For the past several years, Ruy Castro’s book “Chega de Saudade” has been a favorite book selection for our readers. Now, an English version has been made available, easing our never ending struggle with Portuguese verb conjugations! At least long enough to enjoy this unmatched history of Bossa Nova. Here’s an overview:
Quick. Name a contemporary jazz artist who hasn’t been influenced by the Bossa beat. It hasn’t always been that way. As is the case with most pop music phenoms, Americans knew very little about Bossa Nova before ‘The Girl From Ipanema’ became a #1 hit in the mid-60's. Yes, there was the Charlie Byrd/Stan Getz version of ‘Desafinado’ in 1962, and more astute Bossa fans may have been able to cite Herbie Mann, Cannonball Adderley, Nat Cole and Ella Fitzgerald, who all flirted with Bossa Nova before the rest of the country eventually made love to it. But Bossa’s beginnings in the US were about as obscure as they were in, say, Brazil, and in fact, Bossa’s story is quite different than what you may have been led to believe from the liner notes.
Bossa Nova was greeted with controversy when it was first published in Brazil (as ‘Chega de Saudade’) ten years ago, partially due to the fact that amazingly, no precise history of Bossa Nova had ever been undertaken. But author Ruy Castro came to his project remarkably well credentialed as a reporter and editor of several Brazilian publications, and he undertook a painstaking 18 month trek to research the real story of this remarkable, international art form. This is the deftly told story of the 15 years that preceded Bossa Nova's historic dance at the top of the US charts in 1964. In fact, the classic Stan Getz album that contains what is considered the definitive version of The Girl From Ipanema isn't even discussed until the final third of the book, which wraps its narrative up with 1966, when the classic duet recording with Jobim and Frank Sinatra stole the headlines away from Bossa’s slow fade from the musical spotlight in Brazil.
The book centers on two unlikely personalities. Crooners like Frank Sinatra were at the center of the Brazilian pop scene in the early 50’s and believe it or not, without Ol' Blue Eyes, Bossa-Nova may have never developed. That fact alone makes Bossa Nova an eye opening read, and it's one of the seemingly endless bits of information gleaned from this well researched book. But the man most important to the development of the music is João Gilberto, whose introspective, self absorbed search for a new style resulted in his version of ‘Chega de Saudade’, the 1:58 that changed everything, transforming him from an unreliable performer who could be counted on to “steal” a convenient guitar to a creative artist who gave Brazil more music than it could handle.
You’ll be forgiven if you’re drawn to thinking that Ruy Castro's lightly narrative style is more mindful of a screenplay than a serious, historic tome. The writer’s passion for the music fills each page. His ability to place the reader into the midst of these day-to-day events is startlingly realistic, no doubt the result of hundreds of recorded interviews, one on one, with the people who lived the stories he relates. Even his pacing seems musical.
If Bossa Nova has a flaw, it's that it didn't come with all of the wonderful pictures contained in the original Portuguese edition, making both essential bookshelf companions for your library. Any 21st century Bossa Nova fan who reads this book will get quite an education, no matter the depth of knowledge. And we expect that you’ll also want to make a beeline to our web site to hear what really came before ‘The Girl From Ipanema’. Still not convinced? Read a sample of ‘Bossa Nova’ for yourself, below.
Other Voices:
Bossa Nova, book excerpt, pp 132-133
Z. J. Merky, the authoritarian recording engineer, threw João Gilberto a dirty look through the glass partition when he asked for two microphones: one for himself and another for his guitar. Who had ever heard of such a thing? Odeon was very British in its control of assets and even more British (tight-fisted) in its control of costs. Debuting singers and unknowns had no right to luxuries. But Aloysio’s authority presided, and two microphones were found. However, Aloysio’s guarantee did not extend to personal conflict, and the first confrontation was between João Gilberto and the musicians. Recording live in the studio with the orchestra, without any playback, he interrupted take after take, purportedly detecting mistakes made by musicians, which no one else noticed, and forcing the studio entire orchestra to play the piece over. At times, he behaved almost as if everyone in the studio but him were tone-deaf.
Jobim’s arrangement was simple, but João asked for a four-man percussion section: Milton Banana on drums, Guarany on caixeta, Juquinha on the triangle, and Rubens Bassini on the bongos. While Vinícius’s lyrics talked about “abraços e beijinhos e carinhos sem ter fim” (endless embraces, kisses, and caresses), under their breath, the orchestra branded the singer a crazy man, and the latter declared that it was the orchestra who was trying to drive him mad. He had particular antipathy for an Argentine trumpet player named Catita. Following one of the innumerable interruptions, some of the musicians mutinied, put their instruments in their cases, and left, slamming the door behind them; when they agreed to return, the singer decided he didn’t want to record anymore. Tom Jobim didn’t know if he was supposed to be playing the piano, conducting the orchestra, or running around trying to keep the peace.
The second confrontation was between João Gilberto and the technicians. Accustomed to normal singers, who accounted for three tracks every four hours (the average recording rate on planet Earth), they couldn’t understand such maniacal perfectionism, which was turning the recording of a simple 78-rpm into an endless Cuban soap opera. The upheaval was prolonged for days following the third and worst conflict, between João Gilberto and Jobim himself. In addition to his nitpicking and bickering with the musicians and technicians, João Gilberto’s complaints about the chords were elevating the tension between the two of them to the tautness of a violin string. One more accusation from either one of the two—like João Gilberto repeating yet again that Jobim “didn’t understand anything”—would mean the end of “Chega de Saudade” and “Bim-Bom.”
But it was in fact a deep and far-reaching insult by João Gilberto that ended up re-establishing a harmonious atmosphere: “Tom, you’re lazy—you’re Brazilian.” There was nothing else to do but laugh, and carry on to the end.
According to Milton Banana, the recording took “almost a month,” coincidentally, the same month (June 1958) that the Brazilian soccer team was playing in the World Cup in Sweden. Banana was exaggerating. What he probably meant to say was that it took a month for all the different stages to be finalized— Jobim writing the arrangements, João Gilberto rehearsing with him at home, the meetings between João Gilberto and Banana to coordinate guitar and percussion, rehearsals with the orchestra, and, finally, the recording itself. All in all, actual studio time probably wasn’t more than a few days, and not even Odeon had enough studios to allow one of them to be occupied for weeks on end by a singer whose commercial success seemed, at best, doubtful. The official recording date for “Chega de Saudade” and “Bim-Bom,” July 10, was merely the date on which the definitive takes were recorded.
After all that confusion, Odeon deprioritized the project, and realized that, when they thought about it, they had no idea how to categorize João Gilberto. He wasn’t exactly Anísio Silva (the recording company’s biggest seller); that was clear. But he wasn’t Lúcio Alves either, and Odeon only knew how to think in those terms. The record hit the Rio stores and radio stations in August, in a supplement that included, among other assorted absurdities, “Cachito” by Trio Irakitan, “Sayonara” by singer Lenita Bruno, and “Nel Blu Di Pinto Di Blu” by violinist Fafá Lemos. That is to say, with no competition whatsoever.
