfavors decentralizing its activities in order to access the largest possible number of consumers.Using its website as a hub of its actions on the Internet, it seeks direct communication withfans through social networks such as Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, and YouTube. Thus, it notonly discloses the activities of the band-company to its customers, but also transforms theminto its main promoters.

Regarding its recorded music, the band has two complementary positions. On the one hand,it makes its albums available for free on the Internet as a strategy to expand its fan base. To dothis, it offers its albums for free downloading through the Brazilian digital media companyTrama Virtual (http://tramavirtual.uol.com.br/). It is worth noting that Trama has an innovativeproposal for remuneration of artists, the “paid download.” Having a set of companies that paya monthly fee to Trama Virtual, it passes on a share of money to the musicians who have theiralbums downloaded through the site. The second strategy is to offer the CD and DVD of theband-company MCA through the virtual store on its website for purchase in different formats,slim (for a lower price than the conventional CD) or deluxe (a CD and DVD set for a higherprice than a conventional CD).

Figure 13.2 Trevo Digital’s position in the chain of intermediaries

Production Distribution Consumption

Musicians

Trevo Digital FinalConsumer

IndependentRecord

Companies

Trevo Box

Alternet MusicMovie studios,

television enterprises,advertising agencies

Therefore, the MCA fan has access through the Internet to albums, videos, a concerts schedule,and merchandising products (T-shirts, decals, etc.). Figure 13.3 shows the direct relationshipthe company has with its customers.

Transformations of the Music Industry • 183

Figure 13.3 MCA’s communication strategy on the Internet

Although this strategy can be considered successful for the immediate objectives of this band-company (i.e., to maintain a direct and continuous interaction with the fans), the products andservices offered are very specialized. This makes it difficult to diversify the clientele and accesslisteners across diverse platforms (mobile telephony or digital television), at least without theaid of intermediaries from the digital networks or traditional agents of the music industry. Inthis sense, MCA has managed to establish agreements with MTV Brazil and other companiesto access new markets, but overall still keeps its activities restricted to the Internet.

The cases cited show the main features of the re-intermediation of the music industry in thedigital networks. First, it was demonstrated that catalogs constitute a critical aspect for thedevelopment of digital media companies. With the content they offer, they appeal to a certaintype of customer, and this is what enables companies to innovate in the providing of services,not the other way around. So, those who offer heterogeneous and popular products tend toattract not only individuals, but also companies with different activities as customers. This canexpand the activities of a digital media company of the Internet into cell phones or even digitaltelevision. Thus, iMusica can develop different services because it caters to varied consumers,while Trevo Digital and MCA perform a more direct mediation to specialized clients, takingadvantage of limited and similar services.

Second, this characteristic entails a division of labor among digital media companies. Thereare many projects that deal with niche markets, and few that reach large markets on the nationalor international level. As stated earlier, nothing prevents the band-company MCA from hiringthe services of Trama Virtual to access the domestic market and also those of iMusica to accessiTunes and sell their work in the U.S. market, for example. However, it is precisely this recognitionof complementarity between these different agents that reveals the development of a localculture in the digital market of recorded music that relies on an unequal division of powerbetween the digital media companies themselves.

Production Distribution Consumption

MoveisColoniaisde Acaju

BandWebsite

YouTube

Trama Virtual

Facebook

FinalConsumer

Finally, the relevance that the catalogs acquire restores the power of the traditional musicindustry agents, the holders of the copyright of the commercialized works. Inequality of accessto digital content is determined by commercial expectations and strategies of the record labelsand artists in relation to the digital networks. It is these agents that will choose with whichintermediaries of the digital environment they will associate themselves. Thus, their decisionsimpose limits on the action strategies of each digital media company. Particularly, the majorlabels have a very important symbolic capital that can be crucial for the development of a digital media company. As they deal with few partners, they reproduce their power in the digitalnetworks by conceding to them the opportunity of expanding their business to different digitalnetworks. This explains the privileged position of iMusica in the local market, which allows itto innovate in offered services, which attracts large customers that will open new markets andso on in a virtuous cycle that replicates the power relations that characterized the prior marketof physical discs.

This is far from being a phenomenon restricted to Brazil, even though it is appropriate tohistorical characteristics of this market. Relationships between new intermediaries and traditionalagents of the music industry have occurred in different countries, having acquired a globaldimension. Take the case of the company Spotify. Created by two Swedish entrepreneurs in2006, the company aims to be one of the major authorized intermediaries for music serviceson the digital networks. For that, it negotiates with all types of artists and labels, in the mannerof the major record labels. Its resulting catalog allows it to enter into agreements with varioustelecommunications and information companies in the different countries in which it operates.Since 2009, for example, it has possessed an application for smart phones through which itbecame possible to download music for offline listening. In 2010, it entered into a partnershipwith Telia, a Swedish Internet and mobile phone company, enabling it to offer an access servicefor its music catalog through digital television in some European countries.

The result of these agreements is that Spotify has become the second largest music distributorin Europe after iTunes (IFPI 2011). This breadth of business attracts international partners whowish to sell their products in the European market. This enables it to enter into agreementswith other major digital media companies around the globe, such as iMusica, for example.Similarly, Apple has managed to establish itself as the leading distributor of recorded music inthe international market.

Final Thoughts

It would be unwise to make statements about the effects of the reorganization of the Brazilianrecord market in the digital networks in the medium and long term. This is still an ongoingprocess, and therefore open to change. However, the evidence obtained in this study allows usto project scenarios for the near future.

It can be said that the idea of a free market of cultural goods is fundamentally mistaken.Based on a naive technological determinism, it was deemed to be possible to discard the powerrelations that shaped the traditional market of cultural goods, as a consequence of the simpledigitization of cultural assets. From this perspective, one does not take into account that theinstitutions that regulate the functioning of markets also decisively affect the formation of newmarkets.

By demonstrating that the catalogs provided by artists and record labels are critical to thedevelopment of digital media companies and that the competition for the granting of marketing

184 • Leonardo De Marchi

rights for these works generates a gradation of access to digitized cultural goods, the weaknessof that argument is revealed. If there is no doubt that today it is easier to access the marketthrough digital media, this does not guarantee that all producers have the same opportunitiesto develop their businesses. This depends more on the ability of agents to forge strategicrelationships with traditional agents of cultural industries than on the technology with whichthey deal.

This conclusion is fundamental for contemplating the future of the music market. As notedearlier, in recent years, the music industry has been characterized by an increasing rationalizationof the investments of multinational major labels in local artists and the passing to the independentnational sector the function of discovering talent, and even the career maintenance of recognizedartists. Thus, these producers become the privileged agents in regard to both musical innovationand the preservation of the memory of popular local music.

Digital networks become crucial for this sector. Factors such as declining sales of physicaldiscs and the resulting increasing cost of their production, the difficulty of distribution of theseproducts in vast territories, increased consumption of electronic equipment, and the disputesbetween the major labels, and even the independent labels themselves, transform them into themain alternative for market expansion for autonomous artists, as well as micro and smallindependent labels. Thus, the division of labor among digital media companies suggests thatthere may be difficulties in market access for experimental artists and smaller labels. In otherwords, the replication of power relations in the market of physical discs in the digital marketcan create barriers to the diffusion of different musical genres and artists, which imposes limitson musical innovation, and even the preservation of artistic memory.

Entrepreneurship is also put into question. As demonstrated, business innovation becomesconstrained by institutions and agents of the communications and culture market. Good ideasand technology to develop new business with music in the digital environment are not enough.Rather, the new digital media companies rely on their ability to negotiate with powerful agentsof the culture and communications industries (major record labels, television networks, moviestudios) and computer/Internet companies (Microsoft, Apple, Google, Facebook) to deal withcertain content. This controls the competition in this new market and imposes limits on thecreativity of entrepreneurs.

So, a sensitive situation for the independent music sector is established. The digitization ofproducts is not enough for every producer to access their consumer. It is essential to ensurethe circulation of cultural goods. Particularly in Brazil, where, historically, the independentmusic production sector is fragile, the reproduction of power relations in the market of physicaldiscs in the digital suggests great difficulties for the local arts community to make their workviable and reach new markets. It is with this in mind that one should observe the reorganizationof the Brazilian music industry in coming years.

BibliographyAnderson, Chris. 2006. The Long Tail: Why the Future of Business is Selling Less of More. New York: Hyperion.Associação Brasileira de Produtores de Discos. 2003. Mercado Brasileiro de Música 2002. Rio de Janeiro: ABPD.Bourdieu, Pierre. 1977. Outline of a Theory of Practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.Castells, Manuel. 1996. The Information Age: Economy, Society, and Culture. Vol. 1: The Rise of the Network Society.

Oxford: Blackwell.De Marchi, Leonardo. 2006. “Indústria Fonográfica e a Nova Produção Independente: o Futuro da Música Brasileira?”

Comunicação, Mídia e Consumo, vol. 3, 167–182.

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De Marchi, Leonardo. 2011. Transformações Estruturais da Indústria Fonográfica no Brasil 1999–2009. Ph.D. Thesis inCommunication and Culture presented at the Post-Graduate School of Communication at the Federal Universityof Rio de Janeiro. Rio de Janeiro.

De Marchi, Leonardo, Luis A. Albornoz, and Micael Herschmann. 2011. “Novos Negócios Fonográficos no Brasil e aIntermediação do Mercado Digital de Música.” RevistaFamecos, vol. 18, no. 1. 279–291.

Dias, Márcia T. 2000. Os Donos da Voz: Indústria Fonográfica Brasileira e Mundialização da Cultura. São Paulo:Boitempo.

Fligstein, Neil. 2001. The Architecture of Markets: An Economic Sociology of Twenty-First Century Capitalist Societies.New York and Oxford: Princeton University Press.

Franceschi, Humberto M. 2002. A Casa Edison e seu Tempo. Rio de Janeiro: Sarapuí.Geertz, Clifford. 1973. The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays. New York: Basic Books.International Federation of the Phonographic Industry. 2011. Record Industry in Numbers 2011. London: IFPI.International Federation of the Phonographic Industry. 2012. Digital Music Report 2012. London: IFPI.Karaganis, Joe, Ed. 2011. Media Piracy in Emerging Economies. Washington, DC: Social Science Research Council.Leonhard, Gerd and David Kusek. 2009. The Future of Music. San Francisco, CA: Berklee Press.Mello, Zuza H. 2003. A Era dos Festivais: uma Parábola. São Paulo: Editora 34.Midani, André. 2008. Música, Ídolos e Poder: do Vinil ao Download. Rio de Janeiro: Nova Fronteira.Morelli, Rita C. L. 2009. Indústria Fonográfica: um Estudo Antropológico. 2nd ed. Campinas: Editora Unicamp.Ortiz, Renato. 1994. A Moderna Tradição Brasileira: Cultura Brasileira e Indústria Cultural. 5th ed. São Paulo: Brasiliense.Yúdice, George. 2007. “La Transformación y Diversificación de la Industria de la Música.” In Anais del seminario

internacional para la cooperación cultura-comunicación en iberoamérica, 1–13. Madrid: Fundación Alternativas.

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Coda

The collection also has a final section focusing on the reception of Brazilian music outside ofBrazil. In “From Roots to Networks: Listening to a World Called Brazil,” Lucia Campos addressesthe transformation that potentially occurs in traditional music when it is inserted into professionalcircuits, contextualizing it in European world music festivals. Through a multi-sited ethno -graphical oriented approach, the author organizes her argument about the negotiation betweenappropriation and global marketing, on the one hand, and preservation and exoticism, on theother. The first instance describes the group Siba e a Fuloresta; the second focuses on SambaChula de São Braz—which plays samba de roda, considered a cultural heritage of humanity—and the group’s participation in the 2010 World Music Expo in Copenhagen.

Changing continents, Natalia Coimbra de Sá offers an account of Brazilian musicians in NewYork City in “Northeastern Brazilian Music in New York City: Representations Between Braziland the United States.” The chapter discusses concepts of hybridization and “between-borders”to examine the situation of groups active in New York since the mid-2000s, fleeing the stereotypesof samba and bossa nova commonly associated with Brazilian music. Between 2009 and 2012,the author accompanied the groups Forró in the Dark and Nation Beat, whose musicalfoundations lie in forró and maracatu, and sought to understand how the mediation is madebetween representations of the music of northeastern Brazil and the cosmopolitan cultural sceneof the city.

In France, Brazilian urban music was presented by Darius Milhaud (1892–1974), who usedelements of Brazilian music in his compositions, with which he had contact while accompanyingthe diplomat Paul Claudel (1868–1955) to Rio de Janeiro in 1917–1918. Milhaud arrived on theeve of the Rio Carnival of 1917, the exact year of release of the carnival samba “Pelo Telefone,”which is canonized in the histories of popular music as the “founding” landmark of the sambagenre. There was news of Milhaud’s admiration of Brazilian musicians, especially ErnestoNazareth (1863–1934), whom he saw playing piano in the waiting room of the Odeon cinemaand, according to Milhaud himself, had a “little touch so typically Brazilian” (petit rien sitypiquement brésilien) related to the style of interpretation, with “syncopated rhythms thatalternate from one hand to another” (cited in Corrêa do Lago 2012: 169). In Le Boeuf sur leToit (1919), Milhaud would use a collage of various maxixes, Brazilian tangos, polkas, and theemerging samba, which he would take from Brazil in music scores.

In Paris, the stylized dance maxixe had already been introduced by the Brazilian dancerDuque, the same person who, in 1920, received the group Os Batutas in the Sheherazade cabaret, as reported in Chapter 5 by Luiza Martins. In the 1940s, some French musicians, amongthem Ray Ventura (1908–1979) and Henri Salvador (1917–2008), went to Brazil and, uponreturning to a liberated France, composed what Luciano Pereira identified in his thesis about

samba in France as “samba-chanson française,” with French lyrics and music that was eitherfully “French” or “simplified” Brazilian. Other mediators of Brazilian popular music in France,including of bossa nova, from the 1960s onward were Claude Nougaro (1929–2004), PierreBarouh (1934–) and Sacha Distel (1933–2004). The general trend was to make French versionsof bossa nova, a mainly rhythmic musical appropriation—being closer in some songs thanothers—that Pereira entitled “French-Brazilian samba” (Pereira 2012).

Anaïs Fléchet analyzed the diffusion of Brazilian music in France in the twentieth centuryin a history doctorate from the University Paris 1: Panthéon- Sorbonne (2007). In a recentlypublished text (2012), Fléchet comments that in the 1950s, samba and, to a lesser extent, baião(510 scores of the first and 140 of the second deposited at National Library of France) mostlycreated by French musicians composed the repertoire of what were called “typical dances,”along with the Mexican bolero, the Argentine tango, West Indian calypso, rumba, the cha-cha-cha, and the Cuban mambo. In this scenario, bossa nova appeared and only gradually broke,during the 1960s, with the stigma of “trendy dance” and became associated with jazz and chansonde qualité (Fléchet 2012: 317). It is worth mentioning, as noted below, that in the United Statesthere were also attempts to launch bossa nova as a dance, rather than as “music to listen to.”

In France, João Gilberto, the “creator of bossa nova,” was initially received with ambiguity.The criticism of the album Getz/Gilberto went so far as to classify the performance of JoãoGilberto as “lazy,” of Astrud Gilberto as “asleep” (in “The Girl from Ipanema”), and the coupleas a “boring duo” (“Corcovado”), only sparing the “soft and gentle sound” of the saxophone ofStan Getz, an “honored jazz musician” (Fléchet 2012: 327–328). The historian Fléchet creditsthe “dissonant” reception of Gilberto in France to three factors. First, the artist was absent inthe local circuits of musical exposure (concerts, albums, radio, and television). Then, in theFrench musical structure, the intimate style of Gilberto was associated with light dance music,as mentioned above, or with “musique douce” (sweet music), linked in France to the sound ofviolins, to a sentimental platitude and to commercial appeal (ibid.: 330–331). Also, one mustconsider the preference of the French record market for recording national versions of foreignmusic (ibid.: 332–333). Finally, from the 1940s onward, the North American triangulation inthe spreading of samba and baião intensified in France, and in the 1960s jazz “served as a vectorof diffusion and a legitimizing factor for bossa nova in France” (ibid.: 335).

In any event, samba and bossa nova were the musical genres that penetrated the globalmarket of popular music, mediated primarily by the U.S. entertainment industry. There, as hasalready been widely discussed in academic circles, the representations of Brazilian popularmusic appeared via cinema, initially in films starring Carmen Miranda (1909–1955) and laterin the film Orfeu Negro (Black Orpheus [1959]), by director Marcel Camus, based on the scriptof Orfeu da Conceição (1954), written by Vinicius de Moraes (1913–1980) (Perrone 2001). Thefilm’s soundtrack was composed by Antonio Carlos Jobim (1927–1994) and Luiz Bonfá(1922–2001). The film Orfeu Negro, winning both the Palme d’Or at Cannes (1959) and theOscar for Best Foreign Film (1960), increased the excursions of both French and North Americanmusicians to Brazil. Guitarist Charlie Byrd also traveled there and was responsible for the creationof Jazz Samba, the album that would take bossa nova to the hit parade in the United States.These were some of the factors that contributed to the definitive inclusion of bossa nova in thescenario of the international music industry.

Christopher Dunn (2012), a specialist in Brazilian cultural and literary studies, reexaminedthe reception of bossa nova in the United States between 1961 and 1964, highlighting the tensionsand complexities of the cultural field in an article titled “Por entre mascaras cool, twists mornos

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e jazz fervente” (Among Cool Masks, Warm Twists and Boiling Jazz). He begins his article bypresenting the hot/cool distinction made by Jobim in an interview with Gene Lees in Downbeatin February, 1963, in which he said: “Bossa nova is therefore a cool way to play samba, translatingthe aesthetic and social sensibility of urban and cosmopolitan middle-class youth, mostly white,from the South Zone of Rio” (ibid.: 254). In relation to jazz, however, Dunn continues, bossanova would be “cooler than cool,” since the cool aesthetic had appeared in the United Statesin a context of racial oppression, linked to the “construction of modern African-Americanmasculinity” (ibid.: 255), a posture of emotional control in confrontational situations, anappearance of relaxation in performance and, especially, “a way to express emotion in a containedand controlled way, without losing intensity” (ibid.: 256). Brazilian musicians and critics hadinterpreted this cool attitude of American jazz musicians (Dunn relies on Joel Dinerstein’s textabout Lester Young) as a mark of modernity and cosmopolitanism, in a partial identification,“without the elements of disguise and denial” of the African-American aesthetic (ibid.: 256).

The moment when bossa nova exploded in the United States coincided with the decline ofthe emphasis on cool in that country. For Dunn, it was an unpredictable success, explained “inpart because it was a complex and beautiful music that matched some jazz currents” (bebopand cool jazz), and partly because it served as a counterpoint to other emerging streams (the“boiling” sound tied to free, hard and soul jazz) that frightened critics and listeners (the traditionalpublic of white middle-class males) (ibid.: 257). This rise of a “heavy and aggressive” sound ofmusicians such as John Coltrane, who in 1960 was elected as the best saxophonist by the readersof Downbeat magazine, a place occupied by Stan Getz between 1950 and 1959, would demonstratean “oppositional attitude of some African-American jazzmen, sensitized by the civil rightsstruggle in the United States” (ibid.: 258).

Getz recovered his popularity in 1962 with the success of Jazz Samba (released in April byVerve), a project of guitarist Charlie Byrd, as mentioned above. The single extracted from thecomplete version of “Desafinado,” with a solo by Getz, received the Grammy award for BestInstrumental Jazz Performance (Solo or Small Group). As McGowan and Pessanha (2009: 69)comment:

The album did even better . . . It sold five hundred thousand copies, remarkable for a jazzrecord (especially an instrumental one), and stayed on the charts for seventy weeks. It wasreally jazz-bossa rather than bossa nova, but the new sound had struck a nerve. Byrd quipped,“I knew it was something that would have a lot of public appeal. I did not know it wouldinspire bossa nova neckties.”

Dunn mentions a certain ironic stance on the part of Getz, who referred to the song thatwould “pay for college for his five children” as “Dis Here Finado”—a play on words with thesound of “Desafinado” by Jobim and Newton Mendonça, and “Dis Here” of CannonballAdderley—resulting in a derisive joke in Portuguese, since “finado” means “dead.”

The “neckties” mentioned by Byrd above refer to a commercial wave that followed the releaseof Jazz Samba. Between 1962 and 1964, numerous products appeared, including the twist“Blame it on the Bossa Nova” (March 1963) by Eydie Gormé, which linked bossa nova to dance,“threatening the status of bossa nova, made to “be heard in a state of reflection, like modernjazz, and not to be danced to” (Dunn 2012: 261–262).

On November 21, 1962, the concert at Carnegie Hall titled “Bossa Nova (New Brazilian Jazz)”was an opportunity for the Brazilian musicians who participated, especially Jobim and João

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Gilberto, “to show the ‘real’ bossa nova and to contrast it to the general impression of the stylein the United States—as a fun and exotic dance novelty” (ibid.: 263).

In his text, Dunn focuses mainly on the relationship of bossa nova with jazz between1961–1964. Today, half a century later, bossa nova is also heard in the context of the electronicscene (drum & bass, techno, lounge music, DJ culture) and countless pop interpretations, asreminded by Chris McGowan in a conversation via e-mail about the reception of BN in theUnited States. What is appropriate to retain from all of this is that the reception of Brazilianpopular music in other countries inevitably ends up being filtered by stereotypes, when it getslost in the waves of mediatic diffusion. As the following two texts note, when talking initiallyabout Brazilian music abroad, in general one thinks only of samba and bossa nova, the distinctionbetween the two types being only that of tempo: fast is samba, slow is bossa nova. But as thefollowing ethnographies seek to demonstrate, the meanings of the reception of Brazilian popularmusic are multiple and locally constructed, whether in cultural activism of musicians committedto sharing other musical genres that are beyond the commonplace, or in the “world music”festival circuit, where the meanings of musical practice for the various actors are woven in apolysemic web.

BibliographyCorrêa do Lago, Manoel Aranha. 2012. “O boi no telhado e as fontes brasileiras de Darius Milhaud: discussão e análise

musical.” In O boi no telhado, edited by Correia do Lago and Manoel Aranha, 163–217. São Paulo: IMS—InstitutoMoreira Salles.

Dunn, Christopher. 2012. “Por entre máscaras cool, twists mornos e jazz fervente: a bossa nova no cenário norte-americano, 1961–64.” In João Gilberto, edited by Walter Garcia, 251–270. São Paulo: Cosac Naify.

Fléchet, Anaïs. 2012. “Samba cool e samba hot. A recepção de João Gilberto na França.” In João Gilberto, edited byWalter Garcia, 313–338. São Paulo: Cosac Naify.

McGowan, Chris and Ricardo Pessanha. 2008. The Brazilian Sound: Samba, Bossa Nova, and the Popular Music ofBrazil. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press.

Pereira, Luciano. 2012. L’interpénetration du samba en France, des Batutas (1922) à Baden Powell (1964)/O samba naFrança, dos Batutas (1922) a Baden Powell (1964). Ph.D. dissertation in co-tutelle. Université de Nice SophiaAntipolis, Universidade Federal do Estado do Rio de Janeiro.

Perrone, Charles A. 2001. “Myth, Melopeia, and Mimesis: Black Orpheus, Orfeu, and Internationalization in BrazilianPopular Music,” In Brazilian Popular Music and Globalization, edited by Charles A. Perrone and ChristopherDunn, 46–71. New York: Routledge.

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14From Roots to Networks

Listening to a World Called BrazilLúcia Campos

“I like the roots but I prefer the fruits!”—exclaimed Caetano Veloso in an interview for theFrench newspaper Libération in the 1970s (Kopoul 1978: 15). When asked about racism inBrazil, the musician criticized the leftists of that time who, according to him, stated that Brazilianblacks should play samba, the globally known Brazilian “roots music,” instead of imitating James Brown or Bob Marley. His interjection echoes tensions that stimulated the twentieth-century Brazilian arts scene on different occasions—between the project of Mário de Andradeand the Antropofagia of Oswald de Andrade in the 1930s, between “authentic Brazilian music”and Tropicalismo late in the 1960s, or even between Movimento Armorial and manguebeat inthe 1990s. Yet, to approach these ancient clashes in the era of globalization, I invite you toreflect about two emerging questions, taking Veloso’s assertion as the keynote.

The first concerns the transformation of “roots music” when inserted into professional “artworlds” (Becker 1988). The second refers to the impact of globalization on this relationship,vis-à-vis the direct access of roots music to international networks of world music festivals. Ata time when the hegemony of national states is jeopardized, these two issues suggest we givesome thought to how Brazilian groups, circulating in European festivals, contribute to thecontinuous updating of the diffuse imagery of “Brazil.” What the art world calls world musiccan be thus taken as a potentially interesting arena for exploring insights about the appropriationof Brazilian roots music in European lands.

I will be using the term appropriation as a process of active and localized reception, as inChartier (1989). From Becker (1988) comes the premise that the festivals’ art world is a cooperativenetwork among programmers, producers, journalists, technicians, artists, and the public, amongothers. This interesting and complex cooperative network ought to be studied through thesevarious points of view. To tackle the suggested questions within this framework, I propose twoethnographic sketches developed in a multi-situated approach, which assumes that globalizationis a contextual phenomenon that emerges concretely from specific and localized negotiations(Marcus 1995).

The first focuses on the group Siba e a Fuloresta, from Nazaré da Mata, Pernambuco, whosemembers actively participate in the musical traditions of the region, that is, maracatu de baquesolto, ciranda, fanfarras de frevo. Sergio “Siba” Veloso (1969–), the director of the group andone of its musicians, was born in Recife. Together with the group Mestre Ambrósio, he touredthroughout Brazil, Europe, the USA, and Japan from 1996 to 2003. Fuloresta gathers Nazaréda Mata musicians, who have learned all the steps to become professional musicians, and Siba,who underwent the relevant “rites of passage” to be accepted in the traditions of ciranda and

maracatu de baque solto, to the point of becoming a recognized cirandeiro and master of maracatuin the region. The dynamic of this group can shed an interesting light on the boundariesbetween different music worlds, as well as over their permeability.

The second description addresses the insertion of Samba Chula de São Braz, from the Bahian“Recôncavo,” into the European world music market. The group plays samba de roda, the onlyBrazilian musical manifestation valued by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage ofHumanity. Chula is one of the samba de roda’s traditional singing styles. The movement fromlocal dance circle to the international scene is crucial to the current professionalization processof traditional musicians, as musical gestures acquire new meanings, and the sounds, henceforthamplified, mobilize different ways of listening. The presence of the group Samba Chula de SãoBraz in WOMEX (World Music Expo, Copenhagen, 2010) is part of the patrimonialization ofsamba de roda, which led to the promotion of this musical practice and its strong commercialvalorization. How can we simultaneously conceive its safeguarding, as advocated by UNESCO,and the transformation it experiences through commercialization?

The two above-mentioned groups originated in northeastern Brazil. At the same time thatthey are directly linked to Brazilian roots music in their respective localities, they have becomespokespersons for this work, insofar as their performance has ramified in international musicnetworks. Each in their own way, they both propose new sounds, meanings, and imagery forthe most widespread word associated with Brazilian music: samba.

The Sound Check: A Rite of Passage?

Casa da Música, July 2009, city of Porto, Portugal. The Festival Uma Casa Portuguesa (APortuguese House) has, among its guests, Siba e a Fuloresta. As usual, the group gathers for asound check during the day, before the show. They begin with the musiqueiros, the brass orchestrain the Pernambucanan Zona da Mata. Then come the batedores de terno—the percussionists—who are also Fuloresta’s chorus: Biu Roque on the caixa, Mané Roque on the ganzá and CosmoAntônio on the bombo. Siba approaches the chorus and asks for more volume on the stagemonitor. Afterwards, he walks to the center of the stage and tests his microphone, asking themusicians to slightly lower their voices and the volume of the percussion. They play together.A sharp and sibilant noise cuts across the stage . . . a technician rushes to change a microphone.Biu Roque keeps singing and playing, together with Mané and Cosmo. Oblivious to the problem,the musicians spend their time in the most enjoyable way they know—playing and singing. Thehorn players soon join the small group and, animated, rehearse dance steps. Microphone issuesresolved, a new general sound check takes place. Siba complains to the technician that themembers of the chorus cannot hear themselves: “Give them the voices, please!”

The French anthropologist Denis Laborde (2001) describes the sound check as a “secondconcert,” which involves technological devices and gestures by those engaged in the realizationof the work. As a musician, I see the sound check as a ritual, very similarly enacted in Brazilianor European festivals: a time to build this globalized space we call the stage and this musicalpresentation format we call a show. The sound side of the ritual also involves instruments, cables,microphones, mixing boards, and speakers. Through a cooperative network between musiciansand sound technicians, established by the delegation of authority and trust, sounds played inthe private sphere (in studies and rehearsals) or on the streets (in fanfares, cirandas and sambadasde maracatu) achieve the status of “music” played in a festival, a public event. Observing thisdynamic thoroughly, I allow myself to consider the sound check as a rite of passage.

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In the case just described, the ritual yields the form of a show to musical gestures and soundsoriginally practiced in street brincadeiras, in Pernambuco. For a stage musician, this rite is oftena tedious and tiring exercise, but not for the Fuloresta players. By engaging as much in streetbrincadeiras as on stage shows, there seems to be no split between these two contexts: they hold the élan of the brincadeira even during the sound check. Siba Veloso, as the group leader,guides the older musicians, probably less accustomed to the stage. By way of a mediator, heenhances the overall ritualistic tone of the occasion, as the microphones actually give voice toBiu Roque, Mané Roque and Cosmo Antônio, representatives of the old guard of “samba, whoserecognition has never surpassed its original geographic boundaries” (Fuloresta Samba CD bookletpresentation).

A City, Another Samba

Fuloresta Samba (Independent 2003/Other Brazil/L’autre distribution in 2005) is their first CD.In the inserted booklet comes an explanation about samba with caveats: “every kind of meetingwhere there is music, dance and party . . . and not the king rhythm of the Rio-São Paulo axis.”The CD was recorded in a mill in Nazaré da Mata, a small town nested in the Mata Norteregion, 30 km away from Recife. As made clear in the city and the region names, the area wasonce covered by the Atlantic rain forest (Mata means forest), which gave way to the cultivationof sugar cane from the sixteenth century onward. “Fuloresta” players were born in Nazaré daMata, to where Siba migrated to nurture his skills in sung poetry, one of the traditions ofmaracatu de baque solto and ciranda. The CD presents, as a manifesto, the recognition of thesemusical traditions as “art” under continuous transformation. The manifesto also seeks to relativizethe type of national rhythm called samba, invoking variations of the meaning of this word,which are broadly used in the Mata Norte. In this context, samba is a poetic genre of themaracatu de baque solto. Sambar is synonymous with playing or dancing maracatu. The sambadade pé de parede is the most important event for the maracatu culture, when two masters, calledsambador poets, gather for a challenge of verses (Veloso and Astier 2008).

The context in which the CD was recorded is not a mere detail. As described in the pressrelease written by the Brazilian anthropologist Hermano Vianna, “the surrounding sounds ofthe city intermingle within all tracks, revealing the boundless relationship between the musicand the place where it is created/produced” (Vianna 2002: 2). In addition to the rustic soundof the well-played orchestra horns, and of the nearly martial percussion, one can hear the warmcity colors, framed by the sounds of crickets, birds, a procession that passes, bells, fireworks, aremnant of feedback, people talking, a voice singing in the megaphone . . . above all, the voicesof the masters stand out, at the same time hoarse and sharp, guttural, voices hardened by dust,maracatu and cachaça.

The close relationship with Nazaré da Mata is also latent in the group’s second CD, but ina reversed way. With the suggestive name Toda vez que eu dou um passo, o mundo sai do lugar(Every Time I Take a Step, the World Leaves Its Spot) (Ambulante Discos 2007/O +/HarmoniaMundi 2008), the CD already conveys some of the group’s experience, touring venues in Braziland Europe since 2003. The city is no longer a crib, but a landing place, tattooed with the CDinsert graffiti, by the duo OSGEMEOS, from São Paulo. In both CDs, geographic frontiers aresurpassed, and musical boundaries separating “art” from “tradition” are diluted. Music transcendsthe space and time of the city, and simultaneously invades them.

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Returning to Caetano Veloso’s metaphor that opens this text, a first gaze could show us that,in the work of Siba e a Fuloresta, the musical roots remain strong and intact. Nevertheless, acloser look would alert us that the metaphor does not fully apply here, as their music presents“roots” and “fruits” as inseparable elements. On the one hand, maracatu and ciranda are everydaybrincadeiras in Nazaré da Mata—they are an example of “music-relation” (Hennion 2007: 25)with an active role in mediating the identity of the locals. On the other hand, at the same timethat Fuloresta’s musicians share these daily musical practices, they also perform a specific artwork with those sounds and musical gestures, under the direction of Siba Veloso. The worktranscends Nazaré musical practices, as an example of “music-object” (ibid.), insofar as it joinsthe festival circuit. The various contexts in which the group performs are directly related andmutually fed, to the point of Siba’s melodies being incorporated into the tradition of maracatu,and Siba himself becoming a “master of maracatu” and a cirandeiro, joining the brincadeirasas equals to the region’s respected masters. Out of Mata Norte, Fuloresta is a synthesis of Nazaré’ssound web. As the music circulates under the form of concerts and recordings, the sounds ofthe city, elaborated in an artistic context, give rise to new forms of appropriation.

Samba, Maracatu, World Music?

In the evening, at Casa da Música, Siba e a Fuloresta takes the stage to present its “samba.” Likethe musicians, who retain a certain joy from the street brincadeiras that goes beyond the contextin which they find themselves, Siba also brings to the stage the cleverness of an improvisationalpoet, who speaks to his audience and demands attentive listening as part of the brincadeira.Any pretext counts for improvisations, which take the form of immediate chronicles of thepresent.

As the show progresses, the stands upper section become a dance floor. People dance as ifin a nightclub, singly. No ciranda circle is formed, perhaps because there is little space available.At the end of the show, the group dives into a vivacious maracatu. While many people dancefreely, one woman performs a well-known step. She does not dance as a caboclo de lança, abaiana, or a caboclo de pena (processional characters of the maracatu de baque solto); her dancedoes not fit the tempo or the percussion accents; yet, her movements are clear: she dancessamba, the famous samba of Rio de Janeiro. The attentive poet does not let the misunderstandingslip by and improvises a humorous verse for the dancer, familiar with the stereotypes throughwhich his music is received.

Often, any lively, rhythmic Brazilian music, however singular it may be, will be perceived ascarioca samba. Brazilian music is synonymous with samba in European common sense, andcarries carnivalesque imagery widely publicized by the media—dark-skinned women dancingin Rio de Janeiro. There is no room for subtleties in this kind of appropriation. If the music isquiet, it is bossa nova; if animated, it is samba. Samba becomes a “brand identity” insurmountableboth for the music and for people. After all, only one person tried to forcibly fit the steps ofsamba to the rhythm of baque solto, and that person was precisely a Brazilian! While most ofthe Portuguese world music public was listening attentively to the sound of the group, somemoving the body timidly, the Brazilian woman did not pay such careful attention, but ratherimposed on the tune a surety: if it is Brazilian, it is samba.

While she danced samba in a corner of the audience, in another corner the music resonateddifferently. In the midst of one of the breaks of terno de maracatu for improvised verses, a Portuguese gentleman could not help himself: he reached the stage and grabbed Siba’s

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microphone. Visibly moved by the show, he praised the group, cherishing the value of “traditional”music. He praised the work of Siba, a young composer, and idealized the happy meeting of theBrazilian and Portuguese cultures. The audience applauded him. Maracatu shifted then froma danceable rhythm, like samba carioca, to a flag of traditional culture, two disparate ways ofseeing it in the same audience. In the first case, a Brazilian imagery that even today elects sambaas an identity mark was turned on. In the second case, it was perfectly adjusted to an imagerythat upholds the “traditional” or “roots” songs as being “world music.”

The imagery brought about by a music performance can be as diverse as the people whointegrate this collective we call “the public.” However, some situations seem to recur in theappro priation of Brazilian music in Europe, suggesting the permanence of ethnoscapes (Appadurai1996). These are fluid landscapes of people in transit, which, in this case, relate to the mobilizationof people who cultivate a certain Brazilian imagery and, thus, relate to the configuration of aspecific audience as well. A first distinction we can suggest is between the “world music public”and the “Brazilian music public.” The first does not necessarily share stereotypical representationsof “Brazil,” and can readily accept a “roots” group as playing “Brazilian music.” The “Brazilianmusic public,” on the other hand, seeks to follow certain national representations, built in Brazilor in each of the appropriation’s contexts. The same applies to the appropriation of music bythe Brazilian diaspora. As an audience, it seeks to satisfy specific expectations—such ascharacterizing Brazil as the country of samba and of partying—and does not participate in thetradition of the “world music public,” which sustains a listening open to the discovery of newmusical cultures.

Music of the World Versus World Music: A Transition Between Case Studies

The 2009 Festival Uma Casa Portuguesa programmer, Felipa Leite, highlights what caught herattention and culminated in the choice of Siba’s group, and could translate the empathy of thePortuguese public:

the way he embraced tradition and the musicians who accompanied him, some of a certainage . . . [and] moreover, a group led by a young man who is interested in his own culture,and tries to make a bridge across the traditional and the modern, tries to promote his culturein a very professional, very valid form.

(Felipa Leite, interview, 2009)

In the context of this festival, a gradation of features distinguish music of the world andworld music, the first being more faithful “to roots,” “to traditions,” and the latter beingregarded as a “mix of influences.” This recurrent dichotomy undertakes several oppositions indifferent festivals, having received the attention of various authors. Bohlman (2002), for example,identifies two contrasting ways of understanding world music: on one side, it refers to thepossibility of an encounter between cultures, to the diversity of music and ways of making musicin the world, addressing a celebration of globalization. On the other side, world music mirrorsthe perverse effect of homogenization of cultures, led by an oppressive globalization. In thislatter sense, musical fusions are considered dangerous.

The approaches vary from festival to festival, from country to country. Yet, we can currentlyunderstand world music in Europe not as a musical style itself, but as a market into which a

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diversity of sounds and rhythms fit. This is also what Paulo André Pires (2009), the producerof Chico Science e Nação Zumbi, and recently one of the jury members of WOMEX, says aboutworld music: it “is not a style, it’s a market . . . this label fits everyone, from DJ Dolores to theBanda de Pífanos, from samba to Seu Jorge.” In this sense, it is an interconnected network ofcontacts and negotiations, which meets annually in a huge fair, WOMEX (World Music Expo).At WOMEX, in addition to a schedule of 45-minute short presentations named showcases,covering all trends of this “world of art,” there is a large pavilion with a series of booths foragents and producers who trade music from all over the world. Siba e a Fuloresta was introducedto WOMEX in 2007, while Samba Chula de São Braz, from Bahia, performed in the 2010 editionof the fair, as described below.

Samba de Roda: “Catch it While You Can!”

During the application process for UNESCO’s third Intangible Heritage of HumanityProclamation of Masterpieces, in 2004, the Brazilian Minister of Culture, singer-songwriterGilberto Gil, proposed the candidature of samba (Sandroni 2010). However, samba, as aworldwide known Brazilian music genre, did not fit the objectives of the proclamation, whichemphasized the geographical boundaries of the intangible heritage and its supposed risk ofextinction. Yet, samba de roda was fully adequate to the proposed model, as it was at the timestill restricted to its state of origin, Bahia, more precisely the “Recôncavo” region. Samba deroda was partially unknown throughout the country, except for being mythologized as theancestor of samba carioca, thus remaining colligated to the imagery that elects Bahia as thecradle of Brazilian samba.

Five years after the declaration, Samba Chula de São Braz, one of the samba de roda groupsfrom the Recôncavo region, made its debut in Europe performing in a showcase at WOMEX(Copenhagen, 2010). The group is formed by master sambadores João do Boi and Alumínio,who sing and play pandeiro (tambourine) and the sambadeiras Nicinha and Raimunda, whodance and integrate the chorus, along with Fernando de Santana, the son of a sambadorwho is also the local producer of the group. Sambador and sambadeira are, respectively, a manand a woman who play/dance samba. The young musicians from São Braz play variousinstruments—guitar, cavaquinho, pandeiro, atabaques, and surdo. Cássio Nobre, a musician andethnomusicologist from Salvador, is in charge of viola de machete, the typical samba de rodainstrument. The team also included three producers and Katharina Döring, an ethnomusicologistspecialized in samba de roda.

Sandroni (2010) draws attention to the network of mediations involved in the heritage process,ranging from sambadores to UNESCO, to agents of Brazilian public power to researchers andtechnicians, among others. Entering the world music network, mediations also engage producers,agents, and journalists. It is worth noting that the “ancestry” of samba de roda, vis-à-vis sambacarioca, and its risk of extinction, which justified the intangible heritage candidacy, are, at once,ideas used for its publicity as world music. The WOMEX site, for example, presents the group’smusic as “Brazil’s primordial samba.” According to the proposed analogy, samba de roda wasto samba as blues was to jazz, with one important difference: “Unlike the blues, however, chulais in danger of dying out.” The master sambadores João do Boi and Alumínio are presented asthe guardians of this tradition: “Together with their friends and family from the small communityof São Braz, they’re keeping this seminal style very much alive. Catch it while you can.”

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World Music and Intangible Heritage: Interrelated Networks?

Over the soundcheck at WOMEX, the producers’ instructions were for Samba Chula de São Braz to perform a relaxed presentation, as close as possible to a samba de roda in Bahia. A ladder was placed between the stage and the audience, so that the sambadeiras could descend,dance with the public, and invite people to join the samba circle on stage. The aim was to breakthe customary split between artists and audience, peculiar to samba de roda. With simplepositioning adjustments (and some rehearsals), the group quickly took hold of the stage, thesounds and gestures of samba de roda mobilizing a different type of listening, amplifying thepower of their sound. Again, the ritual of the sound check fulfilled its function. At the time ofthe concert, the musicians were comfortable, and inspired the audience with their enthusiasm.Would they be decontextualized, playing on that stage, in that particular place, so far fromRecôncavo? It was not the case. Sambadeiras, sambadores, and the other members of the grouptransformed a WOMEX showcase into a big samba circle, reaffirming the power music has totranspose imageries or, in one phrase, to create a context.

Despite the apparent success of the venture, the direct relationship established betweenmusical manifestations that acquired UNESCO’s hallmark and the world music market is verycontroversial. The idea of heritage implies preservation and protection of a certain asset, and agreat distrust of commercialization. However, the very conversion of a musical culture into“heritage” entails institutionalization, and is very often followed by a formatting of musicalpractices. Note that, regarding music formatting, experts are traditionally found in the musicmarket and not inside heritage institutions. Here, these two networks, apparently antagonistic,intermingle.

The actors of the samba de roda are sambadeiras and sambadores. Their musical practice,closely linked to Recôncavo religious festivals, fits the globalized space of the stage when sambade roda begins to be valued for its musical and festive characteristics. Considering that theRecôncavo is also the hometown of Caetano Veloso, whose music is at times inspired by sambade roda, how could we interpret the process of moving this musical practice to the stage interms of the composer’s metaphor expressed earlier: are the roots their own fruit? In a previousarticle, I reflected about paradoxes related to the entrance of samba de roda, as heritage, intothe world music network, and the extent to which this passage is consistent with the idea of“safeguarding” supported by UNESCO (Campos 2011). This is an up-to-date discussion, unfoldedin the questions that follow.

A Festival or a Museum for Samba de Roda?

Amsterdam, The Netherlands, December 2011. On the Tropenmuseum stage, Samba Chula deSão Braz performs its samba de roda. As usual, the sambadeiras strive to interact with the public,descending from the stage, dancing with the audience, and inviting people to join the stage.Some people dance, while most of the public remains impassive. The sambadeiras convince afew to climb the stairs. The repertoire comes together as at WOMEX, the sambadores singbeautifully, but the interaction with the audience does not fire up in this formal theatre.

“It’s wonderful, this is the origin of samba!” exclaims a Brazilian dancer I interviewed afterthe show. Needless to say, he was one of the few who danced with the group. Even having been born in Bahia, he acknowledged he was not familiar with samba de roda, and corroboratedthe dissemination of the origin myth discussed previously. Another spectator, a Dutchman, also

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liked the show, but observed, intrigued, that he never imagined that there were such rusticdances in Brazil. For him, the show was a little frustrating, as it seemed to have something thateluded his understanding, because the audience did not respond to the group’s invitation toparticipate.

The Tropenmuseum is an ethnographic museum, and the group’s concert was part of theEuropalia festival program, which brought together Brazilian artistic manifestations. If atWOMEX the changeover from entertainment (a samba de roda) to a world music show did notface major problems, in the Tropenmuseum the transposition was quite uneasy. The audienceexpected to hear a musical concert; it was an individual listening, as a museum visit is usuallyperceived as individual. Meanwhile, the group Samba Chula de São Braz performed its sambaon stage, inviting collective participation. There was a gap between the two musical cultures incontact: this time, the samba circle and the scene did not match. Perhaps as a result, sambadeirasand sambadores did not seem at ease on stage.

The occupation of a museum stage, a formatting process analogous to a museum exposition,raised crucial issues. The presentation of the group was halfway between a festive and entertainingevent (as at WOMEX) and a concert to be listened to. If the producers and the ethnomusicologistassume the role of mediators in this recasting (in this case, from the samba circle to the stage),a role I considered legitimate in the first description (at WOMEX), in Tropenmuseum I bumpedinto the limits of that mediation. Perhaps an artistic constraint: how to create a context of artisticfreedom for the sambadores, who experience liberty in a Recôncavo samba de roda, whose musicwas then formatted to be played on a stage that does not necessarily have a festive atmosphere?We could also think in terms of an ontological limit: after all, why detach these songs fromtheir original context?

When it comes to music acknowledged as “roots,” especially when valued as a cultural heritage,to consider the festival a museum opens a wide range of discussions about the appropriationof the “exotic.” These debates take us back to the European colonialist legacy, whose echoespercussed in my ears when I visited the Tropenmuseum, the “Museum of the Tropics.” Butwhat can be exotic in a time when we have daily access to “the world” through newspapers,live TV, or the Internet? A time when we can meet people from all over the world in anyEuropean metropolis metro? To think about the appropriation of “roots” music only throughthe bias of exoticism leaves aside all the mediations that build relationships between musicians,producers, programmers, and audiences, which are far more complex than a struggle betweenexploiters and exploited. In addition, to reduce these relations to a dichotomous debate particularlyneglects the autonomy of the actors involved. By participating in the tour, and being on Brazilianand world stages, sambadores and sambadeiras of Samba Chula de São Braz assume the artisticprofession, which entails merits as well as challenges.

De l’Estoile (2010) argues that, nowadays, the ethnographic museum should be seen as a“meeting place” between cultures. In this sense, it is possible to make a rapprochement withthe world music festivals, where the interaction between audience and musicians in a samba deroda, for example, can be taken as a privileged occasion for the encounter between differentways of making, listening to, and perceiving music. With the recent transformations the musicindustry underwent, the CD (or MP3 file) turns out to be a simple business card for the livepresentation, and festival performances become the place for music—a “meeting place”—parexcellence.

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Brazilian Music and the Praise of Diversity

Taking the stage as a globalized space for the circulation of artists, sound, and imagery, theconsideration of the forms under which the same music is appropriated and categorized in eachcontext yields a situated approach to the phenomenon of globalization. Moving beyond adichotomous appropriation—if the music is lively, it is samba; if it is calm, it is bossa nova—acloser look discloses more complex forms of appropriation, with a greater degree of reciprocity.After all, the world we live in is much more polyphonic and polyrhythmic, populated by soundsand people with all kinds of longings, way more multifarious than the seeming dichotomiesmight suggest. It all depends on the standpoint from which we give ear to the diversity of thisworld.

Tensions between Mário de Andrade’s conception and Oswald’s Antropofagia, between sambaand Tropicalismo, between the Armorial Movement and manguebeat, are dilemmas that envisageBrazil as the axis of an ongoing balance between a romantic vision of their own native cultureand an openness that seeks to relate to “the other,” the foreigner. The construction of a nationalidentity is based on the need of the country to be, literally, identified by others and by itself asa peculiar nation. The eyes and the ears of the other remain ubiquitous, moulding what wethink of ourselves. That is the sense in which a musical performance can be seen as a meetingplace of different conceptions of the world, which occasionally dialogue, and now and thendisagree.

Siba e a Fuloresta is a group of difficult categorization in Brazil, and is generally classifiedas a “roots” group or as “popular culture” (Siba Veloso, 2011 interview). For Siba, this classifica-tion indicates a recurring devaluation of everything that does not fit into a certain standard ofsound and image that best expresses “the national,” widely defined by what is produced andconsumed in the Rio–São Paulo axis. In this sense, samba is not “roots” music, but a fully estab -lished musical category that names different types of commercial music related to cariocasamba. Media centralization enhances the national canon in various appropriation contexts,either by Brazilians living in Europe, or by foreigners who cultivate a knowledgeable listeningof Brazilian music.

However, at least since manguebeat, Brazilian songs are not just “discovered” by the worldmusic market—growing numbers of producers and groups increasingly take the initiative toenter this art world. We can examine the “globalization of Brazilian music” considering isolatedcontacts—for example, the presence at WOMEX, since 1995, of Paulo André Pires, the producerof Chico Science e Nação Zumbi. In addition to fracturing the national production axis,manguebeat has been linked, from the beginning, to varied networks of contacts and disseminationof Brazilian music in Europe. Siba is one of the personages of this recent history who inscribedthe music of Pernambuco in the imagery of world music, without having to pass through anational sieve to accomplish this deed. In other words, his music moved straight from “theroots” to “the networks,” assuming a contemporary posture that transcends national bordersand, perhaps exactly because of this, seeks to overcome persistent dichotomies as tradition andart, rural and urban, traditional and contemporary, roots and fruits.

With globalization, tensions are disseminated through distinct times and spaces. Old opposites multiply, coexisting. Billed as an ancient practice, samba de roda ably fulfilled therole of an inspiring source for renowned musicians such as Gilberto Gil and Caetano Veloso,although it was not considered a contemporary and live musical practice! The presence of thegroup Samba Chula de São Braz at WOMEX is just one indication that the heritage process

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played a significant role in transforming this status quo: it brought to light the existence of a musical practice for its recognition as an intangible heritage and, simultaneously, itstransformation into world music.

The sound check as a rite of passage brings to the stage—this vibrant international dialoguearena—musical traditions rooted in the Brazilian northeast. Siba e a Fuloresta presents a cohesiveartistic work that exudes the musical life of Nazaré da Mata, and whose musicians becomeambassadors for an unknown Brazil, at the same time strange and captivating. Samba Chulade São Braz creates its samba de roda not just as heritage, but also as world music. Sambadoresand sambadeiras undertake, still hesitantly, the role of artists. They also become ambassadorsof another Brazil—other than the country of samba and soccer—a country that paints itselflittle by little as the country of miscegenation, of contrasts, and, above all, the country of diversity,for European eyes and ears.

One festival inscribes in the center of the Brazilian flag the phrase “in the heart ofmiscegenation” (Paleo Festival, Switzerland, 2008). Another festival speaks of “a mosaic of peoples,” of a country “where the world is mixed: the heirs of European settlers, the Indiansof the Amazon, the Afro-Brazilians—descendants of slaves—and the numerous Japanese,Lebanese, Italian or German immigrants” (Europalia, Belgium, 2011). In a Europe where aplurality of cultures coexists, where immigration is synonymous with crisis, the Brazilian mythof racial democracy is appropriated as a slogan that has music as one of its most direct vectors.Ears attune to the rhythm of maracatu, feet rehearse ciranda steps, and hands clap in a sambade roda. The various dimensions of social life are brought together in a musical performance.A potential imagery—diversified, contrasting, and sonorous—is built while listening to a worldcalled Brazil.

BibliographyAppadurai, Arjun. 1996. Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization. Minneapolis, MN, and London:

University of Minnesota Press.Becker, Howard. 1988. Les mondes de l’art. Paris: Flammarion.Bohlman, Philip V. 2002. World Music: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press.Campos, Lúcia. 2011. “Sauvegarder une pratique musicale? Une ethnographie du samba de roda à la World Music

Expo.” Cahiers d’ethnomusicologie, vol. 24, 143–155.Chartier, Roger. 1989. “Le monde comme representation.” Annales ESC, vol 6, 1505–1520.De L’Estoile, Benoît. 2010. Le goût des Autres. De l’exposition coloniale aux Arts premiers. Paris: Flammarion.Hennion, Antoine. 2007. La passion musicale. Une sociologie de la médiation. Paris: Edition Métailié.Kopoul, Rémy K. 1978. “J’aime les racines mais je préfère les fruits.” Libération, April 4.Laborde, Denis. 2001. “Le second concert. Steve Reich et l’Ensemble Modern à Munich.” Sociologia Internationalis,

vol. 39, 107–137.Latour, Bruno. 1997. Nous n’avons jamais été modernes: essai d’anthropologie symétrique. Paris: La Découverte.Marcus, George. 1995. “Ethnography in/of the World System: The Emergence of Multi-Sited Ethnography.” Annual

Review of Anthropology, vol. 24, 95–117.Sandroni, Carlos. 2010. “Samba de roda, patrimônio imaterial da humanidade.” Estudos Avançados, vol. 24, no. 69,

373–388.Veloso, Sergio and Basílio Astier. 2008. “Samba novo: a poesia do maracatu de baque solto.” In Na ponta do verso:

poesia de improviso no Brasil, edited by Alexandre Pimentel and Joana Corrêa. Rio de Janeiro: Associação CulturalCaburé, 43–57.

Vianna, Hermano. 2002. “Release para o disco Fuloresta do Samba.” Accessed October 17, 2013. www.overmundo.com.br/banco/release-para-o-disco-fuloresta-do-samba.

WOMEX. Samba Chula de São Braz. Accessed May 18, 2012. www.womex.com/virtual/plataforma_de/samba_chula_de_sao.

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InterviewsFilipa Leite, Porto, July 7, 2009.Paulo André Pires, via Skype, December 4, 2009.Sérgio Veloso (Siba), Bruxelas, November 27, 2011.

DiscographyFuloresta do Samba, Siba e a Fuloresta, Brasil: Independent, 2003, Europe: Outro Brasil, L’autre distribution, 2005.Toda vez que eu dou um passo, o mundo sai do lugar, Siba e a Fuloresta, Brasil: Ambulante Discos, 2007, Europe:

O+/Harmonia Mundi, 2008.

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15Northeastern Brazilian Music

in New York CityRepresentations between Brazil

and the United StatesNatalia Coimbra de Sá

Introduction

In 2009, when I came to New York City and told a Brazilian singer that my Ph.D. would beabout the various forms of Brazilian cultural shows performed by immigrants in the city, Iheard: “This might be interesting. Did you know that I can’t take one more person asking meto sing ‘Garota de Ipanema’ (The Girl from Ipanema) in every show I do? I would love to knowwhat other musicians think about it and if it happens to them.”

Several times, I have heard similar comments from artists working in the local Braziliancultural scene. In general, they refer to an immediate association that is made internationallybetween Brazilian music and bossa nova and samba. Journalists and producers, and not onlymusicians, also mentioned that when it comes to Brazilian parties or concerts, the public normallyexpects scantily clad dancing girls.

In many ways, during interviews and informal conversations, the question of the stereotypeof Brazil mainly associated with these two rhythms appeared as a concern on the part of artistswho were interested in exploring other musical references in their careers. One musician saidthat during the first shows with his forró band, he heard several times: “When are the dancerscoming out?” This type of expectation is common because the public makes more immediateconnections with cultural elements with which they can identify and relate. In this sense, literature,music, and film play a key role in the construction of imagined communities (Anderson 2008).

The first contact of the larger American society with Brazilian music was in consequence ofthe Good Neighbor Policy, a strategy for international relations of the United States that soughtto establish political and economic alliances with Latin America through the cultural industry.It was in this context that Carmen Miranda disembarked her sambas and marchinhas in theUnited States—first in New York on Broadway stages and then in Los Angeles in the Hollywoodstudios—achieving popularity in the U.S. in the 1940s. Her image (colored dresses and a fruitbasket on her head) was very prominent in the musicals in which she starred, contributing tothe construction of the first stereotype of “Brazilianness” in the collective world imagery.

The second occasion of the highlighting of Brazilian music in the United States occurred inthe 1960s. The songs of João Gilberto and Dorival Caymmi and the release of the movie “Orfeu

Negro” (Black Orpheus, 1959), a French-Italian-Brazilian production that won the Palme d’Orat Cannes and the Oscar for Best Foreign Film in 1960, and the soundtrack of which had musicby Tom Jobim and Luiz Bonfá, contributed to bossa nova becoming internationally popular.Its rhythm and main themes, celebrating love, women, beauty, and youth, contributed to theconstruction of Brazil’s international image.

By the early 2000s, the Brazilian music scene in New York City was composed mainly ofsamba and bossa nova. Currently, the artists who play Brazilian music in the city have increasinglysought to present new trends, especially from the northeast. They want to introduce otherBrazilian rhythms, genres, and musical styles with which they also feel an affinity, bringinginfluences from other parts of Brazil. They act in a manner valuing hybridism (Bhabha 1998;García Canclini 2008) and miscegenation (Gruzinski 2002).

García Canclini (2008) argues that uncertainty about the meaning and value of artistic andcultural expressions currently derives not only from what separates nations, ethnicities, andclasses, but also from the sociocultural crossroads where the traditional, the modern, the cult,the folk, and the massive mix. For this author, this division into levels or layers in culture shouldbe demolished. Especially when it comes to immigrants crossing borders and mixing indigenousand/or colonial heritage with contemporary art and electronic culture.

Through the perspective of Bhabha (1998), it is possible to analyze the cultural strategies ofimmigrants in the way that they may be contingent on modernity, discontinuous, or indisagreement with it; they may be resistant, but putting into play the cultural hybridism of theircross-border conditions to translate and therefore restore the social imagery of both metropolisand modernity itself. Thus, the migrant subject inhabits the edge of a reality that is interposed.Its cross-border existence represents a stillness in time and a strangeness of framework thatcreates a new discourse on the crossroads between home and the world.

For Gruzinski (2002), the fact that terms such as “hybrid” or “mestizo” are being usedcommonly in relation to cultural and ethnic issues in contemporary society is not an indicationonly of our difficulty in explaining the mixing of genres, influences, and repertoire. He arguesthat in addition to that, this discourse is used by the international elites who, without fixedroots and with a cosmopolitan and eclectic profile, have borrowed largely from “the world’scultures.” This question reflects a social phenomenon: the growing awareness of groups usedto consuming everything that the planet has to offer. Thus, the hybrid replaces the exotic. Itrepresents a new way to achieve originality and stand out from the crowd. And it is also a wayto launch new cultural products in the market.

These notions of intercultural blends refer here to the artistic creations and productionsresulting from crosses between sociocultural references of nations, races, and different classes,and simultaneously between the traditional and the contemporary. This tactic is routinelyperformed by musicians (Certeau 2007) through definition of influences, choice of repertoire,venues, setting of stage aesthetics, and forms of dissemination to reach certain audiences.

The decision to value Brazilian cultural elements that are mixed is not new, as it can beobserved starting with the first Brazilian performers who came to the United States to enter thefilm and music market (Davis 2008). Nor is it seen only among Brazilian artists (Taylor 2003).The contribution that this chapter adds to this scenario is the history of diasporic artists (Hall2003) who have acted as mediators between the representations of northeastern Brazilian music(forró and maracatu) and the cosmopolitan cultural scene in the Big Apple. We present twocase studies: the band Forro in the Dark and the band Nation Beat.

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Northeastern Brazilian Music in New York City: Considerations on theObject and Method

This chapter was developed from the results of research conducted in the city between 2009and 2010. In 2012, another visit was made to the field for observations and interviews withMauro Refosco (Forro in the Dark) and Scott Kettner (Nation Beat). This second step wasessential to deal specifically with the histories of the bands, their creative process, productionand distribution, and especially the symbolic importance of folk northeastern rhythms as theirmain musical influences.

The goal is to introduce readers to how these young contemporary artists act in the independentmusic market in the New York scene, incorporating new ideas from northeastern Brazil intothe music produced in the city, thus contributing to studies on Brazilian music abroad.

Both lived in Brazil and the United States in different periods of their lives and have experiencesof displacement across borders, constantly working in between places, between the culturalreferences of northeastern Brazil and the cosmopolitanism of New York (Santiago 1978, 2004).According to Santiago (1978), one of the main contributions of Latin American art to Westernculture is considered to come from the systematic destruction of the concepts of unity andpurity. These two concepts lose the exact contours of their meaning, their sign of culturalsuperiority, as the work of “contamination” of the Latin Americans affirms itself, and is seenas increasingly effective. Thus, it is thanks to this movement of deviance from the norm, activeand destructive, that transfigures made and immutable elements derived from the hegemonicEuropean cultures and exported to America, that the Latin culture establishes its place on theworld map. It is no coincidence that both artists declare an interest in Brazilian modernismand the Antropofagia movement that, as the author would say, is a reflection of a restless andinsubordinate assimilation.

Refosco and Kettner relate professionally and personally with cultures from different ethnic,social, and geographical origins in the two countries. Accordingly, they can mix cultural referencesand musical influences without essentializing them, putting them within broader contexts (social,historical, cultural, political, economic). Thus, they act as cultural translators (Bhabha 1998) ofBrazilian and American musical elements, presenting them in new perspectives in the New Yorkmusic scene.

The year 2002 marked the beginning of the two bands, and it was when they began to unitesome of the cultural elements and agents that would contribute to form the city’s current scenein terms of northeastern rhythms, especially forró. This does not mean to say that there werenot any musicians playing forró and other northeastern rhythms in New York City or in theUnited States before this period. However, there is now a consensus among Brazilians that forró“became fashionable” and has drawn increasing attention from the media and the public in thecity.

This fact can be observed in the study by Botelho (2008) about the coverage of Brazilianmusic in the New York Times between 2001 and 2006. It also coincides with the increasedpopularity of northeastern music in the Brazilian culture industry. It should be noted that forró,axé music, and, later, maracatu (more popular after the manguebeat movement from the 1990s)are the main genres taken as typically northeastern that are presented frequently in the city.

The musicians who perform in this market are seeking to reframe a regional music culturalpractice within their context of transnational life. This is a challenge for most diasporic artists,who live between borders, because it is something that bothers advocates of “authenticity.”

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These critics analyze the arts solely from uniquely local perspectives and value the fixity oftraditions. This is impossible when it comes to culture, mainly because the very legitimacy ofwhat is considered as tradition is open to question (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1997). After all,there are several studies made in Brazil that question what “being northeastern” really means(Albuquerque 2003; Mamede 1996).

An example of the role of these artists as cultural translators (or mediators) can be observedwhen Refosco (2012) reflects on the transformation of forró itself in Brazil. This fact is noteworthysince it is a current theme that refers to symbolic disputes around issues such as the genre’sreal roots that would be present in forró pé-de-serra, which is considered more traditional. Thisis usually contrasted with forró eletrônico, which is seen as more modern (and would thereforebe “less authentic”), since its production incorporates varied rhythmic elements and otherinstruments not used in its “origins.” These issues, raised by the musician, have also beendiscussed by scholars of, and specialists in, the theme in Brazilian academia (Trotta 2009a,2009b).

Beyond Pé-de-Serra and Electronic Forró: Forró with Rock ’n’ Roll

Forro in the Dark is a group made up of Brazilian musicians currently living in New York City.The project started in 2002 and was originally a collective of musicians of various nationalities,who presented themselves in an informal and relaxed manner in the venue Nublu. This clubis known for presenting artists from varied backgrounds and has performances that value musicalblends and improvisations.

The idea came from Refosco, born in the interior of the state of Santa Catarina. Passionateabout soccer and popular music since childhood, he studied percussion throughout his youthin cities in southern Brazil and São Paulo. In 1992, after graduating from college, he went toNew York City to get a master’s degree at the Manhattan School of Music.

Along with his training in classical music, Refosco grew up listening to Brazilian popularmusic (MPB), samba, baião, and forró. In 1994, after completing the course, he had his firstprofessional experience when he joined David Byrne’s band as a percussionist playing marimbaand vibraphone on a world tour. The experience of playing in a rock band for various audiencesin the world convinced him to start his career focused on popular music in New York City.

Between 1994 and 2000, Refosco established contacts and collaborated with musicians fromvarious musical backgrounds and nationalities in the city. He continued with Byrne on severaltours, then began playing in various clubs and even outdoors with other musicians and Brazilianpercussionists. He also participated in other projects, such as with the jazz band The LoungeLizards, founded by John Lurie and Arto Lindsay. He grew increasingly interested in musicalmixtures, running away from traditional formulas, both in rock and jazz. However, he realizedthat the Brazilian music that was played in the city was very focused on samba jazz and bossanova.

In 2002, Refosco met accordionist Rob Curto and guitarist Smokey Hormel, both Americans, and invited them to play with him at his birthday party at the newly opened nightclub Nublu in the East Village. The three musicians developed a repertoire consistingprimarily of music of Luiz Gonzaga (1912–1989) and Jackson do Pandeiro (1919–1982) and invited various musicians, including Brazilians, for an informal jam session. The aim was for people to dance and have fun. The success of this event guaranteed a forró night every15 days. Subsequently, the gig was scheduled for Wednesdays, becoming a regular attraction.

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In 2003, the New York Times had already published a note about the musical collective. In thefollowing years, despite gaining increasing prominence with the public and local media, it stillmaintained a flexible lineup connected to its lean and informal stage aesthetic, with theparticipation of several Brazilian and American musicians who alternated with each other atthe shows.

The musician explains that from the start of the project, it was delineated by the traditionalelements of forró—with the presence of the sanfona (accordion), zabumba (bass drum), andtriângulo (triangle)—and also included electric guitar. But in 2005, with the departure of RobCurto, the accordion was left behind, as was any idea of the group being connected to forró pé-de-serra. However, Refosco believes that the musical genre to which they are affiliated is, inevitably,forró. They use the bass drum and triangle as their rhythmic base and play the three rhythmstraditionally associated with forró: baião, arrasta-pé, and xote. Also, they use pífano (fife) and“the electric guitar, which is the most dissonant element for traditional forró. But it is onlybecause of the reach that the guitar has, compared with the accordion” (Refosco 2012).

During this period, the band established its current lineup that, besides Refosco, definitivelyincorporated the musicians Davi Vieira (percussion and vocals) and Guilherme Monteiro (guitar),who have participated in the collective since the beginning, and starting in 2012, JorgeContinentino (fife). Refosco explains the decision by saying that the band’s interest was not inplaying traditional forró, something he believes exists only in Brazil, since it is related to popularculture. They are interested in the possibility of incorporating elements of various origins suchas American country music and music of the Balkans, for example, that can mesh well musicallywith traditional northeastern rhythms. This diversity is reflected in the compositions—alwaysmade collaboratively between members—and resulted in the recording of two albums, Bonfiresof São João (Nublu Records, 2006) and Light a Candle (Nat Geo Music, 2009), and the EP Diade Roda (Nublu Records, 2008). These CDs are made up of songs in Portuguese and English,including recordings of the band’s new material and versions of classic songs from the repertoireof forró, as is the case of “Asa Branca” and “Paraíba” by Luiz Gonzaga and Humberto Teixeira.

Moreover, there was also the possibility of the band entering the music business in aninternational context, where the general public does not immediately recognize diversifiedBrazilian cultural references. The ability to penetrate wider markets and achieve a greater publicis a concern of Forro in the Dark. The decision to incorporate the electric guitar and variedmusical influences also allows the band to play at various rock ’n’ roll, world music, or jazzfestivals around the world and is part of the group’s strategy to conquer market share.

The band collaborates with musicians from different musical backgrounds who also movebetween genres and styles. This is the case with David Byrne, Rob Curto, Smokey Hormel, BebelGilberto, Miro Hatori, and Brett Dennen (artists with whom they have recorded and performed),and the band Gogol Bordello (with whom they have toured). These partnerships offeropportunities to take northeastern Brazilian music to new audiences who probably would notknow it through more traditional forró. Refosco talks about his strategy:

We intentionally want to play forró linked to rock ’n’ roll. Especially for places that it mightlead us. For example, we played a really cool festival in Europe that is called Pohoda, inSlovakia. Also the same thing happened when we played at Bonnaroo in the United States.We have an appeal and I think it just happened because of the rock ’n’ roll attitude that wehave. When we play in clubs, people do know the band. Last year we did a tour with GogolBordello. Basically what we were doing was a presentation of Forro in the Dark for a new

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audience. It was very positive, we sold a lot of records, met a lot of people. There’s a thingthat our band has—a very irreverent aesthetic, on stage and off stage, too. There’s a bigirreverence that people like.

(Refosco 2012)

He stressed the importance in Brazilian culture of valuing the consumption of cultural sourcesfrom other origins to create songs that become clear hallmarks of Brazil. He cites Tropicalismoand examples such as Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, and Tom Zé, and, more recently, funkcarioca. The experience of Mauro Refosco in rock ’n’ roll bands—as in his side projects withthe Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Thom Yorke in recent years and his long musical partnershipwith David Byrne—also points to his pop approach in the work of Forro in the Dark.

Musical and Cultural Hybridism from Recife to New Orleans

Nation Beat is a collective composed of American and Brazilian musicians in New York Cityfounded in 2002, led by drummer/percussionist Scott Kettner, its creator, and by the singerLiliana Araújo, both responsible for the compositions of the group. Currently, participantsinclude Dennis Lichtman (violin), John Erbetta (guitar), Mark Marshall (guitar), and JordanScannella (bass).

Born in Florida, Kettner began playing drums as a child, influenced by country music, rock,hip-hop, bluegrass, and music from New Orleans. During college, he explored jazz and musicfrom various cultural backgrounds, usually lumped together in the music industry under thegeneric name of world music. Of African, Cuban, and Brazilian rhythms, it was the latter thatmost drew his attention. After a few years of studying samba and bossa nova at the New SchoolUniversity in New York with Billy Hart, he wanted to know more about the music of Brazil.When his professor talked about maracatu, he decided that after graduating he would travel tothe country. He traveled through São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, Bahia, and Pernambuco, where hemet his mentor Master Jorge Martins of Maracatu Nação Estrela Brilhante do Recife.

The maracatu nation is deeply rooted to the candomblé religion and maintains their religious obligations on a daily basis. These nations always have calunga dolls, an entire court and dancers, they socially interact with their local community, are made up mostly ofAfrican descendant Brazilians and they are tied to a tradition dating back to slavery in Brazil.This is only a few of the characteristics of a traditional maracatu “nation.” The music, songs, and rhythms only make up a small part of a traditional maracatu “nation” (Kettner,forthcoming: 7).

Between 1999 and 2002, Kettner lived and studied in Recife to learn about the region’s musicand, especially, about the culture. He argues that music does not exist in a vacuum, it is influencedby and inspired by the local culture, climate, cuisine, and language, which are the main elementsthat contribute to the music that is produced in each place. He lived in the community withMartins, and together they studied forró, coco, frevo, ciranda, maracatu de baque virado, andmaracatu de baque solto.

During this period, Kettner and Martins learned a lot about the similarities of the music ofnortheastern Brazil and the music of the southern United States, realizing that there weresimilarities not only between the musical rhythms, but also between the culture of the tworegions (climate, composition of the population, type of economy, history of colonization,prejudice suffered in relation to ethnic origins and accents, and so on).

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Kettner himself says he has difficulties in defining the type of music that he began to createfrom his experience in Recife and that it would be a hybrid product derived from his variedcultural and musical influences:

I can’t tell you what kind of music it is. There is no genre for it. In my opinion it’s just goodmusic. So I can’t put a title to what I do. But there are a lot of obvious reasons why I’mdoing it. Musically there’s a lot in common between the musics of northeastern Brazil andof southern United States. For instance, forró music it’s either played with the accordion orthe rabeca (fiddle). And if you go down to Louisiana, in the zydeco and cajun music thetriangle is one of the main instruments, and then accordion or the fiddle. And the dancesare very similar. The history of the music is very similar. The type of people who make themusic is very similar. It’s the same type of history. And then, you know, maracatu and coco,Mardi Gras Indians, the New Orleans second line. There are a lot of cultural connectionsthere.

(Kettner 2012)

When he returned to the United States in 2002, he formed the band Nation Beat, seekingto incorporate all these musical influences of Recife and New Orleans, and also created thegroup Maracatu New York to teach and disseminate the rhythm. Kettner began to teach maracatuand also make appearances with Nation Beat and the Forró Brass Band (dedicated to the forrórhythm). These groups began to perform in clubs in Manhattan and Brooklyn, at SOB’s,92YTribeca, and Barbès, for example. The presentations of Forro in the Dark had already begunto gain public and media attention. Thus, forró and maracatu began to be performed regularlyin the city scene.

However, knowing the profile of this audience, Kettner explains, is one of the greatestdifficulties for him as a producer:

What makes it so hard to keep this band working is that it’s not easy to put your finger ona demographic. It’s been one of our challenges as a band [because] we don’t fit into that onething. I call it American music from both Americas. It’s not North American, it’s not SouthAmerican, it’s both and it’s done in a way that hasn’t been done before. And I don’t knowwhy it hasn’t caught on that much. Santana is a huge rock star. He brought together LatinAmerican and North American music. Jobim and Dizzy Gillespie and Stan Getz and theAfro-Cuban jazz movement, and bossa nova movement. And you can’t get any closer toJames Brown than Jorge Ben. Chico Science & Nação Zumbi took heavy metal and rock andfunk and hip-hop and rap and infused it. The idea of it is not anything new, but ourdemographic it’s hard to say. That’s kind of what our demographic is: people who likeinteresting music; people who are interested in music that’s kind of breaking the boundariesand going out to the outside a little bit. But anybody who’s a purist, no way.

(Kettner 2012)

The hybrid and collaborative creative process that blends elements of varied influences is afeature of the partnership between Scott Kettner and Liliana Araújo. This singer, songwriter,actress, and arts educator from Fortaleza participated in several musical, theatre, and pro-fessional dance groups before moving to New York. In 2005, she was invited to the recordingof the first CD of Nation Beat in Recife, Maracatuniversal (Nation Beat, 2005; reissued by

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Modiba Production, 2007), which included the participation of Mestre Walter and NaçãoEstrela Brilhante.

This experience led Araújo to move to New York, where she became the official singer ofthe band, contributing to the songwriting and vocals in the following works: Legends of thePreacher (Modiba Production, 2008) and Growing Stone (Barbès Records, 2011). The works ofNation Beat have new songs and remakes of classic songs, some in Portuguese and others inEnglish, and special guests with diverse cultural and musical backgrounds. The album Legendsof the Preacher included the New York band The Klezmatics as guest artists. They also performedwith country star Willie Nelson during Farm Aid (2008). As for the mixture of languages andinfluences, Liliana Araújo feels comfortable due to her own eclectic musical background: “Myheart will always be in it. The language is merely a detail” (Nation Beat 2012).

Another issue that deserves mention is Scott Kettner’s interest in Antropofagia and the waythat Brazilians appropriate diverse international influences and transform them into new culturalforms. Kettner and Refosco’s comments about their varied influences and affinity with hybridand mestizo artistic creations validate the proposal of the bands and show how these ideas aresources of inspiration for what they have created and produced.

The musicians rely on their own personal experiences to identify who their audience is andhow to approach it. The strategy is to make songs for which they feel an affinity, creatingaesthetics that are reflected in the irreverent performances from the point of view of the rhythmsused, improvisation, attitudes, and images of the bands. They see their audience as people wholike the same kinds of music and have a cultural background similar to theirs. And becausethey are artists who move in multicultural environments, they identify their public asrepresentatives of this cosmopolitan background, able to process information from diversemusical and cultural origins.

The Local Scene and the Reception of the Public: A Challenge for Brazilian Popular Music Studies Abroad

This chapter was built from the testimony of musicians who actively participate in the constitutionof the Brazilian music scene in New York City. The analysis took into account the work ofartists living between borders, as well as the transformations cultural practices (music beingone) will inevitably go through when dislocated in time and space, breaking down geographical,generational, and linguistic barriers.

From the interviews, contact with the musicians and the observation and monitoring of theprojects they have developed in recent years, it is clear that the main interest of these creatorsis related to goals that go beyond simple commercial success. They demonstrate symbolic andaffective ties with elements of Brazilian culture that represent the northeast, as well as historicalknowledge, technique, and respect toward the kind of music they produce. Likewise, they areconscious of the roles they play, serving as cultural translators in this in between place that isthe Brazilian music scene in New York City, where Brazilian rural northeast imagery meets aglobal city, considered one of the most cosmopolitan in the world.

These artists transform cultural references of a particular location into new experiences thatcan be shared with people who did not live those same experiences. For this, adaptations,innovations, mixtures, and “translations” are necessary, in order to establish bonding andempathy.

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The two bands interact with various cultural and aesthetic influences and turn them into songs directed toward a public increasingly interested in collaborative processes and remixes (Anderson 2006; Jenkins 2006; Jenkins et al. 2009; Lessig 2004, 2008; Levy 1999; Pineand Gilmore 1999; Sinnreich 2010). Thus, as they are appropriated and re-signified by newgenerations, the “traditions” continue being passed on.

The academic production in Portuguese and principally in English (Avelar and Dunn 2011;Perrone and Dunn 2002) results in some exposure beyond the borders of aspects of Brazilianmusic today. However, this contribution is still in its infancy when it comes to Brazilian artistswho intend to perform in the international market. And this exposure often happens in themidst of a crowd of individuals who are already interested in large part by samba, bossa nova,and carnival, and who thereafter may become involved with other aspects of Brazilian culture.

However, there are no concrete data published about the reception of Brazilian music beingconsumed in New York City. Beyond this, Brazilian music is rarely studied from the standpointof the international market as an effective career opportunity for musicians. The market forBrazilian music has always been internally strong, and this seems to be enough for a significantportion of musicians living abroad to be ignored. This is because the public reception of Brazilianmusic currently being produced abroad is unknown. The investment of more effort to fill thisgap could assist in the integration process of the artists and producers who work in the Brazilianmusic scene abroad, whether in cities of the United States or of other countries.

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InterviewsScott Kettner. Interview with the researcher on January 25, 2010. Brooklyn, NY.Scott Kettner. Interview with the researcher on January 23, 2012. Brooklyn, NY.Mauro Refosco. Interview with the researcher on January 23, 2012. Brooklyn, NY.

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Figure A.1 Lenine by Hugo Prata

Afterword

The artistic path of Oswaldo Lenine Macedo Pimentel, or just Lenine, is emblematic of variousdiscussions in this book: musical hybridization, center versus periphery and foreign versusnational negotiations, the integration of technology with composition and arrangement, debateson value judgment. Composer, arranger, producer, performer, and a fan of music from LedZeppelin to Jackson do Pandeiro, he successfully merges the musical heritage of northeasternBrazil with Brazilian urban and international pop music, and the technological possibilities ofthe studio. The versatile Lenine seems to be an example of the practice of Antropofagia, aconcept present in many of the chapters (see Introduction).

Born in Recife, Pernambuco on February 2, 1959, Lenine began college studying chemicalengineering, switched to the Conservatory of Pernambuco, and then left both behind. Like manyartists seeking national recognition, Lenine moved to Rio de Janeiro in the early 1980s. In thosedays, unlike today, when local scenes gain notoriety beyond their borders, Rio de Janeiro wasthe great center of cultural dissemination of the country. If artists such as Novos Baianos andNey Matogrosso relocated to the southeast, others from following generations, especially fromthe mid-1990s onward, were able to develop careers with national and international reach fromtheir places of origin. The manguebeat bands from Recife, electronic music DJs of São Paulo,tecnobrega from Pará, and metal bands—which share an alternative transnational network—are good examples.

Lenine became known in 1981 through his participation in the MPB Shell Festival, broadcastby TV Globo. However, his recording career began, in fact, in 1983, with the album Baque Soltoin partnership with Lula Queiroga (the title refers to a type of maracatu). Almost a decade andvarious jobs later, he released Olho de Peixe (Fisheye, Velas, 1994), with percussionist MarcosSuzano and producer Denilson Campos, regarded by the composer as a personal watershed dueto its original sound, amalgamating the harmonic and percussive functions of the pandeiro(Brazilian tambourine) and guitar.

His first solo album, O Dia em que Faremos Contato (The Day We Make Contact, BMG,1997) earned Lenine the 1998 Sharp Prize in the category of Best Song for “A Ponte” (TheBridge, written by Lenine and Lula Queiroga). The title is an effective metaphor for the musicalconcept of diversity of Lenine, who states that the bridge serves to cross “the waters of thismoment.” Playing with the meaning and sound of words—a characteristic of his as a lyricist—he builds a connection of the Nagô (an African people of great importance in the formation ofBrazil) with San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge.

The album Na Pressão (Under Pressure, BMG, 1999) was on lists of World Music bestsellersand sold very well outside of Brazil, particularly in France. Falange Canibal (Cannibal Guard,BMG, 2002) received the Latin Grammy for Best Brazilian Contemporary Pop Album in 2002.Next, Lenine was the second Brazilian artist after Caetano Veloso to join the project Carte

Blanche of Cité de la Musique in Paris in 2004, which resulted in the album and DVD homonymsLenine InCité (Casa9/BMG 2005), with the participation of Cuban singer Yusa and Argentinepercussionist Ramiro Musotto. This work brought him two Latin Grammys in 2005 (BestBrazilian Contemporary Pop Album and Best Brazilian Song (“Ninguém Faz Idéia” [NobodyKnows], co-written with Ivan Santos) plus national awards. For the recording of the albumLenine Acústico MTV (Sony BMG, 2006)—Acústico MTV is the MTV Unplugged series in Brazil—Lenine invited harpist Cristina Braga, the Mexican singer Julieta Venegas, rapper Gog, andextreme metal drummer Igor Cavalera, among others. The following year, he received anotherLatin Grammy for Best Brazilian Contemporary Pop Album for the Acústico album. Also, in2006, the collection Lenine (Six Degrees Records) was released in the U.S. market.

He won another Latin Grammy for Best Brazilian Song in 2009 for his “Martelo Bigorna”(Anvil Hammer), a song from the album Labiata (Casa9/Universal Music, 2008), produced byLenine and guitarist JR Tostoi. This album, whose title refers to orchids—Lenine is passionateabout orchids and even built a nursery—presented a varied range of partnerships with artistsfrom different musical genres, including a posthumous collaboration with Chico Science, goingfrom a cavaquinho sound to electronic music, and then through heavy and distorted electricguitar. The process of making the album was recorded in the documentary Continuação(Continuation), directed by Rodrigo Pinto. According to him, Labiata “offers an intense butlighthearted reflection on the impact of new technology on musical creation in the midst of thedecline of the CD, the reemergence of vinyl and the explosion of the Internet” (Continuaçãowebsite, 2008).

Lenine’s latest studio album, Chão (Floor, Universal Music, 2011), produced by Lenine, hisson Bruno Giorgi, and guitarist JR Tostoi, was a recording project without drums and percussion,taking advantage of sounds from everyday life, such as the whistle of kettles, and the sounds ofbirds and cicadas. The experiment with timbres and sonorities resulted in the eponymous show,with the ambiance of Paulo Pederneiras, a set designer of Grupo Corpo, the renowned dancecompany from Minas Gerais. The proposal of the Chão show was to use sounds in threedimensions, as Lenine explained: “It’s backwards, sometimes side to side, sometimes in an X,sometimes in a cross. For those who are watching, this is an immersion that deals with sensoryexperimentation. People will really be immersed in the show and the sound . . .” (Correa 2013).

Besides working on his own discography, throughout his career Lenine has been an interpreter,composer, arranger, and producer for the work of various artists. Up through the 1990s, hecomposed marchas for Simpatia É Quase Amor and Suvaco De Cristo, two Rio de Janeiro blocos(carnival groups). Singer Maria Rita’s Segundo (Second, WEA, 2005) album, produced by herand Lenine, won the Latin Grammy for Best Brazilian Popular Music Album in 2006.

In 2001, he was invited by Edu Lobo to handle the musical direction of the musical Cambaio(Lame) (music by Edu Lobo and Chico Buarque, written and directed by playwrights João andAdriana Falcão) and recorded his voice on the title track of the piece (BMG, 2001). At this sametime, he was the musical director for TV miniseries A invenção do Brasil (The invention ofBrazil, TV Globo, 2000)—which had a rich musical selection with allusions to Antropofagia—and handled the soundtrack for the feature-film version the following year, Caramuru: A invençãodo Brasil (Globo/Columbia TriStar, 2001), both directed by Guel Arraes.

In 2007, Grupo Corpo debuted the choreography for Breu (Pitch), a 40-minute piece byLenine commissioned by choreographer Rodrigo Pederneiras. The dark theme of violence andcontemporary barbarism received a score of expressive movements of “power, angularity andharshness,” executed to the sound of a “dense and searing soundtrack,” that “combines a wide

214 • Afterword

range of timbres, samplers, effects, quotes and styles, building a riveting Babel of sound, conceivedas a single piece of eight movements, ranging from hard rock to the tradition of Brazilian folkgenres” (Grupo Corpo, s/d). In August 2013, a new premiere by Grupo Corpo, the ballet Triz(Instant), was composed by Lenine and his son Bruno Giorgi; it was one piece in ten movements,solely utilizing string instruments such as berimbau, balalaika, violin, guitar, zither, fiddle, andmandolin (Brant 2013).

In the following interview, Lenine shares his views on the role of the live show in this eraof the ready availability of almost everything, believing that “art will always exist” and that“under the impact of communion” the music fan will want “the record, the memory.” He alsocomments about the use of digital technology as a compositional tool, integrated with soundand about the increasingly strong presence of the image in the production of popular music.He speaks of the feeling of the divine and the need to convey truth with his music.

At another moment, he reflects about value judgments in music. Considering himself eclectic,he believes that it may be his own “lack of culture” that stands out in moments in which hedoes not understand the context of a particular musical expression.

Lenine agrees that, currently, the literal presence of the northeast in his productions is lessapparent, compared to when he began his career, coming from Recife to the Southeast. Hespeaks of the hybridization that he sees in his music and makes a distinction between how theBrazilian public and foreigners see it. For the Dutch maestro Martin Fondse, with whom Leninedeveloped the international project A Ponte (The Bridge), Brazilians perceive “a very clearaccent from the northeastern tradition” in the composer, while foreigners have more difficultyin defining him: “funk, rock, pop . . . ? The sound of Lenine goes far beyond the strong presenceof the Brazilian regional beat.” (Bailandesa.nl 2013). The project A Ponte is comprised ofperformances of Lenine songs, arranged by Fondse and played by his big band, in celebrationof Lenine’s 30-year recording career, which started with the release of Baque Solto. Again, themetaphor of the “bridge” works: the bridge built by John Maurice of Nassau in the earlyseventeenth century during the Dutch invasion of Recife—a city full of bridges, the bridges ofAmsterdam, the bridge between the Brazilian Lenine and the Dutch Fondse, and the bridgesthat connect songs. They are many—the bridges.

BibliographyBailandesa.nl. 2013. “Entrevista: Martin Fondse. The Bridge, um projeto com Lenine.” Bailandesa.nl. Vida na Holanda,

dicas de cultura e viagem. May 14, 2013. Accessed September 23, 2013. www.bailandesa.nl/blog/6209/the-bridge-Lenine/.

Brant, Ana Clara. 2013. “Grupo Corpo apresenta novo espetáculo, ‘Triz’, que estreia no Palácio das Artes no fim domês.” Divirta-se, August 10, 2013. Accessed September 23, 2013. http://divirta-se.uai.com.br/app/noticia/arte-e-livros/2013/08/10/noticia_arte_e_livros,145148/grupo-corpo-apresenta-novo-espetaculo-triz-que-estreia-no-pa.shtml.

Continuação (s/d) Website of the film. Accessed September 23, 2013. www.continuacao.com/information?lang=en.Correa, Daniel. 2013. “Entrevista: Lenine—‘Chão é o meu romance’.” Tenho mais discos que amigos (revista online),

July 22, 2013. Accessed September 23, 2013. http://tenhomaisdiscosqueamigos.virgula.uol.com.br/2013/07/22/entrevista-Lenine-chao-e-o-meu-romance/.

Grupo Corpo (s/d). Obras/Breu. Accessed September 23, 2013. www.grupocorpo.com.br/obras/breu#release.

WebsitesDicionário Cravo Albin de Música Popular Brasileira. www.dicionariompb.com.br/Lenine.f-cat Productions. www.f-cat.de/Lenine-main.html.Latin Grammy. www.latingrammy.com/en; Past Winners search: www.latingrammy.com/en/nominees/search?artist=

Lenine&field_nominee_work_value=&year=All&genre=All&=Search.Lenine. Home Page. www.Lenine.com.br/

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16Electronic and Acoustic

Modern MPBA Conversation with Lenine

September 22, 2011, by Cláudia Azevedo and Felipe Trotta

F: Lenine, let’s start with some sort of presentation. How do you define yourself and yourrelationship with music?

L: I think that, first of all, I’m a songwriter. But I have partners, and the most assiduous ofthem work with both lyrics and music, simultaneously. So the practice of composingdoesn’t have many rules, it’s very mixed. Sometimes, the feeling is that the song seems tohave already existed, that you were just a catalyst and didn’t even need an instrument. Andif I were a more religious man, I’d say it was a connection with something higher. And I’mnot religious! But the thing is divine, in the sense that it seems that it was ready. On theother hand, there are songs where I spend months going after that little melodic bridge orthat harmonic bridge.

C: What to do to cross the bridge . . .L: Exactly. Sometimes the bridge is already there, sometimes you have to build it. And the

works, the processes, are different, one is much more intuitive and the other is much morecerebral, repetitive and full of searching.

F: You have a career that circulates internationally. How do you perceive this movement andthis reception of the work in that sphere?

L: You talk about having discovered that the type of hybridity I did sparked interest outsideof Brazil? This coincides with the album Olho de Peixe (Fisheye), with [percussionist] MarcosSuzano and [recording engineer/producer] Denilson Campos. It was the beginning of theInternet, we researched, there were some festivals, and we really disseminated this record,man. We threw it out there like you cast a fishing hook and we received an immediateresponse with that type of formatting. And I think we made some cool discoveries at thetime of making that record. Suzano was awakening to a new way of playing. He took outthe downbeat of the pandeiro (tambourine), he un-tuned the skins to have a “talking drum.”So, the harmony became the percussion he played. And I did the percussion on the record.I was a kind of a guitar percussionist on the record. Because there is the groove, the “riff,”that was present there. Then I discovered that it was already in the composition, the factof making it somewhat alone and not having musicians to create the sound of a band. I think I was unwittingly incorporating in my way of playing what was the bass, what wasthe drums, what was “harmony,” everything. Behind all that muck, the sum of the harmonics,

I reached something close to how I imagined the sound of a band. And then the guitarbecame an extension of what I was doing. I feel kind of naked nowadays without theinstrument.

Wherever we went, we realized the impact that it was causing. Evidently it had a greaterimpact when we were in countries of Latin heritage. Because I think also that 50 percentof my work has to do with the text, with the lyrics. And people get it. In Spain, wantingto or not, they get it. In Portugal, logically, of course. Maybe in some places in Spain morethan in Portugal, as in the case of Galicia. But it was so. Italy . . . France became a secondcountry for me, also I think because of that heritage. When the French public had theopportunity to have the lyrics translated, the root being Roman, it really brings us closer.The way of building sentences, how to build poetically. I think the kind of hybrid musicthat I’ve been developing over the years, starting there with Olho de Peixe, was the factorthat was expanding. Wherever I went, I went back. I’ve been to all the major rock festivalsin the world various times, Eurockéennes, Paléo, Sfinks . . . So, I started to move in theseniches of “post-hippie” festivals, in various “tents.” And I felt very comfortable from thestart.

F: You are talking about this hybridization. Hybridization is a word that has many meanings.How do you imagine your hybridization to which you are referring?

L: I never say: I’m going to do a post-punk-maracatu-funk. That’s not the way it goes. Tomake a record, for me, is a special moment. Music is my church. Then, to make a recordis a possibility to go to the ultimate consequences of experimentation. I have no idea whereit will end up. And I throw myself into the madness of finding a path. It was ever thus.There’s never a detached, historic view, no. It is in the now, what I want to talk about now.So, the first thing I do is a bank of sounds, to give a backbone to that record, to avoid therisk of other people having it. Sometimes these are imperceptible things, sometimes it is alow frequency sound that I got processing the sound of something. So this is my pleasureat the time of making my records, discovering by an artisanal path what I’ve always been.I never learned to do this; it was somewhat intuitive. Generally, I have the cover beforehaving the songs. I imagine. So I’m making associations of images with sounds, with noises.After Olho de Peixe, with its exception, my records were very tied to digital technology.

C: You don’t think about genre, then.L: No way. If only because I recognized, by having this cool dealing with the music that I

make; it’s very easy for a Brazilian to understand what my music has of the Northeast, forexample. Outside Brazil, guys will recognize what my music has that isn’t Brazilian. Andso it establishes the connection when he recognizes something that is tangible to him as areference. What I do is a summation of the experiences throughout my life. Does it havethe Northeast? It does. Is it very present? It is. But is it that present? It is very present herein Brazil.

C: And, over time, perhaps, this presence was changing as it manifested itself?L: For me, for example, Recife is always kind of a little nostalgic. Because it is a Recife that I

carried with me thirty years ago. I believe that the human being is formed by 16 to 17.After that is a refinement, like you are polishing. And it was no different with me. Untilthe age of 17, I was in Recife and that was instrumental in my formation. Recife is a portcity, therefore getting things from the whole world. Recife, from the African-Braziliantradition, but with a lot of Indian, a lot of Moorish, which didn’t remain anywhere else inBrazil, from the Arab there in the Iberian Peninsula.

218 • Cláudia Azevedo and Felipe Trotta

C: Talking a little about the reception of your work, what is your audience like? Did you feela difference in who’s been interested in you all these years?

L: No. It’s a tribe of onlookers. My youngest son said they are “followers.” In his concept itis different because a fan is someone who has learned something and may have become afan of that. They are not necessarily going to like the same thing produced by the sameperson. He is a fan of that. He says followers are not this way. A follower is the guy whosays: I’m a fan of the motor; whatever comes will be good. [Laughs]

C: Which increases the responsibility, right?L: Infinitely. But I also discovered that this relationship is closely linked to my dedication.

And always has been. It’s always the championship final. That’s why when I say it’s mychurch, it’s because I truly ritualized this. And preserving a pleasure that I have on stage.That’s why when we started talking, I said the word divine. The best thing is not makingmusic, not recording it, not arranging it. The best thing is when you’re up there defendingit, and it gains a truth there in that single moment. And it perpetuates itself there. Sobecause of this I’m fickle. I don’t feel capable of singing some of my songs. More than 50percent, to be quite honest.

C: With this ritualization aspect, where does the market come in? Is there a tension betweenthe authentic and the sincere and the commercial? What do you think about this tension?

L: I never thought about the business. I’m too selfish at the time of doing it. And it is theonly time when I am attached to what I do. I exorcize. When I finish, I feel a joy, so tospeak. So, it’s like I might be exorcizing. Anyone can sing that. It’s gone. It materialized.So, there, now I have no attachment, but at the time of doing it, I do. There’s a lot ofattachment, even to the point of being obsessive sometimes.

F: But when the production is a commissioned work?L: A significant part of what I produce is not for me, it’s for someone who asked me. And at

that time, it’s a crazy effort, because you dare to get into the head of others, trying to putwords and sounds that sound truthful into the mouth of another. That’s crazy. But I orderthings to myself, too. My record is the opportunity that I have to create, for me, as aninterpreter. The records have to have a lot to do with me with my moment.

F: I once heard from [cultural critical theorist] Heloisa Buarque de Holanda that the place ofthe intellectual in Brazil, unlike in other places, is not in literature, it’s in popular music.So I want to explore your intellectual side a little, your perception about music and society.I perceive a lot of center-periphery tension, which is very strong in the cultural spheretoday. How do you perceive Brazilian music abroad and domestically? These tensions, thecenter-periphery, do you find that relevant?

L: I understand the spirit of the thing and when you talk about center-periphery, of course.But I have to say that 30 years ago there were only two centers in Brazil: Rio and São Paulo. Today it’s not so, we have changed. So instead of speaking of center-periphery, whichis a reality, in a more playful way I could say that there is a cultural clash between thecoastal and inland, more than the center and the periphery. Over these 30 years, I’ve seenit move from a Rio-São Paulo polarization to something else. Even if other economiccenters like Rio and São Paulo haven’t really appeared, it’s not necessary now to make theexodus, as I had to do, to expand what I wanted to do. Now, when you talk about how oneis seen outside, I think the world in general, or at least the curious world, the more openworld, is beginning to understand that, as Heloísa said, music in Brazil really comes handin hand with so much literature, so much poetry, with so much cinema, with so much

Lenine—Electronic and Acoustic Modern MPB • 219

theater, with so much culture. And hand in hand with so many expressions, we have a levelof excellence in popular song that I don’t see in the world. At this level of balance betweenwhat one sings and popular melody.

F: Do you think it has something to do with the language, with the sound of the language?L: Also! This conjugation, we’re the paroxytone language. We have three tempos, we have the

[dotted eighth sixteenth | quarter note], [eighth | eighth eighth] and [dotted eighth sixteenthquarter note]—[he refers to the tonic syllables of oxytone, paroxytone and proparoxytonewords, respectively]. This is very powerful. The story of the seven vowels, the seven vowelsounds that we have, the open “é,” the closed “ê,” the open “ó,” and the closed “ô.” Nobodyhas it, no. Nobody has the “ão,” no one has the “im,” nobody has the “em.” Nobody hasit; it doesn’t exist. The only languages that I found that are close—I’m speaking about thesound nuances of the language—are Japanese and Chinese. Why? Because some phonemes,“gre, gro, gru,” are close, but miss the “im,” the “ão,” the “em,” they get lost, and Russian,also for the characteristic “krix ne frex,” which we have a lot of. The rest was “manhã”(morning). There isn’t anybody who doesn’t fall in love hearing “amanhã de manhã”(tomorrow morning). I find it very beautiful. So all these nuances of the language are madeto order for those who create popular music. I think they’re really starting to understandthe refinement and excellence that Brazilian music has. They are beginning to understand.That may sound nationalistic, but . . .

F: Now, Lenine, when you say you think the world is beginning to understand, are you referringto a real moment of visibility, or circulation of Brazilian music?

L: I think it’s a summation; it’s been generations and generations. Gradually, they’re gettingit that all this is coming from a place called Brazil. The first tour of a Brazilian happenedin the ’10s or ’20s of the last century, and it was Pixinguinha, with The Oito Batutas. I imagine the cream of Brazilian music has been there and back, at different times. Andthat is a depository. You are solidifying an excellence. If, anywhere, you say Egberto Gismonti,it’s a reference. Naná Vasconcelos, another reference. Then you will see, ah, it’s the samecountry of that Villa-Lobos who three times refused to do it because they called him Brazilian.I don’t know, I see that it has that exotic interest, say, related to butts and drums andpartying, but the thing tends to change, and already has been changing for a long time.There is a Brazilian night at most festivals. And it’s cool also because it is a matter of peoplehaving saudades (longings, yearnings), everyone goes there and such. But I speak more ofa real dialogue of contemporary music, performed both in Brazil and in the rest of theworld. And we have this contemporaneity, we have a hybridity that brings everything veryclose, despite being from different regions of the planet, different languages, differentcultures, we reached a similar hybrid.

C: I wanted to go back to a question of the image, you said that you began with the image. I don’t know if you want to comment more about it. It caught my attention that you saidyou begin with the image, that you go finding the musical structures that have to do withthat concept of that moment and that the image is a part of it; that’s what I understood. I have a 10-year-old daughter who when she thinks of listening to music thinks of puttingon a DVD; she doesn’t think of putting on a CD.

L: Perfect. It’s natural, she being very young. Let’s try to quickly analyze it historically. Wheredoes the DVD come from? The DVD comes to spice up the repertoire of a CD that wasmade a year ago. And then I don’t understand why the DVD that is a crutch for an industry,an industry that no longer exists, remains an object of consumption of the industry!

220 • Cláudia Azevedo and Felipe Trotta

F: In my research on forró, I’ve heard statements from fans of forró bands talking like this:the coolest thing is you buy the CD or DVD of the show where you were. I mean it’s notjust the music, because they download the music. It’s to keep it in their memory.

L: Of course! The show ends, and the guy under the impact of that communion buys whathe can. It could be the guy’s cap, it could be a pen drive with the music he was unable todownload or it might be the DVD of that concert he attended. He wants a sliver of memoryof what made such an impact on him. So, this thing with the truth, about what is happening,I think it’s the future. Anything, as an expression, will continue to exist.

Art will continue to exist. And entertainment too! Because within that universe ofentertaining, you can entertain dancing, you can entertain celebrating, you can entertainthinking, you can entertain in many ways. And Brazil is fruitful, because there you will seetype after type of narratives and songs that are happening in Brazil. I think we’re boundto be the coolest hybrid people of this planet. [laughs]. I really think so. I see Brazil thus,15 years old, in front of the mirror, saying “hey, I’m ugly as hell!” So much to resolve . . .

F: Currently we are dealing a lot with songs recognized as being of poor quality. Then, atension exists. You, as an artist who has a good standing among musicians, nationally andinternationally, how do you see these disputes about value? The direct dichotomous division:this song is good, this song isn’t?

C: In academia, this music of “low quality” is studied in disciplines such as anthropology,sociology, communication, but in music it doesn’t inspire much, you know?

L: I’ll tell you one thing, I was a pretty irritating guy at one point in my life; I was. I thinkwe all develop like that, pursuing excellence, the guy thinking everything sucks. But youngpeople are very irritating, you know; we are very uncompromising. And I was a youngperson like that. I thought everything was really bad. Because of a lack of technologicalexcellence, so to speak. At the least because when Tropicalismo and everything emerged,everything was very associated with punk. And punk was a crowd saying, look, the bad isgood. And bad is not good! Bad is bad [laughs], and good is good. And who defines thatthe good is good? Then we come back to here . . . [Laughs]

C: It’s exactly that question.L: But there was this thing of excellence that bossa nova, for example, historically achieved

at the time of recording records, which was lost in the next generation. It was execratedby the next generation, by an attitude of saying: no, the instrument is out of tune? Fuck itif the instrument is out of tune! Ah, it’s a warped guitar, but it’s my guitar! It’s like that!Attitude spoke louder than musical excellence. Then, to talk about what is good and whatis bad means showing some recklessness. I discovered, early on, the “turn a blind eye”concept [laughs], to not see what bothers me. And dare to think that if it bothers me, it’ssomething lacking in my own culture. And then I’ll question why it bothers me. Typically,90 percent of the time, I revise what was bothering me. Ah, I can even identify why itbothered me. Now, let me get informed so I can know. So I do not think this song lowquality, high quality, I’m not moved by this kind of prejudice.

C: Especially because people identify themselves.L: That’s true for someone. And if it is true for someone, it’s a mirror that reflects.F: But no one has to like everything. Nobody is going to like everything.L: Exactly, exactly. That’s why I said that the “Blind Eye” concept isn’t only not to look. No,

it’s the opposite. It’s to look at what interests you. Because in the worst things, because ofthe focus you have, you always have something very cool, very sui generis, with the absence

Lenine—Electronic and Acoustic Modern MPB • 221

of that prejudice. If you change your focus, you will understand a ton of stuff that youmight not perceive because of this inflexibility. I think this, I really think this.

C: Or even perceive, but the problem is going to bump into other issues you do not want todeal with and that come together with it.

L: Yeah! Precisely! I am a composer. But, if I knew a formula, do you think I wouldn’t do asong that would be a huge hit? But I don’t want this, I pursue an oddity. This oddity hasto do with my personality, my soul. So, I have to be honest with that soul even to preservethis pleasure that I continue feeling. I’m traveling tonight, taking a bus to play in the interiorof Minas Gerais, in the land of [poet Carlos] Drummond. And I go, I go imbued with whatis still a Peter Pan syndrome [laughs], that music gives you. That is why I speak of theritualization of music. And it turned into my mass, my church. And I, also, I do it withexcellence. I do it as if the world is going to end tomorrow. It’s my last moment here andI think people realize that. I think, for that, there’s no disguise. I do it to please whom Ilove, man. And there aren’t many people that I love like that, close to me. And that doesnot change. That has not changed and I think that will never change!

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A Selected Bibliography onBrazilian Popular Music

Samba and ChoroCazes, Henrique. 2005 [1998]. Choro: Do quintal ao Municipal. São Paulo: Editora 34.Fenerick, José A. 2005. Nem do morro nem da cidade: As transformações do samba e a indústria cultural (1920–1945).

São Paulo: Annablumme Editora.Frota, Wander N. 2003. Auxílio luxuoso: Samba símbolo nacional, geração Noel Rosa e indústria cultural. São Paulo:

Annablumme Editora.Herschmann, Micael. 2007. Lapa, cidade da música. Rio de Janeiro: Ed. Mauad X.Lopes, Nei. 2005. Partido-alto: samba de bamba. Rio de Janeiro: Pallas Editora.Matos, Claudia. 1982. Acertei no milhar: samba e malandragem no tempo de Getulio. São Paulo: Editora Paz e Terra.Paranhos, Adalberto. 1999. O roubo da fala. origens da ideologia do trabalhismo. São Paulo: Boitempo Editorial.Sandroni, Carlos. 2001. Feitiço decente: transformações do samba no Rio de Janeiro, 1917–1933. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge

Zahar Editor Ltda.Sodré, Muniz. 1998. Samba, o dono do corpo. Rio de Janeiro: Mauad Editora Ltda.Trotta, Felipe. 2011. O samba e suas fronteiras: pagode romântico e samba de raiz nos anos 1990. Rio de Janeiro: Editora

UFRJ.Vianna, Hermano. 1995. O mistério do samba. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar Editor Ltda.

FunkEssinger, Silvio. 2005. Batidão: uma história do funk. Rio de Janeiro/São Paulo: Editora Record.Herschmann, Micael. 2000. O funk e o hip-hop invadem a cena. Rio de Janeiro: Editora UFRJ.Medeiros, Janaína. 2006. Funk carioca: crime ou cultura? O som dá medo e prazer. São Paulo: Editora Terceiro Nome.Vianna, Hermano. 1997. O Mundo do Funk Carioca. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar Editor Ltda.

Sertanaejo (Country) and RomanticAraújo, Paulo C. 2002. Eu não sou cachorro, não: música popular cafona e ditadura militar. Rio de Janeiro/São Paulo:

Editora Record.Nepomuceno, Rosa. 1999. Música caipira: da roça ao rodeio. São Paulo: Editora 34.

MetalAvelar, Idelber. 2011. “Otherwise National: Locality and Power in the Art of Sepultura.” In Metal Rules the Globe: Heavy

Metal Music Around the World, edited by H. M. Berger, P. D. Greene, and J. Wallach, 135–158. Durham, NC:Duke University Press Books.

Azevedo, Cláudia. (2012). “Metal in Rio de Janeiro, 1980–2008: an overview.” In Reflection in the Metal Void, editedby Niall W. R. Scott, 89–100. Oxford: Inter-Disciplinary Press.

Campoy, Leonardo C. 2010. Trevas sobre a luz. O underground do heavy metal extremo no Brasil. São Paulo: AlamedaCasa Editorial.

Cardoso Filho, Jorge. 2008. Poética da música underground. Vestígios do Heavy Metal em Salvador. Rio de Janeiro: E-Papers Editora.

Janotti Jr., Jeder. 2003. Aumenta que isso aí é rock and roll. Rio de Janeiro: E-Papers Editora.Janotti Jr., Jeder. 2004. Heavy Metal com Dendê. Rock pesado e mídia em tempos de globalização. Rio de Janeiro:

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Lopes, Pedro L. 2008. “O mundo heavy metal no Rio de Janeiro.” In Rio de Janeiro: Cultura, política e conflito, editedby Gilberto Velho, 156–190. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar.

Ribeiro, Hugo L. 2010. Da Fúria à Melancolia: a dinâmica das identidades na cena rock underground de Aracaju. SãoCristóvão: Editora da Universidade Federal de Sergipe.

RockBrandini, Valéria. 2004. Cenários do rock—Mercado, produção e tendências no Brasil. São Paulo: Olho D’Água/FAPESP.Calado, Carlos. 1995. A divina comédia dos Mutantes. São Paulo: Editora 34.Dapieve, Arthur. 1995. BRock. O rock brasileiro dos anos 80. São Paulo: Editora 34.Estrella, Maria. 2006. Rádio Fluminense FM—A porta de entrada do rock brasileiro nos anos 80. Rio de Janeiro: Outras

Letras Editora.Fróes, Marcelo. 2004 [2000]. Jovem Guarda—Em ritmo de aventura. São Paulo: Editora 34.Neto, Moisés. 2000. Chico Science: a rapsódia afrociberdélica. Recife: Comunicarte.Vargas, Herom. 2008. Hibridismos musicais de Chico Science e Nação Zumbi. São Paulo: Ateliê Editorial.

MPBCalado, Carlos. 1997. Tropicália: a história de uma revolução musical. São Paulo: Editora 34.Campos, Augusto de. 2012 [1968]. Balanço da bossa e outras bossas. Coleção Debates. São Paulo: Editora Perspectiva.Castro, Ruy. 1990. Chega de saudade. A história e as histórias da bossa nova. São Paulo: Companhia das Letras.Castro, Ruy. 2001. A onda que se ergueu no mar. Novos mergulhos na bossa nova. São Paulo: Companhia das Letras.Garcia, Walter. 1999. Bim Bom. A contradição sem conflitos de João Gilberto. São Paulo: Paz e Terra.Garcia, Walter. 2012. João Gilberto. Editora Cosac Naify.Gava, José E. 2002. A linguagem harmônica da bossa nova. São Paulo: Editora UNESP.Mello, Zuza H. de. 2010 [2003]. A Era dos Festivais—Uma parábola. São Paulo: Editora 34.Napolitano, Marcos. 2001. Seguindo a canção. Engajamento político e indústria cultural na MPB (1959–1969). São Paulo:

Annablumme Editora/FAPESP.Naves, Santuza C., Frederico O. Coelho, and Tatiana Bacal, Eds. 2006. A MPB em discussão—entrevistas. Belo Horizonte:

Editora UFMG.Vilarino, Ramon. 1999. A MPB em movimento—Música, festivais e censura. São Paulo: Olho D’Água.

GeneralAraújo, Samuel, Gaspar Paz and Vincenzo Cambria, Eds. 2008. Música em debate—perspectivas interdisciplinares. Rio

de Janeiro: Editora Mauad X/FAPERJ.Avelar, Idelber and Dunn, Christopher, Eds. 2011. Brazilian Popular Music and Citizenship. Durham, NC: Duke

University Press.Béhague, Gérard. 1993. “Latin America.” In Ethnomusicology, Historical and Regional Studies, edited by H. Myers,

472–494. London/New York: Norton.Béhague, Gérard. 2006 [1998]. “Música ‘erudita’, ‘folclórica’ e ‘popular’ do Brasil: Interações e inferências para a

musicologia e etnomusicologia modernas.” Latin American Music Review, vol. 27, no. 1, 57–68.Béhague, Gérard. 2006 [1999]. “Perspectivas atuais na pesquisa musical e estratégias analíticas da Música Popular

Brasileira.” Latin American Music Review, vol. 27, no. 1, 69–78.Castro, Oona and Ronaldo Lemos. 2008. Tecnobrega. O Pará reinventando o negócio da música. Rio de Janeiro: Aeroplano

Editora.Castro, Ruy. 2003. Bossa Nova: The Story of the Brazilian Music that Seduced the World. Chicago, IL: Chicago Review

Press.Cavalcante, Berenice, José Eisenberg, and Heloísa Starling, Eds. 2004. Decantando a República [Volumes 1, 2, and 3].

Rio de Janeiro: Editora Nova Fronteira.Crook, Larry. 2009. Focus: Music of Northeast Brazil (Focus on World Music Series). London: Routledge.Dias, Marcia T. 2000. Os donos da voz—Indústria fonográfica brasileira e mundialização da cultura. São Paulo: Boitempo

Editorial.Dunn, Christopher. 2000. Brutality Garden: Tropicalia and the Emergence of a Brazilian Counterculture. Chapel Hill,

NC: University of North Carolina Press.Dunn, Christopher and Charles Perrone, Eds. 2001. Brazilian Popular Music and Globalization. London: Routledge.Galinsky, Philip. 2002. “Maracatu atômico”: Tradition, Modernity, and Post-Modernity in the Mangue Movement of

Recife, Brazil. New York: Routledge.Garcia, Tomas G. C. and Tamara E. Livingstone. 2005. Choro: A Social History of a Brazilian Popular Music (Profiles

in Popular Music). Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.

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Guerreiro, Goli. 2010 [2000]. A trama dos tambores: A música afro-pop de Salvador. São Paulo: Editora 34.Herschmann, Micael, Ed. 2010. Indústria da música em transição. São Paulo: Estação das Letras e Cores.Herschmann, Micael, Ed. 2011. Nas bordas e fora do mainstream. Novas tendências da música independente no início

do século XXI. São Paulo: Estação das Letras e Cores.Janotti Jr., Jeder, Tatiana R. Lima, and Victor Nobre, Eds. 2011. Dez anos a mil. Mídia e música popular massiva em

tempos de internet. Porto Alegre: Simplícimo. Accessed February 10, 2013. www.dezanosamil.com.br/.Leme, Monica N. 2003. Que Tchan é esse? Indústria e produção musical no Brasil dos anos 90. São Paulo: Annablume

Editora.Lopes, Antonio H., Martha Abreu, Martha T. Ulhôa, and Monica P. Velloso, Eds. 2011. Música e história no longo

século XIX. Rio de Janeiro: Fundação Casa de Rui Barbosa.McCann, Bryan. 2004. Hello, Hello Brazil: Popular Music in the Making of Modern Brazil. Durham, NC: Duke University

Press.McGowan, Chris and Ricardo Pessanha. 2008. The Brazilian Sound: Samba, Bossa Nova, and the Popular Music of

Brazil. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press.Matos, Claudia, Elizabeth Travassos, and Fernanda T. De Medeiros, Eds. 2008. Palavra cantada. Ensaios sobre poesia,

música e voz. Rio de Janeiro: 7 Letras/FAPERJ.Mello, Zuza H. de and Severiano, Jairo. 1997/1998. A canção no tempo—85 anos de músicas brasileiras, 2 vol. São Paulo:

Editora 34.Mohen, Frederick. 2012. Contemporary Carioca: Technologies of Mixing in a Brazilian Music Scene. Durham, NC: Duke

University Press.Mukuna, Kasadi wa. 2000. Contribuição bantu na música popular brasileira: perspectivas etnomusicológicas. São Paulo:

Terceira margem.Murphy, John P. 2006. Music in Brazil: Experiencing Music, Expressing Culture (Global Music Series). Oxford: Oxford

University Press. Includes CD.Napolitano, Marcos. 2007. A Síncope das Idéias. A questão da tradição na música popular brasileira. São Paulo: Fundação

Perseu Abramo.Naves, Santuza C. 1998. O violão azul: modernismo e música popular. Rio de Janeiro: Fundação Getúlio Vargas Editora.Nestrovsky, Arthur, Ed. 2007. Lendo Música: 10 ensaios sobre 10 canções. São Paulo: Publifolha.Perrone, Charles. 1993. Masters of Contemporary Brazilian Song: MPB, 1965–1985. Austin, TX: University of Texas

Press.Silva, Leandro E. 2003. Forró no asfalto. Mercado e identidade sócio-cultural. São Paulo: Annablumme Editora.Souza, Tárik de. 2003. Tem mais samba—Das raízes à eletrônica. São Paulo: Editora 34.Stroud, Sean. 2008. The Defence of Tradition in Brazilian Popular Music: Politics, Culture and the Creation of Musica

Popular Brasileira (Popular and Folk Music Series). Aldershot: Ashgate.Taborda, Marcia. 2011. Violão e identidade nacional. Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira.Tatit, Luiz. 1996. O Cancionista: Composição de Canções no Brasil. São Paulo: Edusp.Tatit, Luiz. 2004. O século da canção. Cotia: Ateliê Editorial.Tinhorão, José R. 1998. História social da música popular brasileira. São Paulo: Editora 34.Travassos, Elizabeth. 1999. Modernismo e música brasileira. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar.Valente, Heloísa D. 2003. As vozes da canção na mídia. São Paulo: Via Lettera Editora/FAPESP.Valente, Heloísa D., Ed. 2007. Música e mídia—Novas abordagens sobre a canção. São Paulo: Via Lettera Editora/FAPESP.Veloso, Caetano. 2003. Tropical Truth: A Story of Music and Revolution in Brazil. Cambridge, MA: Da Capo Press.Vianna, Hermano. 1999. The Mystery of Samba: Popular Music and National Identity in Brazil. Chapel Hill, NC:

University of North Carolina Press.Wisnik, José M. 1983. O coro dos contrários—A música em torno da semana de 22. São Paulo: Livraria Duas Cidades.

Selected Bibliography • 225

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Notes on Contributors

Adalberto Paranhos is a faculty member of both graduate programs in History and in SocialSciences at Universidade Federal de Uberlândia (UFU), Minas Gerais, where he also teaches inthe Department of Music. He received his Ph.D. degree in Social History from Pontifical CatholicUniversity of São Paulo (PUC-SP) and a Master´s degree in Political Science from UniversidadeEstadual de Campinas (UNICAMP). He is author of O roubo da fala: origens da ideologia dotrabalhismo no Brasil (The Theft of the Speech: Origins of Labour Ideology in Brazil, 2ndedition, 2007), editor of ArtCultura: Revista de História, Cultura e Arte (ArtCultura: Magazineof History, Culture and Art), and former vice president and president of the Latin Americanbranch of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music (IASPM-AL).

Alberto Boscarino holds a Ph.D. degree in Music and M.A. degree in Music Education fromUniversidade Federal do Estado do Rio de Janeiro (UNIRIO). He is lecturer at the undergraduateand graduate courses at Universidade de Barra Mansa/RJ (UBM). He was teacher of History ofMusic and Music Appreciation at Bennett Methodist University and conductor of the UnibennettUniversity Choir. He is a guitarist/cavaquinista and arranger with the instrumental music groupÉ do que Há, dedicated to research on Brazilian popular music.

Cláudia Azevedo is a lecturer and is developing a post-doctoral research project on popularmusic analysis (with a Fundação de Amparo à Pesquisa do Estado do Rio de Janeiro [FAPERJ]scholarship) at the Program of Post-Graduation in Music at Universidade Federal do Estadodo Rio de Janeiro (UNIRIO), where she also obtained her Ph.D. and M.A. degrees in Music.She is a member of the editorial boards of the academic journals Música Popular em Revista(UNIRIO/Unicamp) and the Metal Music Studies (Intellect Books, forthcoming). She served asassistant editor for IASPM’s Journal (2010–2011) and was a fellow researcher at the Departmentof Musicology, University of Oslo (2008).

David Pereira de Souza holds a Ph.D. degree in Music and an M.A. degree in Brazilian Musicfrom Universidade Federal do Estado do Rio de Janeiro (UNIRIO). He has been clarinetist atthe Fire Brigade Band of Rio de Janeiro since 1992, and Wind Ensemble’s conductor and clarinetteacher at Faetec/Rio de Janeiro (Foundation for Support to Technical School) since 1999. Hehas worked in projects for FUNARTE (National Art Foundation) and was co-responsible for aBrasil/Kenya cooperation program between the Military Fire Brigade of the State of Rio deJaneiro (CBMERJ) and the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS), Kenya, 2008.

Felipe Trotta is a faculty member of Media Studies Department at Universidade FederalFluminense (UFF) and researcher of the Brazilian National Research Council (CNPq). He holdsa Ph.D. degree in Communication and Culture from Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro(UFRJ) and a Master’s degree in Music from Universidade Federal do Estado do Rio de Janeiro(UNIRIO). He has been vice president of the Latin American Branch of IASPM (IASPM-AL)since 2010, and is author of O samba e suas fronteiras (Samba and its Borders, Ed. UFRJ, 2011).His research focuses on the value of popular Brazilian music and its market, mainly discussingthe kind of discourses involved with it.

Herom Vargas holds a Ph.D. degree in Communication and Semiotics from PontifíciaUniversidade Católica de São Paulo (PUC-SP) and lectures at USCS—Universidade Municipalde São Caetano do Sul. He is a member of IASPM’s Latin American branch executive committee(2012–2014). Nowadays, he develops research on experimental aspects of Brazilian popularmusic in the 1970s. He is the author of Hibridismos musicais de Chico Science & Nação Zumbi(Musical Hybridisms from Chico Science & Zumbi Nation, 2007) and co-editor of Mutaçõesda cultura midiática (Transformations of the Midiatic Culture, 2009).

Ivan Paolo de Paris Fontanari holds Ph.D. and Master’s degrees in Social Anthropology fromUniversidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul (UFRGS), where he is associate-researcher in Grupode Estudos Musicais (GEM) (Group of Musical Studies). He is consultant for Instituto doPatrimônio Histórico e Artístico Nacional (IPHAN) (National Artistic and Historical HeritageInstitute) and has published in anthropological and ethnomusicological journals and alternativemedia on diverse issues concerning youth critically expressive culture in contemporary Brazil.

Jorge Cardoso Filho holds a Ph.D. degree in Communication from Universidade Federal deMinas Gerais (UFMG) and an M.A. degree in Communication and Contemporary Culture fromUniversidade Federal da Bahia (UFBA). He teaches at the Center for the Arts, Humanities andLetters, Universidade Federal do Recôncavo da Bahia (UFRB) and at the Program of Post-Graduation in Communication and Contemporary Culture, UFBA. He was a fellow researcherat Goethe-Universität am Main, Germany (2009).

Leonardo De Marchi is developing a post-doctoral research project on digital music businessin Brazil at Universidade de São Paulo (USP) with a Fundação de Amparo à Pesquisa do Estadode São Paulo (FAPESP) scholarship. He holds a Ph.D. degree in Communication and Culturefrom Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ) and an M.A. degree in CommunicationStudies from Universidade Federal Fluminense (UFF).

Lúcia Campos is a Ph.D. candidate in Musical Anthropology at the École des Hautes Étudesen Sciences Sociales, in Paris. She holds an M.A. in Musicology from the Universidade Federalde Minas Gerais (UFMG). She is a musician and a researcher; she has written about HermetoPascoal, choro, maracatu, samba de roda, and has been investigating the interface between“Brazilian popular culture” and the contemporary musical scenes. Her main interests are theethnography of musical practices, the study of festivals, musical criticism, musical transmission,archives, and intangible cultural heritage.

Luciano Caroso received his Ph.D. degree in Ethnomusicology from Universidade Federal daBahia (UFBA), having spent a year (2008) as fellow researcher at the New University of Lisbon

228 • Notes on Contributors

(UNL). He is Assistant Professor of Music at the Center of Arts and Letters of UniversidadeEstadual de Feira de Santana (UEFS), Bahia, and he is engaged in projects of UFBA and TorontoUniversity. His research is focused, mainly, on the following subjects: ethnomusicology withincyberspace, creation and dissemination process, and electronic resources for music research.

Luiza Mara Braga Martins holds a Ph.D. in History from Universidade Federal Fluminense(UFF), where she is developing a postdoctoral research project on the Brazilian genres choroand samba.

Martha Tupinambá de Ulhôa is Professor of Musicology at Universidade Federal do Estadodo Rio de Janeiro (UNIRIO) and Researcher of the Brazilian National Research Council (CNPq).She has served as treasurer and vice president for the Latin American branch of the InternationalAssociation for the Study of Popular Music (IASPM) (2000–2004), as well as chair of the IASPMInternational Executive Committee (2011–2013). She was Research Fellow at the Institute of Popular Music, University of Liverpool (1997–1998), and Visiting Senior Research Fellow inthe Department of Music at King’s College, London (2011–2012). She has published widely onvarious aspects of Brazilian music, both in Brazil and abroad. Her current research centers on analysis of the earliest acoustic recordings of popular Brazilian music.

Natalia Coimbra de Sá holds a Ph.D. degree in Culture and Society from Universidade Federalda Bahia (UFBA). She is currently Associate Professor at the Department of Human Sciencesat Universidade do Estado da Bahia (UNEB) in Salvador. Her main research interests focus oncultural spectacle, collaborative cultural production, international migration, Brazilian diaspora,transnational processes, popular festivities, and hospitality.

Paulo Murilo Guerreiro do Amaral teaches music at Pará State University (Uepa) (Universidadedo Estado do Pará) in northern Brazil, and coordinates research projects in ethnomusicology.He holds a Ph.D. in Ethnomusicology from the Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul (UFRGS)(Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul). He has completed a postdoctoral research projectat the Graduate Art Program at the Federal University of Pará (UFPA) (Universidade Federaldo Pará), where he collaborates as lecturer on Ethnomusicology. Nowadays, he also teachesBrazilian Popular Music (MPB) and Brazilian Music History and Music Theory.

Pedro Aragão obtained a Ph.D. degree in Music from Universidade Federal do Estado do Riode Janeiro (UNIRIO), and holds an M.A. degree in Music and a Bachelor’s degree in Conductingfrom Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ). He plays string instruments in samba andchoro ensembles, and is Assistant Professor in Music at UNIRIO. His main interests are ensemblepractice, Brazilian genres such as choro and samba, ethnomusicology, and music collections.

Sergio Gaia Bahia is a Ph.D. candidate in Composition at Universidade de Campinas (Unicamp),and received his M.A. degree in Ethnomusicology from Universidade Federal da Paraíba (UFPB)in 2008. He has taught Popular Harmony and Music Practice at the Music Conservatory ofPernambuco, and works as a musician and producer with his G.A.I.A band, a project withoriginal material. He is the author of Ney Matogrosso: o ator da canção (Ney Matogrosso: TheSong Actor, 2009).

Notes on Contributors • 229

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Glossary

ABPD Associação Brasileira dos Produtores de Disco (Brazilian Association of RecordProducers), founded in 1958.

agogô Idiophone musical instrument made of a set of two to four metallic bells or cones ofdifferent sizes and struck by a wooden stick, sounding similar to a cowbell. From Yorubaorigin, it is used in percussion ensembles, especially in Samba Schools and capoeira playing.

alfaia Membranophone percussion instrument whose sound is tuned by the player and largelyused in maracatu, especially in Pernambuco. Players perform it in upright position usingtwo drumsticks.

amaxixado Music that shows maxixe features [see maxixe].antropofagia Consumption of human flesh. In the case of Brazil, there are accounts of

ceremonial cannibalism among sixteenth-century indigenous peoples usually involving warprisoners. It was believed that eating the flesh of a worthy enemy would result in theacquisition of his good qualities. Since the Week of Modern Art in 1922, it has served asa concept for thinking about art [see Manifesto Antropofágico], which echoed in the 1960s[see Tropicalismo].

aparelhagem Variety of computers and electronic equipment with which DJs play music andput into action visual effects of various kinds, such as artificial smoke, lighting, or even, insome cases, hydraulic mechanisms that make the equipment move [see tecnobrega].

aparelhagem (festa de) Aparelhagem concerts held in big venues.Armorial (Movimento) Movement launched in 1970 by writer and playwright Ariano Suassuna

in Pernambuco including music, dance, literature, arts, theater, cinema, and architecture.Its main goal is to create erudite art from traditional elements of the northeast, such as thecordel literature and instruments such as the rabeca.

arrasta-pé Shinding; lively dance from the northeast of Brazil in which participants danceclosely, dragging their feet.

atabaque Wooden Afro-Brazilian hand drum that possesses a tuning mechanism of ropesintertwined around the body, connecting a metal ring near the base to the head. There arethree sizes of atabaques, allowing different pitch ranges. It is used in Capoeira, Maculelê,and Candomblé.

axé music Pop genre resultant from the fusion of northeastern, Caribbean, and Afro-Brazilianrhythms with pop rock made in Salvador, Bahia, in which percussion is highlighted. Axéis a Candomblé greeting meaning “good energy.”

baiana Traditional female outfit of Bahia, stylized as colorful wide round skirts, lacy ornaments,and hats with fruits, as popularized by singer Carmen Miranda. However, it is religious inorigin and refers to the traditional white dress used in Candomblé. Samba Schools paradein carnival necessarily with a section of baianas. The character also appears in maracatunations.

baião Dance or singing associated with the Brazilian northeast. Originally a small piece ofmusic performed by violas between singers performing in defiance fashion. Characteristicinstruments: sanfona (accordion), zabumba (bass drum), and triangle.

baile black Dances that began in Rio de Janeiro in the 1970s and soon spread to other capitalsin the center of the country. Consisting of mobile dance events, this movement was of greatimportance in spreading North American funk, soul, and later rap, and the formation ofblack identity in Brazil. There, the public danced in choreography to mechanical music,and black Brazilian artists such as Gilberto Gil, Jorge Ben, and Tim Maia performed, withJames Brown as one of the main international icons.

bandola Pear-shaped cordophone instrument related to the mandolin. It exists as 4-string, 8-string, and 12- to 18-string versions.

bandolim Mandolin.batucada Substyle of samba, and refers to an African-influenced Brazilian percussive style,

usually performed by an ensemble, known as a Bateria. Batucada is characterized by itsrepetitive style and fast pace.

batuque Generic term to refer to music with percussion or music with percussion and relatedto dance in African-Brazilian tradition.

belle époque Period of artistic, cultural, and political development that began in the late Empireand continued until the end of the Old Republic (1889–1931). In Rio de Janeiro, urbantransformations had France as a cultural reference.

berimbau A percussion instrument formed by a metallic single-string tied to a wooden bowand a dried gourd, which acts as a resonator. The string is struck by a coin-shaped instrumentand a stick. Of African origin, it is a central element in capoeira, leading the pace of theplayers’ movements.

bloco Crowd of people in costumes gathered to sing and dance in the streets around the periodof carnival. Blocos can gather many thousands of people around a live band or loudspeakersand move along the streets in parade fashion.

bloco-afro Musical ensemble that comprises basically percussion instruments. Blocos-afroappeared in Salvador, Bahia, in the 1980s.

bossa nova A new way of playing and singing samba—as opposed to samba-canção—developedby a group of artists in Rio de Janeiro in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Some of thecharacteristics of the style are economic arrangements, sophisticated harmony, and vocaldelivery related to cool jazz.

brega Originally a pejorative term that referred to romantic songs of melodramatic appealperformed at amusement parks, brothels, dances, and places frequented by segments of thelow-income population. Subsequently, the name came to be used affirmatively, mainly bycomposers of the north of Brazil, referring to an aggregate of various types of music andpopular dances.

232 • Glossary

brega-calypso Fusion of brega [see brega] and Caribbean genres popular in the north of Brazil,especially in the state of Pará, also known as “breagalypso.”

BRock Brazilian bands produced rock in the 1980s in a time marked by the end of the militarydictatorship. Under the umbrella of MPB, the groups had various musical influences ofAnglo-Saxon rock, but sang in Portuguese on topics related to the social context andcontemporary political and generational issues. Its most significant musical element is thetexture (sound) with rhythmic/stylistic densities in a continuum from pop to heavy.

caboclinho [or cabocolinhos] Group of people in Indian costumes who parade on the streetsduring carnival days, playing small flutes and fifes, in the north and northeast of Brazil.

caboclo White and Indian mestizo.caboclo de lança Character of Maracatu de Baque Solto who performs choreographical dances

wearing a special costume, hats, red face-paint and a long (over 6’5”) wooden spear (lança).caboclo de pena Character of Bumba-meu-Boi who performs in a costume of feathers and a

large hat or Indian cockades. Pena means feather.cachaça Sugar cane spirit.caipira Name given by the Indians of São Paulo to the settlers during the colonial era. Currently,

it is the generic name given to hillbillies of the interior regions of the southeast and midwest,as opposed to the inhabitants of the Atlantic coastline. It implies differences in culture andlanguage accent.

caixa Snare drum.calunga One of the sacred elements of maracatu, also named boneca (doll). Always present

in the king coronation processions. It incarnates in its axé the group antecessors.cana-verde Dance of Portuguese origin, popular in various areas of Brazil with local varieties.

It is performed in pairs within two circles (one for men, another for women) in contrarymotion. Dancers alternate positions and clap when a new pair is formed.

candomblé Afro-Brazilian cult of Iorubá-Nagô origin.capoeira Martial art of African-Brazilian origin played with musical accompaniment made

by berimbau, ganzá, and tambourine. There is a ritual quality to it with players gatheringin a circle and singing together specific chants while others are playing in the center.

capoeirista Capoeira player.Caramuru Indian name given to a shipwrecked Portuguese who, in the early sixteenth century,

settled in Brazil, married, and had children with the daughter of an Indian chief tupinambá.carimbó Dance of the Amazon region, appearing both in Marajó Island as in Belém do Pará,

similar to the nineteenth-century Spanish fandango.carioca Adjective used to refer to the native inhabitants of the city of Rio de Janeiro. The

original word, “kara’i oka,” comes from the indigenous Amerindian language of the Tupipeople, meaning “white man’s house.”

cateretê Dance of African origin popular in the countryside, also known as catira.cavaquinho Small acoustic guitar-shaped instrument with four strings tuned in fourths. It is

used throughout Brazil, especially in samba and choro ensembles.chorão Choro players.

Glossary • 233

choro Denomination given in the last decades of the nineteenth century to music practicessuch as: (1) way of playing with instrumental and improvised countermelodies; (2) ternaryinstrumental formation in which the three functions were performed by one or moreinstruments (early choro instrumentation consisted of flute [solo], cavaquinho [accompani -ment], and guitar [bass], and later other string and wind instruments were added both assolo or accompaniment); and (3) genre resulting from the appropriation of Europeanballroom dances (polkas, waltzes, mazurkas, and schottisches) by popular African-Brazilianmusicians from the 1870s onward. It was adopted by the music industry of the early twentiethcentury to be, like the samba, a symbol of national music.

choro [roda de] Informal gatherings for playing choro including both the classic repertoireand improvisation. There is a socializing component to the gathering, and musicians arewelcome to join. Roda means circle.

chula Typical dance of Rio Grande do Sul, the most southern state of Brazil, performed inchallenge fashion. It is performed only by men over a long wooden spear placed on thefloor. Dancers must repeat the sequence presented by the previous contestant, graduallyadding more difficulty to it. Chula is also a denomination for the solo part in samba de roda.The term can also be used as a generic term for song in the north and northeast of Brazil.

Cinema Novo Brazilian cinema movement during the 1950s and 1960s, influenced by theItalian Neo-Realism and the French “Nouvelle Vague,” whose films were critical to theunderdevelopment of the country in iconoclastic language.

ciranda Adult circle dance of the northeast region, especially Bahia and Pernambuco.cirandeiro Singer in cirandas.coco Both rhythm and pair dance of the northeast of Brazil accompanied by singing, clapping,

and stamping steps. It is performed in circles or lines with the accompaniment of ganzá,surdo, tambourine, and triangle.

congado Generic name given to the set of elements involved in the Reisado Celebration ofAfro-Brazilian tradition, during which there is the crowning of the “King and Queen ofCongo” in praise of a black saint.

cordel [folhetos de] Chapbooks; small books illustrated in woodcuts and hand-printed, present mainly in northeastern Brazil.

cuíca Percussion instrument made from a metal cylinder to which a well-stretched skin isconnected in one of the openings. A small stick of wood or leather strap tied to the centerof this skin from the inside, when rubbed, causes the skin to vibrate, producing a hoarsesound. It is part of the percussion section of Samba Schools and street carnival blocos.

Diretas Já [Direct Elections Now] Civil movement claiming for direct presidential electionsin 1983 and 1984 all over the country. The highlights were the 1984 gatherings of 1 millionpeople in the city center of Rio de Janeiro and 1.5 million in São Paulo.

dobrado Military march with origin in the pas redoublé. In binary meter, it is usually performedby ensembles consisting of wood, wind, and percussion instruments.

embolada Singing—improvised or not—common to the northeast of Brazil. The main featuresare a six-syllable sentence pattern in the verses and a typical refrain over a similar melodicline. When it is danced, it is named coco de embolada.

234 • Glossary

escola de samba [Samba School] Popular association of people interested in samba singingand dancing, which has gained competitive intent and attracted thousands of people. SambaSchools are usually related to specific neighborhoods, to which participants develop a senseof loyalty. During carnival, Samba Schools parade with a plot from which a song is composed(samba-enredo) and costumes are made. Rhythm sections of big Samba Schools (baterias)can comprise hundreds of members. The first Samba Schools were created in the 1920s.

Estado Novo [Vargas government] Authoritarian political regime of President Getúlio Vargasbetween 1937 and 1945, characterized by the centralization of power, nationalism, and anti-communism.

fado Genre of Portuguese song, sung mainly in Lisbon and Coimbra, in which dramatic vocaldelivery renders interpretations of lyrics about unrequited love.

fado [Casas de] Venue—typically restaurants and wineries—where fado artists perform.fado à desgarrada Popular song characterized by being sung alternately by two or more people,

in challenge fashion, with lyrics usually improvised.fado-baião Fado songs with elements of baião.fado-fox Fado songs with elements of foxtrot.fado-marcha Fado songs with elements of march.fado-samba Fado songs with elements of samba.fanfarra de frevo (from French fanfare) A kind of musical band, originally comprising brass

wind instruments, which have incorporated martial style.favela Slum, shanty town.festival Song contest produced by TV stations in the second half of the 1960s, during the

military dictatorship. The festivals gained importance not only because of the role popularsong played during the dictatorship, but also because many composers and interpreterswho became canonic in MPB emerged from them.

folguedos Popular playful celebrations held on certain dates throughout the year, some withreligious origin, either Catholic or African, while others are traditional. Music, dance, andtheater are usually present.

forró Popular (very close) pair dance accompanied by music with the same name. Originatingin northeastern Brazil, it is part of a generic complex comprising baião (1950), xótis,xaxado, and coco. The basic instrumentation relies on the trio of sanfona (accordion),zabumba (bass drum), and triangle. Later, the tambourine, brass instruments, bass, andelectric guitar were added (strand known as forrock), and, more recently, keyboards andelectronic effects.

forró eletrônico Forró played with electric/electronic instruments also suited to pop concerts,which may include choreography and image projection.

forró pé-de-serra Forró performed with traditional instruments and themes related to theeveryday life of the common man in the northeast of Brazil.

frevo Fast instrumental dance music genre performed mostly during carnival. Typical ofRecife and Olinda, in the northeastern state of Pernambuco.

FUNARTE Fundação Nacional de Artes (National Endowment for the Arts).

Glossary • 235

funk carioca Electronic dance music related to Miami Bass US hip-hop. As a dance style, itrelates to Cuban reagaton.

ganzá Cylindrically shaped rattle used in samba.gonguê Bell with flat metal mouth used in maracatu.guitarra baiana An electric mandolin-like electric guitar developed in the early 1940s by

Adolfo “Dodô” Nascimento and Osmar Álvares Macêdo, in Salvador, Bahia.iê-iê-iê Literally “yeah yeah yeah,” referring to early Beatles rock style, performed by group

of musicians named Jovem Guarda, led by Roberto Carlos.jabá/jabaculê Payola.Jovem Guarda [Young Guard] 1960s Brazilian version of romantic rock in the manner of

the early Beatles.lambada Partner dance music from Pará state (northern Brazil), related to carimbó, cumbia,

and merengue; an international hit in the 1980s.lambadão cuiabano Lambada from the city of Cuiabá, Brazil.levada Instrumental rhythmic pattern indicative of musical genre or style. The individual

levadas contribute to the groove of the music.lundu In the eighteenth century and the early nineteenth century, non-contact partner

choreographic challenge dance; from the mid-nineteenth century until the early twentiethcentury, urban songs mostly satirical.

macumba Afro-Brazilian cult as it is designated in Rio de Janeiro.macumba [ponto de] Song used in macumba cults.malandragem Being a hustler.malandro Hustler.manguebeat A musical movement that appeared in Recife in the beginning of the 1990s,

mixes pop (rap, several electronic trends, and rock) and traditional music from the stateof Pernambuco (maracatu, coco, ciranda, caboclinho).

Manifesto Antropofágico [“Anthropophagic” Manifesto] Avant-garde manifesto written byOswald de Andrade in 1928 aiming for the absorption and swallowing of exogenous culturaland artistic influences to be digested and turned into something original.

maracatu Dramatic dance from Pernambuco state, originating when in the eighteenth century,“nations” of black slaves were allowed, on special occasions (such as carnival), to dramatizethe crowning of black kings and queens.

maracatu de baque solto (also maracatu de orquestra or maracatu rural) Usually has noking coronations, and adds wind instruments to the percussion base. Usually faster thanmaracatu nação.

maracatu de baque virado or maracatu nação Characteristically related to the coronation ofAfrican kings.

marcha/marchinha Fast binary song, with lyrics often critical, used in dances and blocksduring carnival.

Mário de Andrade The mentor of the modernist nationalistic movement in Brazilian musicand literature that started in the 1920s. Poet, writer, musicologist, folklorist, literary critic,

236 • Glossary

and journalist Mário de Andrade (1893–1945) was one of the most important figures ofmodernism in Brazil. All his life, he campaigned for nationalism in the arts.

maxixe Dance resulting from the adaptation of the polka in Brazil in the nineteenth century.Arises with non-synchronized and counterpoint style of popular instrumentalists playingthe European polka. This musical stylization occurs also, and especially, in the dancingcouples when adapting the style of individual choreographic challenge of the lundu to thesynchronized movements of the partner dancing of European mazurkas and polkas.

military coup/golpe militar Coup d’état perpetrated on March 31, 1964, inaugurating a militarydictatorship in Brazil until 1985.

modinha Luso-Brazilian sentimental song tradition starting in the late eighteenth century assalon music. Greatly influenced by Italian opera, and accompanied by the harpsichord orthe piano. By the end of the second imperial period in Brazil (1840–1889), modinhasbecame the material of street serenades and were accompanied by a guitar. The genre’smain characteristics are undulating arabesque melodic contours, intensive use of arpeggios,and large skips in the melody; its form is usually strophic with refrain.

pagode A reinvention of the samba tradition adding in the percussion the repique de mão andtantã, in addition to pandeiro; and in the strings the banjo, in addition to guitar andcavaquinho/cavaco—small four-stringed guitar similar to ukeleke.

pagode romântico In addition to pagode acoustic instruments, the addition of a romantic styleincorporating international pop ballads elements, as well as synthesizers, electric guitarsand bass, plus saxophones.

pandeiro A type of tamborine—single-headed frame drum with jingles.partido alto Type of samba songs with a short refrain in alternation with improvised verses.pau elétrico An electric guitar developed by the duo Dodo & Osmar for the Carnival of

Salvador in the 1950s.pífano Fife made of bamboo.polka In the nineteenth century, the polka was incorporated and apropriated by Brazilian

musicians, appearing isolated or in connection with other rhythms in compound formatssuch as polka-lundu, polka-habanera, and polka-chula.

rabeca Fiddle.rancho Carnival group reminiscent of Christmas pageants. With a theme song, generally a

march, hence the genre marcha-rancho, sung in unison with the accompaniment of windinstruments, guitars, and percussion.

reco-reco Metal or bamboo scraper.regional Samba/choro instrumental group, mostly a soloist (flute, clarinet, bandolim) plus a

continuo composed by seven-string guitar, six-string guitar, and cavaquinho.repique/repinique Two-headed middle drum, played with sticks or with the hands, similar to

tom-toms.samba Meant, initially, the party, or pagode or batuque (drumming). Historically, various

types of samba appeared, not necessarily deriving one from another, and presenting variationsin terms of form, lyric content, instrumentation, and dance organization. They are: sambapartido alto (challenge samba, with short improvisational chorus), samba de breque (stops

Glossary • 237

in the song for spoken words), samba-canção (slower samba, bolero influenced), sambaenredo (carnival samba, made to accompany the competitive samba parades), samba dequadra (performed in Samba Schools headquarters), samba de roda (circle dancing sambaconnected with Bahian religious women brotherhoods), samba exaltação (whose lyrics exaltBrazilian beauties and values), samba-reggae (used in Bahia in the blocos afro [Africanblocks] movement), and pagode (modern samba).

samba amaxixado Oldest type of samba, related to maxixe.samba-canção Samba song, a slower song influenced by bolero.samba [carioca] Rio de Janeiro’s samba.samba-choro Instrumental samba.samba [de morro] Samba from the favelas.sambada de pé de parede Most important event for the maracatu culture, when two masters,

called sambador poets, gather for a challenge of verses.samba de roda Denomination for circle samba dances (mostly from women brotherhoods)

from Bahia state. Variants include samba corrido and samba-chula.sambador/sambadeira Respectively, a man and a woman who play/dance samba.samba exaltação Type of grandiloquent samba developed in the 1940s dedicated to the

exaltation of nature and of Brazilian political life (and, by implication, the establishedpolitical regime).

samba, roda [roda de samba] Informal samba gatherings, mingling song, dance, food, anddrinking.

Samba School [escola de samba] Community associations aiming towards the annual pageantcompetition in carnival.

sambista Samba performer.sambista do morro Favela samba performer.sanfona Accordion.sertaneja, dupla/duo Typical vocal set for música sertaneja (Brazilian country music). Initially,

the duos sang in thirds or sixths using a high pitched, nasal, and tense vocal style, laterintroducing more varied voicing.

sertaneja, música Música sertaneja emerges in the 1930s. Then known as “música caipira”(hillbilly music) (what is now called “música sertaneja raiz” [traditional/roots countrymusic]), it is characterized by the lyrics with emphasis on daily life (rural or urban) andstyle of singing. Its vocal style has remained relatively stable, while the instrumentation,rhythms, and melodic contour gradually incorporated stylistic elements of genresdisseminated by the music industry. These modifications and adaptations in the guise ofthematic content—formerly rural, and later urban—consolidated the modern style of thegenre. The more modern variant, known as “música sertaneja romântica” (romantic countrymusic) in the 1980s became the first type of mass produced and consumed music in Brazil.

sertanejo Backlands, also the música sertaneja genre.surdo Two-headed cylindrical bass drum played with beaters.tamborim Small tambourine without jingles.

238 • Glossary

tamborzão Electronic beat mixing Miami Bass, candomblé, and capoeira rhythmic patterns.tango [Brazilian] Another name for maxixe.tango/tanguinho Related to Brazilian tango or maxixe.tantã Replaced the surdo as a bass drum in pagode groups; it is played with the hands.tarol Snare drum.tecnobrega Type of techno music characterized by fast pace, prominent percussion, use of

computer technologies to manipulate sounds, and numerous connections to various massivepopular music genres such as brega music (kitsch romantic music).

terno [batedores de] Related to maracatu de baque solto or rural maracatu, the expression“terno” means the instrumental group that acts in three parts.

toada Rural song genre related to música caipira.trio elétrico [electric trio] Typical of Bahian Carnival float equipped with a high power sound

system and a music group on the roof.Tropicalismo A movement that, besides music, comprised visual arts, cinema, and theater,

and placed itself in the avant-garde of artistic development across the arts in the 1960s.Tropicalist musicians aim at a deliberate carnivalization and musical bricolage of bothtraditional and pop styles, in that sense being related to Antropofagia.

tumbadora Afro-Cuban barrel-shaped drum similar to congas and atabaques.Vargas (government) [see Estado Novo]viola Double strings chordophone of various sizes and tunings.viola caipira Viola typical of caipira region (rural south-central Brazil).viola de machete The typical samba de roda instrument. A small 10-string guitar, with a

brilliant pitch.vira Portuguese folk dance from the Minho region. Musically, it has no refrain, and the group

repeats the verses sung by the soloists.Week of Modern Art [Semana de Arte Moderna] An arts festival in São Paulo, Brazil, February

11–18, 1922, which marked the start of Brazilian Modernism; in importance, it has beencompared to the 1913 New York Armory Show.

xote Schottish (schottishe) is a kind of slow polka. In the Brazilian northeast, it was adaptedto wind bands. Can be a dance related to forró.

zabumba Bass drum (see forró).

Glossary • 239

“A Cidade” (The City) 129A Desgarrada 89A invenção do Brasil (TV series) 214“A Novidade” (The News) 104A Ponte project (Lenine/Fondse) 215“A Ponte” (The Bridge) 213ABPD (Brazilian Association of Record

Producers) 47, 177, 231Abreu, Martha 6Acabou Chorare (Novos Baianos, 1972) 98–101,

101, 107, 108accompaniment, choro 37–38“actors,” performers as 140–141African influences 4–8, 7, 24, 75, 81–82, 104, 105,

122, 127, 146, 157, 165, 207; African-Americaninfluences 129, 140, 189

Afrociberdelia (CSNZ, 1996) 121–122, 129–130agogô 231“Ai Se Eu Te Pego” (Oh if I Catch You) 162“Ai, ioiô” (Oh Sweetie) 26“Alagados” 104Alcina, Maria (Alcina Maria Pinto da Costa

Duarte) 84, 88–90Alcione (“A Marrom”; The Brown One) xiAlfagamabetizado (Brown, 1996) 4alfaias 129, 231Almeida, Cussy 124Almeida, Janet de 29Almeida, Laurindo de 27Almirante 22, 23, 24Altern8 149Alumínio 196Alves, Francisco 13, 19Amarantos, Gaby 114–115amaxixado 20, 22–23, 231

“Amendoim torradinho” (Roasted Peanuts) 142America see North AmericaAmerindian perspectivism 106–107Anderson, Chris 161Andrade, Mário de 6, 75, 77, 81, 199, 236–237Andrade, Oswald de 105, 108, 164, 199Andy, DJ 149Angelo, Nelson xiiAntropofagia 8, 97–98, 106–108, 165, 199, 204,

209, 214, 231; and Acabou Chorare 98–101,101, 107, 108; Samplertropofagia 8, 163–164,167, 170–171; and Selvagem? 101–106, 105,107, 108; see also manguebeat

Any Time (compilation, 1996) 150aparelhagens 111–112, 231; the Ruby 115–118,

116–117Apple 179, 184appropriation, Brazilian “roots music” 191–200“Aquarela do Brasil” (Watercolor of Brazil) 13, 28“Aquele Abraço” (A Special Embrace) xiAragão, Pedro 30–41, 229Araújo, Liliana 207–209archives 55; see also choro manuscriptsArmorial Movement 121, 123–124, 199, 231Army Regiment Band 60arrangements 9arrasta-pé 206, 231Assis, Chico de 93Assis França, Francisco de see Chico Science &

Nação Zumbi (CSNZ)atabaques 196, 231audiences: as actors 140–141; and “rituals” of

performance 138–140Audio Architecture II (DJ Marky, 2001) 152, 153“autonomous artists” 177, 178, 180–183, 183, 185

Index

Illustrations are indicated by page numbers in italic type. Differences between chapters in spellings,capitalizations, and italicizations follow the majority usage.

“autotune” 171, 172n20axé music 4, 45, 46, 128, 157, 204, 231Azevedo, Almeida 24Azevedo, Cláudia 227Azevedo, Miguel Ângelo de (Nirez) 55

Babo, Lamartine 19, 23“bad taste,” stigmatization of 110–111, 112–119Bahia xii, 4–5, 46, 127–128, 192, 196–197; axé

music 4, 45, 46, 128, 157, 204, 231; NovosBaianos 98–101, 101, 107, 108

Bahia, Sergio Gaia 133–144, 229baianas 194, 232Baiano 66, 88baião 30, 188, 206, 232bailes black (black dances) 148, 154, 232Baillot 69Balanço da bossa 1“Bamboléo” (Shaking It) 142Banda da Casa Edison 67Banda Loustal 127, 128; see also Chico Science &

Nação Zumbi (CSNZ)bandas de música see wind bandsBando da Lua 23, 29Bando de Tangarás 19bandola/bandolim 232Baque Solto (Lenine, 1983) 213Barbosa, Artur Luiz 78–79Barbosa, Orestes 21, 23, 24, 75–76Barone, João 102Barouh, Pierre 188Barreto, Galdino 33–34Barros, Josué de 25Barroso, Ari 13, 26, 28Bastos, Rafael 81–82Batista, Wilson 24, 28batucada 20, 232batuque 232Batutas see Oito BatutasBecker, Howard S. 88Becker, Zé 136, 138Belém, Pará 110, 111, 112–113; see also tecnobregabelle époque 81, 232; Rio de Janeiro 33, 34–40,

39–40Ben, Jorge 152, 154, 157–158Benjor, Jorge 46–47, 51Benjor pattern 51–52, 52berimbau 129–130, 232Bide (Alcebíades Barcelos) 19Bilhar, Sátiro 34black identity 82, 106, 146, 148, 150; see also African

influences; miscegenation; race/racism; samba

“Blame it on the Bossa Nova” 189blocos 44, 127–128, 232Boca, Paulinho 99Boeuf sur le Toit, Le (Milhaud, 1919) 187Bombardino, Gilberto 37Bonfá, Luiz 188Bonfires of São João (Forro in the Dark, 2006) 206“Boogie-woogie na favela” (Boogie-Woogie in the

Favela) 29Boscarino, Alberto 84–92, 227bossa nova 15, 77, 93, 100, 156–157, 188–190,

202–203, 232bourgeoisie 32Bowen, Jose 68Braguinha (Carlos Alberto Ferreira Braga) 19, 22“Brasil pandeiro” (Brazil Tambourine) xi, 24Brazil, map of xviBrazilian identity xii, 3, 5–8, 7, 13, 14, 18, 27,

75–76, 77, 81, 83, 202Brazilian Job, The (compilation, 2001) 152, 154Brazilian 78rpm Discography (1902–1964) 55, 60“Brazilian Waltz” 56Brean, Denis (Augusto Duarte Ribeiro) 29brega 110, 112–113, 232–233; see also tecnobregaBreu (Lenine, 2007) 214–215bricolage 31, 33; bricoleur listening 100–101,

107–108brincadeiras 193, 194Britain 112, 146, 149–150, 151–152, 154, 156BRock 95–96, 101–106, 105, 233Brown, Carlinhos (Antonio Carlos Santos de

Freitas) 4–5Brown, Oliver 151Byrd, Charlie 188

“Cabeça de Porco” (Pig’s Head) 63, 64caboclinho 127, 233; see also manguebeatcaboclo category 7, 233caboclo de lança/de pena 233Cabral, Sérgio 78cachaça 23, 25, 80, 233Cadete 88caipira 46, 233; see also música sertanejacaixa 129, 233Callado, Joaquim Antonio 34calunga 130, 207, 233Cambaio (musical, 2001) 214“Camisa listada” (Striped Shirt) 26Campos, Lúcia 191–200, 228cana-verde 85, 233cancionistas 2Candinho (Cândido Pereira da Silva) 38, 40

Index • 241

candomblé 128, 165, 207, 233cannibalism see AntropofagiaCanto em qualquer canto (I Sing Everywhere)

135–140, 137, 141–144capoeira/capoeiristas 22, 165, 233Caramuru 233Caranguejos com cérebro (Zero Quatro, 1994)

124–125Cardoso Filho, Jorge 97–108, 228carimbó 233; see also tecnobregaCarinhoso Etc (Vasconcelos, 1976) 79carioca 76, 233; see also funk carioca; sambaCarlos, Luiz 46–47, 50, 51, 52carnival xii, 44–45, 46, 73, 187“Carolina Carol Bela” (remix “LK”) 152–156, 153,

155Caroso, Luciano 163–172, 228–229Carrilho, Mauricio 35Carroll, Dave 163, 164, 171n1Cartola 26Casa A Elétrica 66Casa Edison 56, 60, 64–67, 66, 174–175Casa Hartlieb 66Casas de Fado (Fado houses) 87–88, 89, 235Castro, Doctor Josué de 129, 131n1cateretê 81, 233Cavalcanti, Alberto Roseiro 4cavaquinho 33–34, 37, 44, 233Cavaquinho, Nelson 26Caymmi, Dorival 29, 202Cazes, Henrique 80–81censorship 28, 103, 135center-periphery tensions 18–19, 114, 219; São

Paulo 147–148, 149–150, 156–157, 158Chão (Lenine, 2011) 214Chico Science & Nação Zumbi (CSNZ) 9–10, 96,

121–122, 126, 127–131choro xii, 9, 14–15, 21, 76–82, 107, 234; see also

choro manuscripts; Oito BatutasChoro: do quintal ao Municipal (Cazes, 1998) 80choro manuscripts 30–31, 40–41; and the belle

époque 34–40, 39–40; Pinto’s O Choro 30,31–34, 35

chula 192, 196, 234Cinema Novo 108, 234ciranda/cirandeiros 127, 191–192, 193–194, 234;

see also manguebeatclubs 85, 112–113; Nublu, New York 205–206;

São Paulo 148, 149; see also aparelhagenscoco 127, 234; see also manguebeat“Coisas nossas” (Our Stuff) 22Coltrane, John 189

communications studies 9community through music 138–140composers/composition (general) 9, 34, 44; see

also choro manuscriptscomputers see electronic music; Internetcongado 13, 234Consuelo, Baby 99Continentino, Jorge 206“convergence culture” 161Cook, Nicolas 68cordel, folhetos de 124, 130, 234cosmopolitanism, and tecnobrega 114–119,

116–117Costa, Yamandú 30counterculture movement 98–101crab metaphor, manguebeat 124–125Crook, Larry 122cuíca 44, 49, 157, 234cultural hybridity 122–123, 154, 157, 187, 203,

215, 218, 220; Nation Beat 207–209; andrepetition 167; see also manguebeat

cultural industry studies 3cyberculture 163–172

Da lama ao caos (CSNZ, 1994) 121–122, 124–125,126, 128, 129

da Mata, Vanessa xi–xiiDapieve, Arthur 102De Marchi, Leonardo 173–185, 228“Desafinado” 189“developmentalism” 175Dia de Roda (Forro in the Dark, 2008) 206Diabos do Céu 27Dias, Gonçalves 23dictatorships: Estado Novo (1937–1945) 18, 23,

25, 28, 86, 235; military (1964–1985) 98, 103,112, 135, 143, 175, 237; Portugal 91

digital media see electronic music; InternetDiretas Já (Direct Elections Now) 102, 234“disco” model 148discographies 55, 60Distel, Sacha 188diversity 123–127; see also manguebeatDJs see drum & bass (D&B)dobrados 61, 64, 70–71, 234Donga (Ernesto Joaquim Maria dos Santos) 73,

74, 76, 78“Doutor em samba” (Ph.D. in Samba) 27drug use, São Paulo 150drum & bass (D&B) xiii, 146–150, 159n1;

internationalization of DJs 151–158, 153, 155Drumagick 151, 152

242 • Index

drums see instrumentationDu Peixe, Jorge see Chico Science & Nação Zumbi

(CSNZ)Dunn, Christopher 188–190Duprat, Régis 71Duque (Antonio Lopes de Amorim Diniz) 73, 82,

187

e-business see Internet, and the music industry“É do barulho” (It’s the Noise) 23electronic music 126–127, 159n1, 161, 164; Lenine

217–222; see also drum & bass (D&B);tecnobrega

embolada 128, 129, 130, 234Emicida xiEnsaio sobre a música brasileira (Andrade, 1928) 75escolas de samba (samba schools) 44, 45, 235Esplêndido Rubi aparelhagem 115–118, 116–117Estácio de Sá, Rio de Janeiro 18–19Estácio paradigm 50–51, 51Estado Novo (Vargas government) 18, 24, 25, 28,

32, 86, 235ethnicity see black identity; race/racismethnoscapes 195Europe 103, 122; Britain 112, 146, 149–150,

151–152, 154, 156; France 80, 81–82, 187–188;Portuguese immigrants 84–92, 88; world musicfestivals 187, 191–193, 194–200

Facebook 179, 182fado 21, 56, 84, 86–92, 88, 235“Fado Português” 88Falange Canibal (Lenine, 2002) 213fanfarras de frevo 191, 235“Favela Jazz” 152“Favela” (Poor Community) 26favelas 27, 235“Feitiço da Vila” (Spell of Vila) 26Feitiço decente (Sandroni, 2001) 14Fernanda Porto (2002) 156–157; see also Porto,

FernandaFernandes, Florestan 6festas de aparelhagem see aparelhagensfestivals 130, 150; world music festivals 187,

191–193, 194–200Figner, Frederico 64–67, 174–175film see movies“Fio de Cabelo” (Strand of Hair) 465ive’0, MC 150Fléchet, Anaïs 188“Flor do asfalto” (Asphalt Flower) 21folguedos 127, 235

Fontanari, Ivan Paolo de Paris 146–158, 228forró 119, 204–207, 208, 235Forro in the Dark 204, 205–207Foucault, Michel 143foxtrot 20, 21–22France 80, 81–82, 187–188Frankel, Isaac 73Free Jazz Festival (1997) 150frevo 107, 235Freyre, Gilberto 6Frith, Simon 111Fuloresta 191–196, 199, 200Fuloresta Samba (Siba e a Fuloresta, 2005) 193FUNARTE 31, 41, 78, 235funk 127, 128, 129, 131, 148; Furagato 5000

165–167, 166–167, 171funk carioca 165, 207, 236; see also tecnobrega

Galvão, Luiz 99ganzá 79, 129, 236García Canclini, Nestor 5, 122, 203“Garota de Ipanema” (The Girl from Ipanema) 3Gaucho label 66Gee, Bryan, DJ 151genres: and global markets 187–190; São Paulo

147–149, 156–157Gente do Morro (People of the Hill) 25–26“Geração Coca-Cola” (Coca-Cola Generation) 102Getz/Gilberto (1964) 188Getz, Stan 188, 189Gil, Gilberto xi, 100, 104Gilberto, João 100, 188, 202globalization of Brazilian music 191–200Globo Television 175Gnatalli, Radamés 13Goffman, Ervin 113–114Goldie 149, 150Gomes, Pepeu 99Gonçalves, Marcello 136gonguê 129, 236Gonzaga, Luiz 205Good Neighbor Policy 202Gormé, Eydie 189graduate studies 2–10“grammars of action” 97Grego, Rafael 165–167, 166–167Grupo Corpo 214–215Grupo do Caxangá 73, 78Guerreiro do Amaral, Paulo Murilo 110–119, 229Guinle, Arnaldo 73–74, 78, 82guitars 34, 37, 87, 129; electric 46, 93–94,

107–108, 236

Index • 243

“heritage,” musical culture as 196–197, 199–200Herkenhoff, Pedro 165–167, 166–167historical studies 8–9“Homem com H” (Man with M) 143homosexuality 141–144“How to Write the History of Brazil” 5hybridity see cultural hybridity“Hymn of the Brazilian Carnival” 23

IASPM-AL 1–2identity 57, 199; stigmatization of “bad taste”

110–111, 112–119; see also black identity;Brazilian identity

iê-iê-iê 93, 112, 236“imagined community” 57immigrants, Rio de Janeiro 84–92, 88iMusica 180–181, 181, 183, 184In Rotation (DJ Marky & XRS, 2003) 155Instituto Moreira Salles (IMS) 60instrumentalists 33–34, 37instrumentation: 46, 87, 112, 157, 165, 206, 208;

electric guitars 46, 93–94, 107–108, 236; Lenine217–218; manguebeat 128, 129–130; OitoBatutas 74, 79, 80; samba 25–26, 49–50, 196

International Festival of Brazilian Song 94International Talking Machine-Odeon 65, 66, 175internationalization 148; of D&B DJs 151–158,

153, 155Internet 126, 161–162; and the music industry

161–162, 173–174, 177–185, 181–183;YouTube videos and virality 163–172

“Inútil” (Useless) 102Inventário do Repertório do Choro (1870 a 1920)

35irony 142–143“Isso não se atura” (This is Unbearable) 27iTunes 178–179, 180, 183

jabá/jabaculê 176, 236Jackson do Pandeiro 205Jacob do Bandolim (Jacob Pick Bittencourt) 35,

37, 38, 41jazz 74, 79, 80, 82; and bossa nova 188–190Jazz Samba (Byrd, 1962) 188, 189Jenkins, Henry 161Joachim, Joseph 69João de Barro see BraguinhaJoão do Boi 196Jobim, Antonio Carlos 188Jóia, Pedro 136José, Francisco 87Jovem Guarda (Young Guard) 93, 112, 236

Julião, DJ 149jungle 146, 147–150, 158

Kettner, Scott 204, 207–209“Keyboard Cat” video 169, 172n16keyboards, samba 49–50Koloral, DJ 149kuduro 119

Labiata (Lenine, 2008) 214“Lábios de mel” (Honey Lips) 142Laborde, Denis 192Lacerda, Ayêska Oassé Luis Paula Freitas de 4Lacerda, Benedito xiiLago, Mário 26lambada 113, 119, 236Lamento Negro 127language 2–3, 220Lapa district, Rio de Janeiro 30, 43, 52Leal, José Souza 78–79Leech-Wilkinson, Daniel 68–69Legends of the Preacher (Nation Beat, 2008) 209Legião Urbana 95, 102Leite, Felipa 195Leme, Monica Neves 9“Lenço no pescoço” (Scarf on the Neck) 24Lenine (Oswaldo Lenine Macedo Pimentel) xiii,

212, 213–215, 217–222levadas 46, 51, 236Light a Candle (Forro in the Dark, 2009) 206listening practices 97–98; Acabou Chorare 98–101,

101, 107, 108; and antropofagia 106–108;Selvagem? 101–106, 105, 107, 108

“literal video versions” 169–170“LK” see “Carolina Carol Bela”London see BritainLopes, Marcilio 41Lov.e discotheque 151love element, samba 47–49lundu 5, 64, 86, 236lyrics, studies of 2–3

macumba 27, 236Mad Zoo 157Madureira, Antônio José 124Mafra, Anthony 105malandragem/malandros 21, 22, 24, 26, 28, 236malleable meter 3manguebeat xiii, 96, 123–127, 199, 236; Chico

Science & Nação Zumbi 121–122, 126, 127–131Manifesto Antropofágico (Andrade, 1928) 105,

164, 236

244 • Index

Manovich, Lev 161map of mediations 97–98maracatu 127, 128, 129–130, 191–192, 193–195,

204, 236; Nation Beat 207–209; see alsomanguebeat

Maracatu Atômico (compilation, 2000) 131n2Maracatuniversal (Nation Beat, 2005) 208–209Marçal, Armando 19marchas/marchinas 21, 23, 236marches 64, 71Marine Band 60Marky (Mark) (Marco Antonio da Silva), DJ 146,

149, 150, 151–158, 153, 155, 156“Martelo Bigorna” (Anvil Hammer) 214Martín-Barbero, Jesús 97Martins, Ferdinando Crepalde 4Martins, Jorge 207Martins, Luiza Mara Braga 73–83, 229Martius, Carl Friedrich Philipp von 5Mata Norte region 193Matarazzo, Thais 91“Mateus enter” 130Matogrosso, Ney (Ney de Souza Pereira) 94,

133–136, 134, 137, 138–144Matos, Claudia 47maxixe/tango 21, 64, 67, 82, 187, 237MCs, drum & bass 154, 156Medeiros, Anacleto de 15, 34, 59, 61–63, 64, 67,

68mediatic popularization 162; drum & bass

148–150; YouTube 161, 162, 163–172,178–179, 182

Medina, Roberto 94–95Mencarelli, Fernando Antonio 9Meneghel, Xuxa 170, 172n17Mercury, Daniela 46Mesquita, Custódio 20, 21–22, 26, 27metronomes 70Milhaud, Darius 187military dictatorship (1964–1985) 98, 103, 112,

135, 143, 175, 237“Minha embaixada chegou” (My Embassy

Arrived) 27Miranda, Carmen 13, 20, 24, 26, 27, 202Miranda, Dilmar Santos de 3–4miscegenation 5–6, 13, 81, 122–123, 131, 200, 203Moby 149modernity 3, 5, 6, 123–127; see also manguebeatmodinha 5, 64, 237Monteiro, Guilherme 206Monteiro, Manoel 88, 89Moraes, José Geraldo Vinci de 8

Moreira, Moraes 99Móveis Coloniais de Acaju (MCA) 182–183, 183Movement label 151, 152, 156movies 21; soundtracks 146, 181, 188, 202–203,

214MPB (Música popular brasileira) xiii, 2, 3, 93, 99,

100, 102, 113, 154, 156–157, 158; Lenine217–222

MTV Brazil 95“Mulher” (Woman) 22Muller, Lauro 82Mundo Livre S/A (Free World) 123music industry 17, 103; Casa Edison 56, 60,

64–67, 66, 174–175; and digital media161–162, 173–174, 177–185, 181–183;formation of (1900–2000) 174–177; and globalmarkets 187–190, 199–200, 202–210; andsamba 44–54, 51–53; structural changes(1999–2009) 177–178

música sertaneja 15, 45, 46, 52, 95–96, 238musique concrète 164musique douce 188MySpace 178–179, 182

Na Pressão (Lenine, 1999) 213Na roda do samba (Guimarães, 1933) 44, 76Nação Zumbi see Chico Science & Nação Zumbi

(CSNZ)“Nada além” (Nothing More) 22“Não tem tradução” (There’s No Translation) 21Napolitano, Marcos 8narrators of songs 140–141Nation Beat 204, 207–209National Anthem video 168–170Nazareth, Ernesto 67, 187Netherlands, Tropenmuseum 197–198Neto, Torquato 99Nettl, Bruno 36Neves, Eduardo das 66, 88North America 188–190; Brazilian music in New

York 187, 202–210; musical influences 20–21,21–22, 29, 64, 79, 129, 140, 148, 189, 207–209

Nougaro, Claude 188Novos Baianos 98–101, 101, 107, 108Nublu, New York City 205–206Nunes Garcia, José Mauricio 5

O Baú do Panda (The Panda’s Chest) 41“O bonde de São Januário” (The São Januário

Trolley) 28“O Canto da Cidade”(City Song) 46O Choro (Pinto, 1936) 15, 30, 31–34, 35, 76–77

Index • 245

“O cidadão do mundo” (Citizen of the World)129–130

O Dia em que Faremos Contato (Lenine, 1997)213

O Fino da Bossa (TV show) 93O mistério do samba (Vianna, 1995) 14, 81–82“O nego no samba” (The Black in the Samba)

22–23O Poderoso Rubi (The Mighty Ruby) 115–118,

116–117O samba não tem fronteiras (Só Pra Contrariar,

1995) 53, 54“O X do problema” (The Gist of the Problem) 19Odeon label 65–66, 66, 175Oito Batutas 56, 73–75; according to memoirists

75–83Olho de Peixe (Lenine, 1994) 213, 217oral tradition 34–38, 41Orfeu Negro (Black Orpheus, 1959) 188, 202–203“other”/otherness 106, 107, 108, 114–115, 199

Paes, Anna 35pagode xii, 15, 157, 237; romantic 15, 43, 45–52,

51–52; see also tecnobregaPalmieri, Jacó 79“Palpite infeliz” (Unhappy Remark) 19pandeiro 44, 46, 49, 50, 51, 217, 237Pará see Belém, ParáParalamas do Sucesso 101–106, 105, 107, 108Paranhos, Adalberto 17–29, 227pardo category 7–8, 7Paris see Franceparodies, Internet 169–170partido alto 25, 157, 237Patife (Wagner Borges Ribeiro de Souza), DJ 149,

151–152, 156, 157, 158pau elétrico 107, 237“Pavilhão Brasileiro” (Brazilian Pavilion) 61, 64Pedrosa, Adélia 89, 91“Pelo Telefone” (By Phone) 187percussion see instrumentationPereira, Marcelo 126performance: collective/transformative nature of

138–140; as drama 140–141; “rituals” of138–140, 192–193, 200; andsexuality/sensuality 136, 138, 139, 141–144

periphery see center-periphery tensionsPernambuco see RecifePernambuco, João (João Teixeira Guimarães) 34,

73, 78–79“Pesadelo” (Nightmare) 29Petrobras Reference Center of Brazilian Music 60

Philip, Robert 67, 69pífano 237Pimentel, Albertino 67Pimentel, Joaquim 88Pinheiro, Mário 88Pinto, Alexandre Gonçalves 15, 30, 31–34, 35,

76–77Pinto, Quintiliano 38, 39piracy 177Pires, Paulo André 126, 196, 199pitch tones, music of 136Pixinguinha (Alfredo da Rocha Viana Filho) xii,

15, 73, 74, 76, 79, 81, 82Pixinguinha, Vida e Obra (Cabral, 1997) 78poetry 2–3politics and music 95–96polkas 63, 64, 67, 71, 237Pollak, Michael 56–57, 74–75, 90polyrhythmic patterns, samba 50–52, 51–52Porto Alegre, Araujo 5Porto, Fernanda 152, 156–157Portugal: immigrants 84–92, 88; Uma Casa

Portuguesa 192–193, 194–196Prescott, Frederick M. 65Preuss, Oscar 66“primitive/savage,” the 29, 105, 106, 107, 108, 110,

118, 136Prodigy 149producers, jungle/drum & bass 146, 149–151,

157–158, 159n1Programa da Xuxa (TV show) 150

Rabello, Raphael 30Raça Negra 46–47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52race/racism 57, 78, 191; miscegenation 5–6, 13,

81, 122–123, 131, 200, 203; the“primitive/savage” 29, 105, 106, 107, 108, 110,118, 136; racial categories 6–8, 7

radio 17, 89, 104, 175Rafik (Rafael Armênio), DJ 165–167, 166–167ragga 146–147, 148–149raggamuffin 119, 128, 129, 130Ram Science 151, 152rancho 44, 237Rangel, Lúcio 77rap 127, 128, 129, 130, 140, 146–147, 148“Ratamahatta” 4–5rave music 146, 149“Recenseamento” (Census) 28Recife, Pernambuco 124–125, 218; Lenine 212,

213–215, 217–222; see also manguebeat;maracatu

246 • Index

reco-reco 79, 237Recôncavo, Bahia 192, 196, 197record collections/archives 55–56; of wind bands

59–60, 64–71, 66, 68recording industry see music industryRefosco, Mauro 204, 205–207reggae 140, 146–147Regina, Elis 93regional 237Rei Momo (radio program) 89Reis, Mário 27remixing: drum & bass 152–158, 153, 155;

Samplertropofagia 163–164, 167, 170–171repetition 167repique/repinique 157, 237research on popular music 1–10Revista da Música Popular 77Revista Nitheroy 5rhythm: “beat” in funk carioca 165; drum & bass

146; malleable meter 3; rhythmic patterns,samba 50–52, 51–52

Ribeiro, Alberto 22, 26Ribeiro, Augusto Duarte 29Ribeiro, Bi 102Rio Carnival 187Rio de Janeiro xi, 4, 9, 17, 18–20, 32, 81, 100,

102–103, 175, 213; carioca 76, 233; choroand the belle époque 33, 34–40, 39–40; Fire Department Band 60, 67, 68; Lapa district 30, 43, 52, 54; Portugueseimmigrants and fado 84–92, 88; Rock in Rio festival 94–95

“Rios, pontes e overdrives” (Rivers, Bridges, andOverdrives) 125

“ritual,” performance as 138–140; sound checks192–193, 200

Rock in Rio festival 94–95rock music 93–94, 112, 127, 128, 129, 131, 136;

BRock 95–96, 101–106, 105, 233rodas de choro see chororodas de samba 43, 44–45, 76Rodrigues, Amália 87Rolnik, Suely 8romantic music 112romantic pagode 15, 43, 45–52, 51–52; see also

pagodeRomero, Sílvio 5–6rondo form 166“roots music” 119, 191–200Roots (Sepultura, 1996) 4–5Rosa, Noel 19–22Rousso, Henry 74–75

Sá, Natalia Coimbra de 202–210, 229“Sabor do samba” (Samba’s Flavour) 25Sachs, Curt 36Salvador, Henri 187–188samba xi, xii, 3, 13–15, 17–18, 27–29, 107, 157,

187–188, 199, 237–238; and the market 43–45,52–54, 53; and miscegenation 22–24; andmusical nationalism 20–22; as national product18–20; and Oito Batutas 76, 81–82; romanticpagode 15, 43, 45–52, 51–52;sambadores/sambadeiras 196, 197–198, 200,238; Siba e a Fuloresta 191–196, 199, 200; andsocial class 24, 25–27

Samba (Barbosa, 1978) 75–76Samba Chula de São Braz 192, 196–198, 199–200“Samba da minha terra” (Samba of My Land) 29“Samba de fato” (Real Samba) 25Samba pras moças (Samba for the Girls, 1995)

53–54samba schools see escolas de sambaSambaLoco label 151“Sambassim” 152, 156–157“Sambista da Cinelândia” (Cinelândia Samba

Musician) 20Sampaio, Lilian Alves 4samplers/sampling 164, 165Samplertropofagia 8, 163–164, 167, 170–171Sandroni, Carlos 14sanfona 206, 238Santana, Edson 89Santos, Lulu 94São Paulo 4, 146, 150, 175; center-periphery

tensions 147–148, 149–150, 156–157, 158;clubs 148, 149; see also drum & bass (D&B)

saxophone, samba 49scores 68; see also choro manuscripts“Se o samba é moda” (If Samba is a Fashion) 25Secos & Molhados 134–135, 134, 141–142“Secrets of the Floating Island ’99, The” 152sedes 112–113Seeger, Charles 36Segundo (Rita, 2005) 214Selvagem? (Paralamas do Sucesso, 1986) 101–106,

105, 107, 108sensuality, Ney Matogrosso 136, 138, 139,

141–144Sepultura 4sertaneja see música sertanejaSeveriano, Jairo 55sheet music see choro manuscripts“shred” 171, 172n20Siba e a Fuloresta 191–196, 199, 200

Index • 247

Silva, Cândido Pereira da (“Candinho”) 38, 40Silva, Ismael 19, 20Silveira, Ricardo 136, 138slaves 5–6; see also race/racismSó Pra Contrariar 53, 54“Só Tinha que Ser com Você” (It Only Had to be

with You) 152, 154, 157social class 24, 25–27, 32, 41social media 178–179, 182socio-musical movements, São Paulo 148sociology/social science studies 3–5Som Livre label 175song as drama 140–141song festivals, television 175sonority, samba 49–50soul music 127, 131, 136, 148sound checks, as rite of passage 192–193, 200Sound Factory, São Paulo 149sound systems see aparelhagens; electronic musicsoundtracks, film and TV 128, 146, 175, 181, 188,

202–203, 214Sousa, John Philip 64Souza, David Pereira de 59–71, 227Souza Pereira, Ney de see Matogrosso, Neyspectographic analysis 69Splendid Ruby aparelhagem 115–118, 116–117Spotify 178–179, 180, 184Stigma (Goffman, 1986) 113–114stigmatization of “bad taste” 110–111, 112–119studies of popular music 1–10Suassuna, Ariano 121, 123–124surdo 44, 49, 50, 51, 238Suzano, Marcos 217

tambourines 13, 44, 49, 79, 213, 238tamborzão 165, 239tango see maxixetantã 46, 49, 239“Tapa na Pantera” (Take a Toke) (video) 166tarol 129, 239Tatit, Luiz 3tecnobrega xiii, 96, 110–113, 239; stigma and

cosmopolitanism 113–119, 116–117Teixeira, Patrício 25telenovela/TV soundtracks 128, 175, 181Teles, José 126Teló, Michel 162tempo, analysis of 69–71“Terna Saudade” 62, 64terno, batedores de 192, 239timbre, samba 49–50Tinhorão, José Ramos 25–26, 32, 93

toadas 130, 239Toco club, São Paulo 148Toda vez que eu dou um passo, o mundo sai do

lugar (Siba e a Fuloresta, 2007) 193Toquinho 152, 154“Touradas em Madri” (Madrid Bullfights) 22tradition 123–127; see also manguebeatTrama D&B Sessions (Patife & Mad Zoo, 2003)

157Trama Virtual 182–183Treitler, Leo 35–36Trevo Digital 181, 182, 183triangles 206trio elétrico 100, 239Triz (Lenine/Giorgi, 2013) 215Tropenmuseum, Amsterdam 197–198Tropicalismo 3, 94, 98, 100, 104, 106, 107, 108,

199, 239Trotta, Felipe 43–54, 228tumbadora 46, 239Turino, Thomas 114TV Record 93, 94Twitter 179, 182

Ulhôa, Martha Tupinambá de 229Ultraje a Rigor 102“Um a Zero” (One to Zero) xiiUma Casa Portuguesa festival 192–193, 194–196Unimaginable (film, 2010) 146United States see North Americauniversity programs 1–10urban genres 74, 77, 123, 138; axé music 4, 45, 46,

128, 157, 204, 231; BRock 95–96, 101–106, 105,233; see also choro; drum & bass (D&B); fado;Rio de Janeiro; samba; São Paulo; tecnobrega

Vagalume (Francisco Guimarães) 44, 76Valente, Assis xi, 24, 26, 27, 28Van Duyn, Edo 151Vanucci, Fernando 169, 172n16Vargas government see Estado NovoVargas, Herom 121–131, 228Vasconcelos, Ary 79Veloso, Caetano 197, 191Veloso, Sergio “Siba” 191–192, 192–196Ventura, Ray 187–188“Verde e Amarelo” (Green and Yellow) 23Vianna, Herbert 102, 105Vianna, Hermano 2, 14, 81–82, 193“Victoria cantando o Hino Nacional” (Victoria

Singing the National Anthem) 168–170, 171,172nn10&12

248 • Index

Videira 34, 37videos, YouTube 161, 162, 163–172, 178–179, 182Vieira, Davi 206Vila Isabel, Rio de Janeiro 19Villa-Lobos, Heitor 25violas 87, 196, 239vira 85, 239virality, Internet 163–172“Você nasceu pra ser grã-fina” (You Were Born

to be Posh) 27Vogeler, Henry 26

waltzes 55–56, 62, 64, 71“We are Carnaval” xiiWeek of Modern Art 108, 239wind bands (bandas de música): analysis of

recordings and tempo 59–60, 68–71; historical

repertory 60, 61–63, 64; recordings, CasaEdison 64–67, 66, 68

WOMEX (World Music Expo) 192, 196–198, 199–200world music festivals 191–193, 194–200

Xavier, Jupiaçara 38, 40xote 206, 239XRS 152–156, 153, 155

“Yes! We Have Bananas” 22YouTube 161, 162, 163–172, 178–179, 182

zabumba 206, 239Zan, José Roberto 3Zeca Pagodinho 53–54Zero Quatro, Fred 123–125, 127Zonophone 65, 67

Index • 249