Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The corporate lyricistMangione stands in for Vinicius de Moraes. Why?
Cinema Odeon, Rio de Janeiro
The other day, as I was reviewing Trio Esperança’s latest CD, I encountered a curious phenomenon. One of the album’s tracks was a sung version of Ernesto Nazareth’s famous tango brasileiro “Odeon,” and the liner notes identified the lyricist as Ubaldo Sciangula Mangione.
Nazareth composed “Odeon” in 1910 as a tribute to the Cinema Odeon, in whose lobby he was hired to play the piano for the diversion of patrons awaiting the next show. The cinema—at the time the most magnificent in Rio de Janeiro—had opened the previous year on the corner of Avenida Central (now Rio Branco) and Rua Sete de Setembro, in the commercial heart of the city.
The score was published in 1910 by Casa Mozart (E. Bevilacqua & Cia No. 6602). According to Nazareth scholar and collector Alexandre Dias, the composer himself underwrote the cost of publishing “Odeon,” which he dedicated to the distincta empreza Zambelli & Cia, owner and manager of the cinema.
Cinema Odeon was demolished in 1928, six years before the death of Ernesto Nazareth. In 1934, the year he died, the publishing rights to “Odeon” were transferred to E. S. Mangione by contract, along with the entire catalog of E. Bevilacqua & Cia. The new publisher was a recent arrival in the Brazilian market, the firm having been established in the late 1920s by the Sicilian immigrant Estevam Sciangula Mangione.
Dircinha Costa was the first singer to record “Odeon.”
Some years after Nazareth’s death—possibly in the 1940s—one Hubaldo Maurício, about whom nothing is known, wrote lyrics for “Odeon” that were recorded only once, by Dircinha Costa, in 1963 (Copacabana 6.555-A). Hubaldo’s lyrics describe the sensations of a young couple visiting Cinema Odeon in its glory days, beginning with the piano music in the lobby before the show, followed by a movie featuring a villain, and concluding in the lobby, where the agile pianist, unnamed but clearly Nazareth, played tangos, choros, and valsas.
Odeon
(Ernesto Nazareth/Hubaldo Maurício)
Ó que saudade das «Soireés» e «Matinês» lá do Odeon...
E lá o saguão, o pianista muito sério, o seu piano a dedilhar...
Os namorados, no intervalo, passeavam a se olhar!
Bilhetes mil, tinham asas, voavam era o jeito de amar.
E, mais tarde, na sala de projeção
O «mocinho» lutava contra o «vilão» era luta, luta dura
Soco, tapa, ponta-pé, bofetão...
A «mocinha» chorava e torcia, em vão...
A platéia gritava com emoção
Pega, bate, pisa, mata, mata, esse grande «vilão»!
E na saída, pra amenizar as emoções
No saguão põe-se a escutar
Ágil pianista tocando tangos,
Choros brejeiros, valsas lentas bem dolentes,
Encantados, embalados, num repente
O pianista vão cercando,
Se chegando, quase, quase a dança, ah!...
Cover of Nara Leão’s eponymous 1968 album
In 1968, only six years following Dircinha Costa’s recording, Nara Leão decided to record “Odeon.” Not content with Hubaldo Maurício’s lyrics, she asked Vinicius de Moraes to write new ones, and he complied. This time, the focus was not on the vanished cinema but on choro itself, which had become an endangered species.
Odeon
(Ernesto Nazareth/Vinicius de Moraes)
Ai, quem me dera
O meu chorinho
Tanto tempo abandonado
E a melancolia que eu sentia
Quando ouvia
Ele fazer tanto chorar
Ai, nem me lembro
Há tanto, tanto
Todo o encanto
De um passado
Que era lindo
Era triste, era bom
Igualzinho a um chorinho
Chamado Odeon
Terçando flauta e cavaquinho
Meu chorinho se desata
Tira da canção do violão
Esse bordão
Que me dá vida
Que me mata
É só carinho o meu chorinho
Quando pega e chega
Assim devagarzinho
Meia-luz, meia-voz, meio-tom
Meu chorinho chamado Odeon
Ah, vem depressa
Chorinho querido, vem
Mostra a graça
Que o choro sentido tem
Quanto tempo passou
Quanta coisa mudou
Já ninguém chora mais por ninguém
Ah, quem diria que um dia
Chorinho meu, você viria
Com a graça que o amor lhe deu
Pra dizer “não faz mal
Tanto faz, tanto fez
Eu voltei pra ficar com vocês”
Chora bastante meu chorinho
Teu chorinho de saudade
Diz ao bandolim pra não tocar
Tão lindo assim
Porque parece até maldade
Ai, meu chorinho
Eu só queria
Transformar em realidade
A poesia
Ai, que lindo, ai que triste, ai que bom
De um chorinho chamado Odeon
Chorinho antigo, chorinho amigo
Eu até hoje ainda percebo essa ilusão
Essa saudade que vai comigo
E até parece aquela prece
Que sai só do coração
Se eu pudesse recordar
E ser criança
Se eu pudesse renovar
Minha esperança
Se eu pudesse me lembrar
Como se dança
Esse chorinho
Que hoje em dia
Ninguém sabe mais
Subsequently, Vinicius’ version of “Odeon” received several notable recordings. The blind vocal group Os Titulares do Ritmo performed it on its 1976 LP Brasílico. In 1995, Eliete Negreiros included it in her CD 16 Canções de Tamanha Ingenuidade. Two years later, the Rainha do Choro, Ademilde Fonseca, sang it on the TV program Ensaio. This recording is included in the CD of that program, A Música Brasileira Deste Século por Seus Autores e Intérpretes—Ademilde Fonseca (SESC São Paulo JCB-0709-039, 2000). Also in 1997, Vânia Bastos sang the same version on her CD Diversões Não Eletrônicas (Velas). A delicately moving interpretation was created by vocalist Bel Dias and guitarist Almir Côrtes in Choro da Voz (Gravina Música, 2008).
Ademilde Fonseca mentioned Vinicus by name in her
introduction to “Odeon” on the TV program ‘Ensaio’ (1997).
By pure chance, all the artists listed above hail from São Paulo. Why that should be the case is a question left for another investigator. Here we’ll observe that with the exception of Ademilde Fonseca, who possesses an old-fashioned vozeirão, all the women singers are invariably endowed with small voices. Were they all inspired by Nara Leão’s recording? This is indubitably the case of the mineira Fernanda Takai, lead vocalist of Pato Fu, who dedicated an entire CD, Onde Brilhem os Olhos Seus (Deckdisc, 2007) to songs previously recorded by Nara. Fernanda’s “Odeon,” wrapped in pop garb, also appears on her live CD Luz Negra (Deckdisc, 2009).
Up to recent years, the lyricist credit of “Odeon” in vocal recordings was faithfully given to Vinicius de Moraes. The year 2004 marked seventy years since the death of Ernesto Nazareth. The following year, in accordance with Brazilian copyright law, his body of work fell in the public domain. This was a windfall to recording artists, and the number of Nazareth recordings has increased markedly. But for some inexplicable reason, the lyricist credits were thrown into confusion.
In Fernanda Takai’s CDs, the credit goes not only to Vinicius but also to Hubaldo. Mônica Passos, who sings a French version of “Odeon” penned by Georges Moustaki in her CD Lemniscate (Archie Ball, 2008), credits Ubaldo Sciangula Mangione. Alexandre Dias tells me that even some of the newer instrumental recordings of “Odeon” credit Ubaldo Sciangula Mangione. And indeed, Altamiro Carrilho’s rendition of “Odeon” in the CDs Concerto em Niterói— parte 2 and Da Lapa 2 (both from Biscoito Fino) identifies the authors as Ernesto Nazareth and Ubaldo Sciangula, and the publisher as Public Domain/Mangione.
What happened to Vinicius? Mangione isn’t telling. Two e-mails I sent the publisher a month ago went unanswered.
Questions also linger about the lyricist of Nazareth’s “Apanhei-te, Cavaquinho,” whose name is variously given as Báldoman or Hubaldo, and is currently represented as Ubaldo Sciangula Mangione.
Both “Odeon” and “Apanhei-te, Cavaquinho” (attributed to (Ernesto Nazareth/Hubaldo) are proudly displayed among Mangione’s most successful songs.
Read the rest of this article here.
_________________________
22:11
 
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Marcos Sacramento at Onda Jazz, Lisbon
_________________________
21:21
Monday, June 14, 2010
Marcos Sacramento canta Carmen Miranda
_________________________
12:29
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Leny Andrade season
This is a busy summer for Leny Andrade. Californians will be able to see her perform with Romerto Lubambo at the Healdsburg Jazz Festival on Sunday, 6 June 2010.
By 18 June, Leny will have returned to Rio to launch her new CD, Alma Mia, at Canecão.
Produced and arranged by the pianist Fernando Merlino, Alma Mia is a collection of unforgettable boleros (opening with a tango and ending with a Latin jazz standard)—a look back to the five years or more she spent in Mexico.
If you’re lucky, you’ll catch Leny live in Healdsburg, where she’ll she sing her Brazilian repertoire but might also have the new disc for sale.
Leny Andrade: Alma Mia
(Fina Flor; 2010) 54:42 min
01. El Día Que Me Quieras (Carlos Gardel/Alfredo Le Pera)
02. Sabrá Dios (Álvaro Carrillo)
03. Alma Mía (María Grever)
04. Lluvia en la Tarde (Arturo Castro)
05. Un Poco Más (Álvaro Carrillo)
06. Vete de Mi (Virgílio Expósito/Homero Expósito)
07. Como Fué (Ernesto Duarte)
08. Mía (Armando Manzanero)
09. Te Me Olvidas (Vicente Garrido)
10. Entonces (Arturo Castro)
11. Eclipse (Margarita Lecuona)
12. Nosotros (Pedro Junco)
13. Llévatela (Armando Manzanero)
14. Una Mañana [Morning] (Clare Fischer)
_________________________
15:17
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The fabulous CorrêasTrio Esperança is back with De Bach à Jobim.
Back in the prehistoric days of the mid-1990s, when you still had to visit a record store in order to acquire music, every significant discovery prompted intense excitement of the kind that has become so rare now, subjected as we are to a daily avalanche of digital media whether we want it or not.
 In December 1996, while browsing at Rasputin Music in Berkeley, I came upon a CD with three young women on the cover, a mouth-watering repertoire, and a stellar guest list. It was Trio Esperança’s A Capela do Brasil (Philips 314 512 266-2), released in 1992.
At that time I was hunting down every available recording of “Aquarela do Brasil” for a discography I was planning to compile. As its title made clear, A Capela do Brasil contained what I was looking for.
I bought and was hooked. Here are excerpts from my fresh reactions, posted to a Brazilian music listserv two days after I bought the disc:
It’s fabulous. One of those all-too-rare albums where every single track is the cat’s meow. All 18 songs are simply wonderful, and Mariza, Eva, and Regina make them even better with their impeccable phrasing and perfect harmonizing.
Among the songs are two lovely nostalgic paens to growing up in the ’60s (“Casaco Marrom” and “Rua Ramalhete”). There are excellent and fresh covers of the ultimate chestnut, “O Pato,” and of the even more heavily trodden “Corcovado.” There’s a beautiful “Qualquer Coisa” with Caetano Veloso, where the trio out-caetanears the original. There’s a great “Aquele Um” with Djavan that demonstrates how good a songwriter he is. And a charming little Japanese ditty called “Watashi” (they do the accent just right) with a nice samba beat.
There’s also João Bosco’s “Coisa Feita” with his guitar and vocal. Again, the “girls” can scat just as well as he—in fact, they put his voice to shame. The “princesa do Dahomé” line in this song is so evocative, and those three quintessentially Brazilian female voices are the ideal vehicle for it. [...] I’ve been listening to this album non-stop, and it only gets better.  A Capela do Brasil was released in France, where the three Corrêa sisters—Eva, Regina, and Mariza—were living and enjoying great success. By the time I had discovered A Capela, their followup CD, Segundo (Philips 526577-2; 1995), had already been out for a year. Their third French album, Nosso Mundo (Universal 546 030-2; 1999) departed from the MPB mold, concentrating on standards from countries as far-flung as Senegal, Japan, Italy and Mexico.
Then the sisters stopped recording and returned to Brazil for half a dozen years. Luckily for us, they’re back in France, with a new album devoted to classics old and new, roaming from Bach to the Beatles.
While the concept isn’t startlingly original, the execution is unique enough to merit attention. The two Bach compositions (the Aria from Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D major, BWV 1068, and the Chorale from Cantata BWV 147) are among the most frequently adapted for pop interpretations, but here they are sung in Portuguese and given uncommon arrangements.
The Aria (the famous “Air on the G String”) has been transformed into “Caminho da Razão,” with lyrics by Eva Corrêa (unfortunately, the liner notes include no lyrics). In an arrangement by Gérard Gambus, the voices, first a cappella, then accompanied by guitar and strings, inject a pop note while the strings keep to a rigorous classical basis.
The Chorale (better known as “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring”) received lyrics by Vinicius de Moraes, who turned it into “Rancho das Flores,” an ode to flowers, bearing an allusion to the old ranchos carnavalescos, which adopted floral names (e.g., Flor do Abacate, Recreio das Flores, Flor da Lira, Rosa de Ouro, Ameno Resedá, etc.) as vestiges of their African ancestors’ totemic traditions. Trio Esperança removed some of Vinicius’ lyrics and rearranged others, concentrating on a single flower. The voices—this time an accordion augments the guitar and strings—sing not only the well-known melody but also the organ refrain.
In a nod to Brazil’s “serious” composers, the trio performs Ernesto Nazareth’s best-known tango, “Odeon,” and a folk song quoted by Villa-Lobos as the third movement—Ária (Cantiga)—in Bachianas Brasileiras No. 4.
“Odeon” received several sets of lyrics after Nazareth’s death, and the nostalgic verses sung by the trio are the creation of Vinicius de Moraes, although the liner notes ascribe them to Ubaldo Sciangula Mangione, who happens to be the president of the music publishing firm Mangione, Filhos & Cia Ltda. (more on that in a separate article). Nazareth composed the tune for piano, but Vinicius’ lyrics describe the classic choro format of flauta, cavaquinho e violão, and the sisters’ voices execute the harmonies that the three instruments would produce in a traditional choro.
Another confusion as to authorship plagues the Cantiga. Brazil’s copyright law confers copyright protection on adaptations of public-domain themes. Thus a traditional nordestino folk song called “Ó mana, deixa eu ir” now bears the names of Heitor Villa-Lobos, Teca Calazans, and Milton Nascimento. Trio Esperança’s own adaptation is quite original, and one assumes that only the Corrêas’ modesty prevented them from registering yet another cumulative copyright upon this innocent folk song. The sisters’ interpretation is spare and heart rending, expressing all the longing implied in the lyrics.
Longing of a different sort can be found in the two Lennon/McCartney songs. “Penny Lane,” in an uncredited Portuguese version by Guttenberg Guarabyra, is a close kin of the trio’s 1991 recording of “Rua Ramalhete” in its ability to evoke nostalgic feelings for the neighborhood of one’s youth. The interesting arrangement for strings is original, referring only obliquely to George Martin’s work for the Beatles. “Blackbird,” sung a cappella in English, is a creatively fresh departure from the predictable cover and stands out as one of the better interpretations of this standard.
No Brazilian classics album would be complete without a tune by Tom Jobim, and here we have two: “Desafinado” and “Samba do Avião.” To the trio’s credit, there’s not a hint of warhorse in their delightful renditions, and that’s saying a lot.
Two distinguished songwriters of the post-Jobim generation, Edu Lobo and Chico Buarque, are represented with a song each. The percussive a cappella rendition of “Upa Neguinho” is one of the best I’ve heard. The same goes for their version of the mock-chanson “Joana Francesa,” which strikes the ideal balance between two cultures.
The penultimate song, “Uma Gota do Mar,” is a new afro-samba composed by the trio’s nephew, Beto Filho, in partnership with Carlos Colla.
The album ends with a double track: Renato Teixeira’s 1978 caipira song “Romaria,” included in so many Elis Regina compilations, receives as an unannounced bonus Luiz Carlos Sá’s “Zepelin,” which a previous formation of Trio Esperança recorded in 1974. In this new recording, the sisters reunite with their brother Mario, who sings the lead vocals.
Trio Esperança reminds us that there’s always new gold to be mined from familiar material. All one has to do is perfect one’s artistic skills over fifty years.
Trio Esperança: De Bach à Jobim
(Disques Dreyfus; 2010) 40:36 min.
Arrangements by Gérard Gambus
01. Caminho da Razão (Johann Sebastian Bach/Eva Corrêa)
02. Upa Neguinho (Edu Lobo/Gianfrancesco Guarnieri)
03. Desafinado (Antonio Carlos Jobim/Newton Mendonça)
04. A Rosa [Rancho das Flores] (Johann Sebastian Bach/Vinicius de Moraes)
05. Penny Lane (John Lennon/Paul McCartney/Portuguese vers. Guttenberg Guarabyra)
06. Blackbird (John Lennon/Paul McCartney)
07. Samba do Avião (Antonio Carlos Jobim)
08. Cantiga [Caicó] (Traditional/adap. Villa-Lobos, Teca Calazans, Milton Nascimento)
09. Odeon (Ernesto Nazareth/Vinicius de Moraes)
10. Joana Francesa (Chico Buarque)
11. Uma Gota do Mar (Roberto Corrêa Filho/Carlos Colla)
12. Romaria (Renato Teixeira); Zepelin (Luiz Carlos Sá)
Musicians
Marcio Faraco, guitar
Silvano Michelino & Inor Sotolongo, percussions
Marc Barthoumieux, accordion
Gérard Gambus, piano
Budapest Symphonic Orchestra, strings
__________________________
15:53
|
|
