Name / Place and date of birth
My name is Djair de Barros e Silva. I was born in Recife, Pernambuco, Janurary 20, 1945.
My parents´ names are José Henrique de Barros e Silva and Alice Marques de Barros. My father was a businessman. He had a stall—at that time, t...Continuar leitura
Name / Place and date of birth
My name is Djair de Barros e Silva.
I was born in Recife, Pernambuco, Janurary 20, 1945.
My parents´ names are José Henrique de Barros e Silva and Alice Marques de Barros.
My father was a businessman.
He had a stall—at that time, they called it a compartment—in the enormous São José market in Recife.
The São José Market is like the Central Market here in Belo Horizonte and like the Model Market in Bahia.
They are huge buildings that occupy a square city block and are much like open-air markets.
They have just about everything you can imagine from live birds, rabbits, and fish, to all types of food stuffs, meats, cheeses, liquors, clothes, baskets and crafts.
In 1957, he sold everything he had and took the family to Garanhuns, which is a city in the barren mountain range of Recife.
Garanhuns has a very interesting music festival that has been happening for the last 10 or 12 years.
And so, I lived part of my childhood in Recife and a little more in Garanhuns, before going to Rio to do what happens even today.
I remember my childhood in Recife very well.
It was very musical.
I lived with a clean, pure essence of carnival, of fun, without violence, music played on big speakers in the public square and radio.
My first influences were the songs played on those big speakers, mostly Brazilian songs, mixed with a Mexican Bolero, an Italian song, even French songs, and, of course, American songs, until today.
I began to develop my interest in music.
I had fun in those pure carnivals, where people threw talcum powder or rice powder on each other, a centuries-old custom.
People sprayed perfume on each other because it brought relief from the heat, it wasn´t something to inhale to get high on that the custom turned into later.
There were informal groups of people, blocks, that paraded and danced together, clowns, African influenced dance groups, groups organized in praise of the Three Kings of the Orient and Caboclinhos, people dressed as indigenous people.
The carnival was always on the streets.
From all of this comes an influence of having fun and making music.
I didn´t have much experience in homemade soirees.
Perhaps by the fact that my father worked a lot and didn´t have much time to enjoy them, I didn´t have many soirees in my early life.
I remember that I used to sing, that the first thing I did in my musical history was singing, I didn´t play any instrument.
When there were visitors in the house, at a time that my father had the possibility of receiving them, he used to have me sing.
We were nine siblings, but he had me sing and I was very little.
And I used be very ashamed to sing, very embarrassed.
I stayed behind a door singing songs of Cauby Peixote, and Custódio Mesquita.
I sang “Adeus Meu Norte Querido”, by a guy from Alagoas that I loved-- Augusto Calheiros, fantastic.
I sang the same songs that I was hearing on the big public speakers in the square and on the radio.
My mother was very silent; she used to sing discretely.
She had nine children: eight boys and one girl.
The girl was in the middle of the story.
Four boys were born, a girl was born and later four more boys were born.
In a house with nine siblings, in various stages of development, living together was tight, delicate, and living space was a little precarious.
Curiously, my father was stimulated to move to Garanhuns by one of my older brothers, Reinaldo, who used to work with my father in the São José Market in Recife.
He had decided to go to Garanhuns to set up a business and had done well.
This attracted my father.
Reinaldo said to my father, “Come be my associate.
Eldorado, the city of gold, is here.” (Laughs)
My father did exactly that: he sold everything he had in the capital, Recife.
In a certain way of looking at it, he inverted the migration process, going to rural Garanhuns.
I arrived in Garanhuns when I was 11 going on 12 years old, in 1957.
I was already accustomed to changes.
I used to travel by train from Recife to Garanhuns almost every year because my father had been the manager of a watch store.
My father was very connected to the Lebanese businessmen; its a Northeastern thing, of Bahia, Pernambuco and other places.
Interestingly, the Lebanese became indignant when people used to call them Turks; they are very distinct cultures. They didn´t like it when someone would say, “There´s a new Turk in business.”
And the guy wasn´t Turkish, he was Lebanese; its another story.
I have a brother whose godfather is a Lebanese businessman.
My father had been in Garanhuns before that brother of mine, who invited him.
“Come here, be my associate, sell everything, business is good here.”
So, my father already had a connection with Garanhuns.
He made up his mind to go and went.
In Guaranhuns, already an adolescent, I began to have a greater relationship with music, listening to it, searching for it, knowing what I wanted.
I used to frequent the Rádio Difusora studio.
They had a record library there, and in 1959---I was already some 14, 15 years old—I began to listen to João Gilberto.
Really, it was bossa nova.
Bossa nova was a turning point.
My relationship with music was very traditional.
I didn´t have access to what was modern because it didn´t reach the interior countryside.
I didn´t know Johnny Alf existed.
I knew about Ary Barroso and Custódio Mesquita, who impressed me by their beauty, not by being modern.
I came to know modern music listening to bossa nova.
It was a really shocking difference.
I used to go to Rádio Difusora and listen to music, in the years ´59, ´60, ´61.
It was a learning experience to go there daily, religiously, to see what was new, what had arrived.
And I didn´t have any jazz or scholarly information, I didn´t know who Miles Davis was. In 1959, Miles Davis had already recorded an album that I came to know later in Rio de Janeiro called “Quiet Nights”.
I thought to myself, “Wow, that´s something”
That same record had a song by Mariano Pinto: (Singing) “Aos pés da Santa Cruz, você ajoelho”.
It also had a song from gaucho (Southern Brazilian) folklore that was: (humming) “Vou me embora prenda minha”, that has a sly old American trick associated with it.
That song is registered on the album as being written by Miles Davis and Bill Evans, who did the musical arrangements.
It is called “Song Number Two” but it´s really a song of the gauchos, (people from Southern Brazil), from the Pampas. (Laughs)
This story is part of my life in Rio de Janeiro.
But at Rádio Difusora in Garanhuns, I had access to something that might be more important, which is João Gilberto.
He was fundamental to my generation of the fifties.
It is a very impressive turning point.
Certainly Caetano, Chico, Bituca, everybody agrees.
I sign my name to what I am saying here.
I insisted on seeing if I could at least complete high school.
I did the third year and I learned, for example, a little French, a little Latin, because I repeated them several times.
I skipped classes, for lack of desire, laziness, but I learned some things.
College entrance courses and diplomas never attracted me.
When I skipped a class, it was because I was playing snooker, soccer, or flirting.
I was the black sheep of the school, very, very black sheep.
There was a time that I had a very severe teacher, Miss Almira.
She was the director´s sister.
One of my older brothers married a niece of hers from the Valença family.
Alceu Valença is from that crew.
At certain times, Miss Almira was also a secretary.
She was a mathematics teacher and a secretary.
A few times I gave the class in mathematics, because she went to do something in the office and she said, “Djair, continue the class for me, please.”
I never understood this, because I didn´t know anything; I think she was trying to stimulate me and believed that I was competent.
Mathematics is profoundly connected to music.
I never was able to have patience to study my abc´s.
My passage through school was not very dignified, really, I didn´t have much patience for sitting quietly and listening.
But many things attracted me, history, for example.
I was much more interested in knowing what João Gilberto wanted to say in his songs.
There´s a song by a Mineiro (person from Minas Gerais), I did´t know if its Roberto Guimarães: (Singing) “Amor, amor de primeira vista, amor de primeira mão é esse que chega cantando, sorrindo pedindo entrada no coração”.
I didn´t want to know who wrote the song, what interested me was the guy that was there playing and singing.
Many years later, I even met Roberto, the author of that song that, if I´m not mistaken, is on the first album, “Chega de Saudade”.
There was already a Mineiro influence wanting to insinuate itself.
Rio de Janeiro
In ´62 I was 17 years old.
For me, music was only something played in bars, to be sung with someone, always having to have a guy accompany me, playing a guitar.
And in ´62, I took a trip to Rio.
Since my father had already given up on me, knowing profoundly that I wasn´t the least bit interested in studying, or getting a diploma in absolutely anything, he liberated me.
He gave me some money and I took a bus from Garanhuns to Rio.
It took some four days of travel to get to Rio, something horrendous.
It was ´62, I was 17 and stayed some six months in Rio trying to make a go of it.
I got to sing on a television program, I got to know some musicians, but I wasn´t old enough to get into clubs.
There was a show at that time in a place called the Bom Gourmet, something like that, which included João Gilberto, Tom Jobin, Vinicius Moraes and the Cariocas.
But I didn´t have either money or the age necessary to get in.
At that time there were some guys that stayed at the door, that were called leão-de-chácara (country house lions), that today are called security guards, and there was a plaque that said, “Prohibited until 21 years old”.
So it didn´t do any good, they wouldn´t let me in.
There was also a show of Chico Anysio, a great comedian and actor, with a violinist called Mão de Vaca (Cow´s Hand), who I think is already deceased; it was awesome because Mão de Vaca accompanied Chico Anysio´s timing as he told stories and jokes.
I even tried flirting with those leão-de-chácara (country house lions). But I couldn´t get into this one either.
Six months later, my father went on a business trip to São Paulo, came through Rio and took me back home.
Returning to Guaranhuns at the end of ´62, a group of musician friends and myself, formed a group to play at dances and make some money.
Because I wasn´t interested in studying, I had to support myself.
My father wasn´t going to give me money.
He wasn´t going to sustain me.
So, I said to myself, “Good, because I want to become a professional musician, that´s the deal”.
So, we made a group to play at dances and I was the crooner.
I didn´t play bass in the group; the bass was something in my future, very important.
And I named the group Nouvelle Vague.
Because, when I went to Recife, I stayed with two of my brothers who were studying there and living in a boardinghouse.
On Sundays, there were matinees at the movie theatre that showed the films of Godard, Truffaut and of the French Nouvelle Vague people, and I was an assiduous moviegoer.
Those films attracted me as they attracted a generation.
So I said, “The name of the group is going to be Nouvelle Vague”.
This was the origin of my nickname and my stage name.
Djair de Barros e Silva became Novelli.
And with the business of playing for dances in the interior of Pernambuco, we gained fame, because we played everything.
In ´63, I got two records of the Beatles, American editions, very beautiful record covers, I don´t know what became of them.
One was called “Introducing the Beatles” and the other “Meeting the Beatles”.
I used to sing at dances, in French, in Italian, faking it, I sang the Beatles and I sang bossa nova, a mixture.
When I say “faking” its because I understood what I wanted to say, but I didn´t have, let´s say, the pronunciation.
My French was better but my English was profoundly forced. There was even a young woman on this recent show, Big Brother, who was singing a song that was something grotesque.
I didn´t get close to being grotesque in that way, but something like: ai uana arro iorran. (Laughs)
And the people loved it.
And as they didn´t know what I didn´t know, it passed by unnoticed, slipped by, easy.
Taking off from our success in the dances in the interior and from having a certain goal, a yearning set in: “Let´s go to Recife”. In ´65, the Nouvelle Vague moved lock, stock and barrel for Recife.
I didn´t have a bass.
The band was:
accordion, guitar, drums, and a percussionist who played bongos, a maraca, and a escaleta (???), that played the same sound that the accordion was already playing.
In Recife, we contracted a bass player, Oswaldo Guedes, who is the guy who gave me the nickname Novelli, because the group´s name was Nouvelle Vague and he said that I was the singer Novelli.
And it stuck.
It marked me.
Instruments / Bass
Up until then, I only sang.
Then we rehearsed to do a program on TV Jornal do Comércio (TV Business Newspaper), the song was “Influência do Jazz”, by Carlos Lyra and Ronaldo Bôscoli: (Singing) “Pobre samba meu, foi se misturando”.
I was going to sing.
In the afternoon we rehearsed, marked our places, cameras, those kinds of things and that night Oswaldo Guedes didn´t show up.
His instrument was there.
I didn´t sing. I picked up the instrument to do a mimic to cover up his absence.
And I understood the mechanics of it in a magical way.
Twenty years later, I learned how it is an instrument tuned in fourths.
But then it was: “Ah, what tone is that?”
“Its F major”.
“And what note is this here, F?
That´s how it goes?”
I thought, “Ah, look at this, so this means…”
A little while later I would stand in for Oswaldo Guedes, who was working at a nightclub called Samburá, in Boa Viagem, a beach in Recife.
He loved it when I came.
I, in order to learn how to play the instrument, would stand in for him and he loved it because he didn´t have to work.
I played the whole evening.
The acoustic bass is a very heavy instrument and at that time, 1965, it didn´t have strings like the ones today, that are lighter.
The strings were made of leather, guts, or something.
You have to develop a blister, wait for it to break open, become a wound, until you develop a callus to be able to get a good sound out of the instrument.
I had never played anything before and I am self-learned up until today.
Technically, I never studied.
I tried to study in Rio with Wilma Grace, an important professor, but after four classes, she said to me, “Do you compose?”
I said, “I compose.”
“So play one of your songs.”
And she quit giving me classes because I didn´t have the least capacity to learn anything, I didn´t have the least bit of patience.
I discovered this thing of composing, singing in the shower.
Singing in the shower, I thought, “Wow, that´s an idea.
Wow, this here is a song.”
It began there, but playing an instrument helps a lot.
It gives more security.
I really respect the times a guy doesn´t need an instrument, principally the sambistas, and the repentistas (the improvisers).
And really, the partideiros (those who play pagode) in Rio de Janeiro, for example, are fantastic, the guys don´t play anything and go out singing, and musically the system is totally correct, its a very great capacity.
But I was already playing the bass.
It is an instrument that plays a basic note; and the chord comes from that.
It is an instrument of harmony; a more expansive instrument would be a guitar with six strings that makes chords.
The piano is the world champion of harmony; it is the Pelé of instruments, as Tom Jobim would say.
And then I began fingering the guitar and became curious in using the piano to help in composing.
I think composing is essential in my life.
The acoustic bass is a reference, let´s say, a recognition, of participating in so many works, but I think that if they asked. “Are you are bass player or a composer?”
“I am a composer; its what I do best.”
I think that it took me a long time to understand this.
For this reason, learning the bass was so quick.
With fifteen days of relieving Oswaldo Guedes, I was playing better than him.
And he was only playing for 30 years.
He said this to me, “Wow, Novelli, singer Novelli, I took 30 years to… I don´t know how to play anything.
You are here two weeks relieving me and you already play better than me.”
Then he passed his hand on my shoulder, which was an affectionate gesture of a musician to a musician like: “This dude is bad, whatever”.
I think that composers aren´t recognized. I think it is essential to understand that we, Brazilians, have a very special cultural expression of beauty, truth and power.
There was a time that American music had a certain dominance, which it doesn´t have today.
Not only is it in our domain; it is an ever-greater richness.
Here in Belo Horizonte, I know an incredible amount of young people making high quality music.
O Museu Clube da Esquina (The Corner Club Museum), which brings us here in this conversation, is a quality of Brazilian music, which can´t be regionalized.
O Clube da Esquina (The Corner Club) is not only made up of musicians Mineiros (from Minas Gerais); I am from Pernambuco and Milton is from Rio de Janeiro, only he is more Mineiro than many Mineiros.
Forgive the force of my expression, I´m not being critical.
There are great musicians from all over, there´s Pat Matheny, Herbie Hancock, João Donato, Edson Maciel, Edson Machado, Robertinho Silva, and Luiz Alves.
Naturally, the great nucleus is Mineiro. Man, its roots are: Milton, Beto, Lô, Wagner Tiso, Helvius Vilela, a crew.
I said at the beginning that composition is Brazilian music.
The Brazilian song, in its diverse movements, doesn´t have anything close to it on the same level nowadays.
Certainly, the characteristic of music from different countries is something very personal.
You can listen to Japanese music or the music from India, Arabian music—but I say, the essence of beauty for me is Brazilian music. If I were in India I would love to feel that same sensation.
When I hear the folk song by someone, I don´t remember who, it doesn´t interest me, what impresses me is the feeling of truth, of beauty: (Sings) “A lua que no céu surgiu”, there´s nothing the same as this.
Maybe American songs had this.
And In truth, America is an accident.
American song is made by the Jews, Russians, I don´t know where from, from Hungary, refugees, but not Brazilian Song.
Brazilian songs take off from what Villa-Lobos traveled to be able to research and hear on location; the music of the Indians, of the caboclos, of the countryside and the sertenejo.
Music is in the guts, the roots of Brazil.
Its not something brought here; it is something that was born here.
I have nothing else to say.
In Recife with Nouvelle Vague, it was only music.
In Garanhuns, it was playing snooker, soccer, and horsing around, but in Recife it wasn´t.
In Recife, it was 24 hours of music.
No, not 24 hours, there was one hour that I was dating.
There was a time that I was dating a lot, impassioned as I am still today.
Being a crooner has this beautiful opportunity.
The crooner and the pianist are the guys that gained the most in that delicious sector. (Laughs)
The crooner´s trick of seduction was singing, choosing a song with very eloquent lyrics.
When I assumed this vocation, my family´s fear turned into admiration.
Principally, I won the respect of my father.
He perceived that mine was a lost case and he began to receive me with more courtesy.
I passed through the work-a-day world, but very little, in order to correspond to my father´s view of things, to be able to convince him that I wasn´t useless in the world, that I wasn´t going to be some guy that plays snooker or soccer all the time.
I worked with fabrics and small odds and ends.
In the 6 months I spent in Rio in ´62, I sold school bags.
I worked for a southern Brazilian firm.
I took a test, passed, and then used a suit coat and tie and went visiting houses in Leblon, and Lagoa, which is upper middle class, to sell school bags.
The plan was like this: “You pay now for something that your child will use throughout his school life, from primary, to high school, college, everything.
Buy today”. (Laughs)
It was an invention and I earned a commission of every bag that I sold.
This was interesting.
I was a good salesman.
Rio de Janeiro
In that first phase in Rio de Janeiro in ´62, with the musicians that I admired, I didn´t have the slightest chance of getting in; and being Northeastern made it worse.
There are various prejudices, not only of color, for sure.
Everybody knows this.
There are things that aren´t so severe.
I think it´s even natural.
Even in the Northeast, a city, a neighborhood can have prejudices against the other.
And really, it was the impression that I had when I arrived in Rio.
Its like this:
if you were going to present yourself to a famous musician, if you were from the same area, you were received well; if the guy thought you were Northeastern he took an aggressive posture, maybe because of fear:
“This guy is wanting to take my place. (Laughs)
Get out of here, man”.
Today prejudices still exist.
They greater and less hidden, its even sadder.
But, music resolves this.
When the guy feels that you´re one of the gang, that prejudice ends, you become an equal, and you are part of the group.
After Recife, I returned to Rio de Janeiro playing standup bass, with many more possibilities of work.
Being a crooner became sort of difficult and the bass gave me more possibility for work, to support myself.
At that time, ´65, ´66, I began to met the musician that had also migrated to Rio: Wagner Tiso, Chiquito Braga, those people from Minas, the people from São Paulo, Paraná, Ceará.
And I began to share in that precarious life.
The Young Guard was emerging, bossa nova wasn´t dominant anymore.
The market wasn´t very good for an instrumentalist.
There was a time when bossa nova was at its height; there were 800 trios in Brazil; but not in my time.
We had to make do playing at night.
There wasn´t that thing anymore of a trio accompanying a great artist, where the musician got paid well, was always elegant, in a suit coat, new shoes, those things.
We didn´t have those things.
Our generation, of Wagner Tiso, Milton, Nivaldo Ornelas and Helvius Vilela, the money situation was more precarious.
We had to confront the night scene, struggle to get work earning little, living in a crowded, cheap boardinghouse.
But it was worth it because we were young, had strength, and burning desire, and it all worked out.
And I began to know musicians, to have access, for having been seen by some of the more elite guys.
The first time I went to Rio, I didn´t have a chance of meeting the other musicians.
The second time I had to meet them because I had made up my mind that I was going to stay in Rio and I was going to have to be companions with these people.
The first person that invited me to do a job that I felt that I was going to meet those people was Mario Castro Neves.
He was from a family of musicians, Oscar Castro Neves, Ico, Léo and Mário Castro Neves.
He really opened the way for me.
This was from ´66 to ´67.
Later there was a movement called Música Nossa (Our Music).
It got musicians together and I began to know more people, like Roberto Menescal, people that I only heard there in Recife, Garanhuns, on Rádio Difusora.
I worked with a very important musician, a pianist from Santos Dumont--a city here in Minas Gerais--Antônio Eugênio, O Toninho.
He was playing a lot of jazz and Brazilian music but with a different rhythmic accentuation.
In Recife, I had already heard an American musician, Dave Brubeck, who had a lot of music composed in times like: five/four, five/eight and nine/eight.
I thought, “Since that I don´t read music, I´m going to have to hear this and assimilate the time that it is in, to be able to play along and not get lost, not bother anyone.”
And Toninho taught me a lot about timing.
Antônio Eugênio, from Santos Dumont, Minas Gerais, was in my life before Milton and Wagner.
The Música Nova (New Music) movement made it possible to meet lots of people.
I became friends and musical partners with Marcos Vale.
I met Bituca at this time, because of the festival in ´67.
Wagner Tiso / Milton Nascimento
I met Wagner Tiso at the Beco das Garrafas (Alley of the Bottles), where he was playing with another musician.
It was a duo of piano and drums-- there was no bass--that traded off with a trio.
there was the main trio who played for 40 minutes, and while they rested for 20 minutes, Wagner and Maurício Chiapeta, who was a drummer from Recife that migrated with me, played.
I was playing drums and singing in a nightclub near there with Raul Vini, who was a pianist from Recife also.
The guys from Pernambuco where invading and mixing with the guys from Minas Gerais. (Laughing)
It was funny because Wagner was earning, let´s say, four reais and Maurício, the drummer was earning three reais.
I was earning seven reais and I wasn´t a drummer. (Laughs)
For me to fit in I was singing and playing drums with a piano player, doing the 20 minute interval sets while the trio rested from their 40 minute sets.
There was a place called Beco de Fome (Hunger Alley), where we used to go when we finished playing at three or four in the morning, because we could run a tab there.
We didn´t have money, but we had to eat, had to have dinner after the marathon of playing music all night.
We used to meet up with each other at the Beco de Fome (Hunger Alley) and shoot the breeze until dawn.
We were living in a boardinghouse of a woman from Minas Gerais, Miss Gasparina, on Santo Clara Street.
We were living there: me, Wagner, another drummer from Recife, Normando, and Eduardo, Piu-Piu, a pianist.
And when Milton had three songs classified in the festival, I was living with Maurício, who was the drummer that was working with Wagner.
Wagner was living in another place.
It was an apartment of a woman needing money who rented out rooms for respectable young men and women. (Laughs) Something we never were.
And when that thing happened with Milton, he was living at a hotel in Catete.
Maurício, the drummer that was working with Wagner went to Europe with a company called Brasiliana.
Wagner had said to me, "Look, that guy that classified three songs, that everybody´s talking about, Milton Nascimento, is my buddy from childhood there in Alfenas, Três Pontas.
And he´s the best.”
Wagner told Milton, “ There´s this guy from Pernambuco here and when you guys meet each other its going to be something else.”
Then it happened that I was at the Bar do Careca (Baldy´s Bar) where the group Manifesto used to get together.
Normando, the drummer who was living with Wagner, and I were sitting at a table.
This big Black man sat down with us, and Normando said, “Yo, Novelli, ask for another beer here”, and Milton said, “You´re Novelli?”
And I got to know Milton.
When Maurício went to Europe, I was alone at the boardinghouse and I invited Bituca to live with me and divide expenses.
And Bituca took me up on it.
The hotel where the Festival Internacional da Canção (International Song Festival) had put him up in Catete which aside from being far away from the action was precarious.
Shortly after that, Wagner and Normando had to leave their boardinghouse and came to live with us, which means, the room for two… Miss René, the owner of the apartment, very politely understanding the situation, put two bunkbeds in the room.
The room where two people hardly fit now held four, and every weekend Toninho Horta and Marcinho Borges stayed there too.
So, sometimes six, seven, eight people slept there.
Miss René had the most impressive patience.
Everybody was hard up, you know? (Laughs)
Festival Internacional da Canção (International Song Festival) / Festival da Record (Record Festival)
My first connection with festivals is the one where Milton had “Travessia”, “Morro Velho” and “Maria Fé”, which we know, in August, September and October, at the end of ´67.
I only played in one song.
The composers were Alcivando Luz and Carlos Coquejo.
MPB 4 defended the song and I played bass.
Alcivando played the guitar in a different tuning.
There a book in Murilo Antunes´s house, “A Era dos Festivais”, but I don´t remember the name of the song.
But it was my first time I went to a festival and once again got to know new musicians, Geraldo Vandré, Marília Medalha, that whole group.
Later, in a
Festival da Record (Record Festival), in ´68 ´69, my first song was classified.
It is a song called “Viadante”, with music by me and Wagner Tiso and lyrics by Paulo Sérgio Vale.
The second time that I, as author, was able to classify a song written in partnership with Luiz Eça, was in the Festival da Canção (Song Festival), in ´70, ´71.
If I´m not mistaken it was the last festival.
My songs never won.
There were 40 songs and only 20 were classified for the final.
But it was worth it to have participated in those things because I came to have more intimacy on the friendship level with many people who late became partners and close friends like Chico, Toquinho, Paulinho da Viola and many others.
At that time, Nelson Angelo came to Rio.
Milton met Ronaldo Bastos, who is Fluminese (from the state of Rio de Janeiro), from Niterói.
Later there were other additions, like Joyce, with her very Rio city ways, and Zé Rodrix, who became part of Som Imaginário (Imaginary Sound), the historical group that played with Milton.
All these things began mixing, which originated the Clube da Esquina (The Corner Club).
There´s a thing about it starting on the street of the Corner here in Belo Horizonte; but perhaps it concretized in Rio upon leaving the Mineiro axis, leaving the corral and going out into the world.
I participated in the album “Clube da Esquina 2” (Corner Club 2).
I don´t remember where I was during the recording of “Clube da Esquina 1” (Corner Club 1).
When I came back from a trip to somewhere that I don´t remember—I don´t remember if I was in Mexico or in Greece, I was lost somewhere in this old world of God—I received a reel to reel tape recording as a present.
It was like a master of the album Clube da Esquina (Corner Club).
I spent the whole day listening to that thing with others; I was recently married and returning from Mexico.
I lost the possibility of working on it, but up ahead I gained much more.
Because in the sequence of this work, there is the album, “O Milagre dos Peixes”; the first album recorded under censorship in a studio.
“Milagre dos Peixes”
The album “Milagre dos Peixes” is like a continuation of the “Clube da Esquina” (The Corner Club), more eclectic.
Its not a work that only includes Mineiros (people from Minas Gerais), like “Clube da Esquina 1”, in the sequence of the work, it includes other personalities.
The composition “Viandante” is by Wagner and me with lyrics by Paulo Sérgio Vale.
I really don´t remember the first song of mine that was recorded, but before that I had already composed with Marcos Vale, some songs that even become well known.
There is a dance song for carnaval, “Pelas Ruas do Recife”.
(Sings) “Pelas ruas do Recife todo ano tem quatro dias de folia e a alegria vem pra mostrar que frevo e animação marcam passo no compasso no mesmo cordão”.
That had been recorded by Marcos in ´67, ´68.
I don´t remember the first song that I wrote.
Its that thing of being in the shower, but I remember the emotion of composing my first song.
Its a song that was never recorded.
Its a very Northeastern kind of song that I wrote the music to and did the lyrics with a guy that had nothing to do with music, Paulo Silvestre, a high school friend from Garnahuns.
He was from Recife and was a resident student in Garanhuns.
I was going out with a young girl and he was going out with her sister.
When I went to Recife in ´65, com Novelle Vague, we renewed our friendship.
He wasn´t a resident student any more in Garanhuns and in fact, he was married to the sister of my girlfriend from Garanhuns.
And we wrote a song that goes like this: “Quando eu era criança na minha terra distante quanta festa e a esperança de que durasse bastante, do alto-falante se ouvia a música oferecida, o cantador de embolada cantando a alegria da vida, num desafio falava do que é bom e do que é mal, do que é certo e o que é incerto nesse mundo desigual”.
It was a suite with various movements; a part of it went, (Sings) “Marujada vai pro mar, já chegou o dia de ir pra longe”.
The song ended like that.
I don´t know the name of the song, but it wasn´t ever recorded.
I have the desire to record.
Really, I have recorded very little.
The collection of albums I recorded is the one album I did with Toninho Horta, Beto Guedes and Danilo Daymni, produced by Nelson Angelo in 1973 at the Odeon Studios.
Really, it was going to be each one of making an album but the industry said, “No, the four of you get together, if you want.” (Laughs)
So we said, “Let´s do it”
We got together and Beto, who I met recently, showed up with some different kinds of compositions, with pop influences, of an impressive quality.
You know “Belo Horror”: (Sings) “Não quero você mais na minha casa”
(I don´t want you in my house any more).
There was some confusion.
I have always been a great fan of Toninho.
I think that he is one of the greatest musicians that I have met in my life. He´s a very inspired guy, an instrumentalist, composer, arranger, a guy that is very loving with music.
Until today, I haven´t succeeded in being so dedicated. (Laughs)
“Milagre dos Peixes”
Recording “Milagre dos Peixes” was the first time that I played together with some of the great musicians.
I was playing acoustic bass with a bow.
In the front were Robertinho Silva on drums, Toninho Horta on guitar, Nivaldo Ornellas on saxophone and flutes, Wagner Tiso commanding the piano—a tiny keyboard—and Bituca playing the guitar.
There was an orchestra behind them, and I was playing with the orchestra.
Its the only record with my real name in the credits, Djair de Barros e Silva, the rest are all Novelli. Bituca insisted on putting it in the credits, “Acoustic bass: Djair de Barros e Silva”, very funny.
It wasn´t a big orchestra, 8 violins, 2 violas, 2 cellos, and 3 acoustic basses.
I was playing side by side with Peter Dauelsberg and another, that I don´t remember well, his name is on the credits.
Peter taught me some things about playing with a bow, since the section had to play uniformly so it doesn´t sound ugly with one over there and the other over here.
It has to be that supple, esthetically beautiful thing.
Interestingly, I was playing with Egberto Gismonti in his group at this time.
I played acoustic bass, Peter Daughbert played cello, Paulo Moura was on saxophone and flute, and Jane Duboc sang and played a keyboard.
The drummer changed a lot; sometimes it was João Palma, sometimes it was Everaldo Ferreira, sometimes Rubinho.
So then, in the orchestra I wasn´t afraid of Peter, I already had an intimacy with Peter.
It was a little complicated, more so because I never studied.
There I was, playing with the guys that are professors of a symphony orchestra and you had to play in tune and with all your heart, otherwise, what are you doing there? Are you lying?
You can´t lie.
That is the moment of truth.
“Milagre dos Peixes” gave me that of work, of the pleasure on working, and it instructed me musically a lot, helped me mature, gave me security and guaranteed me in many aspects.
It is a very important work.
At times, I looked at the audience--Chico Buarque, Francis Hime, and other musicians anxious to hear what was going down.
Milton Nascimento is like João Gilbeto for me, he is also a turning point.
Milton appeared with a very great force, something different, very strong, many new elements, new harmonic, rhythmic and poetic paths.
I saw the admiration of the guys, the musicians in the audience, Oscar Castro Neves, Tom Jobin.
They were falling in love with it.
In the Festival Internacional de Canção (International Song Festival) in ´67, where “Morro Velho”, “Travessia”, and “Maria Minha Fé” were selected, there was a jury made up of musicians and music critics before the Festival.
The guys had to choose the songs by listening to tapes, three thousand tapes from all of Brazil.
The guys had to choose 40 songs that were selected for the final.
At the time the jury included, Geny Marcondes, who was a musicologist, Eumir Deodato, who is very important in Milton´s life and Agostinho dos Santos, who pushed Milton´s entrance in the festival.
Milton was living in São Paulo.
Agostinho dos Santos, sensing the talent, the different tone, very strong, almost obliged Milton to record the three songs on a cassette tape, although Bituca wasn´t even wanting to know about it, he wasn´t even giving it import.
Agostinho dos Santos took the tape and registered the songs.
And in the audition of tapes by the jury, Eumir Deodato said when he heard I don´t know which song, “What beauty, that goes in”.
And later he said, “Look, that same author, two of his songs were already played that you didn´t hear correctly, I am here quiet, but let´s listen to them again?”
There were three thousand tapes, find the patience to hear three thousand tapes.
“Then, let´s go back.”
Eumir Deodato convinced the guys. “Look, everything is here”.
This was only the beginning.
Milton had already recorded with the group Sambacana with Pacífico Mascarenhas.
He already had a song recorded by Tempo Trio, which was Helvius Vilela, Pascoal Miereles and Paulinho Horto—the late and sorely missed Paulinho Horto, Toninho´s brother.
The song was “A Gente Sonhando” by Milton and Márcio Borges; this is Jurassic.
Milton´s first album with all his music was recorded shortly after the festival with the Tamba Trio, arranged by Luiz Eça.
The record has a black cover and was produced by the record company Codil, run by an idealistic guy, who´s name I don´t remember.
The guy appeared at that time and produced Milton´s first solo record, taking advantage of the animation of the festival.
RECORDS / PEOPLE
“Courage” / Milton Nascimento
“Courage” is Milton´s second album, made in New York, with Eumir Deodato doing the arrangements.
It was when Milton met Herbie Hancock.
Som Imaginário has nothing to do with me in the sense that I was never a member of the band.
Zé Rodrix is the essence of Som Imaginário; he is The Man.
Zé Rodrix, Tavito, Fredera, Wagner Tiso, Luis Alves and Robertinho Silva were Som Imaginário.
They were playing music with Milton, and Zé Rodrix, very intelligent, said, “Milton Nascimento, ah, and the Som Imaginário”.
It was from there that the name was born.
The “ah” endured.
Som Imaginário is like saying, “This is Milton, but we are here too”.
I played live with them in the studio, accompanying Milton.
There was a time when Milton´s band was made up of me, Wagner, Toninho, Nivaldo and Paulo Braga, and people thought that we were Som Imaginário.
However, I make a point of saying that in truth we were not Som Imaginário.
Those guys that made their mark; which gave a different dimension to Milton´s already powerful sound.
Those guys really pushed, it was awesome.
One time I went to a party with Milton in the epoch of the festival and on that some day we met Francis, Edu, and Erlon Chaves.
And at a certain moment, Milton picked up his guitar and played.
People stopped talking. He took everyone to another plane; everyone was amazed.
Edu and Francis were left wondering where that sound came from. I´m witness to this.
And really, it was very interesting.
A person arrives; gives their ideas and how it changes things.
And its very interesting, because it was in the same time that Toninho Horta, who is a musician just as strong as Milton, played at the same festival, (Sings) “Litoral é chão que acaba em mar”.
Only Milton classifies three songs.
Only Vinicius had three songs classified, one with Francis, one maybe with Edu and the other with Ekel Tavares, an erudite musician. Vinicius could do it; it was nothing strange, but, “Who is this guy, Milton?”
A guy that classifies three songs in a festival full of snakes, man.
This guy can´t be fooling around.
Milton always had a very great capability of getting people together.
He is the champion.
Clube da Esquina (The Corner Club) is exactly this.
I see a great possibility with this story of the Museum, of having a “Clube da Esquina 3”.
The “Clube da Esquina 2” had an amazing amount of people that participated on it.
It was something else.
The whole time the studio was full of people, musicians, everything.
The adhesion of the group was awesome.
Sometimes a guy would be there for some other reason, like me who was there to pick up a paycheck and ended up recording the original version of “Nascente”.
I played piano and Toninho Horta played bass.
This happened other times.
For example, João Donato went there to hang around.
He got there and played on the song, “Olho d´Água”.
It is a very beautiful song of Paulinho Jobim, which is on the album “Saudades do Brasil do Tom”, with another name, in English maybe.
Ronaldo Bastos wrote the lyrics.
And Donato was playing piano and suddenly he was also playing trombone, him and Edson Maciel.
In other words it a very crazy Brazilian thing.
Donato didn´t have anything to do with Clube da Esqina (The Corner Club), but he definitely came to have.
This is a small example of the multitude that was there.
At times, there was a chorus of 60 people, with everybody singing.
The climate of the recording was surreal.
Salvador Dali would be considered an apprentice magician compared to the surreal that was happening there.
It was a movement.
Some young women, girlfriends and wives ended up recording in the chorus. Everybody wanted to participate.
At times there were people from the cinema, people from the theater appeared, authors, people from everywhere, and everybody ended up singing.
It was total confusion.
Nothing rehearsed, nothing preestablished.
If Chico arrived, it was, “If Chico is here, we have to record a song that Chico can participate in”, and even though there was a recent song of Milton´s with Chico, it was Chico that said, “No, no. let´s record the lyrics, a version that I did for a song of Pablo Milanês”.
In fact, it was sung in Spanish and Portuguese: (Sings) “El nacimiento de un mundo se aplazó por un momento, fué un breve lapso del tiempo”.
That´s what was going down and I never even heard tell of that song, not me, not Wagner, not anybody.
And we learned the song. We had to learn the song and record it.
There was so much music that a double record came out.
In truth, it would have to be a double album, because it is the consequence and sequence of the first.
I did a show with Gal Costas that is well thought of, “Fatal”.
I was the bass player.
There was Lanny Gordin, Jorginho Gomes, brother of Pepeu, and two rhythm players that were the Novos Baianas, Baixinho and Charles.
Pepeu entered in Lanny´s place in the middle of the show.
It is an important album in Gal´s career.
The record is sort of lysergic, in the epoch of 1970, ´71.
It may have had a double album cover but it was only one record.
I remember that “Clube da Esquina 2” (The Corner Club 2”) happened between ´77 and ´78, because between ´74 and ´77 there are the albums “Minas” and “Geraes”.
On the album “Minas”, the opening song is one of mine called “Minas”, only it is mixed up with “Paula and Bebeto”, and a children´s chorus singing, “la, la, la.”
But the song is the one I played here on the piano.
The first time it is sung “com o coração”, later it had lyrics by Ronaldo, and closes the album “Geraes”, with an orquestral arrangement by Francis Hime, and his lyrics.
The song that closes “Minas” is a song by Nelson Angelo; another opens “Geraes”.
So, there is that little confusion.
My song opens “Minas”, vocalized, and closes “Geraes” with lyrics and orchestra.
I think Nelsinho´s song “Simples” closes “Minas” and his song “Fazenda” opens “Geraes”.
Between ´74 and “Clube da Esquina 2” (The Corner Club 2), I was working with Milton in the United States where we recorded two albums.
Milton was contracted by A and I Records, who also recorded Herb Alpert, the trumpet player who played with the Tiajuana Brass, an American orchestra.
Sérgio Mendes also recorded his albums that had worldwide success with that record company which was part of EMI.
Herb Alpert was married to Leni Hall, a great singer, who sang with Sérgio Mendes.
Perhaps Leni had said, “There´s a musician in Brazil that you must capture.
His name is Milton Nascimento.
He´s a composer, singer and musician—let´s go there”
Milton signed a contract and we recorded two albums there between ´75 and ´78; in the middle was “Minas”, “Geraes” and “Clube da Esquina 2”.
It was fantastic:
Airto Moreira, Raul de Souza, Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Hugo Fatoruso, Toninho, Nelsinho, and Naná Vasconcelos.
One of the albums was co-produced by Ronaldo Bastos and the other by Fernando Brandt.
I had much luck in my life to have done so much in such a short time.
I ended up making an album with Airto Moreira in the States.
I co-produced the album with him and did the arrangements and those studio things with Toninho, Hugo Fatoruso, and Milton.
Flora Purim recorded a song of mine, “Tomara”, but I didn´t see the recording of it.
Toninho stayed and did the partitura.
The pianist on the song—it was just Flora and a pianist--was McCoy Tyner, who was one of my jazz idols.
I had returned to Brazil and Toninho stayed in place, for the guy to play my harmonies.
However, he put some of his things in it that were very welcomed.
Marcos Vale was there and I met an English singer, George Fame.
I had already seen him singing in one of those festivals in Rio.
It was a biggest coincidence, because George Fame recorded “Pelas Ruas de Recife”, which is that carnival dance song that I wrote with Marcos. (Laughs)
Laudir de Oliveira was living there and was playing with Chicago, a very important group.
He was the Brazilian percussionist.
Later Airto played with Miles Davis.
They created the fame: “Wow, those Brazilian percussionists are really something else”.
Paulinho da Costa, Dom um Romão and Nana Vasconcelos are known worldwide, but Airto Moreira was a pioneer.
The United States
My reference in the United States was music.
That experience in the United States influenced me in other ways: the culture, the food, the tastes, and the people.
Los Angeles is a very huge city; if you don´t have a car, you don´t exist.
You go to have lunch at somebody´s house and its an hour drive through those valleys.
There are neighborhoods on the periphery that are slums that house Mexicans and Latin Americans, and then there´s Hollywood, strange, weird.
I thought. “No, I´m going with a song: with mine, because I´ve seen enough of their´s and I don´t want anymore.
I´m going to stay with mine that is better.”
Because in truth, what I am talking about is music, a word that for me synthesizes everything: life.
And that life for me isn´t attractive.
If they said, “Do you want to live here and earn a million dollars a month?”
I´d say, “I don´t want to.
I prefer to be poor in Rio, or Recife, wherever, Belo Horizonte, than stay here, man”.
That there is craziness.
I went to meetings.
I knew where they hid apparatuses.
I hid books.
I hid people.
I wasn´t so alienated from what was going on but I can´t say with authority that I had participated.
For me, music was a more interesting practice than protesting as a way of living.
In ´68, we were living in building on Xavier da Silveira Street, me, Bituca, Helvius Vilela, Nivaldo Ornellas and Celinho.
I was surrounded by Mineiros as always.
I was that guy from Pernambuca in the middle of all those guys from Minas Gerais.
The building also housed retired officials from the army who were called Monte Pio.
We lived there one year and there never was a problem.
And it was a mess; it was parties, liquor and loud music.
There was never a complaint, they never appeared.
This is a mystery.
This was even the place where I hid people, books and all.
A more secure place was impossible.
There was that call; “Let´s go the Teatro Gláucio Gil today?
Paulo Mendes Campos will be there.
That actor will be at the Vereza”.
They were speakers. I went but that didn´t have much patience.
The third time its like hearing the same style of music all the time.
For as much as you may love it, it gets on your nerves, it saturates you.
I say this in a good sense, because it was very important, but I was much more into music.
I went to marches.
I lived with the dramas of friends in prison, tortured, but personally, I can´t say that I suffered such severe consequences as many people suffered.
I cried, certainly.
It touched me deeply.
Songs, I love songs.
I think that it is something that, really, I repeat, that is the best of our soul, our posture, our beauty, our truth: it is the Brazilian song.
Rhythm has a great importance as well as being folkloric.
I come from Pernambuco that is very rich in rhythm.
There is xote, maracatu, baião, coco, embolada, repente, pastoril, maracatu, reisado.
Here in Minas Gerais, there are congadas and
folias de reis.
Its a big confusion with modinhas and everything else.
Brazil is far out. But I place myself more in the songs, in the beauty of the song, that slowness where poetically the singer has more chance to exhibit emotion, tragedy, or drama. Argentina has this quality in the tango.
Its nice but it doesn´t have the beauty that you hear in: (Sings)
“Ah, meu bem amado”.
Elis Regina singing, “Quero fazer-lhe um juramento, uma canção”, it is beautiful the whole time, “eu prometo”.
It´s too much (Laughs)
There is something that touches me profoundly: Milton singing “Sem Fim”.
Nana Vasconcelos recorded the song first, forgive me Nana, but I prefer Milton´s rendition. It has a curious story attached to it.
“Sem Fim” is the first song that I did with Cacaso, another Mineiro in my life.
Milton was recording the album called “Mil Tons”.
He recorded half of it with Herbie Hancock and half with Nana Vasconcelos.
The recording of “Sem Fim” with Nana is very pretty, but what Milton did with Herbie is more visceral, they even changed some chords.
And he hid it from me.
Just by coincidence, I was with Carlinhos Vergueiro, a composer, friend of mine that had gone to the same studio, Transamerica, to mark his recording sessions.
And when I entered the corridor of the studios with Carlinhos, Bituca´s business manager was there with a musician that played with Djavan.
They received me saying, “What a beautiful song”.
Milton and Herbie were already rehearsing in the studio and I didn´t understand anything.
I asked, “What song?”
“The song of yours that Bituca is recording”
I said, “uh, it is?
Bituca is recording a song of mine?
So, I appeared there and assisted the recording session. (Laughs)
He was sort of ticked off.
He had wanted to make it as a surprise for me.
It will be 34 years in June that my wife and I are married.
I have three children.
The oldest will be 33; he is a drummer and lives in San Diego, California.
I miss him and it makes me apprehensive.
Luiza is going to be 32.
My daughter sings well but isn´t interested in this.
I have an early bloomer, Fabio who lives in Florianópolis, who I also miss and makes me apprehensive.
He is already 24.
I met my wife when she was part of the production of a show that we did at PUC ( ? ) in Rio at the height of AI-5 (Institutional Act #5), in ´68.
I was playing in a show called Viola Enluarada with Marcos Vale, Milton, Beth Carvalho, Canilo Caymmi, Antônio Adolfo and Vitor Manga.
And Luci, my wife, went there.
I met her at Marcos Vale´s house.
She went there with another person to ask Marcos to collect funds, maybe, I don´t know, armed revolt.
But it was to raise funds.
Nelson Motta was the presenter and the attraction was Geraldo Vandré.
And of course the police showed up, and there was shooting.
I met my wife in that commotion there.
Later on, I was playing with Luiz Eça in a night club called Flag.
I was playing bass and in the interval, I was singing a song that went: (Sings) “Minha, vai ser minha, desde a hora em que nasceste”.
And there was my wife and a friend of hers, Martinha, looking at me.
And Lucy, my wife, thought that I was after Martinha, until I said, “You are mistaken”.
Six months later we tied the knot.
I worked with many divas.
They have distinct temperaments.
I can say, it is you that has to season them.
Elis, sensational, has a very picturesque history too.
I worked a year with Elis.
I played in a sextet that accompanied Elis.
We were: Nelsinho, Toninho on two guitars, Wilson das Neves, on drums, the late Hermes Contesini, on percussion, Sérgio Carvalho, a pudgy guy that plays with Roberto Carlos, on keyboard, Bolinho, and me.
We recorded an album called “Ela”, that of all her work is the only one I don´t like.
And I was playing on it.
I don´t know, it was something that didn´t sound good to me at the time but also I didn´t protest, I allowed it.
We did a record release tour, Porto Alegre, Curitiba, Salvador and then we arrived in Recife, my territory.
It was perhaps the last show and before she sang the last song she said to the audience, “I want you to give a big round of applause for this wonderful group of musicians, because today is the last day that they are playing with me”. (Laughs)
Subtle, subtle, like a ton of bricks.
Its the picturesque side of the cross-eyed shorty.
One time Wilson Das Neves said to her, "Look, Elis, I don´t want to swim in your pool, but don´t come and put a hole in my basin”.
She was very adorable in her good moments but she was complicated.
Maysa, her daughter, already had a relationship like this with her:
after a couple of cups, Elis was made her afraid.
Her approach was very powerful. (Laughs)
People were afraid of her.
Other divas have other temperaments.
Alaíde Costa is an angel, a sweetie; she even talks in a different way.
“You must hear”.
It is a voice very generous and tranquil.
Nana, temperamental, a great singer.
Taiguara / Hermeto Paschoal
One time I was in my house in Barra de Tijuca and the telephone rang.
It was Taiguara.
He was preparing to make a record.
He lived on lived in the on the other side of Barra.
I was living on the side by the beach and he was living on the largo of Barra. At that time, Taiguara used to like to drink some mushroom teas, he was way out there, but he was an inspiration.
And Taiguara was hosting Hermeto Paschoal, for whom I had a great admiration.
I had already met Hermeto in São Paulo.
He was playing at a bar there in there in the largo do Arouche.
It was the bar of Lanny Gordin´s father, who I think was a pianist; he was a partner.
There was a guy that played there called Star Blues, something like that.
I think the bar still exists there in the Largo do Arouche.
And when I was in São Paulo, I liked going to that bar because the band included Nêne, drummer, a wonderful gaucho, Hermet, the champion of that musical asylum, and that duende, Lanny Gordin, and Alberto, a chubby bass player.
So, I already knew Hermeto.
So the telephone rang there in the house and Taiguara said, “Look, I need your help”.
I said. “What´s the matter?”
“Its that I had a bass player here… I´m rehearsing a record and all at Odeon and Hermeto is here at the house, I´m putting him up.”
Nivaldo, Paulinho Braga, Wagner Tiso and Toninho Horta were there.
“Do you want to play bass on the album?”
I said, “Just pay the taxi”.
And when I arrived at Taiguara´s house which wasn´t too far away, it was on the other side of Barra, when Hermeto saw me—and they say that albinos don´t see well. And its true, but in truth he knew that I was arriving, naturally Taiguara told him-- he said, “The one who was missing arrived”.
This hushed me very deeply.
For Hermeto Paschoal to be saying this… It must be hard to extract something like this from him.
This gave me that big head.
I said, “Damn”
I was at ease.
Its an album of Taiguara, called Eimire, Tipira, I don´t know, some Tupi-Guarani name.
He´s into it.
I think his mother has roots there in the frontier there, the Sete Missões (Seven Missions), Uruguay, Argentina, Rio Grande do Sul, that beach …
His father, Ubiriajara, has an Indian name and a plays the bandoneon very well.
Clube da Esquina (The Corner Club): Evaluation
I think that the Clube da Esquina (The Corner Club) is the corner of the world.
When Pat Metheny was here in Belo Horizonte he was thinking that it was a nightclub when they were showing him around.
“No, its that thing there, dude”.
“Its that curb corner there, the corner.” (Laughs)
The Corner Club.
The album “Clube da Equina 2” (Corner Club 2) was always near the head of his bed.
He used to wake up and the first thing that he would do was to click the button, and it began to play.
Naturally, he became an admirer of Toninho Horta, indirectly because of Milton and came to be part of the club.
He has various works with Toninho and Milton.
What you owe to those Mineiros is maybe something planned by that great musician there on high.
I think that it was divine, although there is a very interesting relationship between Pernambuco and Minas. There are things…
Nelsinho is Cavalcanti, Nelson Ângelo, and he said that there are Cavalcantis from there (heaven) and those here (on earth).
There are many Cavalvanti there (heaven) and, let´s say, the great contempory poets, those who have gone up the superior step are from Pernambuco and Minas: Drummond, Guimarães Rosa, Manuel Bandeira and João Cabral.
There is this thing. There is also our dear Gilberto Freyre, from Pernambuco who wrote “Casa Grand e Senzala”.
There is the contemporary Sérgio Buarque.
But look at the lyrics of Chico: “O meu pai era paulista, meu avô pernambucano, o meu bisavô mineiro, meu tataravô baiano e o maestro soberano, Antônio Carlos Jobim".
Good, let´s leave it at that.
Its good enough, isn´t?
Clube da Esquina (The Corner Club):
It had to be the initiative of Márcio Borges because he´s like that.
Márcio is Milton´s mentor.
When Milton went from Três Pontas to Belo Horizonte, Marcinho brought Milton into the group.
Just like, in a certain way, Mário Castro Neves, Antônio Adolfo and Wagner were the guys who brought me into the group in Rio.
Then its clear that Marcinho had to be the mentor of this thing that is suddenly growing strong again.
We separated and became distant from each other a lot.
Suddenly twenty years pass by, some two decades, and now there is a possibility, even stimulus to make another album: “Why not make an album, Clube da Esquina 3 (The Corner Club 3)?”
For this reason, this is the second time that I have come here.
The first time was for that business in the Bar Brasil, and now for this deposition.
Parallel with this, I had already written a new song with Murilo, and I have a project with Marcinho.
The fruits are here, evident.
I went to see a symphony of Tavinho Moura at the Palácio das Artes on the day I arrived here, with Wagner Tiso.
Even though it may not have a direct relationship with the Museum, its on the some wavelength.
The other day I went to see Lô; it was a long time since I had seen him.
I met with Beto Guedes and got close to Telo again.
These are people that I haven´t seen in so many years, people that I should be obliged to be with all the time.
I believe that this thing of the Museum is going to renovate the possibility of us getting closer. There are fights in the middle; there are stories, there are misunderstandings, as in everything.
Life is like this, in the end, there´s no way to escape from this, but this is a precious moment that must be well observed, made good use of, good use for all of us.
(Sings) “Quando me larguei lá de onde eu vim, chão de sol a sol, ramo de alecrim, paletó de brim, tempo tão veloz. Não chamei meu pai, minha mãe não viu, desgarrei de nós, quando dei por mim, um sertão sem fim pelo meu redor, coração não deixe de bater”.
Milton Nascimento / Sarah Vaughn
There´s the story of Sarah Vaughn, who asked Bituca to marry her.
She was full of liquor there in Bituca´s apartment, seated and everybody listening to a song.
She looked at Milton and asked, “Milton, do you want to marry me?”
That goddess, at Milton´s house, loaded.Recolher