That Was the Year that Was
Broken and loose footnotes on 2011
By Roberto Muggiati
I stepped into the New Year with a broken foot, a mysterious fracture with no visible cause to account for it. On the first days of January 2011, I crept from the Uruguaiana metro station to the Centro Cultural do Banco do Brasil — a cumbersome cobblestoned half-mile walk, elbowing a hurried crowd — to listen to Duo Gisbranco. The group is made up of the young pianists Claudia Castelo Branco and Bianca Gismonti, who is the cherished personal coach for Duo Brancaleone — my dilettante private joke featuring myself on saxophones (alto, tenor and baritone) and my beloved friend, Regina Lins e Silva on piano.
A few days later, a much more daring incursion took me and my bad foot to the Arena HSBC — some 15 miles away from the coziness of my home in Botafogo — to watch another episode of Amy Winehouse’s sad saga. I wrote then for Gazeta do Povo: “Cabalistically, 27 is a dangerous mark for pop music: the Holy Trinity of the Js died at this age (Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison) and also Brian Jones, Alan “Blind Owl” Wilson and Kurt Cobain. Amy will be 27 on September 14, still a lot of ground to cover.” Unfortunately, she did not make it.
Dragging myself through check-ins, planes and luggage belts, I flew to Curitiba for three “chats” at the Oficina de Música: with poet/songwriter Alice Ruiz; trombonist/composer Raul de Souza; and film maker/writer Sylvio Back.
On the last evening I went to Sesc da Esquina and marveled at the sounds of a nine-piece group led by Marilia Giller (piano) and Tiago Portella (cavaquinho) playing the repertoire of José da Cruz, one of the earliest “chorões” from Curitiba. Actually, the songs were recovered from sheet-music found on a garbage can! Also, Odah Terezinha da Cruz, 81, climbed the stage to sing a couple of her father’s Carnaval “marchinhas”. It is a pity she died last September. “Tia Odah” was supposed to travel with the group to a Choro Summit Reunion in Paris in 2012. After the Cruz show — and a typical Curitiba summer shower — we all went to celebrate at the Bar do Pudim, close to the cemetery where all my elders sleep peacefully.
On April, 9, I was at Rio’s Teatro Municipal for one of the season’s hottest events, Keith Jarrett’s An Evening of Solo Piano Improvisations. My foot was ok by then, but Jarrett’s “jazz” was far from a foot-stamping venue. I summed up the occasion for Curitiba in English at the time as: “The public swallowed their coughs, put their mobile phones in their pockets and lived a magical and memorable musical moment with Keith Jarrett.”
While I was writing my article on Keith Jarrett’s solo concert for Curitiba in English, the postman did not have to ring twice to deliver the double-CD Rio (the recording of Jarrett’s Rio concert), and I immediately stopped everything to listen to it.
Also in 2011, among the many attractions of the series Sala Contemporânea at Rio’s Municipal Theatre, I had the pleasure to get to know the Swiss-based Gershwin Piano Quartet (Wonderful! Marvelous!); to re-encounter Philip Glass (piano) in a classical setting, with virtuoso violinist Tim Fain; and to admire Egberto Gismonti embarking on his own evening of solo piano improvisations, which was a far cry from Jarrett’s, full of tropical undertones.
Speaking of cries, Bobby McFerrin’s concert, also at the Municipal, was a vocal feast, with the public’s enthusiastic participation. I wrote about the show for O Estado de S. Paulo: “Two hours of performance and the audience still wanted more. A youth by my side asks for Bach’s Air on the G String. Bobby sings it. And, after this long day’s night, sitting at the edge of the stage, he croons softly Blackbird. Beatles, Bach and Bobby – this is music, timeless and without frontiers.”
Branford Marsalis with the author
Branford Marsalis was something else. One week after interviewing him by telephone while he was still in New York, I found myself with him personally on the backstage of Teatro Oi-Casa Grande in Rio, after his fabulous presentation. With a compact quartet (sax, piano, bass, drums), he played three or four extended original pieces, very dense, and then embarked happily on a swift tour of jazz history, from Saint Louis Blues to Coltrane’s Giant Steps. I presented him a copy of my book New Jazz: Back to the Future and he reacted: “Oh, man, I don’t know Portuguese, but I agree with your idea!”
John Coltrane, who left us in 1967, was very much alive in the mega-exhibition We Want Miles (Rio-SP). Many Brazilian saxophonists got on their knees and prayed to their idol in front of Coltrane’s beaten tenor saxophone, shown inside a glass case. Also on hand was the fluegelhorn that Miles Davis blew during his legendary recordings with the Gil Evans band in the late 50s and early 60s.
During the CopaFest 2011, a sophisticated jazz festival held on the premises of Copacabana Palace Hotel, I had the pleasure of listening for the first time to the arranger Arthur Verocai and also to a gala performance of Mauro Senise and Gilson Peranzzetta with special guest Edu Lobo. Less than a month later, I attended a more intimate evening with Mauro and Gilson’s music at the Studio RJ, celebrating their 20-year partnership.
Another gift this year was the visit of Brazilian trumpet player Claudio Roditi, who has lived in the United States for the last 40 years. Actually, Claudio came to Brazil for the IV Trumpet Players Meeting in Curitiba. His two presentations in Rio — at the jazz clubs TribOz (Lapa) and Vizta (Leblon) — were a real joy. Last but not least, in December I had the privilege of being in the audience of a “bossa nova jam session” at Sala Baden Powell (Copacabana) held by Mauricio Einhorn and friends. Maurício, who will be 80 next May and is one of the world’s foremost harmonica players together with Toots Thielemans and Stevie Wonder, is also The Master of Quotes and did not shy from injecting into his improvisations bits and pieces of Laura, Carmen, Brazil’s national anthem, La Marseillaise, and, honoring the proximity of Christmas, Jingle Bells. While Leny Andrade sang Durval Ferreira’s Chuva (Rain), he accompanied her in obbligato playing the well-known Singin’ in the Rain introduction.
This year may have been a year of crisis, strife and violence for most of the world but, as far as music is concerned, in Brazil it was a year of bounty and beauty.
Roberto Muggiati is a musician who writes about music for numerous newspapers and magazines in Brazil.
