Lyrics from “Sala de Recepção” by Cartola (early 1940s, recorded on Cartola II )
Inhabited by people so simple and so poor
Who have only the sun for shelter
How can you sing, Mangueira?
(response) Well we’ll have you know we don’t desire any more
At night, the silvery moon, in silence, listens to our songs
Up atop the hill there’s a cross where we say our prayers
And we take pride in being the first champions
I say and repeat that happiness resides here
And the other schools even cry with envy of your position, my Mangueira
This reception room
Here we embrace our enemy as if he were our brother
— Interpretation —
In this recent post, I wrote about Paulo da Portela and his falling out with the samba school he’d helped to found in Oswaldo Cruz. Part of this falling out had to do with Paulo’s close friendship with sambistas from downtown Rio, Heitor dos Prazeres and Cartola. Cartola was one of the founders of the rival Mangueira samba school. In 1941, Paulo da Portela wanted to include Cartola and Heitor in the Portela Carnival parade, since the three had just arrived together from São Paulo. This provoked a nasty fight that caused Paulo da Portela to abandon the school.
When Paulo da Portela left Portela in 1941, he was taken in by his friends in Mangueira (though he ended up joining the small samba school Lira de Amor, in Bento Ribeiro, near Oswaldo Cruz). Soon after, Cartola composed this samba, which makes reference to the school’s warm reception of Paulo da Portela – “we embrace our enemy as if he were our brother.” The “pride in being the first champions” is because Mangueira won the first Carnival parade competition, sponsored by the newspaper Mundo Sportivo, in 1932. (Portela, with a samba composed by Paulo’s friend Heitor dos Prazeres, had won the first samba competition, in January 1929, and went on to win the first city-sponsored parade competition, in 1935.)
Lyrics in Portuguese
Habitada por gente simples e tão pobre
Que só tem o sol que a todos cobre
Como podes, mangueira, cantar?
Pois então saiba que não desejamos mais nada
A noite, a lua prateada
Silenciosa, ouve as nossas canções
Tem lá no alto um cruzeiro
Onde fazemos nossas orações
E temos orgulho de ser os primeiros campeões
Eu digo e afirmo que a felicidade aqui mora
E as outras escolas até choram
Invejando a tua posição
Minha mangueira essa sala de recepção
Aqui se abraça inimigo
Como se fosse irmão
Main source: Escolas de Samba do Rio de Janeiro, by Sérgio Cabral (2011)
Lyrics from “Nanã” by Moacir Santos and Mário Telles (1964)
When I saw Nanã tonight
I saw my goddess by the moonlight
Every night I gazed at Nanã – the most beautiful thing to behold
What joy to finally find this goddess come just for me
And now all I can say is my life is only Nanã
Tonight, of my delirium, I saw a new tomorrow born
Day came, with a new sun
Sun from the light that comes from
To worship Nanã is to be happy
I feel peace in this love
It’s all I ever dreamed of
My life is only Nanã
— Interpretation —
One evening in the early 1960s, as he took one of his customary strolls through Parque Guinle in the Laranjeiras neighborhood of Rio de Janeiro, Moacir Santos — the renowned instrumentalist, arranger, composer and music professor from rural Vila Bela, Pernambuco, who moved to Rio de Janeiro in the late 1940s and Los Angeles in the late 1960s — hummed to himself. And he liked what he heard. He sang low: “nã nã nã” (the ã is the nasal sound in Portuguese), a tune that resolved in two very low notes that helped him structure the melody.
Santos began to play his new tune on the clarinet in informal get-togethers with Tom Jobim and Baden Powell; on one of those occasions, Nara Leão was there with her future husband, the filmmaker Cacá Diegues. Diegues loved what he heard, and had Nara Leão record the song — still without lyrics — for his 1963 film Ganga Zumba.
Vinicius de Moraes tried his revered hand at lyrics for the song, but Moacir Santos rejected them on the grounds that they were “too sensual” — he didn’t want to think about his Nanã being peeped at as she bathed, apparently part of Vinicius’s verses. Moacir justified himself, explaining, “Nanã is a mixture of onomatopoeic sounds and the name of an African goddess.”
Nanã is actually the supreme god in certain African sects, and a female orixá in Afro-Brazilian religions, mother of all other orixás and the oldest goddess of the waters, most often syncretized with the Catholic Saint Anne, the mother of Mary.
The lyricist Mário Telles wrote the lyrics for the song that would stick, and the singer Wilson Simonal, at the height of his popularity in the 1960s, recorded “Nanã” in 1964. (In the 1970s, Simonal’s popularity plummeted as a result of his alleged support for the military dictatorship and his open criticism of leftist musicians.)
Moacir Santos gave his student Sérgio Mendes the task of orchestrating “Nanã” and “Coisa no. 2” — the latter from Santos’s only Brazilian album, Coisas (1965), on which each track is just named “Coisa no. 1”; “Coisa no. 2,” etc. (“Thing 1; thing 2…”). Santos suggested the unusual ensemble of two trombones and a saxophone, which ended up inspiring the original make-up of Sérgio Mendes & Bossa Rio. As a sextet, the group went on to record “Nanã” – along with “Coisa No.2” — on the iconic 1964 album Você ainda não ouviu nada!.
Lyrics in Portuguese
Essa noite quando olhei Nanã
Vi a minha deusa ao luar
Toda a noite eu olhei Nanã
A coisa mais linda de se olhar
Que felicidade achar enfim
Esta deusa só prá mim, Nanã
E agora eu só sei dizer
Toda a minha vida é Nanã, é Nanã…
Nesta noite no delírios meus
Vi nascer um novo amanhã
Veio o dia com um novo sol
Sol da luz que vem de Nanã
Adorar nanã é ser feliz
Tenho a paz e o amor e tudo o que eu quis
E agora eu só sei dizer
Toda a minha vida é Nanã, é Nanã…
Main source for this post: A Canção no Tempo: 85 anos de músicas brasileiras, vol. 2, by Jairo Severiano and Zuza Homem de Mello
Talking too much makes gum go sour
Call in SAMU and teach this fool to respect our principles
There’s more god to give than y’all in a chamberpot
Back in the day words alone sorted things out
An exchange of ideas — respect was enough
Money is vile, uncle transacted, virile instincts
The AR-15’s loaded and boys carry rifles
From Grajaú to Curuzú For immigration, my people are mules
My inspirations are Black Alien, Ferréz — not Tia Augusta Minimal, lyrical verse from an oneiric universe
Every hoodlum has empirical know-how Rap é forte, better believe it: Oui, Monsieur
Perrenoud, Piaget, Sabotá: Enchanté!
It’s that I’m the son of cearenses The caatinga’s cruel
And my people have hot blood
Wrecked, following the north star
By the blessin’s of Padre Cícero and the lyrics of Edi Rock
Shutting the loons‘ mouths, because he who showers in hatred
Gives off the aroma of death
There’s no mouth to be kissed
No soul to be cleansed
There’s no life to be lived
But there’s money to be counted
In a suit and tie, fulfilling your father’s wishes
Take my son (//your daughter) for the world to lose
It’s heaven, in hell’s mouth, waiting for you
It’s heaven, in hell’s mouth, waiting for…
A ball to kick, a country to sink
Generation that doesn’t just want weed to smoke Milianos, bad smells and disillusion
Every truncheon is a lash to a trunk
Bushels, Brazilian latifúndios In showers of smoke, only vinegar quenches thirst
New packages for the same old interests
The Right’s hook-and-bait turned the Left into a fish
Osiris look after me, keep me away from Diabolyn
You don’t have a moto – you don’t get to be in the photo
Mobylettes with dream motors
He tried to flee, and I saw what happened
With no helmet he got screwed
God help him, let’s go
It’s the esquive in a duel, the forgotten tear
The color of my skin
I know some criticize it
Because serpents are to apples
What the apple reflects to the media
Abel had a brother
But Cain had the malice
This is the second track on the São Paulo rapper Criolo’s third album, Convoque Seu Buda. Criolo — whose real name is Kleber Gomes — says the title, which translates to “Summon your Buddha,” means that everyone should call up the good energy they have within. Like Nó na Orelha(2011), the album was produced by Daniel Ganjaman and Marcelo Cabral, who were even more liberal with their musical creativity on this album as compared to Nó na Orelha. Also like Nó na Orelha, the album mixes genres, including a samba – “Fermento pra Massa” – and a reggae, “Pé de breque.” Criolo is tremendously popular in Brazil and abroad, and the album was simultaneously released in Europe (Sterns Music) and the United States (Circular Moves).
There’s lots of explaining for this one, so I’m going to go almost line by line. The title, “Esquiva da Esgrima” – translated in the song as “the esquive [dodge or evasion] in a duel” – likely refers to the artful, evasive moves needed for survival in the periphery of São Paulo.
Criolo starts the song by criticizing people who are all talk, and says it’s best to teach these fools (comédias, literally, “comedies”) using force – which will make it necessary to call in SAMU, Brazil’s emergency response service (Serviço de Atendimento Móvel de Urgência). Then he makes a play on the saying, “Tem mais deus pra dar do que o diabo para tirar” — roughly, “there’s more God to give than devil to take” — by turning it into “there’s more god to give than all you [shits] in a chamber pot.”
A little further down, Criolo mentions Grajaú, the south São Paulo neighborhood where he grew up. In 2013, Grajaú-SP was singled out as the worst São Paulo neighborhood to live in, in a city of 19 million. Curuzu is a poor and almost exclusively Afro-Brazilian neighborhood in Salvador, Bahia, which might be why he used the name — on top of the ease of the rhyme. In the line, “From Grajaú to Curuzu, for immigration, my people are mules,” Criolo could be making reference to internal migration in search of better opportunities, and the eventual path to drug trafficking that the frustrated hopes of such migration can lead to; he could also be referring to immigration authorities – and by inference, authorities more broadly – equating poor and darker skinned Brazilians to drug traffickers/mules.
Criolo next cites Black Alien – a profoundly respected rapper from Niterói, Rio de Janeiro, who sang with Planet Hemp and Speedfreaks – and Ferrez, an author and rapper, also from São Paulo’s gritty south zone, famous for his “marginal literature.” Tia Augusta, in turn, was a travel agency in São Paulo that was famous for bringing teen groups to Disney World, a trip that is considered one of the main signs of wealth and the first necessary trip abroad for many Brazilians.
Rap é forte(rap is strong) is a song from Criolo’s first album, Ainda Há Tempo; Criolo switches into French — “enchanté” – enchanted to meet you — to pay tribute to two French…well, French-named Swiss men: Philippe Perrenoud, the Swiss sociologist renowned for his work on the professionalization of teaching, and Jean Piaget, the Swiss developmental psychologist (1896-1980) who fought for improvements in education for children worldwide, and served as director of the International Bureau of Education. In the same breath, Criolo cites “Sabotá,” turning the São Paulo rapper Sabotage‘s name into a French-sounding name; Criolo thus associates Sabotage with these educational leaders in the same way he associates Edi Rock with Padre Cícero later in the song. Sabotage was killed in 2003, at age 29, in a presumed drug fight. (Here’s a video of him in Daniel Ganjaman’s studio a day before his death.)
Criolo goes on to explain he’s the son of cearenses — people who had migrated to São Paulo from the northeastern state of Ceará. Criolo was born around the peak of Brazil’s rural exodus, mostly from the hot, drought-stricken northeast shrublands – the caatinga – to southeastern cities, especially São Paulo. In 1940, only around 31 percent of Brazil’s population lived in cities; by 1970, urban residents accounted for more than 50 percent of the population, and in 1980, nearly 70 percent.
“My people have hot blood” essentially means people who have been beaten down by the conditions in the northeast are tough.
The North Star is given as a reference for something to guide the way after getting lost; it was the star escaping slaves in the United States used to guide them north to freedom.
Padre Cícero — called “Padim Ciço,” like little father — was a Catholic priest from Carto, Ceará, who is known for his deeply influential role as a spiritual, social and political leader in rural Ceará in the late 19th and early 20th centuries; hundreds of thousands of devotees still visit the town each year.
Edi Rock is a rapper with Racionais MC’s, a rap/hip hop group formed in 1988 and widely considered Brazil’s most influential hip hop group of all time. Here Criolo implies that the same principles can be found in the teachings of Father Cícero and the lyrics of Edi Rock, and goes on to say these ideas can be used to shut up the “lóki” – a corruption of the word “loucos,” crazies — in this case, those who adopt a discourse of hatred and “give off the scent of death” according to the song.
The refrain sums up the song by talking about a world lacking true pleasures and values, where money is all that matters; people seeking money — heaven — without realizing they’re in the mouth of hell, at its mercy.
“A ball to kick, a country to sink” has a couple of meanings: it could refer to the country’s dedication to and massive investment in football (soccer) — including the World Cup that was going on in Brazil as Criolo recorded the album — and to a hit of marijuana, which is sometimes called a “bola” (ball).
“Every truncheon is a lash to a trunk” makes reference to recent — well, ongoing — police brutality, and also to the practice of tying slaves to trunks to whip them.
“Latifúndios Brasileiros” refers to Brazil’s extremely unequal land distribution — 1 percent of the population controls about 45 percent of the land — and goes on to say “in showers of smoke” (tear gas and pepper spray used liberally and abusively by police in protests, most recently in the June 2013 protests) “only vinegar quenches thirst” possibly referring to the vinegar that was widely used to counteract the effects of these gases, and maybe to the biblical vinegar given to Jesus for his thirst when he was on the cross.
The “hook and bait” of the Right could be referring to the commitment to the economy, broadly: The invisible hand of the financial markets controls the hook and bait of the Right, which lures the Left into its logic, ultimately killing the Left.
Osiris was the ancient Egyptian god of the dead and ruler of the underworld; Criolo asks Osiris to look out for him and protect him from Diabolyn, the villain from the Disney cartoon Wildfire — Cavalo de Fogo, in Portuguese — who was especially evil and rotten to poor people.
“You don’t have a moto [motorbike/motorcycle]…” is criticizing the value placed on material goods like motorbikes in poor fringe neighborhoods like Grajaú; if someone doesn’t have one, they’re not worthy of being in the photo.
In the Bible, a serpent convinced Adam and Eve to try the apple – the forbidden fruit; like the serpent, the media convinces the population to think what it wants them to think. Finally, Criolo discusses the bible story of Adam and Eve’s children, Cain and Abel: According to the story, Cain killed his brother Abel after God preferred Abel’s gift over Cain’s; the story represents the first occurrence of murder – fratricide – among humans.
Lyrics in Portuguese
Falar demais chiclete azeda
Chama o SAMU e ensina pra esse comédia
Respeitar nossos princípios
Tem mais Deus pra dar que cês tudo num penico
Antigamente resolvia na palavra
Uma ideia que se trocava
O respeito que se bastava
Dinheiro é vil, tio geriu, instinto viril
AR-15 é mato e os muleque tão de fuzil
Do Grajaú ao Curuzu, pra imigração meu povo é mula
Inspiração é Black Alien, é Ferrez não é Tia Augusta
Verso mínimo, lírico, de um universo onírico
Cada maloqueiro tem um saber empírico
Rap é forte, pode crê, “oui, monsiuer”
Perrenoud, Piaget, Sabotá, Enchanté
É que eu sou filho de cearense
A caatinga castiga e meu povo tem sangue quente
Naufragar, seguir pela estrela do norte
Nas bença de Padim Ciço as letra de Edi Rock
Calar a boca dos lóki
Pois quem toma banho de ódio exala o aroma da morte
Hoje não tem boca pra se beijar
Não tem alma pra se lavar
Não tem vida pra se viver
Mas tem dinheiro pra se contar
De terno e gravata teu pai agradar
Levar tua filha pro mundo perder
É o céu da boca do inferno esperando você
É o céu da boca do inferno esperando…
Uma bola pra chutar, país pra afundar
Geração que não só quer maconha pra fumar
Milianos, mal cheiro e desengano
Cada cassetete é um chicote para um tronco
Alqueires, latifúndios brasileiros
Numa chuva de fumaça só vinagre mata a sede
Novas embalagens pra antigos interesses
É que o anzol da direita fez a esquerda virar peixe
Osiris olhe por mim, me afaste de Diabolyn
Quem não tem moto não sai na foto
Mobiletes com motor de dream
Tentou fugir, foi lá que eu vi
Sem capacete, levou rola, Deus acode e vamo aí
É a esquiva da esgrima, a lagrima esquecida
A cor da minha pele, eu sei, tem quem critica
O que a serpente é pra maçã
É o que a maçã reflete pra mídia
É que Abel tinha um irmão
Mas Caim tinha a malícia