Brazzil
Music
June/July 2002
To count every flora and fauna species in the Amazon would be to count the multitudes of people (Brazilian or not) who hold a warm spot in their heart for the lady—the one who takes hearts away, guiding them somewhere along the Ipanema beach to the tops of the Corcovado mountain where the Christ Redeemer statue stands; the ever so sweet singing seductress, surreal and lovely; the one so sadly humble but majestically fabulous—they call her the bossa nova. Duly a worldwide response, sultry waves of acceptation roar from those who listen and understand this uniquely Brazilian "New Wave" of music; it was a beat far due.
The movement was not produced from the hands of giddy society kids, but in stark contrast, by deep victims of emotion and prototypes of man's story that simply sounded the songs brooding in their hearts—a love for nature and beauty, the infamous untranslatable longing for someone called saudade, the restlessness of being lost but in the same way found, melancholy, and the great fight known as life. Thus, understanding of her is quite universal, even for the non-musical type.
In scientific terms she is the stimulus provoking the taxis. Artistically, she is the chosen form of art lauded by art patrons. To intellectuals, she is the knower of sadness and happiness, existing before time, except only now she has a name. Let her be a capsule of perpetual freedom to politicians, unfettered and revolutionary. To the religious she gives a glimpse of heaven and a greater longing for God. And so, it was only natural for the musicians who started the style of Brazilian bossa nova music to translate their convictions into the fitting beauty we get to listen to today. Thank you, Tom Jobim, Vinicius de Moraes, Luiz Bonfá, João and Astrud Gilberto, and the exhaustive list that always follows.
It is for all people that I endeavor to classify types of individuals based on their affiliation with the bossa nova and her counterparts on a scale of 1 to 4 (4 being the most infatuated):
1—Deprived
Let us first look at the poor individual who has never heard of the movement at all, or the mere mention of a girl, one from Ipanema that is. A crisis to be sure, there is an alarming percentage of such deprived ones (generally in countries outside of Brazil), who sadly, will never taste her song.
It may not be their fault. Their deprivation lies simply not in ignorance, but in blindness—they simply have not been exposed, partly because of the domination of other musical genres and today's popular culture (pop stars?) ever looming upon the younger generation and even the older too. Little do they know the treasures waiting to be reaped. But it is their loss.
For this destitute person, I would recommend the Antônio Carlos Jobim Songbook: The Girl from Ipanema as a good selection of starter songs. There is at least one person we all know who is "deprived" and there's only one remedy: share with he or she a piece of Brazil.
2—Recognizing
Then comes the stage of recognition. This person has at least heard of some tunes, usually the most popular, "The Girl from Ipanema." This person deserves a bonus if they have an inkling that the song came from Brazil. Bravo.
Dichotomizing from that category are the ones who like it and the ones who don't. They are of course, free to their own judgments on whether they like it or not. Some prefer to forget the sounds as a mere specter of past, and to others it is just a song with a different beat. We will leave these aversed ones in the dust, for they are a lost cause. But for the one who has any slight hint of affection, it shouldn't be hard for them to venture deeper into the sounds.
3—The Fond Admirer
Next is the fond admirer. A rather famous admirer is the American singing legend, Frank Sinatra. At a time when he was the biggest singer in America, he found himself drawn to the irresistible breeze of innovation coming from Brazil's young bossa novans. He admired it so much that he recorded two albums with Jobim. Based on the postulate "like recognizes like," it was destiny that Sinatra and Jobim would meet—two men, (it is hard to call them just "men") wonderfully eccentric, who digged genuine music.
From celebrity admirers to the public, the fond admirer has no restrictions. Recently, I stumbled upon a fond admirer. After giving my friend a CD with bossa nova songs on it for happy listening, she reported to me that her mother stole the CD for herself because she had fond sympathies for "The Girl from Ipanema," a song from her childhood. She kept the CD in her car for a couple weeks to sing along with. I applaud my friend's mother for resurrecting the classic music, which obviously withstood memory through time.
The admirer may not be obsessed, they may not be fanatical, and they may not be captivated; however, they can appreciate a good sound when they hear one.
4—The Follower
Lastly, there is the hardcore follower. How many words could justly describe what Brazil's bossa nova movement means to the follower? Infinitely many, too many to be mortally spoken. The follower's experience is remarkably personal and positive, with the vast amount of things the beat has to offer: comfort, euphoric pain, sadness, joy, love, and restlessness.
I imagine the followers reading this right now who adore Jobim, both Gilbertos, Getz, Bonfá, Moraes, and the rest of the bossa nova' s family players are getting excited, because they always perk up at the very act of reading anything that mentions their heroic names. I will also venture to say that this person will have countless CDs of the aforementioned names, and plays them nonstop.
Yes, the typical fanatic can listen to thirty different versions of the song "Corcovado," or any song for that matter, straight in a row without going crazy. Nonstop, nonstop. It may annoy the neighbors, but the ears of the faithful follower never tire. Guessing their favorite movie isn't hard; can it be…surprise…Black Orpheus, the Brazilian film whose musical score was written by Moraes, Bonfá, and Jobim?!!? On the bookshelf of the follower would be a wide array of bossa nova readings; to name a few, authors Ruy Castro and Gene Lees.
For an example of a follower I nominate myself. Listening to my three pioneering CD's: Jazz Samba Encore: Stan Getz-Luiz Bonfá, The Antônio Carlos Jobim Songbook: The Girl from Ipanema, and Jazz Round Midnight with Astrud Gilberto coupled with two personal emails sent to me from Astrud Gilberto herself—the woman who originally sang "The Girl from Ipanema"— was enough to push me to devotion. I embarked on a journey I am still traveling every day of my life.
The bossa nova and her singers revealed to me her deepest pathos as I indulged in vast listening, solitary days on sun-drenched beaches, and hanging around jazz musicians in the wee hours. Here, I found my unnamed place somewhere among the frantic sounds of the percussion, piano, brass, guitars, drums, vocals, etc., in the colorful mural of life. Though I'm not "tall," or very "lovely" for that matter, I am "tan, young" with dark hair, so it was only natural for the mythical "Girl from Ipanema" to become my role model. Furthermore, I'm not a native or Rio, a Carioca—I live in charming coastal southern California, a place that I hope can somewhat be analogous to gorgeous Rio, making me almost a Carioca except I would technically be the Californian beachcomber. Still, I figure that's as close as I can get in America, right?
Sitting on the sunny beach with my boombox playing sensual bossa nova tunes can really get to a jazz junky like I. With João strumming his guitar, Astrud's voice of tristeza and felicidade (sadness and happiness), and the tide's ebb caressing my ear as I stare into the clear blue sky beyond swaying palms, soaking up sun is almost like "Água de Beber" or "Drinking Water." After too much bossa nova, after the unforgettable Brazilian dance beat named samba, after many stupors of saudade, the melancholy effect is fatally splendid: I fly away and never come back.
A Southern California resident, Melinda Wong seems to always find herself many places along the coast where she is a jazz groupie, beachcomber, and dabbler in photography and painting. "I am tremendously and hopelessly a jazz junky—I'm free" she says. Currently she is working on a novel and can be reached at pumpkin362@yahoo.com