Brazil has a long history of cultivating its own songs, dances, and other entertainments. I've never been there, but I have to admit that I became temporarily distracted by some airfares from San Antonio to Rio de Janeiro which popped up on my computer this week. It must have something to do with all the Brazilian music I have been listening to of late.
The Brazilian choro was not at first thought of as a dance, but rather a style of playing, usually by small ensembles, perhaps incorporating a clarinet or flute as the lead musical line.
These groups of musicians — often working-class and Black — gathered in rodas de choro (choro circles), improvising variations on whatever their inner creativity suggested.
The term “choro” can be misleading. The word describes, literally, a cry or lament and within the wide range of what is called choro, one might actually hear an almost weeping sound coming from the lead players.
If one wanted to draw a neatly pruned tree showing the progression of popular music in Brazil, it might begin with choro, transitioning over time into an array of dances, distinctly Brazilian. Samba following choro, and then as we all know, bossa nova exploded onto the scene, not just in Brazil, but eventually throughout much of the Americas, including North America.
We will hear a decidedly different take on choro in a moment or two, but first, let me introduce you, if introduction is even needed, to the wonderful Brazilian singer, Luciana Souza. She comes from good genes. Her father, Walter Santos, was a highly regarded guitarist, while her mother, Tereza Souza, found recognition as a notable writer, in particular of poetry. Put Walter and Tereza together and you get a collaborative songwriting team.
Souza writes of the song, “Amanha,” “This was for a brief period a sort of hit for my parents. It was written during the dictatorship in Brazil, so the optimistic lyrics can be read as somewhat subversive in their promise of a hopeful and more open tomorrow.”
By the way . . . “Amanha” means “tomorrow.”
The beauty of the Portuguese language, especially in song, is stunning to my ear. Luciana Souza is fluent in English, and in fact has spent much of her life in and around Boston, studying at both the Berklee College of Music, then the New England Conservatory, where she subsequently taught and performed.
As promised we now turn back to choro, the performance style with roots back to the late 19th century.
Heitor Villa-Lobos always had an ear to the variety of musics he would hear on the streets of Rio and São Paulo. Choro seemed to speak more directly to him and he set about writing for a variety of different instrumentations his own cycle of fourteen Choros.
The Choro no. 10, is a work for large orchestra with an equally large chorus which has to wait until the very end to sing the Brazilian song, "Rasga o Coraço"
Before we fast forward to the climactic entry of the chorus, let's hear a guitar arrangement by Carlos Barbosa-Lima of "Rasga o Coraço” Listen carefully . . .
…and now use your musical memory and you may make the connection of the guitar to the Villa-Lobos version.
So how did you do? If you heard the guitar version of “Rasga o Coraço" in the choral chant of Villa-Lobos, pat yourself on the back. It is believed that Brazilians are more likely than others to hear the connection.
