| Brazil's Sacramento: Memorable Sound |
| Written by Daniella Thompson | |
| Sunday, 07 November 2004 | |
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Marcos Sacramento made his first major statement as a solo artist in 1994 with the CD A Modernidade da Tradição. In the ten years that elapsed since that release, he recorded the modernist Caracane, four albums of 1920s songs with Lira Carioca, and the “Afro-Sambas” album Saravá, Baden Powell! with Clara Sandroni. Memorável Samba is Sacramento’s latest disc and his first solo album since 1998. As its title (extracted from “Meu Romance,” where it refers to a party, not the musical genre) implies, the album showcases classic sambas from the Golden Age of the 1930s and ’40s. Produced by the French Association Saravá, which has been promoting the singer’s European tours, the CD was released earlier this year in Brazil. In its choice of repertoire, Memorável Samba follows in the steps of A Modernidade da Tradição. But whereas the earlier disc was a restrained affair with stripped-down arrangements and spare vocals, the new album is exuberant and lavishly arranged in primordial samba-choro style by Água de Moringa leaders Luiz Flavio Alcofra and Jayme Vignoli. What the two discs share beyond the repertoire is a contemporary yet respectful approach to interpreting golden oldies that renders the songs relevant to our age without robbing them of their period charm. Sacramento is the ideal singer for this repertoire, possessing both the vocal chops and a natural vivacity and humor that are particularly well-suited to vintage samba. These qualities make themselves apparent beginning with the first track, “Deixa Falar!” A manifesto of racial equality and national valor centered around Brazil’s 1938 World Cup semifinals defeat at the hand of (Fascist) Italy, this samba was particularly topical on the verge of World War II, just as Hitler’s annexation of Czechoslovakia during the same year furnished material for a popular marcha. “Deixa Falar!,” composed by a musician who was a member of Assis Valente’s 1930s vocal group Bando Carioca, was recorded by Carmen Miranda with orchestra and male chorus. Ary Barroso made a guest appearance, narrating a Brazil-Czechoslovakia football game—apparently from the 1938 World Cup quarterfinals. Tipping the hat to Ary, Sacramento’s version opens with a sampling from the original recording of the gaitinha trill always used by the composer/football comentator to announce goals in his radio broadcasts. Jayme Vignoli’s arrangement keeps an up-tempo mood with a spirited brass and reed section. Sacramento’s rendition is equally vivacious, and he has fun imitating Carmen’s rolled Rs. Deixa Falar! E todos têm seu valor Você pensava que o Diamante* Quando você dizia que trocava * Leonidas da Silva, star of the Brazilian soccer team. The theme of the classic malandro makes an appearance in several tracks, with “Meu Romance” being a prominent exemplar. This song, classified as a samba-canção, was recorded by Orlando Silva at a leisurely pace reminiscent of a waltz. It tells the story of a young man who has fallen for a lass at a party and, following her to the morro, becomes an avowed malandro. Sacramento’s version is a delicious full-tilt samba, making the most of the story. The highly percussive track features traditional and nylon pandeiros, tamborim, surdo, ganzá, chocalho, repique de mão, and tantan, in addition to guitar and cavaquinho. Meu Romance Embaixo daquela jaqueira Mario Reis was the first to record the sexually ambiguous samba “Mulato Bamba,” which recounts the exploits of another malandro who’s popular with the morenas of Salgueiro but avoids them all, wanting no attachment—even with a beautiful woman. The interpretation here is leisurely rhythmic and tongue-in-cheek, much as a mulato bamba would be. Mulato Bamba Esse mulato forte O mulato é de fato Sei que ele anda agora aborrecido “O “X” do Problema” will always belong to Aracy de Almeida. Wisely, Sacramento makes no attempt to compete with the legendary singer. He begins the song slowly, building up the rhythm as he goes. As in the previous songs, the lyrics celebrate the traditional milieu of bambas, only this time the bamba is a woman. O “X” do Problema Nasci no Estácio Eu sou diretora da escola de Estácio de Sá Você tem vontade The samba-choro “Meu Rádio e Meu Mulato” was a light-hearted vehicle for Carmen Miranda at a time when radio was the most important entertainment medium. The protagonist hopes to attract his/her beloved with music played on the radio s/he bought on an installment plan. The plan fails, for the beloved doesn’t like music in addition to having no heart. Sacramento lends his interpretation a wistful overlay that is nicely complemented by Nicolas Krassik’s violin and Marcos Nimrichter’s accordion. Luiz Flavio Alcofra arranged this tasteful morsel. Meu Rádio e Meu Mulato Comprei um rádio muito bom Another wartime song pokes fun at the enemy—this time Nazi Germany. Samba-de-breque was Moreira da Silva’s specialty, but in “Esta Noite Eu Tive um Sonho” Sacramento matches him skill for skill in a humorous rendition that is nothing short of brilliant. The track begins with a brief quotation of the opening to Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, played by the brass and winds, and things only get better from there. Particularly delicious is the contrast between the smooth syncopated singing and the harsh fake-German breaks. The narrator’s nightmare takes place in a Berliner botequim, where the waiter refuses to serve him and the owner received him with two stones in his hands. Even the Brazilian’s assurance “Ich mag dich” (“I like you,” an allusion to Getúlio Vargas’ flirtation with Germany), charmingly misspelled in the lyrics and meaning just the opposite,* does nothing to resolve the impasse until he wakes up with the realization that he’d been dreaming, and that eating sausage at night is bad for the digestion. Esta Noite Eu Tive um Sonho Saltei em Berlim, entrei num botequim Tive vontade de comer uns bifes * Ich mag dich = I like you The samba “Fez Bobagem” was another Aracy de Almeida vehicle. Equally important, it received a glorious recording from Sacramento himself in A Modernidade da Tradição. That recording was minimalist and reflective; this one is perky, ending with theatrical flourish. I happen to prefer the 1994 version, although the new one has its merits. The story line is familiar: a favelada’s complaint that her lover has replaced her with a new woman. Fez Bobagem Meu moreno fez bobagem Aracy (and Noel) again. “Triste Cuíca” had been one of Noel’s forgotten songs until Ione Papas recorded it in 2000. In this samba, the stock character of Laurindo (later to be invoked in separate sambas by Herivelto Martins and Wilson Batista) made his first appearance. He is the expert bamba whose cuíca sounded like the lowing of an ox. Laurindo abandons Zizica for Conceição, and the wronged woman exacts her revenge. Sacramento’s sensitive version is both rhythmic and lyrical, at times conversational, at others singer-like. Flutes, trumpet, flugelhorn, and trombone, arranged by Carlos Fuchs, build up toward a strong finish. Triste Cuíca Parecia um boi mugindo Ele não deu à Zizica Diferente o samba fica A Zizica está sorrindo Sacramento altered Noel’s last two lines: Esconderam o Laurindo João Máximo and Carlos Didier comment on the original ending in their book Noel Rosa: Uma Biografia (Editora Universidade de Brasília, 1990): The verb esconder [to hide] is used in the sense of matar [to kill], something rare in popular music, as are lyrics in the form of a sonnet. By taking this liberty with the lyrics, the singer no doubt intended to clarify the true meaning behind the phrase (did Noel disguise it to fool the censor?). In doing so, he dropped a syllable from the final line, which makes for a smoother finale. “Só Pode Ser Você,” a slow samba of disappointed love, has been a favorite of Sacramento’s for many years. This, too, is the legacy of Noel and Aracy, and Marcos cloaks it in a highly personal setting. Noel, already ailing and not long for this world, addresses Ceci, the woman he calls “most cruel, more beautiful than sincere.” Alcofra and Vignoli’s lovely accompaniment compounds the feeling of loss. Só Pode Ser Você Compreendi seu gesto E pelas informações que recebi Roberto Silva recorded the samba “Notícia” in his velvety tones. Sacramento has the velvet but also plenty of swing, and the gafieira-like accompaniment puts your feet to tapping and your hips to shaking. Notícia Já sei a notícia que vens me trazer Amigo como eu, jamais encontrarás In “Errei... Erramos” Sacramento demonstrates that he is indeed Orlando Silva’s contemporary heir, combining vocal beauty with an unerring sense of rhythmic timing. Andréa Ernest Dias’ flute hones the swinging arrangement’s edge. Errei... Erramos Eu, na verdade, E, evidentemente, Venho ao tribunal da minha consciência Batista de Souza, who first sang “Onde Está a Florisbela?,” is an unknown among the illustrious singers memorialized in this disc. I have never heard his recording, but no matter, for Sacramento’s delectable version is beyond comparison. Funny, effortless, exuding essence of malandro carioca, it is sui generis. Roberto Marques’ trombone counterpoints the voice marvelously. The story revolves around a deceived woman’s revenge: she burns all her malandro lover’s clothes and his guitar, and the neighbor woman helps her set the fire. Onde Está a Florisbela? De madrugada A vizinha respondeu: The rousing penultimate number is “Imperador do Samba,” which Carmen Miranda introduced in more innocent days. The subject is the majesty of samba, and Luiz Flavio Alcofra’s setting parades all the traditional percussion instruments to do the honors. Imperador do Samba Silêncio! Façam alas! A Imperatriz marcha também Com o Tango e a Valsa vêm também Closing the disc is no samba but a waltz, one of Orlando Silva’s most memorable creations. The narrator watches a beautiful woman, “like a crazy butterfly, a goddess of luxury and pleasure,” lose at roulette, sustaining a mortal duel with luck. Sacramento’s homage to his master is a fitting voice-guitar seresta, ending a vivid album on a quiet, reflective, beautiful, note. Deusa do Cassino Ninguém foge ao seu destino Sentada na minha frente As tuas mãos vaporosas A tua boca vermelha Marcos Sacramento: Memorável Samba 01. Deixa Falar (Nelson Petersen, 1938) Marcos Sacramento: vocals Andréa Ernest Dias: flutes (7, 11) You can read more about Brazilian music and culture at Set as favorite Bookmark
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