Back in Brazil again…

It seems like ages since I was here and yet at the same time it seems like only yesterday. I am writing this from the family home of my good friend Alberto, on the outskirts of Teresópolis in Rio de Janeiro state. We are still a little punch drunk from travelling, having left Cornwall at 11am on January 3rd and driven to Heathrow where we boarded a TAM flight for São Paulo. Despite the fact that we were travelling – as always – scum class, Mrs. Voltarol and I did manage to get a couple of hours sleep on the plane. We landed shortly after 7am local time, got though customs and baggage pick-up remarkably quickly and were met by Alberto, who welcomed us back and drove us to his home. Lua, Alberto’s albino boxer bitch, gave us a huge welcome and bounded around us as we unloaded the luggage from the car.

After we had showered and changed clothes, Mrs. V. spent some time sorting through our luggage and preparing a bag for onward travel whilst I changed the strings on Alberto’s Fender Telecaster, which was to be my guitar for the time being. We then went out shopping for essentials, having first lunched in an excellent Mineiro restaurant (specialising in food from the region of Minas Gerais) where I reacquainted my self with Brazilian beer. After lunch we organized a hire car for the next week and then sought out a music shop for spare strings and some guitar leads.

By the time Clarice – Alberto’s partner – got home from work Mrs. V. and I were beginning to fade a little, and by the time we had eaten our evening meal we were severely in need of some sleep, the urgency of this being bolstered by the knowledge that we would be rising at 5am the following day so as to beat the traffic when we drove out of São Paulo.

The next morning we were on the road again by 6.45 am and clear of the city by about 7.30. We then had another six hours of driving before we reached our present destination which is to be our base for the next week. We had an early night last night and slept late this morning, so we are beginning to gather our wits about us properly. By tomorrow we should be back on track. I suppose it must be a function of the aging process, but I’m sure I was generally back up to speed after 24 hours. Ah well, Tempus fugits a lot faster than it used to…

And indeed, it fugited even faster because after I had written this and was about to post it, opportunities to get on line suddenly became rarer than hen's dentures and rocking-horse excrement. Then we got into the inevitable Brazilian state of mind that says..."what the hell - I'll do it tomorrow...possibly..."

Anyway, I have been happily distracted by all manner of entertaining things - waterfalls, rainforests, beer, food, sun, sea,wildlife and, of course, music.

So here is an interim posting until I can get my arse into gear and tell you all about the music and about some of the great people I've been playing with, and introduce you to some of my new friends. I include a couple of pictures to whet your appetites...

The territory around Teresópolis

 

Left to right - Alberto, Dudu, Voltarol, Rodrigo, Silvia

Christmas comes but once a year…

A rather nasty bout of sciatica has kept me from gigs for the last couple of weeks, and the imminent arrival of Christmas, coupled with our imminent departure to Brazil, has kept me too busy to blog. So, in the immortal words of Valerie Singleton – here’s one I prepared earlier. This first saw the light of day in a letter to some friends a couple of years ago and I offer it here as my only December posting this year.


Mrs Voltarol and I were busily engaged in some bloated post-Christmas couch-potatoing last January, when it suddenly occurred to me that there was a simple answer to the annual problem of severe yuletide distension. Well, yes. I know we don't have to eat all that stuff, but the trouble is that (A) I'm naturally greedy, and (B) Christmas is the one occasion when you are actually expected to pig out.

The same thing happens every year. At some point - around the end of August, normally - one or the other of us will come home and make an announcement along the lines of "Do you know, I've just seen Christmas cards on sale in W. H. Smiths?" or "I see Tesco's are doing a nice line in Yule logs.", and before you can say 'cholesterol' we are discussing what we will have to eat and drink this year. "Oh!" says Mrs V, "You must make another of your Christmas pork pies!" (a statement that does rather indicate a certain cultural versatility for a nice Jewish girl, I think you'll agree).

The next few months are regularly punctuated with conversational non-sequiturs. In the middle of a discussion about when to order our next batch of heating oil, I might announce "I think we should have a goose again this year". (At which point, predictably, Mrs V will take the first possible opportunity to catch me unawares.) Or perhaps she will suddenly interrupt her perusal of the day’s post to announce that she intends to try a different Christmas cake recipe this year, and that, oh, we really ought to bake two stöllen loaves this time so that we can use one of them to make our celebrated deluxe trifle. (That's the one with the home-made coffee blancmange, fresh fruit set in an apple-juice jelly, a generous slug of brandy in the base and a heap of whipped Greek yoghurt on top...).

The first bottle of 'cooking' brandy appears in the kitchen around about the end of November. This is specifically intended for use in the manufacture of Christmas pudding, Christmas pudding ice-cream, Christmas cake, the feeding of the Christmas cake and, of course, pâté. That's the theory anyway. In practice I'm not quite sure about what happens. I mean, theoretically we used four bottles this year on the cake alone. In this house, the term 'cake stand' refers to ones deportment after 'feeding' the Christmas cake. A person returning from the kitchen after dealing with this chore, who is seen to be a bit rubbery round the knees, is said to be 'doing a cake stand'.

Then, of course, there's the booze proper: a suitable selection of wines to accompany each course of each meal for three days, some other bottles of wine to keep you going between times when you don't actually fancy a more substantial drink, substantial drink - Armagnac, Malt Whisky and Calvados, additional drink to cater for visitors with other preferences - Scotch, Vodka, Gin, Sherry, appropriate mixers, some bottles of cider, a few beers, a few lagers and a can or two of 'draught' Guinness. (Oops! Nearly forgot the Port.) All of these are assembled and stashed in the spare room.

By December 24th we experience the onset of "Christmas 'fridge". The first symptoms of this dreadful complaint are easy to spot. You open the door of the refrigerator and something falls out. You attempt to replace it but for some reason only explicable by means of the more esoteric reaches of quantum physics it will no longer fit into the space from whence it came. You then remove the entire contents of the 'fridge and start from scratch, this time to discover that the internal dimensions of the container have mysteriously shrunk yet again, and you now have two bottles of milk, a carton of cream and a bowl of cold potatoes left over from yesterday's meal that can no longer be accommodated. So you go back to square one. By the time you have finally succeeded in cramming all the stuff back in, the 'fridge temperature has risen by about fifteen degrees. The next time you look inside it appears that the little man that lives in there and turns the light off when you shut the door has been stricken with severe incontinence. But I digress.

So what with the goose and the trifle and the cake and the pudding and the paté and the stöllen and a nice ham and a decent piece of beef and the pork pie and a brace of pheasant and all the ingredients for a cassoulet with the left-over goose and the home-made petit-fours and the crystallised fruit and the bowls of nuts and satsumas and the Bendick's Bittermints and the piece of stilton and the lump of Mr's Appelby's Cheshire and the truckle of matured farm-house cheddar and the fromage de chevre and the fromage frais and the Greek yoghurt and the single cream and the double cream and the clotted cream and the plain chocolate Bath Olivers and the brandy butter and all the booze, not to mention a number of suspiciously bottle-shaped packages lurking under the Christmas tree, you suddenly realise that you're going to be very hard pressed to dispose of all the food and drink within the alloted time span unless an unexpected guest turns up for Christmas, such as, say, Oxfam.

So where did I start all this? Oh Yes. The simple idea. Instead of having Christmas annually, why not have twelve smaller Christmases evenly distributed through the year, and divide up the specific treats equally between them. Well, it's a thought.

As I was going to St Ives…

Pete Oxley (left) and Luis D'Agostino

…I met two men with four guitars. No, I know it doesn’t scan, and if you really want to be pedantic I know that many claim that the original rhyming riddle actually refers to St Ives, Cambridgeshire and not St Ives Cornwall, but sometimes you just get stuck for a title and an opening line…


Anyway, Mrs Voltarol and I made our way down the A30 to the excellent St Ives Jazz Club on Tuesday night, to see one of my favourite guitar duos – Luis D’ Agostino and Pete Oxley. The weather was particularly filthy that evening – the gusting winds were causing our car to skitter somewhat alarmingly and the rain was coming towards us sideways – and as a consequence the club was emptier than I have seen it for a while. When I commented on the weather conditions to Pete he admitted that he had had just about enough of rain for the moment, as he and Luis had started their tour in Cumbria! (For my overseas readers I should point out that Cumbria has just experienced what have been referred to as ‘once in a thousand years’ flooding.)

The pair had teamed up when Luis - who is from Argentina – was living in Oxford for a while. They recorded two CDs together on the 33Jazz Records label: The Play of Light (2003) and Double Singular (2006). I have been a fan of Pete’s playing and compositions for some time and had often seen his band Curious Paradise and its predecessors, but it wasn’t until early in 2008 that I caught up with the duo when they played an excellent set at one of the much-missed Foundry Bar music nights in Hayle. Imagine my dismay when I learned that Luis was returning to Argentina and I had just witnessed one of the duo’s last gigs. Equally, imagine my delight when Pete phoned me recently and told me that Luis was coming back to England for a few weeks and that they would be touring together again.

Those that stayed at home because of the weather last Tuesday deprived themselves of a great treat. The pair were on excellent form and delivered the goods from the off. The eclectic programme included material by such diverse composers as Lee Morgan, Joni Mitchell, Egberto Gismonti, Pat Metheny, Astor Piazzolla, Miles Davis, Luis Borda and Mr Oxley himself.

The arrangements were often as interesting as the tunes themselves, and the pair switched back and forth between nylon string and steel string guitars, insuring that the overall sound of the instruments never palled. They finished the evening to rapturous applause despite the smaller than usual audience, and the number of people that left the gig clutching one or more of their CDs tends to point to a more than satisfied crowd. So – when Luis next returns to England and the duo make another tour don’t miss the chance to see them if they are performing within a hundred miles of you. Believe me, it’ll be well worth the effort. Oh, and I've just heard a rumour that they may be recording another live album whilst Luis is here, so watch this space for a review.

Brazil goes to Dalston

At the beginning of last week I made a flying visit to London for the Violeiros do Brasil gig that I wrote about in my last posting. Dalston seems an unlikely venue for such an event but the Café Oto in Ashwin Street came as a pleasant surprise. It was large enough to accomodate the audience, had reasonable acoustics and sold bottles of wine at affordable prices. What more could a person want? On top of that I had arranged to meet up with my old mate Nobby (who will be known to readers of this blog as Dendron the Roadie, long suffering road manager to The Jugular Vein back in the '60's). Accompanying him was his long time partner Chrissie  who is a jazz journalist, and I was very interested in how they would respond to the evening's music

The proceedings kicked off with the showing of excerpts from Myriam Taubkin and Sérgio Roizenblit's documentary film - Violeiros do Brasil, which Myriam herself introduced. I was already acquainted with this excellent movie as I own it on DVD, but it helped introduce an unfamiliar audience to the instrument - the viola or ten string guitar - and the two artists that were performing that night, Ivan Vilela and Pereira da Viola. (I thoroughly recommend that you buy or rent this DVD. As well as some great music it contains some wonderful scenes of the Brazilian landscape which will give you a much better sense of the country than endless images of Rio de Janeiro - however fascinating Rio might be, it's not all there is to Brazil.)

First on to the stage was Ivan Vilela, whose modest demeanour belies his sublime musicianship. His set included material from a number of Brazilian composers including Edu Lobo, as well as some of his own compositions and a surprising but exquisite 'Eleanor Rigby'.

He was followed by Pereira Da Viola who sang as well as played, and whose material was on the whole a little less cerebral than Vilela's. But it was none the less engaging for that, and as a player he was most impressive. They came together at the end and played a few things together, much to the delight of the crowd ( which included a large number of ex-pat Brazilians) and left the stage to prolonged applause.

After the performance I was able to record a brief conversation with Myriam Taubkin, and to talk to her about herself and the project. Here is a transcription:-

Voltarol: I know from talking to your brother Benjamin that you come from a very musical family. Were you born in São Paulo?



Myriam Taubkin: Yes I was.


V: I know you from your production work and your promotional and archiving activities but did you play or sing?

MT: Yes. I was a singer when I was really young. From a child of seven, eight, nine until my thirties. I was a professional and I loved to sing – but not to be a singer. I didn’t like to be a singer as a professional career. I loved to sing, but maybe because I was a producer at the same time. I received the words of all the singers and composers when I used to work in public institutions – I had to wait for people to tell me if what I did was good. That’s not my way. I used to listen to all the criticism and take it to heart, so I chose to be a producer! And I think that in Brazil my way is different. I don’t represent anyone. I’m not an agent for anyone, including my brothers. Both of them are musicians. I don’t like to sell musicians. I like to invite them to my projects. So – this work of musical curator and musical director is a whole conception of a spectacular concert, the lighting, the clothes, entrances and exits – everything – I think about everything. You know, Benjamin presented a big concert in São Paulo last week, in a marvellous venue, with twenty musicians on the stage. And Benjamin is a marvellous musician but – how can you say – it was not finished. The presentation was not right and he invited me to do this, to produce it. There were many musicians and a narrator, so I was responsible for that conception, for everything…and this is what I love to do.


V: I understand completely. I am a musician – sort of – and I love to make music and I have played professionally, but I often think that at heart I’m more of a punter - a customer for music. So I bring this to music. I used to work in record shops and I loved introducing new stuff to people – “Have you heard this? Have you heard that?” From there I went on to run clubs and to promote concerts and festivals…


MT: To convince people to listen…

V: Exactly…so I understand exactly where you are coming from. It’s that complete involvement in music but coming at it from a different direction. Yes, I can make music but what really pleases me is to get other people to get the same joy from music that I get – which is why I now write my blog and continue to promote music. I think we are similar people in that respect.

I first noticed your name on the ‘Arranjadores’ (arrangers) CD, which was a Projeto Memória Brasileira (Brazilian Memory Project) release in 1992. Where you the founder of the project?


MT: Yes, I founded it. It was my concept. My first project was in 1987. It was ‘Memorias Piano Brasiliero’ - Brazilian Piano Memory – with eleven popular Brazilian pianists. This was the first one. The second one was in 1989. This was guitars. This was called ‘Violões’. ‘Arrangers’ was third. And then Violeiros do Brasil which was in 1997. So now for this documentary - ‘Violeiros do Brasil’ DVD – and for the book we have produced, we went back to the same musicians from the 1997 CD, to see how they improve, and how they live today. This was fantastic because I had the opportunity to enter into their…um…how do you say…intimidade?


V: Their private lives…?


MT: Yes. And I knew all of them very well, so I was at home and it was fantastic.


V: Yes. In the documentary it comes across that they are very comfortable talking to the camera, and it feels as if you are participating in a conversation with friends. It’s a lovely atmosphere, and every time I watch it I get big saudades* for Brazil!


MT: Ah! (Laughs) Thank you!


V: So. As I understand the project you are documenting various aspects of Brazilian music – specialist areas. I have the Arrangers, the guitars, the violas…


MT: The accordions, the percussion…


V: Ah. Well that I don’t have. I have the accordion – the Sanfona of São Paulo and,,,


MT: Rio Grande do Sul…


V: Yes…which I love. I was converted to a love of the accordion by Brazilian musicians. I used to think that hell for musicians would be full of accordions and banjos but then I heard Sivuca and…


MT: Dominguinhos?


V: Yes! And Toninho Ferragutti…and I suddenly realised that the problem is not the accordion or the banjo or the bagpipes. It is who plays it. And it is the musical soul of that person.


MT: That’s it! And you know that this project is not only to record the old people, the masters, but modern stuff also – what’s going on now. But you know the Viola - this instrument has a marvellous future because there is no instrument that is quite the same, and it came to Brazil with no rules - from one land to another. So if you are a young musician and you want to play the viola you can discover it and you can find out …a lot of new things that no one before him has done...There is nothing written down about how to play. All the other instruments have this. So this is why the viola for me is so fantastic. I’m not so preoccupied with the tradition…but the way they play now…the 21st century. This is what I feel.

V: One of the things that fascinates me about Brazilian musicians generally, is that they don’t seem to be too bothered by musical boundaries, by musical compartments. Many great players seem to move freely between folk – traditional music – and jazz and popular music. They don’t see walls, and we saw that this evening. Some of the music played was very traditional and some was very harmonically advanced, very sophisticated and yet the elements come together beautifully. You seem to see this as an aspect of the viola, but it seems to me more a function of Brazilian musicality that comes to fruition with the viola because it is an unwritten book – it is a blank sheet.


MT: You know, the classical composers in Brazil have always had a sense of traditional music so the frontier, the meeting point between classical and popular music in Brazil…there is no frontier I think. You can cross over…because the traditional music in Brazil – the Lundu, the Modinha, Samba, Coco, Maracatu – is too strong for inspiration. The roots, the musical culture is so strong that it inspires the musicians to begin here and then open up because in Brazil we are a new people, another kind of people, completely different. And I think that music expresses this.

V: Ok. One last question. In England we have a radio programme called Desert Island Discs, where you are cast away on a desert island and have to choose which eight records you would take with you. I am much crueller than that and I will only let you take one. What would it be?


MT: One? Only one?


V: Yes, one. Come on. The ship is going down. All your CDs are around you. You only have ten seconds to get out of there! Grab one! What would it be?


MT: It’s very difficult…


V: I know! That’s the whole point!


MT: I think Milton Nascimento. Clube da Esquinha.


V: That’s great Thank you very much. I’ve enjoyed this evening and I’ve enjoyed our conversation.


MT: Thank you. It’s been a pleasure.


*saudades: no direct English equivalent but a kind of bitter-sweet nostalgic longing

When is a viola not a viola?

In England we know the viola to be a larger kind of violin, but in Brazil the viola is a ten string guitar, with the strings in five courses of two. It is, I think, a close relative of the Portuguese guitar, but has taken on a distinctly Brazilian identity and adherents can be found all over that country. I first came across it on a CD compilation of purely instrumental music that was recommended to me in one of my favourite São Paulo CD shops – Pops Discos.

The compilation - which came out in 1995 -was called Sem Palavras (without words) and had quite a bit of material from artists that I knew as well as stuff that was new to me.

One of the latter was a track called O Ganso (The Goose), written and performed by one Almir Sater and it grabbed my attention because it was so different to what I had come to expect from Brazilian music. The only details on the CD were of the artists and composers so I was under the impression that I had been listening to a twelve-string guitar until a couple of years later when I acquired a CD called Violeros do Brasil, and there was Almir Sater playing what I now know to be the Viola. Here's a clip of him performing the piece on a Brazilian TV show in 2008




This new CD, issued in 1999 was another Núcleo Contemporâneo production which I bought purely on the strength of the label’s track record (which I have written about before on this blog - see A random selection) and I was not disappointed. Here was a whole bunch of viola players – or violeiros – and everyone was a virtuoso. Wonderful stuff!

Then last Christmas a package arrived from Brazil. It was a Christmas present from my ex-daughter-in-law, Marilia, with whom Mrs Voltarol and I are still on the very best of terms, and consisted of two DVDs and two CDs. As Marilia has been one of my two principal guides into the world of Brazilian music (the other being Woody of Boogiewoody Blog fame), I was excited to see what gems she had found for me this time. The first thing out of the box was the Violeiros do Brasil DVD  (see picture at top of page) and it went on the player there and then. It’s a beautiful film featuring all of the artists that appear on the CD of the same name, playing and talking about their music. Each one is filmed at or near the home of the artist so there is some breathtaking scenery in with that great music. Here is a promotional video that will give you a good idea of what it's all about



I am returning to Brazil in January and had already planned to seek out some of these performers if any of them were giving concerts around the São Paulo area. Imagine my delight then when I discovered that two of them will be appearing in London next month! Myriam Taubkin (sister of Benjamin) is the director of the Projeto Memória Brasileira and was the prime instigator of the Violeros do Brasil DVD. She will be introducing a short documentary film, followed by a performance by Ivan Vilela and Pereira da Viola at Café Oto in Dalston on the 10th November. Needless to say, I have already booked my tickets. See you there!

There are also concerts in Cambridge and Whitstable. Here are the details:-

Fri 13th NOV in Whitstable, Kent - FILM + CONCERT WITH IVAN VILELA

8pm   £ 8 / £6 (concs)  St. Peter's Church, Sydenham Street, Whitstable CT5 1HN
More information: 07515 348532
Tickets from Harbour Books, 21, Harbour St & Herbaceous, Oxford St Whitstable).



Sat 14th NOV in Cambridge - FILM + CONCERT WITH IVAN VILELA
7:30pm
MAA: Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology University of Cambridge
Downing Street Cambridge CB2 3DZ

Crossing the tracks...

Since I started working my way through the Beatles back catalogue again I have been cross-referencing various tracks with versions that I already have by other people. A quick look at Youtube revealed the fact that some of my favourites are up there so I thought I'd post a few.

First off here's Assagai performing Hey Jude. The accompanying images are a bit bizarre to say the least, but the music is great. I first put a link to this on my blog in a posting called Mama Africa part 2 back in July 2008 but I hadn't learnt how to embed the clips at that point. For more information about the band and about African musical influences in general have a look at that posting and its predecessor called - not unsurprisingly - Mama Africa part 1



Next up is the Brazilian singer Rita Lee, who first gained fame in her home country with the highly influential band Os Mutantes (The Mutants). Although she was born in São Paulo her father was American and she grew up speaking English as well as Portuguese. In 2001 she made a Beatles 'covers' album called Aqui, ali, em qualquer lugar (Here, there and everywhere), which was released in the US under the rather dreadful title of  Bossa n' Beatles. Here's my favourite track from this album - Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.



There is also a live version available which was recorded at a concert in Argentina which I include here, but in my opinion the original studio version outclasses it by a mile...



Finally, here's Jaco Pastorius's superb arrangement of Blackbird, from the first Word of Mouth album. It features the superb Toots Theilemans on chromatic harmonica. (See Bass thoughts for further information and clips.)


That's it for the moment. I should be back up to more regular postings again quite soon but - be warned - I have had several requests for more information about the doings in and around 'The Pastie Maker's Arms' (see Post-holiday Blues). I may well feel the need to oblige with further tales of life in Polpott from time to time...

Post-holiday Blues

That's everybody else's holidays - not mine. When you live as I do in a popular tourist area, one tends to sigh with relief at the end of the season and the mood in one's local boozer changes more than somewhat. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent...

It has been a quiet week here in Polpott. The Emmet harvest has finally been gathered in and stored in the Midlands, and life has become a tad quieter for the local populace. Weary B. & B. propietors assemble nightly in 'The Pastie Maker's Arms' to swap stories of the season's doings over foaming tankards of gin and tonic, and the air is heavy with the heady scent of overworked barmaid's armpits. Old Denzil sits in the corner and pontificates. He is hurriedly escorted from the room and Ron, the landlord, manages to clear up most of the mess ....

Big George, who is generally considered to be the richest farmer - if not actual person - in the area, tugs at the baler twine which keeps his coat together, then orders a pint of Byle. Big George is extremely hirsute as well as being tall and stout, but despite his chubbiness has a sharp little nose, and eyes that are set quite close together. Unkind people in the village say that being spoken to by Big George is like being addressed by a rat that is peering out of a bear's bottom (or words to that effect), but, being generally as prudent as they are churlish, they do not say it to his face.

"One pint of Byle's best bitter coming up." says Ron, taking Big George's Tankard down from where it hangs on the beam, and drawing off a foaming mugful from the spigot. "Any food tonight, Big George?"
Ron is extraordinarily proud of his food. A large sign outside the pub proclaims 'GOOD FOOD. Today's Special:' at the top and 'PUB GRUB' at the bottom. The area between the slogans consists of a square of blackboard paint onto which Ron chalks news of the day's offerings. Ron is an amiable soul despite being a tidge hen-pecked, but grammar, syntax and the use of the apostrophe are not his strong suits. As a consequence some of his culinary offerings seem a little bizarre at first glance. A local wag set the N.S.P.C.C. on him recently when the sign read: 'Sunday Lunch - Roast Pork and all the trimmings: £2.95. Children £1.50 including pudding".

Big George twangs at his baler twine (or 'farmer's weld' as it is known locally), hefts the waistband of his jeans back over his gut then nods in the direction of Sylvia, Ron's wife, who has just entered the bar bearing a laden tray. "Wha's that? I might 'ave some o' that" he says.
Someone has put money in the Juke-box. A song blasts out at ear shattering volume. Ron hastily dives under the bar and fumbles with unseen controls until the decibels drop to a comfortable level.
"What's that bloody racket?" enquires Old Denzil, who has just come back from the Gent's.
"That's a Bonnie Tyler is that." says Sylvia, who secretly fancies herself as a bit of a singer, back-combs her long peroxided hair, and is much given to wearing stonewashed stretch-denim jeans and high-heeled white boots.
"Ar..." replies Old Denzil, "It might be able ter tile but it can't bloody sing. Give us another Pernod and cider Ron, will yer?"