Alan Gaskill interprets “Coracão Vulgar” by Paulinho da Viola
0
Usually when I learn a samba, I’m first entranced by the melody and learn the lyrics afterward. The lyrics are often quite counter to the feelings and impressions evoked by a particular song. Often, a samba will sound pert, bright, and joyful – with lyrics trashing an ex-girlfriend or complaining that things aren’t going well in life. If blues were musically bright and remained with the same subject matter, you’d end up with samba.
But this particular tune caught me at a moment of questioning in life, when I’ve been inquiring as to the nature of love, commitment, and relationship. This song, “Coracão Vulgar” which means “ordinary heart,” or “commonplace heart” or “the heart of a typical person” seems both like a condemnation and the comforting caress of a dear friend telling us that it’s all going to be alright in the aftermath of a breakup. I’ve done the best job I can of translating the lyrics below:
Coracão Vulgar (“Ordinary Heart”)
by: Paulinho da Viola
It dies
Another love of the ordinary heart
Let illusion fall away
From the one who doesn’t know what love is
For the one who doesn’t know how to love must suffer
because he cannot understand that
The love that dies is an illusion
And an illusion ought to die
True love never fades
But to this day, few have ever known it
My dear, your love died because
no one truly understands what love is
Let your heart live in peace
Your sin was to desire love too much
“Ai Xiang Sui” by Zhou Huajian
0I love singing Chinese pop.
At least, I love singing the 2 Chinese pop songs I know, over and over again.
Chinese folks are always so entertained at the sight and sound of a white guy playing and singing a Chinese song, that the audience appreciation I receive from them usually far outstrips the love I receive from an American audience. That’s because in my own culture, I’m another shmoe with a guitar and this strange penchant for taking good old American hits and playing them Brazilian-style. Singing in English for an English speaking audience sets the bar for an outstanding performance a little higher.
“Ai Xiang Sui” means something like “My love follows after you [even after we’ve broken up.]” It’s your classic song of boy-loses-girl, complaining “OMG how can I go on with my life!!!?”
I’ve always enjoyed playing it simply, with this percussive groove.
A special thanks to Master Hu Jianqiang and his wife Zong Jianmei, for hosting the wonderful banquet in San Gabriel. This home video taken by friend Susan Pertel-Jain, Director of the UCLA Confucius Institute. My friend kindly holding the microphone is Master Hu’s head instructor Kevin.
Master Hu and Mrs. Zong run the Los Angeles Shaolin Wushu Center. This banquet was attended by some of their students, family members visiting from China, staff from the UCLA Confucius Institute, and the visiting students from Zhejiang Normal University’s arts troupe. The date was February 4th, 2012.
UMBANDA: The Orixás
In the last Umbanda article, we covered a little bit about the origins of Umbanda, and that it is a miscegenistic religion made up of Traditional African, European, Native Brazilian religious/spiritual traditions.
Today’s installment is a general exploration of those aspects of Umbanda drawn from Traditional African Religion (TAR), practiced in Brazil since colonial times as a religion called “Candomblé” (cahn-dohm-BLAY.) Umbanda’s African elements are drawn from Candomblé.
THE ORIXÁS (oh-ree-SHAHS)
As the story goes, God (Olorum (oh-lo-ROOM)) created the world by emanating 7 energetic vibrations, called “Orixás.” Each of the 7 Orixás has a positive and a negative aspect, a masculine and feminine, a yin and a yang, resulting in a total of 14 Orixás.
The Orixás manifest as all the diverse natural features of our planet, and also as the non-physical realities that govern our lives – things like love, hate, life, death, rebirth, decay, etc. The fascinating benefit of studying the Orixás is learning how to connect nature to the inner realities of our lives. For example, in Umbanda a river, and its inevitable flowing to the sea, also describes the manner in which our hearts grow from the experience of loving our tribe, pour family, our lover, to loving all of creation and everyone in it without prejudice.
When the Portuguese brought the Africans into Catholic churches to be baptized and worship in the European manner, the Africans intuitively recognized the 7 Orixás in Jesus, Mary, and various the Saints. Hence, the Orixás also came to be symbolically aligned with Catholic saints, so that slaves could worship their deities under the guise of Catholic forms. This phenomenon occurred not only in Brazil, but in Haiti, Cuba, and some places in the American South.
Through reverence and worship of the Orixás, a person’s physical surroundings become symbolically linked to non-physical realities, and non-physical realities and physical realities seem to be reflecting one another. Examples of these congruencies appear below in the explanation of each Orixá and its significance*.
* The descriptions of the Orixás below follow the Umbanda belief system, which differ a bit from the understanding of the Orixás significance in Candomblé and other manifestations of Traditional African Religion in Africa and other New World cultures.
1. Oxalá (oh-sha-LAH) – The Vibration of Faith and Religiosity. Oxalá is the first of the seven Orixás. In the physical, Oxalá is light. In the spiritual/symbolic sense Oxalá is the light of faith.
The Old Testament describes how God created the world, and that it was dark until on the first day he said “let there be light.” So Oxalá appears. With light, life can begin, with light we are raised from the darkness. Faith is characterized as light because by having spiritual faith, an individual connects directly to their divine source, and without faith, or light, they are disconnected from that source. Wandering in the darkness. Faith is the light that connects us to our divine source.
Each Orixá has a negative aspect, or an opposite. Interestingly enough, the opposite of Oxalá is not darkness, because darkness is not considered a thing on its own, but simply the absence of light. The opposite of faith is time – the concept being that through faith we bask in the light of our timeless divine source, but without it we are wandering through the darkness of time. Eventually with the passage of time, through however many deaths and rebirths we require, we eventually return from the march through time into the time-less light of our eternal divine source. Faith is the bridge that gets us there.
In Umbanda, this negative aspect of the masculine Oxalá is the feminine Oyá (oi-AHH.) Those living in the world without faith march through time, protected by Oyá who gently brings them through time and back into the light of Oxalá.
2. Oxum (oh-SHOOM) – the Vibration of Love and Conception. Oxum is the vibration that finds physical expression as the freshwater streams, rivers and waterfalls of the world. She is characterized as a feminine energy that finds expression in the human experience as sexual desire and romantic love for another person. The most vivid example of Oxum at work is in the moment of conception, when the sperm fertilizes the egg in the ovary, setting the process of creation into motion.
Oxum is also the vibration romantic love itself, in all its features. Her negative aspect is the masculine Orixá called Oxumaré (oh-shoom-ah-RAY.) Oxumaré is the negative side of love – the lack of love, or sick love, obsessive, hurtful love. He is represented by the rainbow, the encounter of water and light. Whoever is suffering for love, or feeling hate, and other bad feelings, is being supported by Oxumaré, who in his vibration holds his sons and daughters and leads them back to the love of Mother Oxum.
3. Oxóssi (oh-SHAW-see) – the Vibration of Knowledge and Wisdom. In the physical, Oxossi manifests as vegetation and is represented by the forests of the world. Many Earth-based spiritual traditions honor trees and forests as being repositories of wisdom, because trees in the most literal sense are the proverbial watchers over the Earth. They see all, and stand right where they are.
Oxossi is characterized as a hunter with a bow and arrow, and is often identified with Indians and forest dwellers. Due to the presence of the Amazon rainforest and the particularly lush vegetation of Brazil, Oxóssi has a particularly strong presence. He is generally worshipped with more frequency in Brazil than in other places where Traditional African Religious worship took root, like Cuba or Haiti.
Oxóssi’s feminine counterpart is called Obá (oh-BAH), the Mother of Earth. She represents the concentration of elements, the concentration of knowledge, the solid floor that everything stands on.
4. Ogum (oh-GOOM) – the Vibration of Law and Order. Ogum is the vibration finds expression as air. He is the Lord of the Paths, commander of the Law and Order of God, very related to the Archangel Michael. He awakens in all beings the sense of balance, order and law that is to be followed in life. He is the ordering principle of Life. He is called “the relentless,” “the implacable,” because he is Law. Connected to Xangô, the Orixá of Justice, Ogum and Xangô work together because there is no Justice without the structure of Law and no Law without Justice to enforce it. In Umbanda it is said that “The sword of Ogum brings the Law and the ax of Xangô affirms it.”
The African slaves in Brazil considered Saint George the Dragon Slayer a manifestation of Ogum.
The feminine counterpart of Ogum is the feminine Orixá called Iansã (ee-ahn-SAH), the “Queen of the Winds.” Ogum commands and Iansã acts. She is the worker Orixá, as we might say. She, with her sword, cutting through the wind, brings storms, rain and thunder. She executes Ogum´s Law as the herald of chaos; she flips over the proverbial tables and smashes the proverbial dishware, destroying everything to make way for the new order – the new order that is in accordance with Ogum´s Law.
In this function of the leveler, or destroyer, Iansã is the cosmological equivalent to the Hindu deity Shiva. In Catholicism, Iansã is connected with Saint Bárbara.
5. Xangô (shawn-GOH) – the vibration of Justice. Xangô is manifest on Earth as rocks, minerals, mountains and fire. Xangô is the Orixá of Justice, awakening in sentient beings a sense of balance and equity. He is known as the Lord of Thunder, with a scale in his left hand to measure our actions, and his ax in his right hand, ready to judge and execute Ogum´s law. The fires, mountains, and rocks of Xangô are just like his justice – immovable, impartial, and absolute.
In Catholicism, he is considered to correspond with St. Jerome, but others relate him to St. John the Baptist as well.
He manifests in the spirit-channeling sessions of Umbanda as Indian spirits (Caboclos) whose names end in “Pedra” (rock) – for example, “Caboclo da Pedra Preta” (Caboclo of the Black Rock).
His feminine counterpart is the Orixá called Egunitá (ay-goon-ee-TAH,) related to Kali, the Queen of Fire. She is the fire of purification that brings all beings back onto the path of Xangô´s Justice when they stray off.
6. Line of Evolution – Orixá Obaluaê (oh-baloo-ai-YAY) is the vibration that manifests as wet soil, and cemeteries. He is the Orixá who manages the passage from one evolutionary stage to the next – meaning all of them: birth, evolution in life, death, and reincarnation.
Obaluaê establishes the energetic cord that connects the spirit to the body (in this case, while the body is still a fetus), as the spirit prepares to be received by the mother´s uterus as soon as the fetus has reached a certain level of cellular development. When the spirit descends into the fetus, Obaluê is there to reduce the size of the spirit to fit the proportions of the human body placed in the mother´s uterus. In this process, the spirit assumes all the features of its human body.
He is the Lord of the Passages, from a plain to another, from one dimension to another, from the spirit to the flesh and vice-versa, but he is also known as the Healer. Legend has it that Obaluaê, son of Nanã Buroquê, as a baby had wounds all over his body, and Mother Yemanjá covered him in straw and took care of him. Because of that, he became the Orixá of diseases and the healing of them.
His feminine counterpart is called Nanã Buroquê. The Orixá called Nanã (na-NAH) is related to Saint Anna, the mother of God. She embodies the wisdom of the mother, the grandmother, and so on. Because of this, Nanã and Obaluaê are the Orixás who protect the line of spirits called Pretos-Velhos (elderly black slave spirits.) They are very present in a person’s life when that person is getting older, after their 40s or 50s. At this stage, a person prepares their spirit for a more mature and wise life – before they reach the vibration of Omulu (oh-moo-LOO), who is the Orixá that manifests as Death. Omulu works together with Nanã and Obaluaê in the cemeteries.
7. Line of Generation – Orixá Yemanjá, the vibration that manifests as the Earth’s ocean. Yemanjá (yeh-mahn-JAH) is the Mother of Creation. Life on our planet begin in the ocean, in the “lap of Iemanjá.” Yemanjá represents Life itself, and several things deeply associated with capital “L” Life – divine, transpersonal love and compassion, creation, and birth.
Yemanjá is related in Catholicism to Our Lady of Aparecida (a variant of Immaculate Conception), as well as the female Buddha Guanyin, the Bodhisattva of Divine Compassion. Like Guanyin, Yemanjá also protects sailors and fishermen, and in Brazil is considered their protector.
In Brazil everyone celebrates Yemanjá on February 2nd, throwing flowers in the sea and offering special foods and songs.
As Yemanjá represents life, it is fitting that her counterpart is Omulu (oh-moo-LOO), who represents Death. Yemanjá is the ocean, and is present in the ocean. Omulu, the lord of death, is present in the ocean as well. It is said in Umbanda that the sea is also a cemetery, and so Omulu is there too. They also say that Obaluaê is above the cemeteries, on the upper soil, while the person is still alive, we might say, and Omulu is under, connecting the world of the living to the world of the dead.*
*It is worth noting that life and death do not refer only to the life and death of a person, but to everything in creation. The birth of an idea, for instance, is helped by Yemanjá. The ending of a cycle and the beginning of another, is helped by Omulu. The Orixás are universal forces.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
*This article was a collaboration between Alan and Nathália Dias de Moura of the Umbanda Center of Pena Verde, in Rio Vermelho, Florianópolis – Brasil.
Zeca Pagodinho Gives Thanks
People write songs about all kinds of things, and most of the time they’re focused on things like heartbreak, their longing, etc.
But “thank you” is a really nice sentiment to lift into the sky on the back of a song. It carries very well.
I used to play this song with my samba buddies up in San Francisco a few years back. So, as I post this, I’m thinking about Nicolas Bell, Brian Moran, Brian Rice, Steve Lau, Maccarinha, Fausto da Souza, and Rob Kelman from the little samba ensemble we called “Nosso Grito.” I miss you guys. Hope this you all are still playing.
“Deixa Vida Me Levar” means something like “Let life take me” or even “surrender to the flow of life.”
“Let Life Take Me”
I’ve been through almost
everything in this life
In terms of shelter from it all
I’m still waiting my turn
I confess that I am of poor origin
But my heart is noble
That’s how God made me
CHORUS
Let life take me
Life takes me
Let life take me
Life takes me
Let life take me
Life takes me
I’m happy and thankful
for all that God has given me
I can only raise my hands to heaven in
In thanks and being faithful
To the destiny that God has given me
If I do not have everything I need
With the little I have, I live
Softly, there I go
If things don’t turn out the way I want
I don’t despair
The thing is to just let go
And by leaps and bounds, there I go!
And I’m happy and I thankful
For all that God has given me
CHORUS
Let life take me
Life takes me
Let life take me
Life takes me
Let life take me
Life takes me
I’m happy and thankful
for all that God has given me
UMBANDA: The Most Brazilian Religion
I lived in the city of Florianópolis, Brazil from August 2009 until February 2010, and although my stay was relatively brief, this place known as “The Island of Magic” profoundly affected me – in the absolute best sense of the word.
As I volunteered and taught in the community, I simultaneously underwent a journey of spiritual exploration. A beautiful young woman named Nathália Dias de Moura brought me to her spiritual home – the Umbanda Center of Pena Verde. In this spiritual center, I was introduced to an incredibly warm and generous community, gathered around a “spiritual mother” named Mother Bia. I was also introduced to a host of incredible teachers – both physical and non-physical.
If you’ve read this far, you may already have a whole range of questions. I will try to explain briefly:
Umbanda, meaning “one banner,” is a miscegenistic religion that emerged in Brazil at the beginning of the 20th century. “Miscegenistic” means “a mixture of races” a usually refers to children with parents of two different races.
Just like the United States, Brazil is a giant melting pot, in which it is possible to see people of every color, size, shape, and height. In this melting pot, religions and spiritual traditions mixed and blended too. Imagine a place inhabited by animist-spiritual Native Americans that gets colonized by Catholics, who then bring in droves of African Slaves who are also animists and practice a variant of Earth-based spirituality.
If you throw 19th century European spiritism into this special mix of Native American spirituality, Traditional African Religion (TAR), and Catholicim – that is, the practice of communicating with spirits through a medium (a person who temporarily allows a spirit to use his/her body as a means of expression) – then you wind up with Umbanda.
Umbanda is commonly misunderstood and frequently maligned – even demonized – by adherents of more mainstream religious traditions like Catholicism or Evangelical Christianity. In its 103-year history, it has been vehemently persecuted and tolerated in alternation by the Brazilian ruling class. Today, the religion thrives in Brazil and exists in pockets around the world where there are a significant number of Brazilians.
Cosmologically, Umbanda upholds that God is One, and recognizes Jesus Christ as the savior of the world. Services are strongly African – there are live drums, singing and movement, and finally the practice of serving as a medium for the spirits who are aligned with the house of worship – known as a “terreiro.” Spirits participate in services as guides and teachers, offering counsel and support to the human members of the community who wake up each day to confront the challenges of life. The focus of the religion is inherently practical – it is about uplifting its members and helping them live happier, more loving, prosperous, and connected lives on Earth.
The house of worship is called a terreiro. “Terreiro” means “plot of Earth,” and is a reference to the poor blacks and mulattoes who practiced the Umbanda and other forms of African-derived spiritual work on the dirt floor of a ramshackle hut, or some place outdoors out of view of those who would intervene or try to prevent services from taking place.
It is worth noting that the origins of Samba music are to be found in the terreiro.
Finally, when we say that a spirit “manifests,” it means that a spirit has successfully partnered with a willing and open medium, and through the willing consent of the medium, is able to use said medium’s powers of speech and movement as a way to directly communicate with human beings on the Earthly plane.
And now, a guest article describing the origins of Umbanda from my dear friend and sister Nathália, from the Umbanda Center of Pena Verde, in Florianópolis, Brazil.
THE BEGINNING OF UMBANDA
Umbanda emerged in Brazil in 1908, through the psychic Zélio de Moraes under the influence of the spirit named Caboclo das Sete Encruzilhadas. ( Cacique of the Seven Intersections or Seven Divine Crosses).
However, the spiritual guides who manifest in Umbanda were manifesting in Brazil before Umbanda came into being. There are three principal types of spiritual guides in Umbanda:
- Pretos-velhos: meaning “black elders,” these spirits in their last human incarnation were slaves in colonial Brazil.
- Caboclos: also known as “caciques,” these spirits were Brazilian indians in their last human incarnation.
- Children: these spirits are exactly as their name implies - beings who departed the Earth as children, and bring purity, joy, and laughter with them wherever they go.
Before Umbanda, these spiritual guides (pretos-velhos, caboclos, children) had in in fact already been manifesting in religions – or simple sporadic instances of manifestation - whose rituals involved spiritual channeling and worship of the Orixás.
However, it was through Zélio that a true religion was organized, with well-defined rituals and features, which was named “Umbanda.”
In those times, there was no religious freedom. All religions with any semblance of African ritual were persecuted, their temples were destroyed and their practitioners were arrested. The African rituals began in Africa (Candomblé) in ancient times, and with the arrival of the African slaves in Brazil, their faith came with them, which was mixed with the faith of the Indians who already lived in that land, and was also mixed with the Catholicism of the Portuguese Jesuits who were installing themselves in Brazil.
Many centuries later, the spirits of those Africans and Indians began manifesting themselves in Umbanda.
HOW EVERYTHING BEGAN
In the end of 1908, Zélio Fernandino de Morães, a young 17 year-old man who had plans to start a military career in the Navy, began suffering from strange “attacks”. His family, very traditional and well known in the city of Neves, in Rio de Janeiro, was caught by surprise by the events.
These “attacks” were characterized by Zélio taking the posture of an old man, speaking senseless things, as if he were someone who had lived in another time. Many times he would assume a form of a jaunty cat who seemed to know a lot about the things of Nature.
After examinating him during several days, the family´s doctor recomended that it would be better to send the patient to a priest (who was Zelio´s uncle). The doctor said that the boy´s madness didn´t fit anything he had ever studied. He believed that the kid was possessed.
Someone in the family suggested that “ this must be something from spiritism.”
[Allan Kardec´s Spiritist movement emerged in France around 1800, and was en vogue among the upper echelons of european society through the mid-19th century to the early 20th century. In general, Spiritist meetings were characterized by seances, in which a medium would make contact with a spirit and allow that spirit to communicate through him/her to the assembled gathering. - Alan]
The family decided to take the boy to the Spiritist Federation of Niterói, whose president at the time was José de Souza. On November 15th, Zélio was invited to participate in a spiritual session, taking a seat at a table of mediums.
Possessed with a strange force beyond his will, and violating a rule that forbade anyone sitting at the table to step away from it, Zélio stood up and said: ” There should be a flower here”. He left the room, went to the garden and came back with a flower, which he placed in the center of the table. This attitude caused an enormous commotion among everyone present. When the session re-started, the spiritist mediums at the table channeled spirits who called themselves black slaves and Indians.
The director of the session found this absurd and addressed the spirits with roughness, mentioning their “simplicity and low level of spiritual evolution” and told them to leave.
After that incident, again a strange force was manifested in Zélio and he said: “ Why do you repel the presence of these spirits, if you do not even dignify yourselves to hear their message? Will it be because of their social origins and their color?”
A heated dialogue started among those present, and director responsible for the session tried to talk down to and undermine the unknown spirit communicating through Zélio - a spirit who spoke with secure arguments.
A spiritist psychic at the table asked the spirit manifested in Zélio:
“Why does the brother speak on these terms - intending that we accept the manifestation of spirits who, by the degree of culture they had when alive, are clearly lagging behind [other, more highly evolved spirits] in knowledge and wisdom? Why do you speak like this, if [with clairvoyant sight] I can clearly see that I am talking to a Jesuit and your white clothes reflect a shining aura? What is your name brother?”
To this, the spirit replied: “If you want my name, so it is: I am the Indian of the Seven Intersections - because to me, there are no closed roads.”
The Indian of the Seven Intersections went on:
“The form in which you now see me is the remnant of an earlier incarnation. I was a priest named Gabriel Malagrida. Accused of sorcery, I was burned in the Lisbon inquisition in 1761. In my last physical existence, God gave me the grace of being born as a Brazilian Indian.”
He went on to announce the mission he was sent forth from the spiritual dimension to carry out:
“If you judge the spirits of black people and Indians as having a low level of spiritual evolution and without wisdom, I declare that tomorrow (November 16th) I´ll be in the house of this instrument (Zélio), at 8 pm, to initiate a society where these brothers will be able to give their messages and fulfill the mission set forth for them in the Spiritual Plan. It will be a religion that will speak to the humble ones, [the poor, the disenfranchised] symbolizing the equality that must exist among the brothers, alive or not.”
To this, the clairvoyant responded with irony: ” Do you really believe that someone will attend your cult?”
And the spirit said:
“Every hill in Niterói will be a spokesperson, announcing the religion that tomorrow shall begin.”.
To finish, the spirit added:
“God, in His infinite goodness, established death to be the great universal leveler - rich or poor, powerful or humble, everyone would be equal in death. But you, prejudiced men, not satisfied with establishing differences among the living, try to take these same differences even beyond the border of death. Why can´t these humble travellers from the spiritual world visit us, despite not having been socially important people on Earth, and also bring important messages from the beyond?”
The next day, in the house of the Morães´ family at 30 Floriano Peixoto St., around 8 pm, gathered the members of the Spiritist Federation to verify the truth about what had been said the night before. Also present were the nearest relatives, friends, neighbors, and outside, a crowd of unknown people.
At 8pm, the Cacique of the Seven Intersections manifested himself in Zélio. He proclaimed in that moment the beginning of a new religion, in which the spirits of old Africans that had served as slaves - who in the afterlife were having trouble finding suitable places to be manifest and contribute to human spiritual evolution due to the growth of the black magic cults – and the spirits of the native Indians, could work for the benefit of their living brothers, no matter the race, color, creed or social condition.
The practice of charity, in the context of brotherly love, would be the main characteristic of this religion, which would be based on Jesus’ teachings.
November 15th was recognized as Umbanda´s day.
Since then, Umbanda has grown, and has developed into numerous sects and forms – some mix more with other traditional African forms of worship, and others less so. Umbanda in the form conceived by Zélio and his non-physical collaborators still exists in many places, such as Centro de Umbanda Pena Verde. (www.tupveg.org.br)
The Umbandist Pristess known as Mother Bia, has worked with Umbanda for 30 years, practicing charity, helping those who seek her help, and fighting against the religious intolerance in Brazil, hoping to keep her workplace and the peace of the practice of her religion. The Brazilians have forgotten that no religion is so Brazilian as Umbanda.
In this house are given theories and practical teachings from spirituality, charity, compassion, love and respect to moral values. Members of the house also underake spiritual work as mediums, channeling highly-evolved spirits who possess great wisdom and compassion, among them the Caboclo Pena Verde (Green Feather Indian) and the Preta-Velha Vó Rosa (Black Elder Grandmother Rosa), who are the two chief spirits of this house, guiding their human sons and daughters on the path of spiritual evolution.
Heartbroken: Interpreting “Duas horas da manhã” by Nelson Cavaquinho
Nelson Cavaquinho was a fascinating composer. From my point of view, he wrote some of the most alluring, sweet, and vivid music of all the samba composers of 20th century Rio de Janeiro.
Without having yet learned very much about the man himself, I feel like one can enter fairly deeply into his personality through his music. Themes that seem to be recurring in his work are death, scorn at former lovers, a celebration of youth, and a firm resolution to live for pleasure and for the present moment.
Here is what my friend Beto González of the band Samba Society wrote to me of Nelson Cavaquinho the other day:
“Nelson Cavaquinho seemed to always be going through an existential crisis and contemplated his own demise in many of his songs. He also sold off most of the rights to his music for peanuts. He and Cartola were co-composers briefly but in a famous incident, Nelson told Cartola that he should sell “his half” of the song too, as Nelson had already sold his half… Cartola never wrote a song with him again.”
“TWO IN THE MORNING”
This tune, “Two in the morning,” is a tune of heartbreak by Nelson which uncharacteristically leaves anger and scorn out of the picture – though it does give expression to despair. The man sings of how he has been waiting for his love to meet him all night. Now it is two in the morning, and he doesn’t know if she has left him or if she will come back. He ascends the hill to return home (Rio’s traditional working class neighborhoods – in which Samba was born – are situated on hills around the city center.) He is heartbroken.
My take on the lyrics:
“Two in the morning”
by Nelson Cavaquinho
Two in the morning
Vexed, I wait for my love
I’m going to ascend the hill
Without happiness
And wait for the dawn of day
What could be the reason
That she hasn’t returned?
I don’t know if she’s going to come back
Or if she has abandoned me
My hope is dying
Longing grows in my chest
To the point where it seems my heart is telling me
Without her, I will never be happy
Two in the morning
INTERPRETING THE SAMBA “DUAS HORAS DA MANHÔ
This is a haunting tune, and as much as I generally try to avoid interpreting songs, poems, passages, and monologues that give expression to feelings I don’t care to have in my experience (fear, powerlessness, anger, vengeance, despair), it is a good exercise to make myself available even to those states that I intentionally avoid in daily life.
I do admit also to a tendency to judge Nelson Cavaquinho on the basis of his lyrics, because sometimes when I hear the words, I only imagine him as a selfish, immature, and morbid man. These feelings obviously show more about me than they do about Nelson, may he rest in peace.
One of the perennial questions of acting / interpretation is: what do you do with a line, a role, a piece of text, in which you must give truthful expression to something you personally disagree with or do not identify with? Hence, the disciplines of acting and performance require the practicioner to be skilled at reframing content in their own minds; they must be able to take a line, or character trait, and find a way into it so that they can give it full, unadulterated expression through their human totality.
For example, I remember being in college acting class with a particularly gifted young actor named Katie DeBuys, who once described to me how she was able to play a Nazi in a play. Her problem was, how could she truthfully and genuinely interpret a character she despised; who in her eyes had nothing she could relate to?
Being the actor that she was, devoted to her craft, she persisted in finding a way in. She made her breakthrough into the Nazi via Eminem. Her strategy was simple: find something she hated almost as much as Nazism, and find a way to understand, or sympathize with that thing. Because she particularly hated the music of the rapper Eminem, she said to herself, “what about this guys music that I hate so much could I possibly relate to?” So, she listened to Eminem everywhere she went for two weeks, until one day she started to get into it a little bit.
This breakthrough of seeing the good side in something she hated opened up the possibility of approaching the Nazi character with a fresh perspective. She didn’t make the jump to seeing something positive in Nazism, but she now had a reference point for what it was like to be inside of something she hated.
Anyway, that long tangent was to explain that when I take on song like this that contains lyrics and sentiments that I have a hard time getting fully behind (sentences like: “without her I will never be happy” – what a whiny bastard! Making someone else responsible for his own happiness, jeez!) I try to dip into the emotional essence of what he is going through in the moment, or what I imagine that emotional essence is. Here it is really quite simple – feeling vulnerable, feeling exposed and hurt, missing someone, feeling alone, etc. I can go there without feeling like I’m having to lie, or pretending to uphold ideas or sentiments I do not actually uphold in my own life.
On top of this issue, is the difficulty of working in a foreign language and accessing a foreign culture. To this day I still feel as if no matter how much I love Samba, it will never come to me as easily as the music I grew up with, which is American popular music – rock / blues / jazz-based stuff. But this discrepancy doesn’t really bother me. For some strange reason, I love samba. I will continue to post sambas on this site until I’m tired of Samba… whenever that day will come. Probably never.
But even if the sambas do keep coming, soon we will have some new content coming down the line. I’ve been working on preparing a series of stories from the classic Chinese novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and some music that comes from places other than Brazil. Keep checking the website, and stay tuned for new posts!
Everyone’s Against Me! – Interpreting “Sim” by Cartola
From the first time I heard “Sim” by Cartola 18 months ago, I marveled at what seemed the magical quality of this song. The recording was of a performance of the tune by Elisete Cardoso, the first great lady of Brazilian popular music (MPB.)
Elisete’s voice is reminiscent of Ella Fitzgerald and Edith Piaf – if you could combine those two voices into one, and then place it within the tropical, joyous and physically beautiful context of Brazil. Her voice went perfectly with this tune, composed by the eternal bard of Rio de Janeiro, Cartola.
The melody of this song is sweet, sweet, sweet. The combination of notes in the very first phrase hits me right in the heart and causes my eyes to well up, and this is because it is an absolute wash of luscious color. The line begins high and falls down the major scale and resolves on the color tone of a moody minor 6 chord. The sweetness and intoxication of it washing over the senses is something like the first bite of a fresh mango when you’re feeling thirsty, or the very inception of the act of love.
I have experienced a powerful feeling of connection to Cartola’s music from the first time I heard him. I went to go see the film “City of God” in 2003 as a college Junior, and the song “Alvorada” comes on in one of the first scenes of the film. There was something in the music that spoke to me; something about the way the melodies meandered up and down so effortlessly, were so easy and natural yet so ordered, original, and beautiful. The melodies in the man’s music were strangely reminiscent of melodies I used to make up on my own and hum to myself when I was bored in kindergarten. Hearing him is like going back to childhood, and many of the songs seem to come out of my own hazy childhood memories of a time when everything came so easily, freely, and unencumbered in any way; the days when I used to hum melodies to myself and miss everything that was being said in class.
My teachers always said, “this child has hearing problems” or “this child has attention deficit disorder.” But maybe the spirit of Cartola was biding his time between worlds and thought it would be funny to just sing songs to a gringo kid. That’s my new story – I might have done better in school if the ghost of Cartola wasn’t singing in my ears.
The joyous and sweet colorful melody of “Sim” is offset by the lyrics, in which a guy is frustrated with life and feels like everything and everybody is against him. He is complaining that “Yes! There should be relief for me.” Here is a pass at an English translation of “Sim,” which in Portuguese means “yes.”
“Yes” – by Cartola
Yes! There should be a pardon for me
If there isn’t, I don’t know what will become of me
To have a love of my own, I even went to the point of making promises
And I found a great love – but I still wasn’t happy!
So with rage at heaven, I lifted up my arms and blasphemed
Now today, everything is against me
Everyone errs in this world – no exception
When they come back to reality, they are forgiven
Why oh why, Lord, do I – who only messed up this one time -
Encounter so many disasters and seem to be fighting against all of humanity?
Yes! There should be a pardon for me
If there isn’t, I don’t know what will become of me
—
Here is my own humble interpretation of Cartola’s “Sim.” Played one Saturday afternoon at the foot of the iconic Hollywood sign here in home-sweet-home Los Angeles.
Estou com saudades do Brasil, sempre…
Alan Gaskill intreprets “Sim” by Cartola from Alan Gaskill on Vimeo.
Interpreting “Meu Mundo é um Moinho” by the legendary Cartola
Cartola is a very, very special artist who merits an introduction. I wish I knew more about him, but as there are few very thorough reference materials on Rio de Janeiro sambistas available in English, and Portuguese language books are a bit hard to come by in LA, I have only hearsay, the liner notes of an album, and what my Brazilian musician / bohemio friends have told me about him.
Long Beach-based sambista Beto González, of the band Samba Society, graciously sent me a few bullet points about Cartola a few weeks ago, as well as a link to a post he wrote about Cartola. The post contains recordings of three famous songs written and performed by the man himself. Check out Beto’s post on Cartola here.
I’ve always loved Cartola’s tune “Meu Mundo é um Moinho,” but it wasn’t until recently that I understood its full significance. The lyrics are clearly addressed from an older person to a younger person, probably a young woman, and that line about “on every corner your life falls just a bit more” definitely had me thinking about addiction or prostitution.
One day I woke up and resolved to get to the bottom of “Meu Mundo” so I could finally understand what it was I was actually singing about when I played the song. I contacted Nathália Dias de Moura, my dear friend and companion from Centro de Umbanda Pena Verde down in Florianópolis, Brazil to unravel the mystery of the song, since she is a lover of poetry and samba. What she told me just about broke my heart…
Cartola wrote “Meu Mundo é um Moinho” upon learning that his teenage daughter was prostituting herself out in the street. I can hardly imagine what it is like to write a song while under such intense emotional duress. In this moment however, Cartola’s powers of musical and lyric composition gave full, extraordinarily rare expression to what he was feeling – as a father experiencing profound sadness who is simultaneously resigned to the fact that his daughter will make her chart her own path, no matter what he says, and probably in spite of what he says. These words are from him to her, an older man, who from the perspective of adulthood and life experience, can see as clear as day the dangerous path his child is walking, but knowing ultimately that her destiny is hers alone.
I’ve done my best at translating these lyrics below. Please do comment if you can see that a word, sentence, or idea can be translated better:
“My World is a Mill”
It is still early, love
You’ve hardly even begun to know life
and here you are, announcing your departure
without even knowing the path you will take
Pay attention, dear
I know you are already resolved
that on each corner your life slides downward just a bit more
In a little while, things won’t be what they seem to be right now
Listen to me, love
Pay attention!
The world is a mill
that will grind up your little dreams
that will reduce your illusions to dust
Pay attention, dear
With every John you meet, your inheritance is only cynicism
And one day you’ll notice yourself on the edge of an abyss
An abyss dug with your own two feet
Be sure to visit the link to Beto’s post on Cartola, because you’ll find the original recording of this song there. It is sublimely beautiful. He sings the song the first time around accompanied only by the guitar. When the second verse comes along, the pandeiro (Brazilian tambourine) comes in with a slow, steady, and even driving beat . This musical cue murders me every time. This lives on High as an example of an eternal samba, and an example of the art form at its best.
And it is worth noting the incomparable Dino Seven-String on the guitar accompanying Cartola.
This is my own, very humble interpretation of “Meu Mundo é um Moinho.”
Alan Gaskill interprets “Meu Mundo É Um Moinho” by Cartola from Alan Gaskill on Vimeo.
Gringo Bro and Sis Duo Can’t Get Enough of Dorival Caymmi
How does it happen that a whole family of gringos can be converted into Brazilian culture nuts? Some say it is destiny, others attribute the contragiousness and relative ease with which Brazilian rhythms, sounds, and booty-shaking dances can spread quickly among members of a closely-knit group of funk-starved gringos.
The contagion began with me. I contracted a passion for Brazilian music when I first heard the famous album “Girl From Ipanema” by João Gilberto, Antonio Carlos Jobim, and Stan Getz at the age of 16. My younger sister Lauren studied abroad one summer in Bahia shortly thereafter and was introduced to capoeira, malandragem, and oceanside cachaca drinking. The rest is history.
Our parents can be found at home in the evenings listening to Portuguese Fado, the music of contemporary Brazilian vocalist Luciana Souza, or classic sambas by Ary Barroso (as they feel quite an affection from music from the 40′s.)
This video was recorded by Lauren’s boyfriend Gavin last weekend when Lauren and Gavin were up at Casa Gaskill hosting a pool party and kicking back from a week of class and teaching down at UC Irvine. Lauren has been studying capoeira and Samba da Roda pretty intensively in her free time between classes, and as she and I like hamming it up, we cut this little video just as they were headed out the door to return to Orange County. It’s true, we drop rhythm a few times, but in this case perfection is being sacrificed for the sake of sharing a happy little family moment with you, dear reader.
“Eu Não Tenho Onde Morar” by Dorival Caymmi is a whimsical and playful little samba from the 1940′s, when Caymmi was a star composer and singer in Rio, in the glamorous days of Urca Casino and Carmen Miranda. When Lauren and I sing it together, we laugh our asses of. Check out the lyrics below and you’ll see why.
“Eu Não Tenho Onde Morar” by Dorival Caymmi
CHORUS
I don’t have a place to live (so therefore I live on the beach)
I don’t have a place to live (so therefore I live on the beach)
I don’t have a place to live (so therefore I live on the beach)
I was born a small, small little guy, just like everyone else was born,
Everyone else lives right – the one who lives skewed… is me
CHORUS
I live on the edge of the sea, with the fortune that God has given me
Maria lives with others – but the one who paid for her room… is me
CHORUS
I will continue to post videos of Caymmi songs and recount to you what I know of him as time goes on. He is a true sage, and man who in his life embodied a kind of “transcendent laziness.” The man did everything with ease, and is remembered for always being joyful, relaxed, kind, and asleep in a hammock. When he wrote a song, it is said that he would simply rise from an afternoon nap, pick up his guitar, and release into the world a fully-formed song.
I find that nothing draws out more discomfort and judgement from many North Americans than trying to relate the philosophy of this lazy sage, who already knew his own perfection and lived as one in the loving arms of his Maker, without ever feeling the need to bigger, better, richer, stronger, etc. To be honest, it makes me a little uncomfortable too. I know if I tried to emulate Caymmi in his way of living, I would probably go crazy and worry about how I wasn’t accomplishing something – and I don’t necessarily think this is bad thing.
To wrap, I’ve concluded that Caymmi was a Taoist sage without even being aware of it. In his manner of living, he completely embodied the precepts of “No-doing,” and “Being one with nature.” Zhuangzi and Laozi were certainly there to welcome him into the beyond when he passed in 2008, aged 96.
Enjoy the video!
Brazilian Samba for Beach-bum Vagabonds – “João Valentão” by Caymmi
There is something special about a culture that can make room for its villains, and that is willing to see the world through their eyes…
João Valentão is a guy in Salvador, Bahia who has a chip on his shoulder. He’s always thwapping people upside the head and making his strength known to any poor bastard who makes the mistake of crossing him.
But even João has his moments in the life…
Alan Gaskill interprets “João Valentão” by Dorival Caymmi from Alan Gaskill on Vimeo.
“João Valentão” – music by Dorival Caymmi, lyrics by Jorge Amado
As the sun makes its break for the end of the world, heralding the arrival of night /
When you can best hear the sound of the waves tumbling upon the beach /
When, tired from the day’s brawls, the thug João sits down in the sand /
He spots a pretty morena, and appears at her side desirous of her embrace /
If its a moonlit night, his caprice to tell sweet lies, and laze himself out /
To lie in the sand that stretches out farther than the eye can see /
And just like this, sleeps the man who needn’t sleep in order to dream /
Because there’s no dream more beautiful than his home /
Like that, just like that, sleeps the man who needn’t sleep in order to dream /
Because there’s no dream more beautiful than his home.
REFLECTIONS ON A TUNE ABOUT PARADISE
This song for me, almost more than any other, is most evocative of Brazil; it’s paradise-on-Earth scenery, beaches, and climate – things that are shared by all who are there, rich and poor, desperate and wealthy, good or ill-intentioned alike. This is a song of paradise, and about a spot on the Earth that radiates powerful energies of warmth, joy, abundance, and contentment.
Many would be quick to condemn a piece of art that “glorifies” a villain, but this tune isn’t as much a glorification of a villain as it is simply an individual portrait that withholds moral judgement. The man is just as much a son of his land as the next person, and is loved by her just the same, despite his violent nature.
Dorival Caymmi (1914-2008) was a great composer and musician from Salvador, Bahia. Although he lived in Rio most of his life, his music was mostly about Bahia and its people, traditions, and folklore.
Jorge Amado (1912-2001), also of Bahia, is the Brazilian novelist best known to the world. Among his 25 novels, the best known is Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands. He and Caymmi were good friends and collaborated on several songs together.





































