Tempos idos

Lyrics from “Tempos idos” by Cartola and Carlos Cachaça (1961)

Os tempos idos// Times long past
Nunca esquecidos // Never forgotten
Trazem saudades ao recordar // Fill me with saudades as I remember
É com tristeza que eu relembro // It’s with sorrow that I reminisce about
Coisas remotas que não vêm mais // Long ago affairs that won’t return
Uma escola na Praça Onze // A school in Praça Onze
Testemunha ocular // An eye witness…
E perto dela uma balança// And near it, a scale
Onde os malandros iam sambar // Where the malandros would dance samba
Depois, aos poucos, o nosso samba // Then, little by little, our samba –
Sem sentirmos se aprimorou // without our noticing – grew refined
Pelos salões da sociedade // Into society’s ballrooms
Sem cerimônia ele entrou // Without pomp, it entered
Já não pertence mais à Praça // It doesn’t belong to the Praça anymore
Já não é mais samba de terreiro // It’s no longer samba de terreiro
Vitorioso ele partiu para o estrangeiro // Victorious, it departed for abroad
E muito bem representado // And very well represented
Por inspiração de geniais artistas // By the inspiration of brilliant artists
O nosso samba, humilde samba // Our samba – humble samba –
Foi de conquistas em conquistas // Went from one triumph to another
Conseguiu penetrar no Municipal // Was even able to penetrate the Municipal (Theatre)
Depois de percorrer todo o universo // And after crossing the entire universe
Com a mesma roupagem que saiu daqui // In the same trappings as it left here
Exibiu-se para a duquesa de Kent no Itamaraty // Put on a show for the Duchess of Kent in Itamarati

— Commentary —

Cartola_carlos-cachaça-_NelsonCava2-770x460
Cartola and Carlos Cachaça with Nelson Cavaquinho.

 

“Um dos julgadores não devia gostar de mim ou de Cartola. Deu zero,  e a contagem era 1 a 5.”
[One of the judges must have had something against me or Cartola. He gave us a 0 on a scale of 1 to 5.]
— Carlos Cachaça commenting on this samba’s loss in Mangueira’s 1961 samba selection process.

This samba by Cartola and Carlos Cachaça traces a nostalgic history of the genre, contemplating the more commercial direction it had taken by the beginning of the 1960s.  

The pair composed the samba for Carnaval 1961, at the urging of some of Mangueira’s head honchos, who wanted Cartola more involved with the school he’d helped to found decades earlier. But the song lost in the school’s Carnaval samba selection to an easily forgotten samba with a faster beat. Disheartened, Cartola swore off composing sambas-de-enredo for good. 

Cartola and his wife Zica in February 1975. Displeased with the direction samba had taken by the early 1960s, the couple opened their short-lived but famous restaurant Zicartola, which was largely responsible for giving new life to samba de morro in the 1960s.
Cartola and his wife Zica in February 1975. Displeased with the direction samba had taken by the early 1960s, the couple opened their short-lived but famous restaurant Zicartola, which was largely responsible for bringing renewed success to samba de morro in the 1960s.

At the time, Cartola was renewing his ties with Mangueira after having all but vanished from the morro and Rio de Janeiro’s samba scene in the late 1940s and early ’50s. A succession of misfortunes had led him away from Mangueira: In 1946, at 38, he had a life-threatening case of meningitis, which left him incapacitated for about a year (and inspired his samba “Deus, grande deus“); shortly after, he lost his wife Deolinda. He moved away from Mangueira to Caju with a stormy new love interest, Donária, leaving even his guitar behind. He only made his way back to his old neighborhood when he began his best-known romance, with Zica, whom he’d grown up with in Mangueira — and who was Carlos Cachaça’s wife’s sister.

Meanwhile, in the decades that followed Mangueira’s founding in 1928, samba had grown  increasingly popular as a national genre, in step with the quick expansion of the radio industry in Brazil. Through the voices of radio stars like Francisco Alves and Mario Reis, sambas composed in Rio’s poorest morros became popular among middle-class listeners in Rio’s upscale Zona Sul and across Brazil (see “Divina dama” and “Perdão meu bem,” both Cartola, below). Almost all financial returns, unsurprisingly, went to these radio crooners and industry insiders who made dubious deals to purchase the sambas; the composers continued to live in deep poverty as their songs rippled over radio waves across the vast country. One of several odd jobs Cartola kept to earn a meager living was as a painter, which is why he wore the famous hat responsible for his nickname.

Middle class composers like Ary Barroso gained ground in the 1930s and 1940s, popularizing a brand of samba that didn't sit so well with sambistas do morro like Cartola.
Middle class composers like Ary Barroso gained ground in the 1930s and 1940s, popularizing a brand of samba that didn’t sit so well with sambistas like Cartola.

Noel Rosa was also a crucial figure in bringing elements of samba from the morros to Rio’s more upscale neighborhoods. And with the increasing popularity of the genre among well-heeled Brazilians,  more middle-class composers like Ary Barroso, João de Barro, Lamartine Babo, Dorival Caymmi and Assis Valente emerged into the samba spotlight, and artists like Carmen Miranda popularized their sambas abroad. This further reduced the space for composers from Rio’s samba seedbeds.

Marginalized in this regard in the ascension of the genre they’d helped create, sambistas do morro  also quickly lost any say in the same samba schools they had founded. When the municipal government of Rio de Janeiro included the samba schools’ Carnaval parades on its official calendar in 1935, it set in motion a process that gradually took the spirited communal parade in a dramatically direction from its origins in Praça Onze.  In the 1940s, 50s, and 60s, the desfile became increasingly commercial, with a greater focus on promoting the artists of each schools’ floats and ultimately the schools’ financiers, rather than local samba composers.

Praça XI c. 1930.
Praça XI c. 1930.

What’s more, in the early ’40s,  Praça Onze — where the first samba school displays took place in the late 1920s and early ’30s, and where malandro sambistas would hold dance-offs on the scale Cartola mentions in this song, a weigh station for animal-traction vehicles —  was destroyed to make way for an expansion of Avenida Presidente Vargas, inaugurated in  1944.

The “school at Praça Onze” that Cartola mentions in the song is GRES Estácio de Sá, which started out as Deixa Falar. It’s widely recognized as Rio’s pioneer samba school, whose sambistas modified the genre in the late 1920s to make it easier to samba and parade to – “samba de sambar do Estácio.” Ismael Silva, one of the most prominent samba composers from the school, also took credit for for the name “samba school” itself, recalling that when they founded Deixa Falar, there was a school nearby, and he said, “We’ll be the professors of samba!” While Portela was out the Central train line in distant Oswaldo Cruz, Mangueira and Deixa Falar were friendly neighbors near the praça: “We would parade on Sundays of Carnaval at Praça Onze and, on Mondays, the sambistas from Estácio would come up the morro do Mangueira; on Tuesdays, Mangueira would go down to Estácio. It was a great friendship,” Cartola recalled.

The destruction of Praça Onze was symbolic of the fate of composers like Cartola during those years. Largely brushed aside by the music industry, they also saw their Carnaval coopted,  with wealthy big-wigs running the show that had begun with ragtag Carnaval corps parading on their own. More and more attention was focused on middle-class Brazilians and tourists, and to appeal to this wider, wealthier audience, schools favored faster, noisier songs (in contrast to more traditional sambas like “Tempos idos”) – the precursors of the incredibly uptempo sambas-de-enredo of the schools today.

A more explicit musical expression of the latter phenomenon can be found in the samba “Terreno baldio” by Marimbondo:

Era um terreno baldio / Que eu mesmo capinei / Com um surdo mal feito de lata / Uma escola de samba fundei / Usei corda na avenida / No desfile principal / Esquentava a bateria / Com pedaço de jornal / A minha escola cresceu / E o terreiro hoje tem cobertura / Quem ficou pequenino fui eu / Diante da nova estrutura / Eu quem fundou a escola / Entre trancos e barrancos / Na galeria de sócios / No lugar do meu nome tem um branco / E vou contar a minha mágoa, minha minha dor / Fui barrado na porta da escola que sou fundador (It was an unused plot of land/ That I myself cleared/ And with a crude surdo made from a can/ Founded a samba school/I paraded in the avenue/ in the main parade/ I warmed up the battery/ With a piece of newspaper/ My school grew/ And the terreiro today has a roof/ I´m the one who grew smaller/ Before that new structure/ I who found (sic) the school/ by fits and starts/ In the gallery of associates/ There’s a blank space where my name should be/ And I´ll tell you my wound, my pain / I was barred at the door of the samba school that I founded).

Portela 1959
Portela 1959

As “Tempos idos” makes reference to, Portela was Carnaval champion in 1959, and representatives of the school were indeed invited to Itamaraty, Brazil’s foreign ministry, to perform samba for the Duchess of Kent.

Cartola and Carlos Cachaça adopted an almost admiring tone in parts of this song, as if they were slightly proud of samba’s success, but much more deeply saddened by the route and costs of that success. This was the context in which Cartola made a final attempt, with Carlos Cachaça, at composing a samba-de-enredo for his school.

Shortly after, Cartola opened the restaurant Zicartola together with Zica. Though it only functioned from 1963 to 1965, it immediately became a bastion for sambistas of Cartola’s stock, and inspired cultural gatherings and groups like “A Voz do Morro” which were in part responsible for a ressurgence in popularity of samba do morro. 

zicartola

More explanations of terms in the song below:

Praça Onze
Praça Onze and its terreiros – as this post mentions – served as the birthplace of carioca samba. The homes in neighborhoods surrounding the praça comprised a large community  Afro-Brazilians who had come from Bahia after the end of slavery in 1888, along with Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe. Heitor dos Prazeres famously said, “Praça Onze was a miniature of Africa,” which led many to refer to the region as Rio’s “Little Africa.” The denomination of Little Africa came to refer to the area from Praça Onze (Cidade Nova) to modern-day Praça Mauá.

Terreiros
Terreiro refers to the large patio-like spaces – usually with earthen floors – in these homes where composers would spend sometimes days on end rehearsing their latest sambas and experimenting with new compositions. Terreiro also refers to the similarly characterized space for Afro-Brazilian religious rituals. In the beginning, samba and macumba were almost inextricably linked. One of Carlos Cachaça’s sambas from the late 1920s went, “Eu fui a um samba na casa de Tia Fé/ de samba virou macumba/de macumba candomblé” (I went to a samba at Tia Fé’s/from samba it turned into macumba/ from macumba, candomblé). Originally, samba schools had Orixás that were considered their protectors, which their particular beats paid salute to: Mangueira was Oxóssi, for example, and Salgueiro, Xangô.

In the area surrounding Praça Onze, composers gathered in the terreiros in homes of several Bahian women who were immortalized in the samba world as the tias baianas (Bahian aunties), most famously Tia Ciata. The mixture of musical influences they played around with there — which included deeply African percussion and song alongside melodic and harmonic influences of contemporary European French and Italian composition — came together as samba carioca. (These tias included the mothers of two of Rio’s earliest samba composers: Tia Amélia do Aragão, mother of Donga, and Tia Perciliana de Santo Amaro, mother of João da Baiana.)

Tellingly, as samba and carnaval became more of a lucrative industry, the terreiros took on a more middle-class, secular denomination: “quadras,” or courts.

Scale
The scale the song refers to was one of ten installed in the city in response to a 1901 decree that aimed to control overweight animal-drawn carriages. The scale in Praça Onze became better known for serving as a stage for samba competitions, and its name might have provided some symbolic meaning as well, as it was used to “weigh” who was better in their batucada and swing.

Main sources for this post: Cartola: os tempos idos by Marilia T. Barboza; Zicartola, by Mauricio Barros de Castro; Dicionário da História Social do Samba by Nei Lopes and Luiz Antonio Simas; and Uma história de música popular brasileira, by Jairo Severiano.

Não quero mais amar a ninguém

Lyrics from “Não quero mais amar a ninguém” by Carlos Cachaça, Cartola and Zé da Zilda (Zé com fome), 1936



I no longer wish to love anyone
I wasn’t happy, fate didn’t will
My first love
It died like the flower, yet a bud
Leaving thorns that tore up my heart
(repeat)
A seed of love, I know that’s what I’ve been since birth
But without life and radiance, that’s my lot
I tried for the first time to make a dream reverberate
‘Twas a kiss that was born and died, without ever being given
(repeat)
Sometimes I burst out laughing upon remembering the past
I never thought of love, I never loved nor was I loved
If you judge that I’m lying, I can swear by it
It was a mere dream that came and went, and nothing more

— Interpretation —

Carlos Cachaça, right, with Cartola and Nelson Cavaquinho.
Carlos Cachaça, right, with Cartola, center, and Nelson Cavaquinho.

The 1978 documentary “Os avós do samba” identifies Carlos Cachaça as the foremost symbol of the history of samba, or as he called himself, the “archive and library of Mangueira,” the historic hillside neighborhood and the samba school he helped to found in 1929. The documentary then turns to his wife, Menininha (at minute 04:35), to ask her her favorite song by her husband; she begins to sing, “Não quero mais amar a ninguém.” That’s her favorite, she states; a second favorite, she couldn’t pick:


Carlos Cachaça being honored by Rio's most celebrated sambistas at his 96th birthday party. Photo via Almanaque do Samba.
Carlos Cachaça being honored by Rio’s most celebrated sambistas at his 96th birthday party. Photo via Almanaque do Samba.

Carlos Moreira de Castro got his nickname at age 17 to differentiate him from another Carlos on the Mangueira hillside who was  less fond of the sugar-cane liquor. In the documentary above, Menininha relates that her husband, then 76, long ago stopped drinking cachaça. (Maybe that’s how he lived to be 97.) But in spite of his healthier habits, she remarks, he “still doesn’t make it home some nights.”

So where does he sleep? “Aí é que a cobra fuma – não sei!,” she responds. (Literally, “that’s when the snake smokes — I don’t know.” The phrase is similar to the Portuguese, “Aí é que o bicho pega,” roughly and dryly translatable in English as, “Now there you’ve got me!”)  

The line from this song, “Semente de amor eu sei que sou desde nascença,” translated here as “A seed of love, I know that’s what I’ve been since birth,” was celebrated and archived by the Brazilian Academy of Letters.  

A prolific poet and lyricist throughout his life, Carlos Cachaça’s first and only solo album was recorded in 1976, when he was 74 years old.  He worked for the railway to make a living, and was relatively unknown during the Golden Age of radio in Brazil, from around 1932 to the mid 1950s. The exception was Aracy de Almeida‘s 1936 recording of this song:


For more on the friendship and partnership between Carlos Cachaça and Cartola, see Acontece and Alvorada.

Paulinho da Viola sings “Não quero mais amar a ninguem”:


Lyrics in Portuguese

Não quero mais amar a ninguém
Não fui feliz, o destino não quis
O meu primeiro amor
Morreu como a flor, ainda em botão,
Deixando espinhos que dilaceram meu coração.

Semente de amor sei que sou desde nascença,
Mas sem ter a vida e fulgor, heis minha sentença,
Tentei pela primeira vez um sonho vibrar,
Foi beijo que nasceu e morreu, sem se chegar a dar,.
(bisa a primeira parte)
Às vezes dou gargalhada ao lembrar do passado,
Nunca pensei em amor, nunca amei nem fui amado,
Se julgas que estou mentindo, jurar sou capaz,
Foi simples sonho que passou e nada mais

Main sources for this post: documentary Os avos do samba (1978) and O Almanaque do Samba by André Diniz

Alvorada

Lyrics from “Alvorada” by Cartola, Carlos Cachaça and Hermínio Bello de Carvalho (1968)



Good Audio Version

Dawn up on the hillside, what beauty
No one cries, there’s no sorrow, no one feels displeasure…
The sun, coloring, is so lovely, is so lovely
And nature smiling, painting, painting, … dawn

You too remind me of the dawn when it arrives
Illuminating my lifeless paths
And the rest for me is so little, or almost nothing
Just rambling on like this, on this lost highway

— Interpretation —

Daybreak in Rio de Janeiro, via National Geographic.

The inspiration for this song – another classic samba from Mangueira mainstays Cartola and Carlos Cachaça – came one early morning as the two were walking down Rio’s Pendura a Saia hill, which is part of the larger Morro de Mangueira. Moved by the beauty of the first light of day, and its contrast with the destitution on the hillside, they composed the first lines of the samba together.  They then brought the piece to their friend Hermínio Bello de Carvalho for completion; Carvalho wrote the final lines while Cartola composed the melody. (For more on the friendship and partnership between Cartola and Carlos Cachaça, see these posts.)

Carlos Cachaça and his wife, Menina, the sister of Cartola’s wife, Zica. Cartola and Carlos Cachaça met in 1922; they became fast friends and went on to found Rio’s most celebrated carnival samba school, Estação Primeira da Mangueira. Photo via Raiz do Samba.

The song recalls the final scene in Black Orpheus, the 1959 film adaptation of Vinicius de Moraes’s play, Orfeu da Conceição (1954). The play brought the Greek story of Orpheus and Eurydice to the hillside slums of Rio de Janeiro; it was also the first time Vinicius de Moraes and Tom Jobim composed together.

Lyrics in Portuguese

Cartola, Ismael Silva, and Mano Décio da Viola on the cover of the popular magazine Veja in 1975. At the time, Cartola had stopped performing, hurt and indignant over the poor treatment and low pay that he and his fellow sambistas received in Rio’s recording studios and music venues. Photo via Raiz do Samba.

Alvorada lá no morro, que beleza
Ninguém chora, não há tristeza
Ninguém sente dissabor

O sol colorindo é tão lindo, é tão lindo
E a natureza sorrindo, tingindo, tingindo
( a alvorada )
Você também me lembra a alvorada
Quando chega iluminando
Meus caminhos tão sem vida
E o que me resta é bem pouco
Ou quase nada, do que ir assim, vagando
Nesta estrada perdida.M

Main source for this post: A Canção no Tempo: 85 Anos de Músicas Brasileiras, vol. 2 : 1958 – 1985 by Jairo Severiano and Zuzu Homem de Mello