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The Provençal troubadours sang something...
Between a song and a poem.
lt is so beautiful.
What impressed me at first was not the music...
l only heard that later.
lt was the quality of the poetry.
l think the impulse to transmit high poetry...
through sound and song remains.
l think you can say this of Chico Buarque...
of Caetano.
This echo, in Brazilian Portuguese is attractive.
The truth is l recognize myself...
in the history of the troubadours...
l recognized myself. That's what happened.
Because of my curiosity...
l found some verses by Arnaud Daniel...
the rondels.
And l said: what's this?
l then discovered that they were the...
great reporters of the 11th century...
Telling their stories.
l can feel an echo of this today...
Anyone who sings or composes...
and who tells a story...
is a descendent of the troubadour.
'Gaia Ciência', which means happy wisdom...
is what the troubadours called their work...
which is singing work musical work...
with a touch of wisdom...
l mean, it was a blend of wisdom and happiness.
These troubadours used to say...
''poetry without music is like a mill without water''...
which has movement, rhythm...
the pulse of poetry that blends with the music...
and the two things are dependent on one another.
There are moments when the poetry was inseparable from the music...
as we know...
as in Greek lyrics, Greek tragedy.
Great moments of coincidence.
So the great Provençal poetry is another important coincidence.
ln Brazil we are living just such a moment...
Of this kind that occurs in cultural cycles...
and depends on unknown factors...
which have the effect, here in Brazil,
to cause poetry to connect with music...
and produce a bond
that's at once between poetry and music
and written culture with oral culture...
or maybe the erudite with the popular.
l AM THlNKlNG OF THE MYSTERY OF THE WORDS OF SONGS
SO FRAGlLE WHEN WRlTTEN, SO POWERFUL WHEN SUNG
Even if the singers Are false like me
They'll be beautiful, no matter And the songs are beautiful
Though the poets may be sadder Their verses will be better
Edu isn't going to like me singing this song a cappella.
Even though the notes were deaf When a sly and thieving god
He was called Hermes, this god.
Made lyre strings from pig's guts To liven up the song
He used pig's guts to make the strings but...
You can't get all this into the words...
Or the music so you sacrifice a bit...
of the guts and a bit of the mythology.
And so the ballads were born And the ecstasy of the bandits
Like me singing this way
You were born for me You were born for me
Even though you close your ears And the windows of your dress
My muse will feel temptation
Because l'm speaking Greek With your imagination
Even though you flee from me Through labyrinths and trapdoors.
Then Tom Jobim, when he heard it he said...
of course 'trapdoors' aren't Greek, they're Arabic.''
The fable tells that once there slept An enchanting young princess
Who would only obey the wake-up call Of a Prince
Who would come From beyond the highway wall
He had to, when tempted Defeat the bad and the good
Before he, now in freedom Left the crooked road
And to the Princess come
The Sleeping Princess Waits, while sleeping heavy
Sleeping away her life in death While the ivy covers her dreamy face
With a wreath of green
Far away the Prince toils, Not having any strategy
Rushes along the fated trail
He to her an unknown male Her to him a nobody.
But both accept their destiny She sleeping enchanted
He searching for her, reckless
Using the divine process, The highway thus implanted.
And even if it's all obscure Along the highway straight,
And false, he comes secure
And overcoming highway and wall, Arrives to where she sleeps heavy,
And still giddy from it all, His head yet in the misty way,
Puts out his hand and finds the ivy,
And sees that he himself was The sleeping princess.''
Beautiful!
l came to Fernando Pessoa via music...
via Maria Bethânia.
A Portuguese teacher...
gave me a Maria Bethânia record...
and l first heard... what was much more than a voice...
it wasn't a person, it was a being, a thing...
And to top it all she read 'Eros and Psyche'.
How old were you?
How old was l?
l don't know, maybe around 12, something like that...
Brazilian pop music has enormous penetration...
it reaches people very easily.
And as l am a singer...
part singer, part interpreter...
l'm on that line between singer and actress...
though l'm not an actress.
l thought it might be interesting to take it further,
l thought of using the spoken word...
not just singing.
l think music is much easier...
the sound is abstract...
it's like perfume, you feel it.
And the spoken word has a certain majesty...
a certain posture, a certain difficulty...
Not for me, but some find it so...
So when l recite...
Many people already know the text...
and others want to know what it is.
All love letters are ridiculous.
They wouldn't be love letters if they weren't ridiculous.
ln my time l also wrote love letters equally,
lnevitablyridiculous.
Love letters, if there is love,
Have to be ridiculous.
lf l could go back To when l wrote love letters
Without thinking how ridiculous.
But in fact
Only those who've never written love letters
Are ridiculous.
l hadn't the courage to open your letter.
Uncertain, l thought about it and wondered
Will it bring happiness, or sorrow?
How much sadness, or mocking lies
Can a letter bring us.
So thinking that way, l tore up your letter and burnt it
So l would'nt suffer anymore.
The real story of ''Death and Life of Severino'' is this:
l knew who João Cabral was...
but l didn't know him too well.
A theater group in São Paulo,
the Catholic University Theatre, asked me
to compose music for ''Morte e Vida Severina''.
l didn't know much about João Cabral...
and that he didn't like music,
and l had no idea, as l found out later,
that he hadn't authorized
staging the play as a musical.
We did it any way we could.
Well, l did it because l was ignorant...
and irresponsible and l thought that...
no-one would know.
lt was a small job for me...
university theater and all.
And we didn't expect it, but it was a big success.
A really big success.
We were invited...
to a theater festival in Nancy...
very well known in France...
and we won first place...
tied with a Turkish group.
The grave you're in ls measured by hand
The best bargain You got in all the land
The best bargain You got in all the land
You fit it well, Not too long or deep,
The part of the latifundio Which you will keep.
We were invited to perform...
in the Odeon theater in Paris...
it was big...
reviews in Le Monde...
What started as a joke...
gained a dimension l had never expected
And then João Cabral appeared...
and he liked it, he saw all those kids...
we were all students...
Me, the cast, we were all 20 years old We were full of enthusiasm.
Even João Cabral was moved.
Of course, he didn't like the music...
but he said he liked it...
and was generous and friendly.
lt's a big grave For a body so spare
But you'll be more at ease Than you ever were
But you'll be more at ease Than you ever were
Maybe l don't consider myself a poet...
because l started out reciting other people's poetry...
declaiming, that was my job.
They called me a Declaimer.
At the age of nine...
l recited some long poems...
l had a talent for memorizing...
and l would recite mainly during get-togethers...
in my grandparents' house, a country estate in the interior of Pernambuco,
they would organize gatherings of musicians and local singers.
Repentistas'', who would improvise to a viola.
l would recite the poems in the intervals.
The sea is proud To be hearty and vigorous
To be strong, gigantic, And also unlimited
lt rises, it falls, And moves as excited,
Seems like a fierce And big angry dragon
ls blue green serene, with spray like a fountain
lt spreads on the ground And leaps to the sky
Shaking itself and Wanting to fly
lt tumbles and rumbles Both sifting and swinging
Nor bleeding or drying Or stopping or tiring
The galloping ten At the edge of the sea.''
And this poem was improvised...
while the audience shouted...
and there was a tray...
for song requests and money...
That was my main art school...
my first contact with poetry...
my first experience of being impressed with life...
a state in which l intend...
to remain permanently.
l was always fascinated by the northeast street singers...
who have this half modal tonality...
with a relation between the melody and...
the rhythmic cadence of the sung word...
that is very much their own... and dates back for centuries.
Rap is the continuation of the ''cordel'' pamphlets.
My father read cordel texts, l read to him when l was small...
l think that's why l like rap so much...
lt's a continuation...
changing the order of the rhymes...
nothing else changes.
Welcome to the end of the world:
Capão Redondo, São Paulo!
As a rap singer...
l'm a big lie. l speak like that to the guys...
to attract kids to literature.
So l make a rap CD, and instead of putting the lyrics...
l put in a short story, so the guy'll read at least one story in his life.
This is always the idea. When l go on stage...
l sing 3 or 4 songs and then talk about literature...
recite a poem, l tell them literature is cool...
to get nearer to them.
ln this country some feel...
that literature is something sacred,
for just a few.
lt should be for everyone...
it can't be something just for the elite...
Just for the chosen ones...
Literature has to be shared like bread.
lf you know how to read...
you can write all that you have learned...
put it in the library...
where it sits looking beautiful...
and you go and play ball and watch TV...
do anything.
But if you can't read...
you have to talk all the time about culture...
thinking culture...
painting culture.
Euclides da Cunha tells us that a peasant...
because he is illiterate...
likes to observe everything
and the sound becomes more important.
The ear was more important than the eye...
not like today when the eye dictates to the ear...
the ear dictated to the eye...
they were careful with language.
Time like time Night came, day went
The wind blew the wind and the summer un-summered
Time like time Night came, day went
The wind blew the wind and the summer un-summered
Why insist...
on creating a tongue-twister with words?
Just because l heard...
How much dew does a dewdrop drop if dewdrops do drop dew?
multiplied by 1 00 different versions.
ln my case l was influenced by the folk singers...
l wrote things that rhymed and had a meter...
but later l broke away from this...
when l started to read poems by João Cabral de Melo Neto...
or Carlos Drummond de Andrade...
who were practically forbidden in the folk singers medium...
poetry that didn't rhyme was ridiculed.
When l realized that this was prejudice...
a huge lack of understanding...
l started to be more liberated...
to understand that poetry...
is beyond structure...
and at that moment l started to do what l do today.
Love ate my name
My identity My portrait
Love ate My birth certificate
My genealogy My address
Love ate My visiting cards
Love came And ate all the papers
Where l had written my name
Love ate my clothes
My hankie And my shirts
Love ate Meters of my ties
Love ate The size of my suit
The number of my shoes The size of my hats
Love ate My height, my weight
The color of my eyes And hair
Love ate My war and my peace
My day and my night
My winter and summer
Ate my silence My headache
My fear of death
When l started to bring his poetry to the show...
such as the ''Três mal amados Palavras de Joaquim''...
What was interesting was they sang the songs...
and then went on to recite João Cabral...
and many of them thought the poetry was mine...
or by someone else...
And l found this interesting...
as it avoided the thing about João Cabral being difficult...
João Cabral inaccessible, you know...
João Cabral that you can't get...
João Cabral that you have to read...
to get access to the magnificence of João Cabral's poetry.
That is all a big lie.
Brazilian culture is very oral, very rhythmic...
very musical, very corporal and very festive.
l think literature the written culture...
was never properly installed in Brazil...
in the sense that you have...
a cultural life based on publications, readings...
a large number of readers.
lt went almost directly from oral media...
to radio and TV to the audiovisual media.
Popular music in Brazil is a bridge...
that connects with generations arriving,
interested in literature.
Popular music allows you to establish...
a contact between literature
and these people.
A unusual situation was created...
that doesn't exist anywhere else in the world
ln which a really strong popular song...
which has the capacity to reach people
which can be sung to immense audiences...
and bring these audiences
high quality poetry
of subtlety, of richness...
and immediacy...
this lightness that the song has.
TUPl OR NOT TUPl, THAT lS THE QUESTlON.''
Who invented Brazil?
lt was Cabral! lt was Cabral!
On the 21st of April
Two months after carnival.
Afterwards Ceci loved Peri
Peri kissed Ceci To the sound
To the sound of Guarani!
From Guarani to Guaraná
The relation between literature and the popular song
is always one of slight disagreement...
lf a song needed literature...
or music in order to develop...
it would be lost, because it would always be late.
lt is always old literature...
or an old tune that serves as a reference.
There was an echo of opera in the songs of the 30s and 40s...
Think of those introductions, those melodies of Lamartine Babo,..
the words that played with this...
So Peri kissed Ceci
Ceci kissed Peri to the sound to the sound of Guarani
You see, people knew what ''O Guarani'' was...
it was the opera by Carlos Gomes.
Or ''Ridi Pagliaco'' and so on, citing the operas...
The contact they had was with old poetry...
they didn't know the poetry of their own era.
which was modernist...
it was in the 20s.
They knew poetry from...
their primary school books.
The composer Sinhô for example,
Sinho knew how to make things colloquial
which is fine for the popular song.
Like ''Swear, swear to God..''
l mean, a kind of folkloric joke.
However, when he gets to the second part of this song...
he says ''So then l will give you...
''a pure kiss in the cathedral of love''...
from that you see the influence...
from something that he read...
From there on it's like poetry.
Swear, swear swear on your heart
That one day l can give you love
Without another wistful thought
So then l will give you
A pure kiss in the cathedral of love
We see the Brazilian song...
consolidated...
in the late 20s and start of the 30s.
lt's interesting to note that at this time...
singers started to make demands...
especially those who started to earn money...
in regard to the composers...
started to make demands on the composers.
Because of the demand they had to work fast...
and provide numerous songs for the market...
People from the shanty towns, people who were not musicians...
people who had never had any literary information...
but who knew how to mix the melody and the words.
A fellow like Cartola...
who wrote sophisticated words...
and had some education l don't know exactly what...
but some poetic information...
l think a little bit before Modernism,
maybe something of Olavo Bilac.
He was perhaps a poet...
but he always had a guitar somewhere near...
for the music.
What he could do was that.
And he did it wonderfully...
the link between music and poetry.
He and many others. l'm talking about Cartola...
but Noel Rosa was fabulous.
Also - he was middle class...
Noel Rosa's schooling...
maybe better than composers from the shanty towns...
but he had a friendly link, a strong link...
with the people from the Mangueira favela.
Living together was much easier...
in Rio then, than it is today.
lf you swear You love me
l can pull myself together
But if it's al l pretence, woman
The ***'s not for me.
A Woman is a game Difficult to win
And man like a fool Never tires of playing
The same people he called softies --
-- they were middle class people --
who also bought sambas...
they would go looking for music in the shanty towns.
Mario Reis...
Francisco Alves...
Mario Reis didn't buy, he was just a singer...
Chico Alves they say bought...
from lsmael Silva, from Noel...
they would go up to the slums...
they would go up the slums to buy music...
to buy samba.
Sunrise on the hill What beauty
Nobody cries Nobody's sad
Nobody feels despondent
The colors of the sun Are so beautiful
Nature is smiling, Coloring, blushing
The dawn
The composer spoke of his world...
his house, his woman, and his work...
of his sorrows, of his anxieties.
And because the Samba Schools were from the favelas...
many sambas spoke of the favelas...
Today we don't have sambas about the favela...
because the favela has changed.
lt changed a lot...
with the problem of violence...
of organized crime, the gangs.
So the favelas lost...
their identity, not totally, but they lost a lot.
So that's why we don't write those
sambas anymore about the favela anymore...
Of the sad scoundrel The song is still there
Samba Of the swaying mulatta
Who while dancing dreams Of a home on the street
Favela Of the sad scoundrel
The song is still there On moonlit nights
lt's not there anymore.
l have a friend from Bahia A very special friend
A Bahian who sounds So very good
Listen how beautiful He sings his poetry
How melancholic
What nostalgia l feel for Bahia
lf you speak of Caymmi you have to stand up.
Caymmi is...
Caymmi, like Guimarães Rosa.
He is Brazil crude, pure...
illuminated, enchanted, rich, without end.
Caymmi is the sky and the earth.
The waves
When they break on the beach
Are beautiful, are beautiful
The sea,
How many have lost Their husbands, their sons
To the waves of the sea.
The waves
When they break on the beach
Are beautiful, are beautiful
lt's incredible. Caymmi is perhaps the most traditional...
singer of beach songs.
When l heard the songs as a kid...
they made an impression.
l said ''What a nut-case...
what courage, the liberties''.
l would listen to Rádio Nacional...
and his beach songs and think ''How can he say all that''.
Let's call the wind Let's call the wind
l don't even know if it's major or minor.
Let's call the wind Let's call the wind
And there he goes playing and whistling...
How daring can you get?
And other songs that l...
uma galeota pra Jesus louvar
and he breaks the rhythm...
My lord of the navigators Come and protect me
My lord of the navigators... What the devil is this?
he was singing slowly suddenly starts to sing faster...
This audacity impressed me...
just as l was starting junior school.
And now, whenever l search...
l can only find things in the past.
The future is a like a game that is full of pitfalls.
AND AS lT'S BECOME BORlNG TO BE MODERN, l'LL NOW BE ETERNAL.
Madam says that The race is no better
That life gets worse Because of the Samba,
Madam says that Samba is a sin
That the wretched Samba Should end
Madam says that Samba has cachaça
A mixture of race And a mixture of color
Madam says that Democratic samba
ls cheap music With no value at all
Let's get rid of the Samba
Madam doesn't like Anyone to samba
keeps saying that Samba is a shame
So why argue with madam?
Let's get rid of the Samba
Madam doesn't like Anyone to samba
keeps saying that Samba is a shame
So why argue with madam?
l interpret Bossa Nova as a moment of choice...
that was essential in pop music...
as if it was a huge filter...
João Gilberto was important.
He isn't really a composer...
but in interpreting he created a filter...
for selecting songs. He filtered past songs...
and organized things like a samba...
where the samba becomes a question of rhythm...
and words.
João Gilberto eliminated things:
the fast samba used in the march...
the slow samba like a serenade...
but he kept the heart of the samba.
Almost as if the Bossa Nova is...
say, the best part of the samba.
Let's go.
One, two, three...
And the Rolleiflex?
Rolleiflex?
Desafinado?
Desafinado
lf you have to say My love is out of tune
know that this will Cause me enormous pain
Only the privileged Can have an ear like you
l have only what...
You can't imagine what it was like.
Nothing like thatt existed...
You listened to music all day...
and heard nothing like that...
at least in Portguese, that you could understand,
Afterwards, talking to people from a newer generation...
there was no impact...
because when they first listened to music, it already existed...
it was a part of life.
João Gilberto, Bossa Nova...
when they were born, it already existed...
so it was natural, nothing new.
lt was OK, they liked it, but it was nothing new.
For us it was absolutely new.
lf you want to be My sweetheart
What a lovely sweetheart You could be
lf you want to be just mine Precisely this little thing
This thing all mine That no-one else can be
Vinícius was a great poet.
And a man, a bourgeois, he was a diplomat...
man of the world, a personality.
And an extraordinary poet.
He put the words to the songs.
Naturally things changed.
Bossa Nova signaled...
a big change in Brazil...
of behavior, of posture...
Bossa Nova did this.
ln the same way as we grew musically...
poetically Brazilian popular music...
gained much from his poetry...
and that of others like him.
Poets became song writers...
going from one to the other, from Vinicius de Moraes...
who is the major example...
but also Jorge Mautner, Paulo Leminski, Wali Salomão, Antonio Cícero...
Arnaldo Antunes, Alice Ruiz...
All examples of poets who write books...
and songs.
l dream of the poem With ideal architecture
Whose fine cement plaster Joins word upon word
l became an expert in extracting Sparks from the gravel and milk from the stones
l wake up
And the poem unravels Thread by thread
l wake up
Waly was a tornado.
We never had a serious argument...
but we would keep clear of each other, l would get pissed off...
and so would he...
l put him on ice, he would get snooty...
it wasn't peaceful...
but it was friendly like that...
he would call...
and read the poems he was writing...
over the telephone and l would say:''That's lovely, Waly.''
and he would say: ''Liar!'' and slam the phone down.
l loved this.
lt was good.
What Waly did that was special was to unbalance me.
The truth is l'm timid, contained, repressed...
and l go along with anything.
He would play jokes on me, he once sold me to a taxi driver...
in New York a Turk l think.
He would just keep on at me...
shaking me up the whole time.
And then later, this last song we wrote which is not out yet...
which is called ''Your Most Secret Name''...
we were getting more intimate...
and l had the courage to say certain things like...
Yes, this is the song version...
and l'm going to work with this...
and if you are going to insert more verses or lines or pages...
that's for your poem version...
to publish under another name. The song is this.''
With that fixed it was easier...
some of the other things we did were impossible...
He would call me all the time...
with more verses, never less.
He never cut anything, so it was difficult.
l saw the king arrive
l saw the king arrive
lf Marina hadn't stolen my poem and put music to it...
l maybe never would have written songs...
never imagined the possibility of this...
because...
My training was very different.
This is a poem l wrote for my father.
''l saw the king go by
A king like that Has never deigned to listen
He loves all light
But sees no one
His gaze is there Where the horizon is
Far from our eyes His kingdom lies
His royal blood Who knows where it came from
What desert land What distant star still guides his steps?
One day he tried to be more open-hearted
And then departed
A king like that Holds dear his solitude
A pensive flower within his heart
And as for us, the pendulum of love
did not disdain To swing to pain
Well l must say l didn't suffer much
Yes l must say That l grew up
Maybe he wasn't everything l imagined.
l must say though l loved him so''
A poem demands...
all your talent...
all that is strongest in a poet...
all emotion, all his vocabulary...
all his culture, all his sensibility...
his humor, all that you have that is strongest...
is what you'll use to make that poem.
As it is an object of imagination...
you try to understand it...
and so you exercise your intellect...
and the pleasure is...
in the play of intellect and imagination and emotion of the poem.
We are going to Campinas...
to meet Hilda Hilst who is a writer...
a fantastic poet, a bit of a recluse...
doesn't like to give interviews...
A reserved person.
She's written an immense amount, is maybe better known...
abroad than here in Brazil, unfortunately.
Do you think you couldn't write in the madness...
of the cities?
l was at home watching TV...
and l saw Zeca at Hilda's place, hanging out with her...
l discovered they were making a record.
He was composing based on her poems.
l freaked out.
People *** on poets, normally.
And as l spent my whole life...
writing my fiction and poetry...
l almost never earn any money.
She didn't ask, she just said:
l want to make music too...
l want to earn money with music,'' isn't that right, Hilda?
There's no money in books. Never makes any money.
Only if you win a Nobel...
Hilda passed away recently.
l had great hopes of knowing her.
Because, of my latest loves in terms of poetry...
the more recent...
undoubtedly, was Hilda.
Because you know that poetry ls my secret life
You know, Dionisius At your side and loving you
As a woman last And poet first
And your body exists because Mine always existed singing
Always existed singing
My body Dionisius, Gives your mighty body force
And still you see me Extreme and supplicant
As dawn breaks and you say Adieu
When people hear a poem set to music...
they don't need to know whose it is, what it is.
And there's a reason for this.
l remember what l felt...
when l heard musical poems...
l felt there was something more...
something different...
and l think it was the poets.
But you don't need...
to know the code, or the poet...
or that it is a poem.
because then we argue uselessly...
about the words, the song and the poem...
if poetry is somehow more than music...
Not me. Life is short...
l have no time for this.
There are literary currents that say...
and l don't agree...
that song words are not poetry.
Some of course, when read...
mean nothing without the sound.
lf you sing - for example...
l just dance samba, l just dance samba, go, go, go, go, go.''
lt's a samba:
l just dance samba l just dance samba
Go, go, go Go, go
l just dance samba l just dance samba, go!
Written it means absolutely nothing.
There's a brotherliness of music and words...
sound, sonority.
Now, many of the verses...
and today even more so...
are certainly poetry.
Who can tell me which is the current literary trend...
who the poet of which generation, which movement...
or can assure me that Chico Buarque is not a poet?
Working with prose is one thing...
when l write words for a song...
it's totally something else...
But then l work with the music...
it's not a poet that is writing...
it's a poet at the service...
those words only happen...
because music already exists...
they are created for that music.
Which doesn't stop some words...
from having a poetic quality.
That's what bothers me a little...
l don't really want to compare with poetry, because...
Listen, l don't pretend to be a poet, l don't even think...
it's best thing to be.
l don't want to be called a poet because l'm not a poet.
People sometimes want to...
and they create a serious problem...
because the poets get jealous...
Look here, all my life dedicated...
and here comes this chap and writes words to a song...''
But l'll read,l have no problem in reading...
l just have to put on my glasses.
if you want to sing along, be my guest.
Singing along costs more...
Word, first word
One word...
lt's no good singing like that, without accompaniment...
and l've forgotten how to play this on the guitar.
you see music is not only melody...
music is also harmony, it would need rhythm.
First word
Just one word A raw word
That means everything
Before the understanding Word''
Before the understanding word
This 'word' is here only because like this, don't you think...
Word
Word alive
Word with warmth, Word
That sounds Mute
Made of ligth more than wind
You understand what l'm saying?
'Word' is here because the music demands: ''Word...''
Docile word
Word of water For any frame
That settles in a bucket ln verse, in bitterness
lt's wrong here
Any way that maintains The word
My word
Material, my creation word
That takes me Mute
And writes me distracted Word
The tadpole ls the frog's little fish
Silence is The beginning of the talk
lt always fascinated me...
to look at the world like a child...
making unusual associations...
seeing things that are obvious...
but are so obvious that we don't see them.
lt's as if you turn around and the obvious becomes strange...
and you end up feeling weird...
because you realize...
that you hadn't seen it like that, and it's like that...
all the time, but you hadn't seen it that way.
And children...
teach you to see things in a new light.
Oswald de Andrade has a wonderful poem...
in which he says ''l learned from my 10 year old son...
that poetry is the discovery of things l've never seen.''
Darkness is half the zebra
Roots are the veins For the sap
A Camel is A horse without thirst
A turtle {From the inside is a wall
Dream of a dream'' is a poem by Carlos Drummond de Andrade...
that we used for a theme song.
The poem is a bit complicated and l had to...
let's say...
translate the poem...
into my form.
lnterpret the poem to write...
the samba theme song.
And it's a dream... lt's a poem that up to half way...
seems to be going forward, but in fact...
it ends ''False dream that l dreamed''.
l dreamed
l was dreaming a dreamy dream
A dream of a dream Magnetized
With open mind And lips tight closed
Youth alerted Beings winged
My dream l dreamed l dreamed
My dream l dreamed l dreamed
l dreamed
That l was a king who Reined like a common man
One for thousands Thousands for one
Like flashes in space
Crossing the universe Cleaning the mists
Woe is me Woe is me who hardly dreamed
Woe is me Woe is me who hardly dreamed
For some years l've been...
working around the world...
and this has been good traveling and meeting people.
Different cultures each time.
Each time l travel l find the same thing:
a certain importance that our language,
Brazilian Portuguese has...
something very unique.
The rhythm of the words...
the oxitone, the paroxitone and the proparoxitone...
so the word can be 'padadã', 'padãda' or 'pãdada'.
lncredible rhythmic options.
Apart from this, we invented two more vowels.
For example, there is 'a', there is 'ê' closed and 'é' open...
we have the 'i', the 'ô' closed...
the 'ó' open, and the 'u'.
They are 7 vowel sounds, and this is also wonderful.
Then there are nasal sounds...
and every time l hear an 'inho'...
an 'em', or an 'ão'...
it breaks my heart, it's so beautiful.
Meu lá, minha lã
A *** e a maçã
Minha diva, meu divã
Minha manha, meu amanhã
Meu fá, minha fã
Minha paga, minha pagã
Meu velar, meu avelã
Amor de Roma, aroma de romã
Meu mal e meu mão
O que é nau e o que é não
Meu pau e meu pão
Santo Graal e meu grão
Walking against the wind No towel no document
ln the sun of almost December l go
The sun splits into crimes Spaceships, guerillas
ln beautiful Cardinales l go
ln presidents' faces ln big kisses of love
ln teeth, legs, flags Bombs and Brigitte Bardot
Caetano, what made you write such a modern song...
using Coca-Cola, guerillas, Brigitte Bardot?
How did you get this idea...
and when, and when did you start to sing the song?
What made me talk about Coca-Cola and Brigitte Bardot and...
Claudia Cardinale, were Coca-Cola, Brigitte Bardot and Cardinale.
They're around, right?
Bombs, Guerrillas, those things that are around.
When you said you would write such a song...
didn't anyone come to you...
and say you shouldn't mix Cardinale and Coca-Cola?
Nobody thought it strange?
No, because l didn't tell anyone.
When it was ready l showed it to a few of my friends...
a few friends who thought it was cool.
Once it was ready.
Mainly people from Bahia.
l went to Salvador, before the Festival...
to show my friends there, and they thought it was cool...
also to do it with guitars.
l was very pleased because in Rio...
they wrote: ''Caetano will use guitars...
and when he arrives in Bahia he'll get hit with a 'berimbau'!''
They didn't know that Bahians are a cool crowd.
lf you take ''Alegria Alegria''...
which was one of the songs that...
ignited Tropicalism...
you have verses like: ''l drink a coca cola...
she thinks marriage and a song consoles me...''
This was inconceivable two years earlier...
because what you had then...
was Chico Buarque's ''A Banda''...
which is a very clear narrative...
of a band passing by...
and marveling at everything.
This verse by Caetano now two years after...
is what l call juxtaposition...
you have subjects, different from verse to verse...
and this was inconceivable.
Today you see words by Djavan...
and they are all like that...
sometimes you don't know what he is talking about...
you know if it's amorous...
but you don't understand the connection from one verse to another.
This comes from Tropicalism because it used...
literary influence...
there's no doubt about it...
the freedom, above all, to write the words.
l wrote this song in 1960...
it is called ''Jimmy surrender''.
So when l wrote this song,
Back then there was a phrase...
''Brazil will be rich when the damned oil is finished.''
Seems like a prophesy.
Lord, even Bush has been here...
because the oil is running out.
Guta me look Mi look love me
Tac sutaque Destaque tac she
Tique butique Que tique te gamou
Toque-se rock Se rock rock me
Bob Dica, diga
Jimi renda-se!
Cai cigano, cai, camóni bói
Cai cigano is Caetano
Jarrangil century fox
Galve me a cigarrete
Billy Halley Roleiflex
Jâni chope chope chope chope Ô Jâni chope chope
And so it starts:
The dollar is false money
And then the audience responds:
The dollar is false money
American can't keep His pants up
Germany is begging for help
The English Don't use knickers
There are no more Bras in ltaly
The Swiss don't Wash any more
Ô, cabrobrô
Eles vão tomar
No fiofó
The Tropicalist problem was freedom...
to do and not to do.
You didn't want to follow a manual for composition,
for themes, for instruments.
ln the old days you couldn't even choose the instrument...
no electric guitar because...
it recalled was North American.
That's why there was a protest march against the guitar.
ln the arms of 2000 years l was born without age
l'm married, l'm single l'm Bahian, l'm foreign
My blood is gasoline l am not bitter
My breast is fruit salts bubbling in a glass of water
Astronaut in freedom My life overtakes me
Whatever direction l take
l cried out in the dark l'm a partner of the future
ln the glittering galaxy.
Pop Music'' - define it.
lt's difficult to define because... Pop is..
l don't even know if it's Pop, do you get me?
lt's something that l accept...
because somehow we are...
losing to a sort of Pop culture...
to all sorts of mass culture...
and everything else, you know?
for example, comic books are a form of Pop.
So Pop is what is 'in'.
ls that which is happening?
Pop comes from the English, ''Popular''...
lt seems like a mass art...
l mean, something that is done
utilizing the elements for mass success
Everything that communicates...
directly with the masses, understand?
THE MASSES WlLL ONE DAY EAT THE FlNE BlSCUlTS THAT l MAKE
THE CANDLE KlNG
The idea of an anarchist utopia...
and of the joining of the modern with the most primitive...
is something that in Brazil in the 60s...
with the Concretist poetry, the tropicalist movement...
the theater of Zé Celso and the staging of ''The Candle King''...
also brought the idea of cultural anthropophagy...
into our cultural life.
The Brazilian is like this, he eats everything...
he is anthropophagous...
but l didn't eat so much because l didn't much like...
the Beatles, for example, l preferred the Rolling Stones.
l ate the Rolling Stones, the Rolling Stones ate me...
l ate Tennessee Williams...
l ate the northern hemisphere.
l ate what l know well including Japanese theater...
l ate the northern hemisphere...
But this just...
This just fed my southern hemisphere, you know.
Just fed my southern hemisphere.
l learned to value the dance with the music...
which is very Brazilian...
from Dyonisius, ''As Bacantes''.
Bacantes is the ritual of the origin of theater.
First was the Bossa Nova and the creation of Brasília...
but it was still elitist...
not João Gilberto or Tom Jobim.
They would say ''country'' is the most inferior thing.
Luiz Gonzaga, Jackson do Pandeiro...
but when tropicalism arrived, it broke down the barriers...
like modern art in the 20s.
This time for everybody.
And today all of rap and hip hop and funk...
and even the experimental music of Arrigo Barnabé...
with all the electronic effects,
or even home-made music...
is all tropicalism because it is a continuous mutation...
and a permanent revolution.
Behind the skyscraper ls the sky, is the sky
And then there's another sky With no stars
Over the umbrella ls the rain, is the rain
With raindrops so beautiful You feel you want to eat them
lnside of the cauliflower ls the flower, is the flower
But its not just a flower lt has flavor, too
lnside the glove compartment ls the glove, is the glove
That someone with Black nails so sharp
Just forgot to wear
Chico Science.
The hummingbird's beak kisses the flower, hummingbird
And all the fauna and flora Shout with love
The standard bearer Dances artistically
And the Maracatu Atômico electronic Race parades by.
Hip hop uses all the visual effects...
light, photography, cinema...
everything, and the singer puts his own expression...
on things.
So it's very broad.
There are influences from everywhere...
and the origins of rap and hip hop are jazz, blues, soul, James Brown.
The police come up here Both to kill and to die
'Cos those who live up here Have nothing to lose
The police come up here Both to kill and to die
'Cos those who live up here Have nothing to lose
l have already askedyou What are you doing here
The playboy wants to sniff The playboy wants to enjoy
You sniff brizola ln your apartment
Here things are different ln the alleyways
The rogues are nervous They're desperate
lts better you go back To where you came from
Treacherous is the night lt will gobble you up
Without leaving a trace No clues, no indication
Of the place l come from Where you come from too
Except that l was born Here in Rio de Janeiro
l didn't join the protest against the electric guitar.
For me they always mixed samba and rock'n'roll...
funk and baião, reggae and any sort of music.
That for me is raw material for an unclassifiable creation...
like l said in that song...
Here we are mixed race mulattos Light, dark, black and half-breed
Blondblacks, indijaps and jewarabs
Here we are mixed race mulattos Light, dark, black and half-breed
Blondblacks, indijaps and jewarabs
Orientindians orientindians
American portujapanese
Orientindians orientindians
American portujapanese
Orientindians orientindians
lberobarbarians indi gypsies
Orientindians orientindians
lberobarbarians indi gypsies
We are what we are
Unclassifiable.
We are a mixed race...
and the old world is...
just realizing this now.
We see a Sarkozy winning in France...
and it's revealing, a guy making a speech like that...
with a name like Sarkozy.
Talking of ethnic cleansing...
and the passion the French feel for Brazilian music.
For the culture in general
But more specifically in Brazil.
Perhaps they recognize themselves...
in the type of mixing that we practiced.
They have only done this since the 2nd World War.
Very little time.
We've got more than 500 years...
of this racial promiscuity.
When l say 'l am black'...
it's part of my makeup...
ln spite of my Breton look...
Since l'm Brazilian And the tambourine sound
Goes straight in the right direction
Since l've entered this ring And the country of swing
ls the country of contradiction
l sing to the king of the Groove By the law of ''embolada''
ln the tongue of percussion
The dance of the dark brown girl The sway of the sensuous hips
ls the charm of this nation
Who made the samba dance?
Who made the ''coco'' samba?
Who made the ostrich Moan with pleasure?
Who made a cockade With a coconut palm?
Who left a void behind him?
Who made the toad a lagoon singer?
Tell me Tião. Come on, Tião! (Hi)
Did you go? Yes Did you buy? l bought
Did you pay? l paid
How much was it? 500 reais How much was it? 500 reais
Come on Tião Hi
Did you go? Yes Did you buy? l bought
Did you pay? l paid
How much was it? How much was it?
Since l'm Brazilian With spice, with drumbeat
With a lot of circus tricks With tambourine and ''repique''
With the punch of funk-rock With the beat of ''platinela''
Parading with the samba And this Brazilian soul
Rolling down the slope Like thunder, never stopping
And this Brazilian soul Rolling down the slope
Like thunder, never stopping
l'll only put BEBOP in my samba
When Uncle Sam plays the tambourine
When he can play all the drums
When he understands That samba isn't rumba
l'll mix Miami with Copacabana
And chewing gum with banana
And my samba My samba will be like that
This is the battle of the Real...
in the middle of the square.
This is really street culture...
with no fuss or glamor...
This is real real. The battle of the real.
l don't know what signal You are using
But Leonardo di Caprio Today you are screwed
The whole world can see you
l'll beat you by 45 seconds
lf you make the signal for four
Believe it that's
Where you'll be
l'm not the teacher here But it's divine moral
And you want what?
This place is not for you Now you're going to learn
To learn to respect
Because you don't have the leverage And you don't know how to rhyme.
What you said Means nothing
Partner, so what?
l got here by fighting, see?
You don't even know how to rhyme
You badmouth dance You badmouth B-Boy
You don't even know The rules of the game
You haven't a notion Of what is the art
When l was a kid l listened to Som Brasil...
woke up early to do this...
to listen to regional music.
One of the things l liked...
that l was crazy about,
was the street singers challenging each other.
This sort of 'free-style' thing...
the battle for reality...
this is a return to the style with someone else...
but the spirit is the same. l think its classic.
Rap and violence were...
always intimately linked.
Rap and hip hop arose...
to try and grab this energy of violence...
and transform it into something else...
so they wouldn't kill each other.
Sometimes you have groups that want to do it...
talking about violence and then...
demanding changes or...
talking about a situation that exists...
and competing to see...
which song has more blood.
Pain is easier to talk about
Much easier Than talking of love
Simple things are difficult.
Oh but rap is about life...
the singer just portrays life.''
But this is very difficult.
And hip hop and rap get there...
and lots identify with it.
lt's done by people with no schooling and...
people who are in no condition to do it...
and they do it anyway.
lt comes from the streets...
and it's true, it's strong...
he sings the life he's living.
The challenge starts
When leaving home
Eyes that condemn lnquisitors of love
ln the basic food basket there are no books, see?
There's no law to force the spread of books?
Or laws that function...
because banks can print...
expensive books about wine...
to give to their rich clients...
and we can't get basic books for schools.
lt's all one enormous system...
You have to look at the big picture.
and this reflects on the kid who is today...
on the periphery, or middle class or high class and doesn't read.
Rap has the power of statement...
an esthetic...
and behavioral power...
and is the assertion of a social position...
of un-schooled generations...
socially excluded, who found...
in the sung or chanted word...
a way of telling the country...
a way of saying 'We exist.'
lt's difficult to evaluate, know the moment you're living...
what it signifies historically.
But there are signs that perhaps...
the song has had its time.
l don't know for sure.
This song that was born at the start of the 20th century...
maybe has a best by date...
a term of validity...
maybe it won't mean any more...
as of today, or tomorrow.
And then it will be substituted...
by electronic music, Rap, all these things tend...
to negate the song...
as we knew it this last century.
That kind of song.
l don't know. l don't know. lt's difficult.
Things could change...
without necessarily dying...
by being called something else.
When l accepted the idea that the song is finished...
l accepted it because, in the old days...
the song was consumed
with the cognitive and the auditive functions.
lt is no longer like that.
When you sit in a car...
you feel the song through your backside...
your belly...
through your back...
through your thighs! Of course the song is finished!
A song doesn't touch the body, a song is ineffable...
it's beauty, enchantment, spirit.
How could a song be so carnal...
so full of blood and flesh?
This is what we are living.
l don't think the song is dying...
the record industry is dying.
Partly because of new fashions...
the new computer generation...
downloading music on the internet...
this is killing the industry.
But l think a certain style,
A certain part, will never die.
People still need romanticism.
When things turn to chaos...
we arrange a new way to survive...
it's just recycling, the song is also recycling.
Oh the word to love The word is
The word gives The word gives pleasure
The word is the sound The word is
the word is the gift The word is the best measure
The word is my life...
And l'm really serious about it.
So l'll just follow the word...
l'll try and do as much as l can...
through the word.
Ezra Pound has a phrase that says:
''The function of literature is to nourish with impulses''.
l think it's a perfect definition...
because of the word nutrition...
and feeding the sensibilities.
ln all l do l always...
try to alter in some way...
the sensibility and the conscience of people...
with what l produce.
l find something very cool...
in the concerts outside Brazil...
people say...
that they are learning Portuguese because of the songs...
my words or other writers' words...
but l think it's incredible.
For a moment l get a sensation...
that doing all this has some use.
There's no need to have a use...
but at times l think there is.
l find it beautiful.
My music doesn't want To be useful
Doesn't want to be fashion Doesn't want to be right
My music doesn't want to be beautiful
Doesn't want to be bad
My music doesn't want To be born ready
My music doesn't want To redeem bitter thoughts
Nor divide the waters
Not to translate Doesn't want to protest
My music doesn't want To belong to me
Doesn't want success Nor to be a reflection
Or reveal anything.
My music doesn't want To be subjected
Doesn't want to be history Doesn't want to reply
Or be the question.
My music wants to be Beyond good taste
Doesn't want a face Nor to be culture
My music wants to be of no category
My music wants To be just music
My music Doesn't want little
Tradução: Christopher Hieatt