Thursday, October 31, 2002
The Boeuf chronicles, Pt. 26
Nepomuceno takes his turn.
Alberto Nepomuceno
Many years after he had left Rio de Janeiro, Darius Milhaud still remembered the classical composers he came to know during his two years in Brazil. In 1942 or ’43, while at Mills College, he wrote in the unpublished article Bresilien Music [sic]:
Alberto Nepomuceno, who was called the father of nationalism in Brazilian music, was a charming and modest man whom I knew very well. He was an excellent teacher and played the piano remarkably. Among his works are an opera and orchestral compositions such as the Prelude of Gara Tuja, a symphony and a Brazilian Suite.
How very surprising, then, that Milhaud never so much as hinted that Nepomuceno (1864–1920) was also the author of Quatro peças líricas op. 13, of which the fourth peça was “Galhofeira,” quoted in Le Boeuf sur le Toit.
In his article Brazilian Sources in Milhaud’s Le Boeuf sur le Toit: A Discussion and a Musical Analysis, Manoel Aranha Corrêa do Lago makes the following observation:
[...] the period between Milhaud’s arrival in Rio (1917) and the composition of LBST (1919), the year following his departure from Rio, coincides chronologically with an important transitional period in the history of Brazilian popular music. What would constitute the new musical features during this period was not very apparent or yet sufficiently differentiated from the maxixe. It was only natural, therefore, that LBST would be a portrait not of the “times to come,” but of the music of the Belle-Epoque which was about to wane. It also explains why Milhaud’s “Brazilian” music, in LBST and elsewhere, reveals greater affinity with the world of Alberto Nepomuceno and even Alexandre Levy, art music composers of the previous generation, than with that of Villa-Lobos.
In A linguagem musical de Alberto Nepomuceno, Caio Sílvio Braz said about the composer:
Nepomuceno was no mere precursor. He left more than 200 compositions, a hundred songs, orchestral pieces, trios, etc. He built the foundation of modern Brazilian music. We can anticipate Villa-Lobos by hearing [Nepomuceno’s]“Brasileira” of 1919 or Ernesto Nazaré in the “Galhofeira"” of 1894, and so many others inspired by popular music, which he knew so well and knew how to value [...].
Nepomuceno was Brazilian culture’s central figure in his time, a confirmed idealist, “the most cultivated and most capable of the composers of his time” [...].
A Nepomuceno family reunion
Brazil’s National Library devotes several web pages to Nepomuceno’s life and work. In one of them we learn:
On the 4th of August 1895, Nepomuceno gave a historic concert, which marked the beginning of a campaign for which he was severely criticized. He presented for the first time at the Instituto Nacional de Música a series of his songs in Portuguese. The war for the nationalization of Brazilian classic music had started. The concert hit directly on those who maintained that the Portuguese language was inappropriate to the bel canto. The dispute took the press, and Nepomuceno fought a true battle against the critic Oscar Guanabarino, a hearty defender of Italian singing, declaring: “A people who does not sing in its language is a countryless people.”
Nepomuceno’s war cry was heard just one year after he composed Quatro peças líricas.
Tune No. 26: “Galhofeira” (1894)
“Galhofeira” is a three-minute solo piano piece, and as such ideally suited for recording on a 78-rpm disc. But it’s not one of the six Nepomuceno compositions that received a total of eight recordings between 1902 and 1964 according to the Funarte database at Fundação Joaquim Nabuco.
In Le Boeuf sur le Toit it appears following the 13th iteration of the rondo motif, played in counterpoint with section A of “São Paulo Futuro,” which was the first tune in Cycle I. “Galhofeira” begins at 13:55 min. into Louis de Froment’s recording. 
Arnaldo Estrella
By way of comparison, we’ll hear an excerpt from Arnaldo Estrella’s piano interpretation of the original tune. Other pianists who recorded “Galhofeira” include Maria Ines Guimarães, Clélia Iruzun, Homero Magalhães, Cristina Ortiz, Miguel Proença, and Marcelo Verzoni.
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20:16
 
Monday, October 28, 2002
The silent partner revealed
Newton Mendonça was much more than Tom Jobim’s alter ego.
Newton & Célia Reis, Ma Griffe nightclub, 1956
Who was Newton Mendonça (1927–1960)? Among Bossa Nova lovers, the name is familiar as the one trailing Tom Jobim's in the credits of such standards as “Desafinado,” “Meditação,” and “Samba de uma Nota Só.” Ruy Castro’s Chega de Saudade, the book many consider to be the seminal work on Bossa Nova, doesn’t shed much light on the figure long known as Tom’s earliest and personally closest partner. Castro tells us only that Newton Mendonça spent his entire musical career trapped as a nightclub pianist and died early of hereditary cardiac disease.
Over the past forty years there have been speculations about Mendonça’s songwriting abilities. Would he have measured up without Tom as his partner? What did he contribute to the songs they wrote together?
Many of the speculations have now been laid to rest in Marcelo Câmara’s biography Caminhos Cruzados: A Vida e a Música de Newton Mendonça (Mauad Editora, 155 p.). Câmara has been researching the life and work of Mendonça since 1996. He paints a portrait of a boy from a poor family, whose parents lived apart from the time he was twelve. Son of a junior army officer, Newton was educated in a military academy, where he manifested more interest in music than in socializing. He was known as Newton Gaitinha, for the harmonica never left his mouth. Unlike Tom Jobim, who grew up in a middle-class household and had the advantage of formal musical education, Newton was largely self-taught beyond the rudimentary violin and piano lessons he had received from his mother. Yet a fellow military-academy student (who happened to be the son of the great choro flutist Benedito Lacerda) said that “music burst out of him.”
In 1940, Newton, his mother and siblings moved to Rua Nascimento Silva in Ipanema. There he befriended Carlos Madeira, who was distantly related to Tom Jobim. Newton and Tom met in 1942, when they were fifteen, and became inseparable, their bond cemented largely with music. Recalls Madeira: “Tom and Newton played the themes they created, without title or lyrics. They kept creating, experimenting...”
By 1951, both Newton and Tom had begun to play piano in nightclubs. The following year, Newton composed the samba-canção “Você Morreu pra Mim” and took it to the journalist and songwriter Fernando Lobo (Edu Lobo's father), who arranged to have it recorded by the singer Dora Lopes in exchange for a co-author’s credit (friends report that this rankled Newton). Newton & Tom’s first recorded song was “Incerteza” (1953), with vocalist Mauricy Moura accompanied by Lyrio Panicalli and his orchestra.
How did they compose? By all accounts, they did it together, in “four hands,” as Newton characterized the process in a rare interview. Both contributed melody, harmony, and lyrics, passing the song from one to the other and arguing over the piano seat, which both wanted to occupy. Altogether, they collaborated on seventeen songs, thirteen of them recorded, two unpublished, and two lost. But this wasn’t Newton’s entire output. Of the 43 compositions Newton left, 26 (including “Você Morreu pra Mim”) were his alone—sambas, choros, canções, sambas-canções, and carnaval marchinhas.
The second part of the book is devoted to the songs. The musicians Jorge Mello and Rogério Guimarães discuss the musical aspects of thirty songs and present their scores, which they notated. As no scores were available, Mello and Guimarães had to go on a veritable chase. Tells Jorge Mello:
At the time we were working on the book, almost nothing was known of the work of Newton Mendonça except the well-known partnerships with Tom Jobim, like “Desafinado,” “Meditação,” “Discussão,” and “Samba de uma Nota Só.” The songs Newton wrote himself or with other partners were unknown. Sheet music, nem pensar! Our task therefore was to find all the recorded work of Newton in order to write down the music scores and the chords. We availed ourselves of the archives of the Museu da Imagem e do Som, the National Library, and Newton’s musician friends. This way we also obtained songs that hadn’t been recorded, like “A Nuvem”; “Recordando”; “Ipanema”; “Notícia de Jornal”; “Palavras”; “Você Voltou Tarde Demais”; “Verdadeiro Amor”; “Quero Você”; “Tristeza”; and “Sem Você”—the last two co-written with Tom Jobim.
Marcelo Câmara, Cris Delanno & Roberto Menescal
Fourteen of the songs were recently released on the beautifully produced CD Caminhos Cruzados—Cris Delanno canta Newton Mendonça. Eight of them were penned by Newton alone (including the Lobo partnership), and two of those (“O Mar Apagou” and “Verdadeiro Amor”) had never been recorded. Even those solo songs that had been previously released are quite unknown, as are some of the New-Tom collaborations included here.
But this disc is worth hearing not just for the rarities it presents. Music director/arranger Roberto Menescal assembled an expert team of musicians that includes pianist Adriano Souza, bassist Adriano Giffoni, drummer/percussionist Marcio Bahia, saxophonist Sérgio Galvão, and trombonist Bira, who provide the right setting for Cris Delanno’s powerful yet sensitive interpretations.
The booklet is a valuable bonus, crammed full as it is with lyrics, extensive notes on each song, a biographical timeline, and rarely seen photos of Newton Mendonça who, in a bizarre twist of fate, appears never to have been photographed with Tom Jobim.
Caminhos Cruzados—Cris Delanno canta Newton Mendonça
(Ilha Verde/Albatroz/Ouver 3306744-2; 2002) 48:49 min.
Musical direction & arrangements: Roberto Menescal
01. Brigas (Antonio Carlos Jobim/Newton Mendonça)
02. Só Saudade (Newton Mendonça/Antonio Carlos Jobim)
03. O Mar Apagou (Newton Mendonça)
04. Nuvem (Newton Mendonça)
05. Canção do Pescador (Newton Mendonça)
06. O Domingo Azul do Mar (Antonio Carlos Jobim/Newton Mendonça)
07. Incerteza (Newton Mendonça/Antonio Carlos Jobim)
08. Canção do Azul (Newton Mendonça)
09. Verdadeiro Amor (Newton Mendonça)
10. Seu Amor, Você (Newton Mendonça)
11. Caminhos Cruzados (Antonio Carlos Jobim/Newton Mendonça)
12. Você Morreu pra Mim (Fernando Lobo/Newton Mendonça)
13. Teu Castigo (Newton Mendonça/Antonio Carlos Jobim)
14. O Tempo Não Desfaz (Newton Mendonça)
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17:20
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
The Boeuf chronicles, Pt. 25
A triple flourish caps the third cycle.
Praça Tiradentes, theatrical center of Rio de Janeiro
At the time when Milhaud was living in Rio de Janeiro, many carnaval songs (indeed, most popular songs) were introduced to the public in vaudeville shows. The teatro de revista was a major public entertainment vehicle in the pre-gramophone, pre-radio era, and it furnished a good number of the tunes quoted in Le Boeuf sur le Toit.
The authors who wrote for the teatro de revista often had other occupations as well. Among the lyricists it was common to find journalists, some of whom specialized in writing humorous carnaval chronicles. In his book Figuras e Coisas do Carnaval Carioca (MEC-Funarte 1982), that ace of carnaval chroniclers Jota Efegê tells of the journalists of the K series—writers who adopted noms de plume beginning with the initial K. In that group we find K. Noa (canoe), K. Rapeta (a spinning top or a light lie), K. Peta (devil), K. Dete (cadet), K. K. Reco (junk), K. Ico (old mulatto), and K. Zinho.
Score published by Casa Carlos Gomes
A master of the K series was Norberto Bittencourt (K. K. Reco), the editor in charge of the sports and carnaval sections of the daily newspaper A Época. In 1919 he and composer Eduardo Souto had at least two songs in the carnaval: the cateretê (maxixe) “Seu Derfim Tem Que Vortá” and the samba carnavalesco “Para Todos.” The latter appears to have originated in a theatrical revue of the same name.
In his book Panorama da Música Popular Brasileira, 1.° Volume, Ary Vasconcelos presents this portrait of Eduardo Souto (1882–1942):
Eduardo Souto
Eduardo Souto, descendant of an important family, was born in Santos, São Paulo, on 14 April 1882. At the age of eleven he came to Rio de Janeiro to study. Won over by music, he began to study it with Prof. Derbelly, making rapid progress. At 14 he presented his excited family with the waltz “Amorosa.”
As his family’s financial situation worsened, he was obliged to interrupt his engineering studies during his third year at the Escola Politécnica and to arrange employment at the Banco Francês. However, he continued to be fascinated by music, and went to visit the conductor José Nunes at Teatro S. José whenever he had free time. In 1917, he managed a music store in rua do Ouvidor. His masterpiece, “O Despertar da Montanha,” dates from 1919 and made him world-renowned. Souto conceived the Coral Brasileiro—whose members included famous personalities such as Bidu Sayão, Nascimento Silva, Zaíra de Oliveira, etc.—and organized the various orchestras that participated in the receptions for the Belgian king and queen on the occasion of their visit to Brazil in 1920. He founded [the music store/publishing house] Casa Carlos Gomes in rua Gonçalves Dias, which became the favorite meeting point of the great composers of that time. He was artistic director of Odeon and Parlophon. Orchestrator and conductor of symphonic music, he led concerts in Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo. Endowed with mystic tendencies, he was a member of esoteric and theosophist associations and even composed under the influence. His Bahian-style chula “Pemberê” (co-authored with João da Praia) was a success in the 1921 carnaval, and his samba “Tatu Subiu no Pau” was one of the most often sung in the 1923 carnaval. He wrote music for various revues, among them Zig Zag, in partnership with maestro Antônio Lago and words by Bastos Tigre (1926). Disenchantments with the musical milieu made him return to his old activity as banker. Ailing, he had to retire to a nursing home, where he died at exactly the age of 60. His son Nelson Souto, an excellent pianist, recorded in 1958 a memorable LP on the Festa label with his father’s tunes, including some of his delicious carnaval numbers.
Eduardo Souto score cover
Tune No. 25: “Para Todos” (1919)
Fundação Joaquim Nabuco’s database lists no fewer than 281 recordings of Eduardo Souto’s tunes, composed in a myriad of genres. However, the samba carnavalesco “Para Todos” isn’t one of them. Moreover, Norberto Bittencourt does not appears in the database even once.
As mentioned in the previous two Boeuf chronicles, Milhaud quotes “Para Todos” in a triple counterpoint that also includes “Seu Amaro Quer” and “Sertanejo.” It is difficult to distinguish in Louis de Froment’s recording and not much easier in Stephen Coombs & Artur Pizarro’s piano four-hands recording.
We must therefore rely on Manoel Aranha Corrêa do Lago’s description of the counterpoint in his notes for the Dover edition of Le Boeuf sur le Toit for Piano Four Hands:
In the last bars of section Z, page 50, the melody of Carlos Pagliuchi’s Sertanejo appears in Piano 1, right hand, in superimposition to Eduardo Souto’s Para todos in the left hand, simultaneously with the original melody and accompaniment of Soriano Robert’s Seu amaro quer which appear, respectively, in the right and left hands of Piano 2.
See if you can recognize Milhaud’s quotation after having listened to Alexandre Dias’ recording of “Para Todos” from the original piano score.
The score was published by Eduardo Souto’s own Casa Carlos Gomes, just as so many of his tunes were recorded by Orquestra Eduardo Souto and by Grupo Eduardo Souto at Odeon, where he was artistic director. There’s no indication why the line E até mais ver in the lyrics is flanked by asterisks.
Para Todos
Samba Carnavalesco
Offerecido ao Dr. Sylvio Romero F.°
M.D. Director da Revista “PARA TODOS”
Eduardo Souto
Versos de Norberto Bittencourt
(K. K. RÉCO)
1a Parte
Trá-la-rá canta o clarim!
Já não ha mais tristeza!
E Momo emfim
Com realeza,
Vem ao festim...
Oh! que belleza!... (Côro)
O tempo é de loucuras...
Carnaval de foliões!...
Em diabruras,
Os corações
Gozam doçuras...
2a Parte
“Côro”
Surge a alegria
Tudo convida
Para a folia
Tiri-rim
Tiri-rim
Trá-la-rá
Trá-la-rá
Ah!..
E os pretendentes
À presidencia,
Estão contentes
Tiri-rim
Tiri-rim
Trá-la-rá
Trá-lá...
1a Parte
Com risos do labio a flor,
Gozemos a singeleza
Do nosso amor,
Com grandeza
E com fulgor...
Oh! que belleza. (Côro)
Do champagne ao espoucar
Azo emfim vamos nos ter
Para folgar
*E até mais ver*
Toca a dançar...
2a Parte
“Côro”
Surge a alegria, etc.
The triple counterpoint marks the end of the third cycle of Le Boeuf sur le Toit. The first and the second cycles ended with mathematical precision, each following four iterations of the rondo theme, including a pair of quotations between iterations and featuring “Ferramenta” as the lead in the final pair. The third cycle follows precisely the same pattern:
Cycle I
Rondo 1
1. “São Paulo Futuro” (section A)
2. “São Paulo Futuro” (section B)
Rondo 2
1. “Viola Cantadeira” (section B)
2. “Viola Cantadeira” (section A)
Rondo 3
1. “Amor Avacalhado” (section A)
2. “O Matuto” (section B) + “O Boi no Telhado” (section A)
Rondo 4
1. “Ferramenta” (section A)
2. “Olh’Abacaxi!” (section A)
Cycle II
Rondo 5
1. “Gaúcho” [Corta-Jaca] (section A)
2. “Flor do Abacate” (section A)
Rondo 6
1. “Tristeza de Caboclo” (sections A+B)
2. “Maricota, Sai da Chuva” (section A)
Rondo 7
1. “Carioca” (section A) + “Escovado” (section A)
2. “Escovado” (section A) + “Carioca” (section A)
Rondo 8
1. “Ferramenta” (section A)
2. Waltz [unknown no. 1]
Cycle III
Rondo 9
1. “La Mort du Policeman” [unknown no. 2] + Tanguinho meio choro [unknown no. 3]
2. “Caboca di Caxangá” (intro) + “Vamo Maruca, Vamo” (section B)
Rondo 10
1. “O Matuto” (section A) + “Caboca di Caxangá” (refrain)
2. “A Mulher do Bode” (section A) + Tune No. 20 [unknown no. 4] + “Vamo Maruca, Vamo” (section A)
Rondo 11
1. “Tango Brasileiro” (section B)
2. “Que Sodade” (section A)
Rondo 12
1. “Ferramenta” (section A)
2. “Seu Amaro Que” (section A) + “Sertanejo” (section A) + “Para Todos” (section A)
Le Boeuf sur le Toit is approaching its conclusion. All that’s left is the recapitulation, followed by the coda—three tunes to go.
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18:48
Friday, October 18, 2002
The Boeuf chronicles, Pt. 24
Of Italian immigrants & the cinema.
Rua São Bento, in the Triangle of São Paulo
São Paulo was defined to a large degree by the Italian immigration of the 19th century. The city’s musical life in particular was marked by the presence of Italians and their descendants. Among paulista erudite composers of Italian origin, one need only mention Francisco Mignone, Camargo Guarnieri, and Lina Pesce. Among music publishers: A. Di Franco, Campassi & Camin, Irmãos Vitale. Musical instrument manufacturers: Giannini, Del Vecchio, and Di Giorgio. Music professors: Luigi Chiaffarelli, Giulio Bastiani, Guido Rocchi, Giacomo Foschini, and Agostinho Cantu. Arranger-conductors: Leo Peracchi, Lyrio Panicalli, and Júlio Medaglia. Popular composers and performers: guitarists Américo Jacomino (the first “Canhoto”) and Antônio Rago; sambista Adoniran Barbosa; flutist Copinha; radio queen Marlene; singers Paraguassú, Francisco Petrônio, and Zizi Possi; composer-guitarist-vocalist Toquinho; pianist-composer (and Noel Rosa’s partner) Vadico, and biologist-sambista Paulo Vanzolini.
An important paulista musician born in the old country was Carlos Pagliuchi (1885–1963). He was a pianist of renown and conducted orchestras in various São Paulo cinemas at a time when this was considered a prestigious occupation. In 1917 he became a music professor at the Conservatório Dramático e Musical de São Paulo, abandoning the cinema life.
In his memoir Moto Perpétuo (1982), composer João de Souza Lima, the author of “Amor Avacalhado,” recalled his friendship with Carlos Pagliuchi:
At that time all the cinemas were obliged to maintain a small musical ensemble to accompany the films. One of these establishments, the cinema Pathé Palace, had an ensemble of great importance that was conducted by the musician Carlos Pagliuchi, a great friend, one of the most prominent popular music composers in the city. Who doesn’t remember two of his principal compositions, the waltz “Deusa” and the tango “Estragadão”? When I revealed to him my desire to enter that activity, to play in small ensembles and conduct them as he did, he immediately initiated me. He made me sit at his side to observe how everything was done. It didn’t take long before I adapted to that activity, so much so that I soon became his substitute. [...] I worked in various cinemas of the city: Cine Marconi, Cinema Central (where I had a much larger ensemble), Teatro Esperia (where I worked from its inauguration), today Teatro Bela Vista. [...]
Cine Central in São Paulo,
a choice musical venue
Following a frenetic work schedule, Souza Lima became exhausted and went to recover his health in the tranquil town of Tremembé. There he was visited by friends from São Paulo:
One of these visits was made by my great friends Waldemar Otero and Carlos Pagliuchi. The latter, very jovial, went out one fine day with his camera to the streets of that little town, posing as a professional photographer, dragging his steps and yelling: “special portraits at ten cents a dozen; ugly subjects come out beautiful; black come out white,” and other such things. We died of laughter. And when, at night, he and Waldemar Otero climbed the trees in the garden and played their little mouth organs, people who strolled by didn’t know where the music came from!
Pagliuchi produced a goodly number of both popular and erudite compositions. Manoel Aranha Corrêa do Lago discloses that Pagliuchi was one of the composers—the others were Alberto Nepomuceno, Henrique Oswald, Francisco Braga, and Xavier Leroux—chosen by José de Freitas Valle (“Jacques d'Avray”) to set his Tragi-Poèmes to music. Pagliuchi’s Le Clown for voice and orchestra was performed in São Paulo under the baton of Xavier Leroux, who had been one of Milhaud’s teachers at the Paris Conservatoire. The music library of the Instituto de Estudos da Cultura Musical do Mundo de Língua Portuguesa (based in Cologne, Germany) lists Pagliuchi’s popular compositions “Raggi infrarossi”; “Encrenca”; “Noite de Santo Antonio”; “Noite de São Paulo”; “Noite de São Pedro”; “Urucubaca”; and “Sertanejo”—all published by A. Di Franco of São Paulo—and his “Estragadão,” published by C. M. Roehr.
Rua Direita, in the Triangle of São Paulo
Tune No. 24: “Sertanejo” (1919)
In its original piano score, “Sertanejo” is identified as both a tango and a batuque-dança brasileira. It’s a complicated piece to play, seeming to require twice the ordinary number of fingers, if the proliferation of notes on the page is an accurate indication.
The composition is dedicated “Ao Dist. e insuperavel amigo Paulo Pereira Barretto.” Might this dedicatee be a relative of Dr. Luiz Pereira Barreto (1840–1923), the illustrious scientist, politician, and journalist?
Fundação Joaquim Nabuco’s database lists a total of two recordings of Pagliuchi’s works, one being “Sertanejo.” The tune had to wait eleven years to be recorded.
Autor: Carlos Pagliuchi
Título: Bréjeira
Gênero: Valsa Choro
Intérprete: Orquestra Andreozzi
Gravadora: Odeon
Número: 121605
Autor: Carlos Pagliuchi
Título: Sertanejo
Gênero: Tango Brasileiro
Intérprete: Orquestra Paulistana
Gravadora: Odeon
Número: 10713-B
Matriz: 3772
Data Lançamento: Dez/1930
As discussed in The Boeuf chronicles, Pt. 23, the “Sertanejo” quotation in Le Boeuf sur le Toit is part of a three-tune counterpoint. Milhaud quotes section C of “Sertanejo” before section A. The former begins at 13:19 min. into Louis de Froment’s recording. Section A begins about 15 seconds later but is practically inaudible under the trumpets playing “Seu Amaro Quer.” The same section can be heard quite clearly in the piano four-hands recording by Stephen Coombs & Artur Pizarro.
Stephen Coombs & Artur Pizarro play Milhaud
As the Orquestra Paulistana recording of “Sertanejo” isn’t available, Alexandre Dias recorded section C and section A from the original piano score.
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21:22
Monday, October 14, 2002
Do Cabaré às Sílabas
A cantora Suzana Salles fala da sua vida musical.
Suzana Salles
Suzana Salles é a maior intérprete brasileira atual da obra de Bertolt Brecht e Kurt Weill. Além disso, ela desenvolve uma carreira paralela cantando músicas brasileiras inusitadas. Aqui ela descreve todas as faixas do seu disco mais recente, As Sílabas. Em uma entrevista mais completa que ela me concedeu, Suzana fala da sua vida musical.
Todas as canções de As Sílabas.
1. As Sílabas—ela é uma exortação, uma ode à canção popular brasileira: cantiga, diga lá, a dica de cantar, o dom que o canto tem que tem que ter se quer encantar... O Luiz Tatit vai desfiando o texto e a melodia numa trama tão coesa, tão concisa, que a gente ouve e pensa: “Puxa, que coisa simples, como é que ele consegue...?” Uma canção auto-explicativa nada explícita! Acho que ela é tanto um ponto de partida como uma síntese do trabalho que o Lincoln [Antônio], o Chico [Saraiva] e eu desenvolvemos todos esses anos: piano, violão e voz dialogando e criando espaços, tudo ao mesmo tempo agora, sem que um se sobreponha ao outro.<
2. Xangô—essa parceria minha e de Chico César foi feita da seguinte maneira: o Chico me mostrou a música, disse que achava que tinha a ver comigo, e realmente tinha, porque eu simplesmente adorei. Só que eu ia ensaiar com os meninos, achava ela tão curtinha, parecia que faltava alguma coisa. E eu perguntei pro Chico: “Mas não tem um refrão, uma levada assim, aaahn... allegro cantabile, sei lá?”, e ele, “Não, acho que é isso mesmo”, tal, e nós pelejando no ensaio, parecia que não tinha “liga”, a coisa não fluía. Daí eu viajei nessa época para Londres e pra Turquia, conheci Istambul, pisei na Ásia pela primeira vez na vida, vi o rio Bosforo ao entardecer, aquela civilização antiiiga, e as mesquitas, os cantos do Alcorão chamando o povo pra rezar... e no avião, voltando pro Brasil, num alvorecer daqueles que você acorda com a cara toda amassada, exausta e encolhida naquelas poltronas de classe econômica, o refrão veio inteirinho na minha cabeça, melodia e tudo: é Xangô que vai chegar, por Alá canta o Corão, coro atlântico verão, acalanto, uma canção...
3. O Velho Francisco—essa canção foi idéia do violonista Chico Saraiva; o Chico é um músico muito intuitivo, e ele achava que essa música “combinava” comigo. Fez um arranjo maravilhoso, onde a gente devolve à música uma acentuação rítmica que beneficia o entendimento da letra, que é genial, como todas as letras do nosso grande Francisco Buarque de Holanda.
4. Foi Boto, Sinhá—um clássico do cancioneiro popular brasileiro que eu sempre amei, composto pelo paraense Waldemar Henrique com letra de Antonio Tavernard pelos idos da década de 30. Ela já foi gravada por muita gente e em muitas versões tanto clássicas como populares, e era muito executada em corais de escola da geração de meus pais; desde pequena fui fascinada pela história do Boto que se transformava em homem para seduzir as moças na cidade, essa lenda indígena que continua viva até hoje nos confins da Amazônia.
5. Die Sieben Todsünden (Prolog)—o prólogo de Os Sete Pecados Capitais, de Brecht e Weill: essa foi gravada originalmente com orquestra sob regência do Lincoln Antonio no meu CD anterior, Concerto Cabaré. Só que a gravação não tinha ficado boa, e foi a única canção que tivemos de deixar de lado, muito a contragosto. E foi o Lincoln que sugeriu que a gravássemos em estúdio com o Toninho Ferragutti na sanfona e o Célio Barros no contrabaixo; acho que ele também não se conformava de ter “perdido” a música no outro CD, já que era ele que tinha feito os arranjos, tinha regido tudo... e desta vez ficamos mais que satisfeitos com o resultado.
6. 50 Ways to Leave your Lover—aí está outro exemplo da incrível intuição do Chico Saraiva: ele simplesmente me mostrou a música e disse que ela era a minha cara. Confesso que escutei o Paul Simon, achei assim, “Well, OK, mas o que será que...” e a gente foi ensaiando, e de repente cantei nos shows, e daí a música vai se mostrando, vai dizendo a que veio, enfim: é uma das canções que mais gosto de cantar. E viva o terceiro olho do Chico Saraiva! O Paul Simon, tão atento à música e à musicalidade do Brasil, certamente ficará feliz em saber que existe uma versão brasileira dessa canção tão gostosa e pulsante como é “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover”.
7. Paraíso Eu—o Arnaldo Antunes é uma das atuais atuantes antenas da música popular brasileira, um compositor que admiro profundamente. Fui até sua casa para ele me mostrar as novidades, pois tinha muita vontade de gravar alguma música inédita dele n’As Sílabas; e ele gravou ali na hora uma fita cassete com seis ou sete músicas; na hora, achei que teria muita dificuldade em escolher alguma, pois todas eram maravilhosas, claro; só que quando cheguei em casa, não tive dúvidas: “Paraíso Eu” pulou do aparelho de som e nunca mais me soltou.
8. La Luna È Bella—uma brincadeira com a grande amiga e parceira Ná Ozzetti, com sua ascendência italiana, com seus olhos azuis, enormes... eu fiz a letra e ela botou a melodia.
9. Certeza É Ilusão—taí outro excelente músico paulista, só que ainda desconhecido do grande público: Paulo Padilha. Uma letra simples, uma melodia igualmente descomplicada, a receita certa dos grandes compositores brasileiros. Só voz e violão, da maneira como foi concebida.
10. Para Ver as Meninas—mais um clássico da Música Popular Brasileira, de Paulinho da Viola. Pois é, esse samba do Paulinho é tão lindo que eu tinha medo de interpretá-lo, porque gostava tanto da melodia, da letra... achei que não daria conta. Ainda bem que demos. É uma versão bastante pessoal da música, e creio que ela caminha pelo fio da navalha. Taí uma interpretação que foi sendo construída ao longo dos anos de apresentações pelo Brasil.
11. Valsa dos Olhos Costurados—o Lincoln Antonio me mostrou essa canção e eu peguei na hora pra cantar, ela tem um jeito meio expressionista, meio Alban Berg, cheia dos percursos tortos, cheia de pontas inesperadas... a gente gravou tudo junto, ao vivo, e tivemos como convidado especial o amigo e violinista Thomas Rohrer, um suíço alemão que veio de Basel e mora em São Paulo há sete anos—um “basileiro”, como ele mesmo se denomina.
12. Helena—essa música vem de São Luiz do Paraitinga, cidade aqui do interior de São Paulo onde se celebra um dos mais animados e coloridos carnavais do Brasil; a cidade toda se fantasia e vai brincar na rua, cantando marchinhas compostas pelos próprios moradores, um verdadeiro prodígio de resistência cultural, com blocos de rua, desfiles e festivais de marchinhas. Todo ano vou pra lá e tenho o privilégio de cantar em cima do carro com as bandas de lá. A gente fez um verdadeiro desfile carnavalesco dentro do estúdio, cantando todo o mundo junto em coro, arrastando o pé como a gente faz nas ruas de São Luiz, ora berrando, ora se emaranhando na letra, essas farras que só o espírito de carnaval nos ensina.
Ouçam trechos das músicas aqui.
Suzana Salles: As Sílabas
(Dabliú Discos DB 0098; 2001) 45:56 min.
01. As Sílabas (Luiz Tatit)
02. Xangô (Chico César/Suzana Salles)
03. O Velho Francisco (Chico Buarque)
04. Foi Boto, Sinhá (Waldemar Henrique/Antônio Tavernard)
05. Die Sieben Todsünden [Prolog] (Kurt Weill/Bertolt Brecht)
06. 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover (Paul Simon)
07. Paraíso Eu (Arnaldo Antunes)
08. La Luna È Bella (Ná Ozzetti/Suzana Salles)
09. Certeza É Ilusão (Paulo Padilha)
10. Para Ver as Meninas (Paulinho da Viola)
11. Valsa dos Olhos Costurados (Lincoln Antônio/Marcelo Mota Monteiro)
12. Helena (Galvão Frade)
Suzana Salles: Concerto Cabaré
Canções de Bertolt Brecht e Kurt Weill
(Dabliú Discos 946069; 1997) 51:09 min.
01. Kanonen-Song
02. Nannas Lied
03. Eifersuchtsduett
04. Alabama-Song
05. Die Seeräuberjenny
06. Matrosensong
07. Denn wie man sich bettet
08. Ansttat-dass Song
09. Liebeslied
10. Havana Lied
11. Surabaya Johnny
12. Die Zuhälter-Ballade
13. Benares Song
14. Die Moritat von Mackie Messer
__________________________
13:53
Saturday, October 12, 2002
Serenade for a dead president
Memorial commemorates JK's centenary in song.
Juscelino Kubitschek
Como pode o peixe vivo
Viver fora da água fria?
Como poderei viver
Sem a tua companhia?
Juscelino Kubitschek (1902–1976) adored seresta.
He was Brazil’s most beloved president (1956–1961), and his few years in office are irradicably tied to an optimism that took hold of the country, finding expression not only in politics and economics but also in architecture, cinema, and music. Not for nothing is JK called Presidente Bossa Nova.
In these election days marked by polemics about the role of culture in the life of the nation, we may remember that Juscelino had an abiding interest in the humanities. Some of his close friends were musicians—these included Pixinguinha, Ary Barroso, pianist Bené Nunes, and Dilermando Reis, who taught JK guitar—and painters like Portinari and Di Cavalcanti. Having moved the federal capital to Brasília, JK commissioned Tom Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes to write Sinfonia da Alvorada.
In private life, this mineiro from Diamantina loved to sing old sentimental songs in his deep voice laden with a heavy vibrato. In 1968 JK recorded a number of favorite old songs with Grupo Seresta de Diamantina. One of the tunes was the modinha “É a Ti, Flor do Céu” , whose authors, Modesto Augusto Ferreira and Teodomiro Alves Pereira, were natives of Diamantina. The song is the town’s unofficial anthem, a staple of its seresta outings even before the birth of Juscelino.
“É a Ti, Flor do Céu” is one of fourteen songs assembled in the remarkable CD Memorial, a tribute in song to the late president, who will have celebrated his 100th birthday in September 2002. The project is the brainchild of mineiro pianist Wagner Tiso and singer Zé Renato, who wasn’t born in Minas Gerais but who possesses one of Brazil’s most beautiful male voices and has been honing his seresteiro skills for almost a decade with tributes to Sílvio Caldas and singing the modinha movement in Francis Hime’s Sinfonia do Rio de Janeiro de São Sebastião.
Wagner Tiso & Zé Renato
The songs selected by Tiso and Renato make up a string of pearls representing the eight decades of Kubitschek’s life, with each tune a reminder of a certain period, although in most cases there is no direct connection between song and person or event. One of the few notable exceptions is “Peixe Vivo,” considered JK’s personal signature and sung by a multitude of 100,000 at his funeral. In Memorial, “Peixe Vivo” acts as an instrumental prelude, grandly orchestrated for piano, accordion, strings, piccolo, flute, oboe, English horn, and clarinet.
Well chosen and well aged, the songs aren’t arranged in chronological order. “Peixe Vivo” was an opening that stood for the end, and it is followed by “Tristeza do Jeca” (with a guest appearance by Milton Nascimento), a classic caboclo melody of 1922, the year Juscelino entered medical school. One of the most poignant passages in the album is the torch song “Quando Tu Passas por Mim,” which Zé Renato interprets to perfection in his lyrical tenor voice, accompanied by Tiso’s perfectly matched piano, plus bass, guitar, percussion, and strings. The year is 1953, when Getúlio Vargas returned to power and JK was voted governor of Minas Gerais.
The quintessential seresta, “Malandrinha” is linked to the young Dr. Kubitschek’s medical internship in Paris and Berlin. It is followed by the samba “Pois É” of 1955, the year JK won Brazil’s presidential elections. Tiso’s jazzy piano provides a nice complement to Renato’s gentle vocals.
“Noite Cheia de Estrelas,” a serenade of 1932, marks JK’s marriage to Sara Gomes de Lemos. Renato and Tiso maintain the same romantic note at the beginning of a medley by Tom and Vinicius, which represents the years of JK’s presidency. The flowing strings soon give way to Bossa Nova sycopation in piano and percussion. From 1960 we’re taken back 20 years to JK’s time as mayor of Belo Horizonte. The waltz “Súplica” displays interesting instrumental touches like Tiso’s (Argentine) tango accordion strains and Pedro Amorim’s brief bandolim solo.
The pearls keep coming with “Rosa Morena” (everybody’s favorite ’40s samba), followed by the serenade “Amo-te Muito,” which stands here for the romantic spirit of Juscelino’s teens. The Bossa Nova “Fechei a Porta” might have described Kubitschek’s position when he closed the door of the presidential palace in Rio and moved the capital to Brasília. In the disc’s concatenation of highlights, this track stands out as a sublime blend of voice, piano, bass (Jorge Helder), guitar (Lula Galvão), trombone (Vittor Santos), and percussion (Robertino Silva).
The slow waltz “Neuza” represents the year 1938, when JK made the definite switch from medicine to politics. The newest song on the album is “Céu de Brasília” (Toninho Horta/Fernando Brant), written four years after JK’s death in a car accident but very much at home among the classics.
The disc ends where the article began, with that old modinha from Diamantina, “É a Ti, Flor do Céu,” this time in Zé Renato’s crystalline voice. Listen to an excerpt and compare it to JK’s recording.
Wagner Tiso & Zé Renato: Memorial
(Biscoito Fino BF-519; 2002); 53:35 min.
01. Peixe Vivo (public domain) 19th century
02. Tristeza do Jeca (Angelino de Oliveira) 1922 — w/ Milton Nascimento
03. Quando Tu Passas por Mim (Vinicius de Moraes/Antônio Maria) 1953
04. Malandrinha (Freire Júnior) 1927
05. Pois É (Ataulfo Alves) 1955
06. Noite Cheia de Estrelas (Cândido das Neves) 1932
07. O Grande Amor (Tom Jobim/Vinicius de Moraes) 1960
Lamento no Morro (Tom Jobim/Vinicius de Moraes) 1956
08. Súplica (Otávio G. Mendes/José Marcílio) 1940
09. Rosa Morena (Dorival Caymmi) 1942
10. Amo-te Muito (João Chaves) 1910s — w/ Boca Livre
11. Fechei a Porta (Delice Ferreira dos Santos/Sebastião C. Motta) 1960
12. Neuza (Antônio Caldas/Celso Figueiredo) 1938
13. Céu de Brasília (Toninho Horta/Fernando Brant) 1980
14. É a Ti, Flor do Céu (Modesto Augusto Ferreira/Teodomiro Alves Pereira) 19th Century
__________________________
18:07
Sunday, October 06, 2002
The pleasure of hearing him again
João Gilberto sings the same songs, differently.
Teatro Morlacchi in Perugia
(note Brazilian flag on 3rd box tier)
When a Brazilian asks me how I became interested in Brazilian music, I always say, “through João Gilberto.” A genius of popular song and quite possibly Brazil’s greatest gift to the world, João was also my teacher. Would I have ever heard of Ary Barroso, Dorival Caymmi, or Noel Rosa were it not for João? Most likely not.
For more years than I care to count, João was a seductive voice in the background of my musical world. It wasn’t until the late ’80s, with the entrance of CDs into my home, that I set out to obtain every album he had released. It wasn’t difficult, as João’s output had never been ample—his entire official production between 1959 and 2000 amounts to a mere fourteen and a half albums (the half is Getz/Gilberto vol. 2).
Ever since he began marking the 40th anniversary of Bossa Nova, João has been accused of recording the same songs over and over again. How true is this assessment? His signature tune, “Chega de Saudade,” received four recordings over the past four decades, as did “Rosa Morena” and “O Pato”; “Meditação” and “Corcovado” were recorded three times each; “Garota de Ipanema,” twice. Not an unreasonable situation for an artist who obsessively continues to delve into his classic repertoire, extracting a myriad interpretations from the same well-selected songs over a lifelong career. Among all the songs associated with João, “Desafinado” is the one most oft repeated, with six recordings until this year.
The count for the above songs has just gone up a notch, for they all appear in Live at Umbria Jazz, recorded in 1996 but released this year. In the tribe of João’s fans, I belong to the sect that awaits his next album hoping for new songs—not brand-new songs, of course, but songs João has never recorded. I might as well tell you right now that there are none of those on Live at Umbria Jazz. Does it matter? Not really.
João Gilberto on stage at the sold-out Teatro Morlacchi is at his seductive best, which doesn’t necessarily mean he’s whispering. For the appreciative European audience, the singer was more than willing to exercise his vocal chords, express a wide range of emotions, and even produce the occasional vibrato, a taboo for most of his career. Moreover, CD listeners who were forced to crank up the volume in order to hear João Voz e Violão (2000) will be glad to know that both voice and guitar are captured with excellent clarity on Live at Umbria Jazz.
All the songs on the disc were composed between 1942 and 1963. These 21 years cover João’s formative period, from his childhood in Juazeiro to the early years of his solo career. Eight of the fourteen songs were written by Dorival Caymmi or Tom Jobim, all within a narrow period in each composer’s career. Caymmi is represented with “Rosa Morena” (1942), “Doralice” (1945), “Lá Vem a Baiana” (1947), and “Saudade da Bahia” (1957); Jobim with “Chega de Saudade” (1958), “Desafinado” (1959), “Corcovado” (1960), and “Garota de Ipanema” (1962). The four Caymmi songs had been hits before João recorded them—three were released while he was in his teens. The Jobim songs, on the other hand, were all launched by João himself.
So what’s different here?
João opens with “Isto Aqui o Que É?,” a 1942 Ary Barroso samba he recorded twice before—the first time in 1985 at the Montreux Jazz Festival. In Montreux he sang it from the beginning (Isso aqui o que é?/ É um pouquinho de Brasil, Iaiá), while here he starts with the refrain (Olha o jeito nas cadeiras que ela sabe dar). The new interpretation is more intimate and direct, as if tenderly courting the morena while watching her dance.
“De Conversa em Conversa” (1947) was previously recorded by João in 1970, while he was living in Mexico. The Umbria interpretation is looser, more casual and more inflected. “Pra Que Discutir com Madame?” sounds like a samba that would have been made popular by the vocal groups of the 1940s, but in fact, neither of the two previous recordings (Janet de Almeida’s in 1945 and Valter Damasceno’s in 1956) garnered the slightest success. The samba didn’t become well known until João recorded it in the 1985 Montreux Jazz Festival. That performance was measured and steady. Here he gives himself free rein to play with phrasing, division, tempo, and mood.
No performance in Italy would be complete without “Malaga” and “Estate,” both picked up by João in the summer of 1963, when he was performing in Viareggio. “Malaga” was one of Italy’s hits that year (as was “The Girl From Ipanema,” recorded by Tom Jobim in The Composer of Desafinado Plays). João wasn’t quick to record either song—“Estate” would appear on Amoroso (1977), “Malaga” on João (1991)—but they’ve since become staples in his repertoire. In Umbria, “Malaga” is given a particularly romantic vocal delivery, while the guitar goes its own way, at times producing only a single chord. The big news in “Estate” is that João makes an effort to keep to the Italian pronunciation and actually sings rose and not hose, although he persists in turning tutte le cose into tutti le cosi. Still, how can one resist his rendition, unsurpassed in countless recordings by countless artists?
The Caymmis and the Jobims are gathered in a block that is interrupted only by “O Pato” (1960), which, surprisingly, João manages to make sound fresh with lightheartedness and the well-placed vibrato (has he heard Trio Esperança’s version?). Although this block represents a good number of his greatest hits, it benefits from nuanced interpretations that never repeat what has been done before.
Live at Umbria Jazz may not provide the shock value of the landmark Live in Montreux, but it matches it in quality, which is something that can’t be said for the butchered live CD Eu Sei Que Vou Te Amar (1994). If you love João Gilberto, you shouldn’t be without it.
João Gilberto: Live at Umbria Jazz
(EGEA-UJ EUJ 1004; 2002); 59:43 min.
Recorded live at the Umbria Jazz Festival in Italy
Teatro Morlacchi, Perugia, 21 July 1996
01. Isto Aqui o Que É? (Ary Barroso)
02. De Conversa em Conversa (Lúcio Alves/Haroldo Barbosa)
03. Pra Que Discutir com Madame? (Haroldo Barbosa/Janet de Almeida)
04. Malaga (Fred Bongusto)
05. Estate (Bruno Martino/Bruno Brighetti)
06. Lá Vem a Baiana (Dorival Caymmi)
07. Corcovado (Antonio Carlos Jobim)
08. Doralice (Dorival Caymmi/Antônio de Almeida)
09. Rosa Morena (Dorival Caymmi)
10. Desafinado (Antonio Carlos Jobim/Newton Mendonça)
11. Saudade da Bahia (Dorival Caymmi)
12. O Pato (Jaime Silva/Neuza Teixeira)
13. Chega de Saudade (Antonio Carlos Jobim/Vinicius de Moraes)
14. Garota de Ipanema (Antonio Carlos Jobim/Vinicius de Moraes)
= = =
What’s João singing this year? Check the set lists of his three São Paulo performances in early August.
__________________________
20:32
Tuesday, October 01, 2002
The Boeuf chronicles, Pt. 23
On patent medicines and the art of tie-in advertising.
Patent medicine from
Scott Jordan’s collection
Patent medicines have been around since the 15th century or earlier, making their way from Europe to the Americas as the colonies were populated in the 1600s. These concoctions, purported to cure all ills, were often sold by itinerant salesmen to poor folk who had no access to or couldn’t afford to consult a physician.
The remedies’ ingredient lists could be very impressive. Dr. Kilmer’s Swamp Root Kidney Liver and Bladder Cure, for example, contained Buchu leaves, Oil of Juniper, Oil of Birch, Colombo Root, Swamp-Sassafras, Balsam Copaiba, Balsam Tolu, Skullcap leaves, Venice Turpentine, Valerian Root, Rhubarb Root, Mandrake Root, Peppermint herb, Aloes, Cinnamon, and sugar. In addition, it contained approximately 9% to 10.5% alcohol.
Alcohol worked wonders—at least at first—as can been seen in Gaetano Donizetti’s opera L’elisir d’amore (1832), in which a hapless young lover’s quest for the elixir of love brings forth the traveling patent-medicine salesman Dr. Dulcamara, who sells him a bottle of wine.
The patent-medicine industry flourished during the 19th and early 20th centuries. Scott Jordan, who collects antique patent-medicine bottles, summarizes the story neatly:
Many of the patent medicines contained alcohol (many of them were almost entirely alcoholic) and narcotics (such as morphine, cocaine and opium). These products certainly made the patient feel better for a time, but ran quite a bit short of their claims of being wonder cures for diseases ranging from the common cold to tuberculosis. The federal legislations of the early 20th century, both in the U.S. and Canada, in which manufacturers could not make false promises about their products, and had to list the ingredients in their bottles and pill boxes, served to bring about the near death of the entire industry. Some products did, however, continue to be sold well into the 1950s and beyond. Some of them are still available today, but in greatly altered form.
As long as the inclusion of intoxicants was legal, the business was lucrative enough for manufacturers to spread their operations far and wide. Dr. Kilmer & Company (they of the Swamp Root Kidney Liver and Bladder Cure) had branch offices in New York, Chicago, Rio de Janeiro, and Kingston, Jamaica.
Needless to say, Dr. Kilmer was not the only patent-medicine manufacturer in Brazil. Perhaps the best-known and longest-lived Brazilian patent medicine was Biotônico Fontoura, created by the pharmacist Cândido Fontoura in 1910 as an antianemic whose slogan was Ferro para o sangue e fósforo para os músculos e nervos. The brand name was coined by the pharmacist’s friend, the writer Monteiro Lobato, whose Almanaque do Jeca Tatu (also known as Jeca Tatuzinho), published by Laboratório Fontoura & Serpe, helped market the tonic by communicating its features and benefits in simple words.
The most successful campaign
In the history of Brazilian advertisingT
Monteiro Lobato’s Almanaque depicted the transformation of the caboclo Jeca Tatu and his family from a thin, pallid, and sad lot into healthy and happy folk, all thanks to trying Biotônico Fontoura. One bit of information the Almanaque most likely did not divulge was the fact that the tonic contained 9.5% alcohol—not just for the first few decades of its market life, but for the full 91 years. It wasn’t until April 2001 that the government agency Anvisa (Agência Nacional de Vigilância Sanitária) published a list of medicinal fortifiers whose manufacture had been prohibited owing to their alcohol content.
“The most complete fortifier”
Tune No. 23: “Seu Amaro Quer” (1918)
“Seu Amaro Quer” is a tango carnavalesco by F. Soriano Robert, whose samba “Olh’ Abacaxi!” (also from 1918) was the seventh tune quoted in Le Boeuf sur le Toit.
Although the piano score proclaims “Seu Amaro Quer” to have been “O Maior sucesso do carnaval de 1918,” only one recording of the song—the sole one for this composer—is listed in Fundação Joaquim Nabuco’s database:
Autor: Soriano Robert
Título: Seu Amaro Quer?
Gênero: Tango
Intérprete: Bloco dos Parafusos
Gravadora: Odeon
Número: 121449
The catalog number puts it in the same series as another carnaval tune released by Odeon: “O Boi no Telhado,” no. 121432.
Section A of “Seu Amaro Quer” may be heard at 12:57 min. into Louis de Froment’s recording of Le Boeuf sur le Toit, where it’s played in counterpoint with Tune No. 24, the tango “Sertanejo” by Carlos Pagliuchi (1919) and Tune No. 25, the samba “Para Todos” by Eduardo Souto & Norberto Bittencourt “K. K. Reco” (1919). “Seu Amaro Quer” returns at 13:30 min.
Reading from the original piano score, Alexandre Dias plays the same section in this excerpt from his recent recording, made especially for the Boeuf chronicles.
What have patent medicines to do with a tango carnavalesco? Well might you ask. F. Soriano Robert seems to have had an interest in advertising. The title of “Olh’ Abacaxi!” is a street vendor’s cry that has more recently come to take on the pejorative sense of a shady sales scheme. “Seu Amaro Quer,” on the other hand, is a sales pitch in the guise of a carnaval song. And what it’s selling is an alcohol-laden concoction (some call it a drink, others a patent medicine) by the name of Vermutin, one of many such preparations to be found in those days (Rhum Creosotado, Elixir de Nogueira, Elixir de Inhame Goulart, Vinho Reconstituinte Silva Araújo were others).
In the piano score, the Vermutin logotype is printed just under the song title and in the same size. Below, much smaller, are the genre description and the author’s name. The product name is woven into each verse and each refrain. You’ll notice that the score makes clear that the tango is the property of Dr. Eduardo França. França owned the Lugolina laboratory and factory in Avenida Mem de Sá, Rio de Janeiro. Lugolina was the manufacturer of Vermutin, and Dr. França made it his business to advertise the product regularly in made-to-order popular songs—the jingles of yesteryear. To ensure their popularity, he organized the first-ever carnaval song competition in 1919, in which one of his jingles took top prize (read more about this and other songs advertising Vermutin here).
What is causing all this mirth?
Seu amaro quer...
Tango Carnavalesco
F. Soriano Robert
Propriedade reservada do Dr. Eduardo França
Tango Carnavalesco—O Maior sucesso do carnaval de 1918
Dançado com exito sensacional no RESTAURANT ASSYRIO pelos celebres maxixeiros Margot e Milton
Cantado e dançado pela graciosa artista LOLA BRIEBA, na revista carnavalesca de grande successo MOMO TÁ-HI no Theatro Republica
1º
Venha cá,
Venh' olhar,
Que seu amaro quer
Tributar
As cebolas com feijao...
Venha cá,
Venh' a mim,
Que seu amaro quer
Vermutin
P'ra ter força na exportação
2º e 4º
BIS:
Vamos todos dançar,
Vamos todos sambar,
Que... seu amaro quer
O Vermutin... assim... assim...
Assim... Assim... Ay!
2º D.C. todo [repeat from the beginning]
Como é bom beber! Ay!
3º
Venham todos,
Venham ver,
Que seu amaro vai
Recorrer
Aos juizes de Berlim...
Venham todos
Vêr o fim...
Que seu amaro quer
Vermutin
P'ra tocar o bandolim...
A shocking question
And the sales pitch isn’t over yet, for both the score’s front and back covers are elaborately illustrated with drawings that seem to be related to the product and to each other. What are the four gentlemen on the front cover laughing about? Could it be the effeminate man on the back cover who appears shocked at the young lady’s question? Why is she saying “Seu amaro quer Vermutin...?” when he is already holding a glass of liquor? Is she suggesting a more fortifying substitute? And why is amaro consistently spelled with a lower-case a? Is it not the man’s name? Or does he not perhaps deserve an initial capital for reason of not being a full he-man? The four laughing men—none of them a spring chicken—are all virile specimens full of vim and vigor, no doubt thanks to a steady regimen of Vermutin.
The lyrics suggest that Vermutin provides strength. Is there an implied promise that it would transform the effeminate into a macho? Beyond the commercial message, there’s also an allusion to world politics in the line P'ra ter força na exportação and again in Recorrer/Aos juizes de Berlim. The year was 1918, and Germany was losing WWI.
It is also worth remembering that during the 1918 carnaval at which “Seu Amaro Quer” was released, the mayor of Rio de Janeiro was Amaro Cavalcanti. Apparently this gentleman was somewhat of a despot, as may be inferred from his strict regulations on swimming at Copacabana and Leme beaches. The popular expression “Seu Amaro Quer” said all about Cavalcanti’s temperament.
While various questions about the song remain to be answered, one conclusion to be drawn from the Vermutin advertising campaign is that Dr. França and Lugolina targeted a more upscale audience than did Laboratório Fontoura with its Almanaque do Jeca Tatu. This was only natural, considering that caboclos did not possess pianos or gramophones and were therefore unlikely to buy sheet music or records.
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If you’d like to dig a little into the history of patent medicines, here are three interesting articles from Washburn University, Bartleby.com, and the University of Toledo.
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