Doing fieldwork on forró music in Pernambuco, Brazil for my master´s degree in anthropology from Vrije Universiteit in Amsterdam. I´m interested in the links between the music and Northeastern identity, how and why it has resurged in popularity and national and international vectors of influence. Check it out!
Just got back from fieldwork in Olinda, Pernambuco (Brazil) and now writing about forró music and identity, tradition, modernity. Preparing to ride a bike from here (Amsterdam) to Istanbul, Turkey starting in August with my friend Jaime.
Hello forrozeiros!
posted by Kevin Cassidy @ 5:02 AM
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Table of Contents
I. Introduction pg. 4
II. Theoretical Framework pg. 14
III. Background on Forró – The Invention and Construction of a Northeast Tradition pg. 21
IV. Luiz Gonzaga: The Myth of the Modern Migrant pg. 25
V. The Research Scene pg. 32
VI. “Reemergence of Forró in
VII. In the “Field”: A Night at a Forró in Dois Unidos pg. 46
VIII. Forró: Shifting Perceptions and Meanings of a Northeastern Music
pg. 51
IX. Truth, Blood, and Roots: Authenticity and Tradition in Discourses on Forró and Identity pg. 58
X. Conclusions pg. 67
XI. Bibliography pg. 71
Appendix I. pg. 75
Appendix II. pg. 76
Appendix III. pg. 78
I. Introduction
Upon first encountering
In fact, in
This thesis additionally argues that these processes of identity construction can be seen as movements towards identity security and I will look at several of their main components. By examining forró I hope to illuminate discourses surrounding “modern” and “traditional”, and how this ties in with aspects of class and emancipation, myth building around migration, and authenticity and appropriation. These discourses, expressed in various ways are used by social actors towards construction of identity and security of cultural practices, ideas, and representations. Identity in this examination means a sense of who is and place in the world; where the boundaries are set that form belonging to a group and exclusion between “us” and “them.” I seek to connect this identity building with both a move towards existential security in some respects and contributing to national ideas of two differing regions in others. Security in this rendering is achieved through maintaining a strong identity that employs connections to the past amid a fast changing contemporary environment. The quest to achieve financial security is part of this picture, but there is also at play a search for identity security through production and consumption of forró that are expressed in varying conceptions of “modern” and “traditional”. Migration to the capitals is sought to achieve desired benefits of modernity such as access to jobs and opportunities to produce and consume a broader variety of material products, information and meanings. The mythic figure of Luiz Gonzaga, born in the Northeast sertão (the arid, drought prone interior region of the Northeast), is held as a powerful model, having achieved through migration to the South enormous national respect and success with his interpretation and invention of new music genres. Relying heavily on ideas of tradition in order to construct a modernity that celebrated a folkloric past tied to the Northeast, he has had enormous effect on building new visions of modernity in which it was possible to achieve status and power not through a renunciation of “roots” (raizes), but through elaborating a mixture that emphasized certain elements of the “modern” and of the “traditional”.
These discourses came up time and time again in discourses surrounding Northeast identity and forró with the words “tradition”, “roots”, “blood”, “earth”, and “truth,” contrasting and intermixing with “modern”, “commercial”, “product”, and “fake” in many of the interviews and during my fieldwork. Through these interviews and informal conversations, as well as participating and observing at various forró performances and events I came to better understand how social actors formed and secured their identities through this music. In addition to discussing my contacts’ personal experiences with forró performance and consumption, I focused inquiries on reasons for migrating (many had moved from the interior), perceptions of the Northeast, class issues, and the concepts of “traditional” and “modern”. I interviewed mostly musicians, but also fans of the music, producers, and two radio show hosts that varied in age from seventeen to their late sixties. Because a majority of the forró musicians are men, they also represented the majority of my respondents, but I did have several lengthy and informative interviews with women musicians, fans, and supporters.
Searching for literature on forró I discovered a paucity of material and what was written was usually included as part of a chapter on Northeastern music in general.[2] There has also been relatively little in-depth exploration of forró in more popular sources, appearing often only incidentally in texts on Brazilian popular musics. With its widespread popularity this stood out as a wealth of information can be found on a variety of other Brazilian music related to identity, class, gender, and race. Forró, being strongly associated with the Northeast of the country, has likely contributed to its being perceived as something of the lower classes or “music for maids and taxi drivers”.[3] In the documentary film “Viva São João” (“Long Live St. John”), about the Northeastern June festival season, Sivuca, one of Brazil’s most famous accordionists remarks that even saying the word “forró” was considered taboo for a time due to its associations to poverty and disorder. The Northeast of Brazil has been (and to some extent still is) considered a “backward” or “problematic” region by dominant discourse coming from the South and forró’s strong association with the region and its people undoubtedly caused its marginalization (Fernandes 2005: 6).
After being largely unknown outside of the rural Northeast, during the late 1940’s forró burst onto the national scene with the success of Luiz Gonzaga and forró artists featured prominently on the radio until the national media spotlight shifted in the early 1960’s to the jovem guarda (Young Vanguard) movement which increasingly embraced foreign elements such as the electric guitar and the Beatles sound, and bossa nova which infused stylistic and attitudinal elements of jazz to samba. Although from time to time an individual artist or artists would achieve a temporary breakthrough on the charts, forró increasingly took a back seat on the national scene although remaining popular among the lower classes in the Northeast and in communities of Northeastern migrants in the Southeast[4]. Over the past ten to fifteen years though it has steadily recaptured the attention of Brazil at large, becoming vastly popular among a range of social classes and broadly broken down into two main categories that are labeled “forró pé de serra” (hill’s foot forró) and “forró moderno” (modern forró)[5] which incorporates keyboards, rock beats, and slick stage and marketing production. Forró moderno is derided by many in the “traditional” pé de serra camp who consider it a purely commercial endeavor more concerned with profits through mass marketing than with a connection to “roots,” and thus not a valid cultural expression, while others have given it credit for drawing attention to the “real” forró.
My research focused mainly on producers and consumers of forró pé de serra, and the dialogues surrounding the music and how it related to their lives and more broadly their feelings about social class and creating an “authentic” cultural space. I was interested in the formations of different types of boundaries between social classes, regions, and the spaces between “authentic” and “fake”. The distinctions and borders are not always so sharp and there is some overlap and movements between the two musics. “Modern forró” has achieved substantial commercial success throughout
Forró in general has seemed to gain the Brazilian public’s attention in different ways recently and has been garnering more space in the media spotlight as well. The current Minister of Culture, international music star Gilberto Gil, named forró as being the most important music in Brazil after samba[6] and has recorded several recent forró albums including the popular soundtrack from the film Eu, tu, e eles (You, Me and Them). He was recently shown on the Brazilian national evening news playing the forró hit from the album, Esperando na janela (Waiting in the Window) at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland to a crowd of non-dancing business leaders as evidence of Brazil’s “cultural capital”.[7]
The rise in exposure is particularly intriguing in its cutting across socio-economic, generational, and geographical boundaries. Production and consumption of the music appears to be changing its appeal and association with specific social classes from a few years past when this music was held as emblematic of a poor Northeasterner identity, and has shifted to a popularity among the middle and upper classes. Adriana Fernandes, a Brazilian ethnomusicologist, in her recent doctoral dissertation discusses how in Recife and São Paulo forró has been given new meanings and form as it is constructed by lower, middle, and upper class to serve a different ends and purposes (Fernandes 2005). My research seeks to build on some of her arguments to demonstrate how these meanings relate to the construction of different forms of identity and security by using ideas of authenticity and tradition. Just as samba’s rise to popularity had links with processes of forming a national identity, I feel that forró’s reemergence as a popular music and dance expression and changes in perceptions surrounding it can shed light on how Brazilian identities are being constructed in the post-millennial years.
Other scholars have discussed the re-emergence of “traditional” musical styles in
“In
In this paper I maintain that forró music and dance should be looked at in both a historical and anthropological sense in order to better understand how Northeastern identity is constructed, negotiated, and maintained in a way which both negates and contributes to ideas of an essentialist dichotomy between regions. That there exists great variation and discrepancies cannot be refuted, but in this analysis identity formation is an active process that does not merely reflect differences; through effects on the collective imagination, it participates in the creation of them. I seek to provide an understanding of aspects of Northeastern and Brazilian identities in relation to a popular and largely unexamined music that has returned to be well received by a variety of social groups in spite of (or because of) its Northeastern “roots”. Thus, the main research question that I seek to address in this study is: Why has forró reemerged as a popular musical form in
In order to arrive at an understanding of how and why this may be happening and in what ways it relates to identity and security I will break down this main question into a series of sub-questions.
There have been a number of recent studies on the revival of “traditional” forms of music in the Northeast of Brazil (Fernandes 2005, Galinsky 2002, Murphy 2001). It will be important to consider forró along with other contemporary music and expressions that have been conceived of in similar ways in that they are often labeled as “traditional” or “regional” or imbued with such aspects: How and why are they constructed of in these ways and in what ways are they being revived? I would also like to elucidate how such a rise in popularity is happening and what this consists of. By this, I mean an exploration of social and other (economic, political, ideological, etc.) factors involved in such a rise and how they are evidenced. I believe it will also be critical to examine the relationship between political and economic hierarchies and the agency of the musicians and fans of forró. I seek to elucidate how individual choices of the actors involved intersect with larger ideologies, discourses and power arrangements. Like McCann’s examination of the effects of radio in the making of contemporary Brazilian identities, this thesis seeks to map out some of the “…necessary connections between the popular and the political, without interpreting popular culture as merely a reflection or a consequence of political trends” (McCann 2004: 11). This thesis takes the position that a critical look at the reification of certain music and locations as being inherently “traditional” and others as being “modern” is critical to understand the formation of contemporary identities in Brazil. By examining forró in these diverse aspects and areas, my goal is to present a rounded narrative that will explain why forró has reemerged, and what this has to tell us about the ways it has constructed and is constructing Northeastern and Brazilian identity.
II. Theoretical Framework
In this section, I will elaborate how the theme and questions of my research meet with anthropological thought on music its relation to identity and will examine theory in relation to tradition, modernity, authenticity, and social class, and how these connect to an inquiry into forró and identity security.
Roberto DaMatta encourages a view of identity that takes into account the dynamic nature of the idea of tradition and cautions and that by adopting a static view “…merely serves to legitimate domination, freezing differences and screening out an understanding of reality” (DaMatta 1995: 272). In his view, globalization should not be seen as a uni-directional flow where the “local” is steadily supplanted by the “global”, but as a complex series of ongoing processes in which local knowledge and practices can be reworked, while still retaining “authenticity” that provides security in maintaining a continuity with the past and affirming local values and culture.
Other observers of globalization have noted the ways in which identity is connected with the concept of (in)security. Benedetto Vecchi observes in the introduction to Bauman’s Identity that, “The question of identity is associated with […] a sense of insecurity, with the ‘corrosion of character’ that insecurity and flexibility in the workplace have produced in society” (Bauman 2004: 4). This inherent insecurity of the (post)modern environment can and does lead to an examination of the past in search of meanings and values as well as precipitating a resurgence of the popularity of “tradition” (Dunn 1998: 154). Dunn refers to this as a “revivalist culture” which seeks “…to retrieve a sense of authenticity, often through a reassertion of tradition and the historical past […] (ibid: 14). Alan Lomax in his examination of folk songs noted specifically how music can be seen as intimately connected to a sense of security through its deep influences in forming and maintaining identity. He writes that, “…the primary effect of music is to give the listener a feeling of security, for it symbolizes the place where he was born, his earliest childhood satisfactions, his religious experience, his pleasure in community doings, his courtship and his work—any or all of these personality shaping experiences” (Lomax 1959: 929). Forró is significant here in that it has strong ties to a Northeastern identity through its instrumentation, sounds, lyrics, dance, and themes that help in setting boundaries and a sense of value in practices and material culture from the Northeast.
Through the course of my fieldwork several dynamics came into play which attracted my interest because they were repeatedly mentioned by informants and alluded to not just specifically forró, but to how Brazilian identities are understood. The most striking of these was the discourse of tradition and modernity that inevitably came up surrounding forró. This is interesting because of the vast perceived differences between where these concepts are located geographically, with the Northeast representing ideas and notions of “tradition” and the South representing “modernity”. Notwithstanding widespread economic, social, and cultural differences between the two areas, it is possible that these very notions of “modernity” and “traditional” can help to instill certain images and ideas of place that are then reified. I will focus on how this imposed dichotomy between these two concepts relates to social class, identity, and ideas of authenticity and the myth creation involved in these ideas.
In Edward Shils’ book “Tradition” the author examines the concept of tradition and argues that it has often been viewed by the social sciences as straightforward or uncomplicated. He holds that this has led to an uncritical examination of “past practice and arrangements” (Shils 1981: 7). Shils argues that there is a tendency to view traditions as merely anachronistic or superstitious holdovers that stubbornly hold out or slowly crumble to the modern acceptance of scientific reason. He traces this tendency back to Enlightenment thought that tied tradition to passive acceptance without rational thought. In this study I hold that concepts of what is “traditional” and what is “modern” need to be closely examined in order to understand how identity is constructed in
Shils puts forward two important ideas that will influence this examination of forró. The first is that tradition “…is the past in the present but it is as much part of the present as any very recent innovation” (ibid: 13). This point stresses that although the notion of tradition is of a connection with and to the past, it is more importantly a statement of values, ideas, and constructions of the present moment. Tradition in this viewing is not a passive acceptance of the past, but a re-working of the past in the present in order to fit the needs and exigencies of the here and now. In order to understand the ways in which late modernity is experienced in contemporary
The second idea from Shils is that tradition is not merely a stable and unchanging block that is passively passed down through generations, but that tradition is itself a process as well as being a “process of selection” (ibid: 26). That which is construed as “traditional” is considered and constructed as such because of both conscious and unconscious decisions by social actors trying to understand and negotiate the actual world in which they operate. Tradition has a connection to the past, but it is not merely reflecting the past; it is a present reaction to present situations that searches for responses to these immediacies in re-workings of that which functioned or was used in the past for either similar or vastly different reasons. This study is mainly concerned with the present state; an examination of how and why these decisions, responses and methods are employed. At this point it will be necessary to employ working definitions of these two key terms, “tradition” and “modernity”. I employ Shil’s definition that tradition is a set of ideas, beliefs, practices, or material culture connecting the past to the present and “…having been created through human activity, through thought and imagination is handed down from one generation to the next” (ibid: 12).
In this paper I follow the ideas of sociologist Zygmunt Bauman that see a “liquid modernity”, which is marked by increasing feelings of insecurity and embodying three key conditions: uncertainty, continuous risk, and shifting trust (Bauman 2004b). Modernity encompasses the increased reliance on rational thought, increased movements of capital, people, material culture, and information among areas that were formally more separate. Modernity can create insecurity of identity because one of its defining features is rapid change, which Bauman argues has become a “…permanent condition of human life” (Bauman 2004b: 5). This “liquid modernity” has seen as one of its features the renewal of interest and popularity of legitimizing of concepts of “tradition,” which I argue, is in response to increased uncertainty and more rapid change.
Brazilian scholar, Adriana Fernandes, in her doctoral dissertation demonstrates how the terms “traditional” (or “roots”), and “modern” are used to legitimize and privilege certain sounds and instrumentations in differing social contexts within
My central research question concerns why a particular form of music linked with the Brazilian Northeast has changed in reception and what it can tell us about how regional and national identity is negotiated in contemporary
“Music is at once an everyday activity, an industrial commodity, a flag of resistance, a personal world, and a deeply symbolic, emotional grounding for people in every class and cranny the super culture offers… [Bourdieu argues that music] “says nothing and has nothing to say … music represents that most radical and most absolute form of negation of the world, and especially the social world…” It is not that music has nothing to say, but that it allows everyone to say what he or she wants. It is not because music negates the world, but because it embodies any number of imagined worlds that people turn to music as a core form of expression” (Slobin 1992: 77-78).
According to Slobin, music grants individuals with the power to express themselves in a myriad of ways. This further highlights the agency of forró fans and musicians to create identities and spaces for themselves despite unequal economic or political power relationships. The role of music in Brazil is enormous and is particularly relevant in that it not only occupies a central place in understanding identity and how this relates to the functioning of society, but that it does so in both conscious and unconscious ways that are often “felt” rather than articulated. McCann, in his comprehensive study on popular music in Brazil relays a similar sentiment: “These themes and practices [of music] still inform the ways Brazilians understand their nation, their racial politics, their conflicts of gender -- in short, themselves, and they do so at the deepest level - that of a pop song half heard from the window of a passing car and never forgotten” (McCann: 2004: 4).
In this research, I am concerning myself with the factors that have led to the valorization and renewed interest in a music that has been conceived and labeled “traditional” and “Northeastern” (nordestino). Focusing on how forró music and dance are placed, imagined, and constructed can reveal valuable insights into Northeastern identity and the complex spaces where the “local” is negotiated with the “global”. In recent years there has been an increase in studies of how “regional” musics or “micromusics” in the parlance of Mark Slobin, have been negotiating the interstices between the local and the global (Fernandes 2004, Galinsky 2002, Murphy 2001, Slobin 1993). Perrone and Dunn chart some of the discourses surrounding international influence, power relationships, and Brazilian hybridizations of popular music forms (Perrone and Dunn 2001). They cite the example of one of the other giant figures of forró,
It will be important to focus on power relationships that are seen in the expressions of a popular music form. I will be following the ideas of other social scientists who have studied how identity is an active process that helps to construct reality and connect people through and with music (Lipsitz 1994; Negus 1996; Cohen 1994). Both production and consumption of forró are connected in order to articulate an identity and a security of that identity. Like Cohen in her research on music and locality in
III. Background on Forró – The Invention and Construction of a Northeast Tradition
Forró, like samba, takes its roots from a mythic combination of the three main groups that formed
The term “forró” has been disputed with two competing versions as to its origins. One account often told is that the expression comes from the times at the beginning of the twentieth century when the British were in charge of building the Great Western railroad in the Northeast. Story has it that they would hold dances of which featured a variety of music from the region and that these dances would either be open only to the employees of the railroads or that they would admit the general public. There would be a sign on the entrance to the hall that would read “For All” if it was an open dance. In Brazilian Portuguese the letters “r” and “l” (at the end of a word) take on different sounds than the English and it is possible that “for all” could be pronounced as “forró.” This version was also popularised and given prominence by two giants of the genre, Luiz Gonzaga and Sivuca. An alternate take on this is that it was from the Americans who had a base in
It is commonly played with the samfona (a type of accordion), the zabumba (a type of drum with two heads, one for the bass tones, and another for the high tones), and the musical triangle. These three instruments make up the base of what is generally considered to be “roots” (“de raiz”) or “pé de serra forró”; although the pandeiro (a frame drum with a stretched head and inverted bells), other percussion, and bass guitar are now often added without losing this consideration of still being authentic to “tradition”. In Pernambuco forró is also encountered with the lead instrument being the rabeca (fiddle) in place of the accordion. The addition of electric guitar and keyboards seem to be more likely to cause the music being played to be described as “electronic” or “modern”, but for many informants forró was deemed authentic due to its maintenance of specific rhythms and by adherence to Northeastern themes and values in the music and lyrics. As mentioned previously, Fernandes, in her study of forró in
Forró is a music that begs dancing. While I encountered the music occasionally being listened to for entertainment, its primary place is on the stereo or performed live as a rhythm and a sound to which dancing is the preferred response. It is usually danced by male and female partners, (although women also dance together occasionally with one leading) with the man’s left hand holding the woman’s right and his right usually on her left hip or supporting her lower back.[13] The partners face together and the distance between them usually signals how comfortable they are with each other, although often there is quite close contact. It is danced in a one or two step pattern with little movement above the waist and with the hips leading following the beat of the zabumba drum. Although there are variations in the tempo and rhythm, with some slower styles, it is often danced at a rapid pace. Forró is often described and referred to as a “hot” (quente) dance or rhythm[14] and there is often a strong sensuality present as dancers closely interlock their movements with the heat of their bodies making temperatures rise and the dance floor to become stifling. Indeed many of the younger people that I spoke with told me that forró dances were ideal spots for finding a “fling” (paquerando) or an amorous encounter. This of course varied considerably on the location, with some locales known for providing a more family atmosphere, others with more couples, and those where many of the participants are young and single.
The week long festival and national holidays after the winter solstice in June commonly known as the São João (St. John) festival or June Festivals (festas juninas) is the high point for forró music each year. This is actually a celebration of three important and revered saints in
IV. Luiz Gonzaga: The Myth of the Modern Migrant
“Luiz Gonzaga for me didn’t die. If you go to a forró today you’ll see that 80% of the songs played are from him.” -Andresa, 29; forró fan
“Luiz Gonzaga wasn’t a fashion, he was a myth.” – Viola, 34; percussionist
Hoje longe muitas léguas Today so many leagues away
Numa triste solidão In such a sad loneliness
Espero a chuva cair de novo I wait for the rain to fall again
Luiz Gonzaga is the man most credited with being the “inventor” of this genre of music by taking certain folkloric music from the Northeast and divulging it widely throughout
Gonzaga was born near the hamlet of Exu, in the deep interior sertão of Pernambuco in 1912. He learned the button accordion at an early age from his father, a musician and instrument repairman, who took his young son along to with him to play at the gatherings and parties of the small surrounding villages. He was a quick learner and soon eclipsed his father Januário, being invited himself to perform at the baptisms, weddings, and feast days which required an accordion player to animate the festivities and get the people dancing. He steadily developed a reputation as the best musician in the area, and also as a Don Juan type figure which eventually got him into trouble due to a forbidden romance with a local large landholder’s daughter. It was made clear to him that his social position was too low to be eligible to marry the girl and a drunken confrontation ensued with her father at a local fair. After a stern reprimand from his parents he decided that he would seek his fortunes elsewhere and ran off, quickly enlisting in the armed forces in
After a few years in the army, including seeing some combat situations in the Revolution of 1930, he ended up in
Gonzaga clamed that the baião was born from the rhythm which Northeastern guitar players used while tuning up their instruments and warming up before singing verses. It also takes from the Northeastern bandas de pifano, or fife bands that would use similar rhythms on the (zabumba) drum. By adopting these common rhythms and instrumentations of Northeastern musical forms, “…Gonzaga was able to condense a wide range of musical experiences within the commercial baião that referenced both northeastern Afro-Brazilian and sertão culture” (Crook 2005: 263). In this “condensing” he took aspects of the folkloric past and adapted it to create a new “tradition” that would simultaneously affirm his “roots” and his “modernity”.
The cosmopolitan centers of Brazil fell in love with his unrehearsed and authentic sounding regional music which was significant because the Northeast of Brazil was and still is considered underdeveloped and backward and not able to produce a material culture equal to that produced by the European centered ideals in the urban centers of the Southeast (e.g. Rio de Janeiro and So Paulo). This image of the Northeast emerged strongly as the nation headed into 1950’s in which the country was dichotomized into two exclusive halves – a “traditional” Northeast with peasants migrating in search of jobs and fleeing droughts and a “modern” Brazil located in the South(east) that was the “urban, industrial, economic, and political core of the nation” (ibid: 257). Gonzaga was important because he took aspects of the Northeast culture and “…showed in music the reality of the Northeast” in the words of one of my contacts, but more than this he showed that they had value. He played on differences and “…exaggerated, rather than concealed, his nordestino accent, stressing regional pronunciation (the twangy farta instead of proper falta)” (McCann 2004: 114). He also had the tendency to deliberately sing roughly, hit flat notes and “…exuded unrehearsed, backwoods charisma. The combination of these elements gave Gonzaga a homespun charm that metropolitan audiences found thoroughly winning” (ibid: 114). Gonzaga succeeded in that he had both the cultural authenticity and the knowledge of folklore to speak about the realities of life in the sertão to the audiences of the dominant urban areas of the Southeast.
Shortly after his initial success he recorded the seminal work of the genre entitled “Asa branca[18]” which told of the difficulties and loneliness in the lives of the migrants who had left the sertão to search for work far from home. The song became enormously popular and today is one of the most recognized and loved songs in the Brazilian catalogue. It is also inextricably linked with the Northeast and its migrants, widely considered the “…unofficial hymn of the sertão and its displaced persons” (ibid: 114). Gonzaga’s timing was critical in that cultural, political, and technological trends were coalescing to grant him and other popular Northeastern musicians the ability not just to reflect but to define a regional identity. McCann notes that Luiz Gonzaga along with Dorival Caymmi, a popular Bahian musician, had an enormous amount of influence because they were able to: "... position themselves at the nexus of three crucial trends - the great wave of northeastern migration to the Southeast, a growing interest in folklore in general and northeastern folklore in particular, and the rapid expansion of the radio and recording industries. That confluence made possible their commercial and critical success, and enabled them to exert enormous influence on popular conceptions of Baiano and nordestino identity” (ibid: 123).
One of the ways in which he both created and affirmed this identity was in his use of the regional costume of the cangaceiro, the feared and revered bandits that roamed the countryside in search of villages or farms to pillage. Lampião (Big Lamp) was the most famous of these characters and is a figure known to all Brazilians today in the form of these myths that Gonzaga helped to disseminate. Lampião and his group of cangaceiros (including his female companion Maria Bonita) are widely regarded in the Northeast as folk heroes, presented as a kind of Robin Hood and his gang, who would steal from the rich and give to the poor.[19] The reality was not quite like this, but he did present a challenge to authority which was (and still is) an admired trait in the Northeast and in
But for Gonzaga, the precise historical details were not really the point. He was going for the image of the tough and independent outlaw to frame his vision of the Northeast and Northeasterner. The exaggerated leather hat turned sideways, rough hewn leather pants and vest with colorful bandanas were all employed to bring an air of authenticity to the performances after Gonzaga abandoned the customary formal white tuxedo and suit used for performances of the era. This met with the initial opposition of the management of the national radio station and he was refused permission to perform in their auditorium with a costume that called to mind banditry and a strongly regional identity. Of his adoption of this look he said: “…I began to think what type I could make, because the [
In the 1960’s Gonzaga pushed the Brazilian federal government to implement irrigation projects in the sertão to bring relief from the harsh droughts the area was prone to. His music has also been used by land reform movements of the 1970’s protesting the strongly hierarchical agrarian system. More recently his anthem “Asa branca,” the tale of poor Northeastern farmer forced to migrate from his land because of drought has been used by the Movimento Sem Terra (MST, Landless Movement), a national movement to secure land and resources for the landless poor. “Asa branca” is often played at these protest gatherings around the nation (ibid: 125). This leads to questions of what roles popular culture has in creating group cohesiveness and pride and in what ways this can coalesce to encourage political expressions and popular movements. McCann mentions some of the effects that a re-valuation of Northeastern identity had not only on those living in that part of the country, but on Brazil as a whole, as it has begun slow and painful processes of change towards a new modern democracy working to deal with issues of land reform.[21] Gonzaga’s effect on perceptions of the Northeast (both within and outside of it) and its cultural production has been substantial, reinforcing visions of the region as a bastion of the “traditional” within Brazil, serving as a source of enormous pride in its musical heritage, and providing a strong example of the possibilities of obtaining the benefits of modernity while retaining close ties to one’s “roots.”
Gonzaga was mentioned by every one of my informants and in many of the conversations I had with Northeasterners as being a continual source of pride and inspiration. His talents as a musician are most surely part of this, but perhaps more significance can be found in his affirmation of Northeast identity and connecting it an idea that its “traditions” were sources of immense cultural value. Almost two decades after his death his presence is larger than ever as new generations of Brazilians discover his music and feel the impact of the traditions that he helped create. As contemporary Brazilians engage in a search for identity in a rapidly globalizing world, Gonzaga’s example of valuing locality and “roots” while embracing the benefits of modernity is as salient as ever.
Photo 1 – Lampião and Maria Bonita figures in
V. The Research Scene
I arrived into
We made it back to the historic section of
At the end of my second week in the field I made contact with a local forró producer, Roberto Andrade, through a fellow researcher passing along his email. He proved to be a valuable contact who would introduce me to many informants engaged in different aspects of forró production (such as musicians, composers, and radio dj’s). Roberto enthusiastically invited me to meet him at a coffee shop of a shopping mall a block from his house. At first, I was a bit taken aback by his rapid, nervous style and wondered if his enthusiasm to introduce me to the many forró musicians he knew was because he expected a favor in return. He soon let me know that he wanted me to help him out with acquiring distribution channels and shows in
During the course of my fieldwork this issue came up several times as I had to inform informants of my research intentions. One particular episode occurred when I finished an interview and another musician approached me and insisted, despite my explanations of my intentions, that I try and help him to gain contacts to tour in
The contacts that I met through Roberto soon multiplied as several of them in turn introduced me to other musicians or gave me phone numbers of possible informants. By the end of my fieldwork period I was able to interview about twenty persons directly involved in music production or performance, the majority of these being musicians and composers. In addition I had several interviews with informants that were involved in learning to play forró or by being committed fans (e.g. attended shows regularly, strongly identified with the music and scene).[23] I used an informal interview structure for most of my informants that was conversational with my promptings about forró, music, class, identity and their perceptions of the national and the local, although some interviews tended more to the question and answer style. Most of these informants I interviewed one time, although I had two interviews with three of them. These interviews took place at their homes, in restaurants, plazas, and the coffee shop of the shopping mall that Roberto used as his meeting point. They varied in length from half an hour to almost three hours, although the vast majority lasted about an hour. In addition I would often see and speak with many of those who I interviewed later at shows. I used a mini-disc recorder during eighteen of these interviews which I felt enabled me to have a more relaxed and conversational dialogue because the recorder was usually forgotten about after the first few minutes of the conversations. It was useful later in being able to retrieve quotations in context and because of my previous time in Brazil there were no problems with understanding any dialogue in the interviews (aside from the occasional regional slang word I would have to inquire about). I quickly reviewed the interviews after they were made in the field and then upon arriving in
Almost every interview I started by questioning my informants about their personal history in relation to music. In addition to giving me an idea about their backgrounds, it also helped to make them more comfortable with me and demonstrate my interest in their personal stories. One interesting fact that I noted after hearing many recollections of how they became musicians was that the majority of my informants were from the interior and had migrated to the coast either as children or young adults. When I inquired about the reasons for this I was invariably told that they and their families were in search of opportunities that would not be afforded to them in the interior. By migrating to the capital and its environs they hoped to be able to secure financial security both through careers as musicians and in other fields (many of my informants held “day” jobs in addition to their work as performers either currently or at some points in their past). They also hoped to achieve “success” as musicians; this was often defined either in financial terms (such as being able to become professional, full-time musicians), or in more intangible ways, such as by feeling a part of a community, creating personal satisfaction and affirming their identity or “roots” (raizes) as many of them commented. This “feeling a part of community” was evidenced by many of the musicians and fans having a network of friendships and acquaintances that they would connect with at and through forró gatherings and shows. I witnessed this at many of the events that I attended where indeed many of the musicians and fans greeted each other by first name, exchanged pleasantries, and inquired about each other’s families. These spaces functioned not merely as anonymous places of entertainment, but as locations where one was assured to know many of the other participants and share in an expression of enjoying and supporting “real culture” (“cultura verdadeira”). Personal satisfaction was also tied to the fact that many felt that forró was a concrete example of a “living culture” (“uma cultura viva”) in which they were keeping something vibrant that had been done in the past by their forbearers (albeit in different milieus) and not allowing it to die. This connection to “roots” was frequently cited as something essential; that forró was a space in which links could be maintained between the present and the past. A common sentiment expressed was the desire to participate in and advance the production of “true” cultural expressions. Often this was framed in counterpoint to perceived dominant, mass-media supported music and entertainment seen as corrupting, false, and imposed from the outside with the sole motive being profit.
Interviews also touched upon more personal questions about if and how forró music could be relevant to their identities to inquire about my informants’ feelings about race and class issues in forró in general, both in the past and the present. Although many of my informants were willing to discuss their feelings about social class in music and in general, conversations about race were generally dismissed as not being pertinent or relevant in examining forró. A common response when I inquired about aspects of race in forró was that “forró isn’t a black music, it is for everyone.”[24] A couple informants did bring up aspects of race tied together with class with comments such as, “Forró used to be considered music of poor and black people.” More commonly though, it was considered a music that invoked conceptions of “miscegenation” (miscigenação) that are central to Brazilian identity.
This echoes a general reluctance of Brazilians to acknowledge racism or issues of race as having validity in contemporary
Most of my informants self-identified as coming from either the middle-class or from the lower or “popular” classes (clase popular) and contrasted themselves to the “elite”. An exception to this was one singer (arriving to the interview in a suit and tie) who mentioned that his image was that of an “executive” and somewhat reluctantly admitted his concerns when he first began to perform that he would not be accepted because of this fact. Interestingly, he also denied that there he did not feel that there were any issues of class involved, and that forró was not, nor had ever been music from the lower classes. This said, although none of my informants conceived of themselves as from the lowest of the social strata, there were many acknowledgements of personal financial hardships and dismay over the economic situation of the region and country. Opinions among them differed as to how social class was conceived and expressed in forms of cultural production in general and specifically in relation to Northeastern music such as forró. I also inquired about informants’ evaluations of the popularity and acceptance of forró and the reasons behind this. What did they see as the history of forró as a music up to the present day, why did it come about, and what were the factors in such changes? Again, there were differing perceptions and ideas about the possible reasons and implications behind a resurgence of popularity and social implications.
Towards the end of my time in the field as I was reviewing my notes and listening to interviews, I began to focus on some themes and ideas that continually came up during the course of my interviews and interactions in the field. One of these were the terms “traditional” and “modern” that were used in a variety of ways that drew me towards examining forró as a form of existential security of identity in a quick changing, globalizing world. In addition to issues of class and emancipation, questions of authenticity and appropriation came about as the result of many of my informants’ complaints about the ways in which forró was being (mis)represented and (mis)used by the dominant economic forces of producers and the media. Lastly, discourses came up surrounding forró and its departed “king”, Luiz Gonzaga. I focused on how these ideas helped create and contribute to a myth about the Northeast and its cultural expressions that is used as a marker of regional identity and contributes to ways in which
VI. “Reemergence” of Forró in
Almost every informant that I spoke with noted that forró music has gained in popularity and status over the past ten years or so, and different reasons and factors were attributed different to this rise, although this was not without its contestations. These problematic spaces seemed to be located at intersections of social class and appropriation, authenticity and commerciality, and ideas of “traditional” and “modern.”
As I mentioned earlier so-called “modern” forró has seen the most exposure and mass popularity, but it was generally agreed that pé de serra forró had also garnered more commercial success and shifted to a popularity that cuts across socio-economic lines. This is noted in an article in a popular
Forró was perceived by many as increasing in popularity by expanding outside the June festival season, in increased status of the musicians, and through capturing the attention of the young. In the words of one local woman: “Forro is increasing yes! In the past here in Olinda it was something of the St. John’s Festivals.” Musicians also agreed that the number of performances in and around the capital has been increasing. Teresinha do Acordeon, in her mid-50’s and from Salgueiro, in the interior of Pernambuco moved to the capital as a young woman and told me: “It was a big conquest for forró, to urbanize and be played the whole year in the city.” Many musicians observed that in the capital and surrounding areas it was not so common to see forró played outside of the June festivals and that they would be the subject of jokes for playing the music. Beto Hortis, a 31 year old accordion player from Camaragibe, near
Some of the younger musicians and students of the music that I spoke with who are in their late teens told me that they never experienced any teasing or questioning from their friends about why they chose to play “traditional” music instead of learning to play the pop styles. They said that they had always felt that it provided them a connection with their “roots” and that it wasn’t viewed as necessarily something “old-fashioned”. Ivan Ferraz, a forró composer, singer, and radio host echoed this sentiment one afternoon after I sat in on his radio program. “I think forró has picked itself up in the last years. The youth started to be more interested in their own roots.” He attributed this partially to the death of Luiz Gonzaga in 1989 which he felt acted as a wake-up call that a new generation would have to be taught by the older generation to appreciate valuable aspects of their culture of which forró was one important part. Renato Phaelante, a co-coordinator at the Joaquim Nabuco Institute for Social Research observed that through the reemergence of forró, “The old turns itself into the kid again in the conception of the young people.” Another informant stressed the importance of young people taking up “authentic culture” such as forró: “I’m seeing many young people playing forró now; more than in the past and this makes me very happy because it is going to continue. It isn’t going to die, our culture.” This desire for a preservation of forró culture was mentioned by many contacts and ties into discourses involving the protection and valuation of a strong feeling of locality (being Pernambucan and Northeastern) at the same time as embracing a national identity by playing an “authentic” music from
This element is important in examining the connections between forró and identity security. Forró as a strong indicator of the Northeast has been steadily built into a bridge through the past half century that allows for movement of ideas and shared meanings across and through generations. This bridge functions as a means by which to ensure certain continuities in the face of rapid change brought by the rapid and diverse exchanges of information and culture across time and borders. Because forró has certain shared concrete symbolic markers and at the same time is a living and transforming expression it is important means to maintain links from the present to the past.
Musicians also openly acknowledged some of the problems that they saw in relation to the “reemergence” of forró. Some felt that while forró and other music genres from Pernambuco had achieved some success, that there was more interest in the Southeast and abroad.[29] Complaints that the music was not being supported locally enough (by the government, promoters, and consumers) were common. Teresinha told me that: “The Northeast exports forró. It started here, but it seems to me sometimes that there’s more interest in the South of
Radio and television were continually cited as the means to attract a large following among the “popular class,” (clase popular) with limited funds to buy cd’s and dvd’s and access the internet. Although more “traditional” style forró and other local music was played on several radio programs and one local (university) television station, more “pop” Brazilian music dominated with particularly styles known as brega[30] (literally “bad taste”) and roxo, with their sexually suggestive lyrics, simple keyboard based melodies, and provocatively costumed dancers composing a large amount of media space along with American and international pop. Many informants were particularly unhappy about this, feeling that it sent out negative images (especially to children and adolescents) about sexuality. When countered with the fact that many forró lyrics are sexually suggestive (often hidden by word play), informants would invariably note that it was much more subtle and that forró, while being sensual, was not an overtly sexual dance. Forró was also contrasted with these other genres as being something with strong connections to local identity, while brega was seen as a commercial venture that took its form and values from international pop music and marketing.
This power of particularly radio and television was cited as a reason while forró seemed to be attracting the attention of the middle and upper classes. Jerimum de Olinda, a 29 year old percussion player also stressed that he felt that because radio and television promotes certain heavily commercialized productions that (“traditional”) forró was not getting the attention it deserved. He noted how the audiences at shows were changing because of this: “I just was in the interior of Alagoas (bordering state) and we went there to play forró, côco, ciranda and maracatu, these things. But we played during the day to people from the upper middle class, understand? And at night there was a big stage with “stylized” forró and brega bands for the young people and the lower classes. The young (new) people are enjoying these new things…” Although many informants gave the impression that forró was equally popular across all classes and that it had moved away from being labeled as “poor people’s music” there was also debate about this that I would like to discuss in the next sections. It seemed that although forró retained popularity among the lower classes as well as gaining the attention of the upper middle class and elite, that there were still definite boundaries maintained that marked out spaces for particular classes and groups.
VII. In the “Field”: A Night at a Forró in Dois Unidos
“We’re poor, but we enjoy ourselves.” – Edinilson, 25,
Taking a taxi to the neighbourhood of Dois Unidos on the periphery of
Getting out of the taxi in front of Arlindo’s house I noticed the two men with black vests with yellow “Security” imprinted on the backs chatting with patrons and they greeted Roberto warmly. After being introduced we made our way in underneath a large sign featuring the host and sponsored by Pitu, a large Pernambucan alcohol distillery. The reasonable price to enter was posted near the door (3 reais), but because we had arrived early there was no ticket taker yet and they told us to go around the turnstile so that we would not be counted. Making our way down the narrow staircase I noticed many old photos and newspaper clippings of the host and other famous forró players and religious imagery. Arriving in the backyard I could see that it was set up to appear like an interior small town, with little stands for food and drinks that looked almost like a film set with branches from trees set along the sides and tops. The backyard was quite deep (almost 40 meters) and at the end was a little stage with a small soundboard on the side. There was a band warming up on stage that consisted of the classic trio line-up with an accordion player, a zabumba drum, and a steel triangle player checking their instrument and microphone levels. As it was still early there were not many people present; about fifteen to twenty, mostly the family of Arlindo, the host, along with some neighbors and friends of the band. Roberto knew many of them and again introduced me around and I was given a friendly, if slightly reserved reception.
Arlindo appeared, being led over to our table by his daughter and Roberto chatted with him and told him that I was researching forró and would like to speak with him. Arlindo is in his 60’s and originally from Serinhaém in the interior of Pernambuco. When I went to offer him some of our fried potatoes and dried beef Roberto shook his head and whispered that he was in an ongoing fight with diabetes which had rendered him blind several years back. He now needs assistance from members of his family to move about, but keeps up a busy schedule of playing forró and teaching students the button accordion. He told me that his biggest pleasure in life was playing and having his family and friends gathered around him. As patrons began to fill in almost every one of them stopped to share a warm, affectionate greeting with him. He told me that many people were from the local area, but that tourists from Brazil and beyond would also come to visit to see the “authentic forró pé de serra” that was played there. He remarked that today there would not be so many people because of the pre-Carnaval festivities happening around
I asked him about the popularity of forró and he attributed a rise in interest to various musicians that had “secured the flag” or persisted in producing “true” pé de serra forró, among them the nationally known Dominginhos, who had slowly re-garnered the attention on the music. He also attributed the effects of the enduring figure of Luiz Gonzaga as a continual inspiration to Northeastern culture that the next generation was in the process of re-discovery of forró through his influence. His eight year old granddaughter appeared and he proudly mentioned that she was learning the accordion and could play “Asa branca”, and would join him on the stage later in the night. He noted that that his forró attracted people from “seven to seventy” and indeed looking around there was a good mix of ages. This brought up a comment that another accordion player had told me a few days before: “Forró brings together [social] classes and age groups. You can go to a forró and you can see people 70 years old and young people together.” That various age groups were there was undeniable, but some other comments later and my own observations led me to believe that at least in this milieu it would probably not be accurate to say that there was a range of social classes present.
The crowd of families and groups of friends soon filled up many of the tables in front and people started to pair off and dance to the band. Most people were dressed in casual, inexpensive clothing, but very clean and pressed. Many women were in dresses or skirts and men with button down shirts tucked in at the waist. There was a convivial atmosphere; most of the people knew each other which was observable as they greeted each other by name upon arriving and passing by tables. Many of the patrons were drinking alcohol, and through the night I noticed the effects, although no one appeared overtly drunk and the overall feeling remained relaxed and without any incidents. Groups at metal tables were sampling platters of Northeastern style food; sun-dried beef, stewed goat and maize, and little cups of bean and shrimp soup, home cooked by members of Arlindo’s family. Several pé de serra bands played and the dance floor grew more crowded and hot, dancers sweating and sometimes taking quick breaks to get a drink and sit down to catch their breath. When Arlindo and his band came out the crowd warmly applauded him as he was introduced and as he began to play I could see why he was such a popular figure. He played expertly on an eight bass button accordion that is diatonic, which refers to the fact that different notes are played when opening and closing the instrument. This gives it a distinct sound and rhythm compared to the key accordions that are nowadays much more common to forró. This was interesting to me because I had never seen a button accordion before in the numerous times I attended performances in different venues in
During the course of the evening I made contact with several musicians that agreed to interviews and gave me their telephone numbers as well as one woman in her early 20’s who was learning the button accordion from Arlindo. She commented to me that “The upper middle class doesn’t generally go to Arlindo’s forró.” This caught my attention as well as another musician who appeared to be in his early 60’s I spoke with briefly there that night who told me “...the elite never liked forró, it was the music of the (cabroeira) ‘country hicks’ (literally: group of goats) ... it’s our [thing].” I was interested in finding out more on these different perspectives on class in forró and how they might connect to some of the ideas about the “modern” and the “traditional” and how a cultural expression can appropriated or adopted into the repertoire of other social and economic classes.
VIII. Forró: Shifting Perceptions and Meanings of a Northeastern Music
“Forró; just of the word itself there is prejudice.” - Anchieta Dali - forró composer, singer
“Forró is still today prejudiced and it disappears and reappears with this prejudice.” – Samuel Valente – composer, writer
“Vou para o sul, eu vou ganhar dineiro.” (“I’m heading to the South, I’m going to make money.”) - “Folguedos de Roda” – Côco Raizes de Arcoverde
Forró has been seen as something that came from the lower classes and that emerged to become accepted by the range of social classes.[32] In this section I would like to present some of the discourses by forró actors and in what ways the music has been associated with the Northeast and the lower classes and the shifts to its acceptance (and appropriation) by other social classes. I seek to draw connections to this phenomenon in other milieus and also elucidate how musicians and producers of the music have viewed the shifts. Music has been one of the key ways in which communication and ties have been forged between different classes and groups in
One Saturday afternoon I spoke with Anchieta Dali, a respected local forró composer in the backyard of a family of musicians I had recently met and interviewed the week before. We sat under the shade of a large mango tree as he smoked chain smoked cigarettes, explaining that forró had undergone a shift in perceptions in Pernambuco and
He continued on to remark that in his view forró has continued to be prejudiced and excluded, but in different ways than the past. He noted that people from
Haidée Carmelo and other musicians noted that forró has been a source of pride and of great social value, and that this has been taken and used as a source of power for differing means: “There has always been a class that dominates, that tries at all costs to de-valorize what the other class does, this is historic. The industrial culture appropriates from the collective knowledge, that which is genuine in the midst of the people and transforms it into products; easy, with an easy assimilation and it becomes a mechanism of power.” Patricia Cruz, a forró singer and radio show host argued for the value of a music which produces a feeling of pride to counter negative images of the Northeast as being inferior in terms of education and cultural expressions. “There are people in forró pé de serra that construct a poetry where the Northeasterner speaks beautifully, where the Northeasterner is learned, intelligent.” This is a significant comment - that because of its deep association with the Northeast forró has been marked as something inferior, but that it has also been a force to counter this image.
As other music scholars have noted, music holds a key place in understanding identity because it is an important means by which people “…recognize identities and places, and the boundaries which separate them” (Stokes 1994: 5). Patricia laments though that often the lower classes have been bombarded by other visions from the media in which they have less power: “The [lower classes] don’t decide what is mass produced.” She also felt, as other musicians expressed, that this was even more pronounced in the towns outside the environs of the capitals. “The interior [country side] is a thousand times worse; what before was folklore and a roots culture, now is a location of a strong mass manipulation [by the media], because that is how history works.”
Silvério Pessoa, a successful musician from Carpina, a small town in the interior of Pernambuco, who moved to Recife as a teenager and who over the past few years has been touring outside Brazil, told me of some of the power struggles involved in appropriation that he sees in forró: “The corporations and recording companies saw that forró could be dressed in different clothes. So, they create bands and groups and they created classifications for this like “university” forró. This is not a true genre. It dressed up in new clothes, elaborated to sell cds. [You see] people from the middle class, successful, that decide to play accordion like [the bands from
Silvério’s, last comment here was reiterated by many of my musician informants who repeatedly denounced the fact that in order to be played on most of the commercial radio stations in Brazil artists and producers need to pay. Because many of the more “authentic” or “roots” artists are not affiliated with powerful companies that can afford these pay-to-play fees they are less able to reach mass audiences, especially the clase popular, that relies more heavily on the television and radio to provide entertainment and information. He noted that this extended to how forró is still portrayed in the media emanating from
Silvério and others viewed the connections between forró and music labeled “traditional” as not belonging to the elite class, but from the lower classes. “What we call traditional culture, folklore, and forró; who makes this are agricultural workers, people without [their own] land, bricklayers, people who earn miserable salaries. Those are who make this music and play the accordion and the rabeca [fiddle].” Rebecca, a self described “lower-middle class” university student who was learning the button accordion from Arlindo also noted the associations between “traditional” and lower class cultural production: “…before, in the 80’s, the traditional Pernambucan musicians were considered something inferior because who plays and produces it is from the lower classes. Accordion players and forró players were and still are poor. And then there’s that thing with class in music; MPB for example is called ‘Brazilian Popular Music’, but only that which is made by the upper middle class, principally from the Southeast is called this.”
There seemed to be some parallels between the perceived movements of forró from a music exclusively produced and consumed by the lower classes to its acceptance by a range of social classes and other instances in which elements of culture had been appropriated from one part of society to form more ambiguous or encompassing identities. Several artists mentioned how they felt that what they were doing was being “copied” by the upper middle class of
One musician, Jerimum, remarked to me that in
Vianna (1999) and Sheriff (1999), among others, have examined the mediations and appropriations around samba occurring between and across classes to construct national identities that took place in from the early twentieth century to the present day. Samba developed into a marker of “brasilidade”, or Brazilian identity, not accidentally, but was constructed as such by interactions between different social groups; notably popular musicians, intellectuals like Gilberto Freyre, and Sergio Buarque de Hollanda, as well as the rise to power of the Getulio Vargas[35] regime that relied heavily on samba to forge a unifying Brazilian identity that would be used for nationalist goals (Galinsky 2002: 6, McCann 2004: 6-8, Reily 2000: 5-8). To the present day samba continues to be conceived and imagined as a musical embodiment of the national identity of
IX. Truth, Blood, and Roots: Authenticity and Tradition in Discourses on Forró and Identity
Throughout my fieldwork period I was confronted with discourses around questions and ideas of authenticity centered on conceptions of “traditional.” In the next section I would like to examine these notions in the forró milieu and the ways in which they demarcate social and regional spaces in the collective imagination. The idea mentioned previously of the Northeast as a region imbued with certain aspects of the “traditional” can be seen as tied with these notions of authenticity that serve to enforce certain problematic constructions as well as constructing identities based on notions of “true” cultural manifestations.
One February afternoon, in the baking sun of the middle summer, I got into a taxi with my forró producer contact Roberto to travel to the house of Camarão, a well known accordion player from Pernambuco that he worked with. On the ride over to the interview I glimpsed some of the cultural politics being played out in understandings of the place and value of “local” music. Roberto began talking to the driver about his job and how he felt that music from Pernambucan artists needed to be held in higher regard and promoted more by the state and city governments. The radio station was featuring a collection of news stories at the top of the hour and one report in particular caught both Roberto and the driver’s attention. It mentioned that the municipal government was entertaining a motion by one representative that during the Recife Carnaval that a certain percentage should be set aside exclusively for Pernambucan artists and music styles. Roberto lamented that the last few years’ Carnavals had featured too much music from outside of Pernambuco and that such a law was a good idea to restore a balance and protect “local” music, ensuring a more “Pernambucan” festival. The taxi driver strongly disagreed, observing that the music played during Carnaval should be decided by its popularity and that many people, including himself, were great fans of (Axé) music from
“Authenticity” was demonstrated in differing ways, but seemed to hinge on the sounds employed, the intentions and motivations of the artist, and a sense of maintaining a connection to one’s “roots.” This experience of performing and participating in something being “real” was framed as crucial to maintaining a cultural identity. Anthropologist Edward Burner writes in his examination of experience about the connections between performance and authenticity: “All cultures are constructions that take historical elements from different eras and sources... All constructed cultures require belief; that is, the participants must have confidence in their own authenticity, which is one reason cultures are performed. It is not enough to assert claims; they have to be enacted. Stories become transformative only in their performance" (Burner 1986: 25).
Surrounding the mythic story of patriarchal figure of Luiz Gonzaga there is agreement that he had changed folkloric forms of music and expression through performance, “creating” aspects of Northeastern identity that still ring strongly. Paradoxically, he made forró into something “authentic” by adding his own specific markings that would both set it as his own creation and at the same time as unmistakably Northeastern and Brazilian. This is interesting because it notes the flexibility of these “traditions” that are discussed as having an “inventor” and at the same time being conceived as harking back further in time. As Crook writes in his examination of Northeastern music, Gonzaga “[highlighted] musical traditions with characteristics deeply rooted in notions of rural authenticity that were assumed to be more resistant to foreign influences…” (Crook 2005: 231). One of the key aspects of Gonzaga’s success was his successful use of certain traditions and the reworking of these in order to appeal to a variety of socio-economic classes. The belief that Gonzaga’s music was “authentically” Northeastern no doubt played a large part in his achievement of garnering the attention of the country as it sought a national identity that relied on “true” representations of culture to reinforce the notion of a unified country as well as creating space for a Northeastern identity.
Resistance to foreign influences were an important part of building a Brazilian identity and continue to play a significant role to those producing “authentic” music. This is a point that was brought up by many contacts in the field, who felt that much of the commercial nature music played on the radio and television was a corrupting influence that devalued the local in favor of the (American centered) global. There was great awareness among musicians and fans about the unequal power relationships between
At the same time many musicians and fans welcomed the interchange of music and the ability to share what they felt was “authentic culture” with international consumers. Herbert Lucena, a forró producer and musician from Caruaru in his 30’s told me that he was excited about the new possibilities for exchange, but that it necessitated a vigilance to keep the integrity of the work intact; that the music can and will be altered, but that it should retain an essence of “truth.” When I asked him what “truth” in forró consisted of he told me that it was present in the instrumentation, sounds, and rhythms, as well as with a strong tie with the Northeast ways of speech, foods, geography, and attitudes toward life. He, along with other artists also expressed the feeling that there needs to be a middle ground (meio-termo) in which “tradition” can and should evolve to meet new needs and exigencies. Herbert told me that, “Tradition is important, it’s our anchor. But it’s not right to super-valorize the folkloric and tradition, saying that only that is the truth, nor devalue the tradition and the folklore for what’s the new, quick thing that will bring… [media success].”
This quest for authenticity was framed by many of my contacts as something that they felt passionately about, perceiving the media and the elite as appropriating music from the lower classes at the same time de-valorizing “authentic representations” and providing pop substitutes that contain and promote negative cultural values. Repeatedly stressed in conversations and interviews were the terms “authentic” (autêntico) and “values” (valor). Informants viewed these as inherent in forró pé de serra and other “traditional” music invented by lower socio-economic classes and that appropriations by the media and elite often served to replace these qualities with inferior or watered-down versions. When questioned on what constituted authenticity a typical answer was that it could be found in forró’s connection to the world and worldviews of the sertão and its people as well as the Northeast. Haidée Carmelo, a singer of forró and other Northeastern genres and professor at a local university replied to this question of authenticity by asserting that forró has maintained a strong link to the folkloric and to the “blood” of the nordestino by telling stories of a particular locale through its performance and dance. Beyond this she felt that it has maintained its resonance with Northeasterners and Brazilians in general because it has not remained static, but is a “tradition” that is flexible and adaptive.
This very quality of being somewhat flexible was also challenged when it was perceived as straying too far from its “roots.” Often the “modern” or “stylized” forró was considered a commercial appropriation that was seen as corrupting any authenticity in the music and turning it into a solely profit based enterprise. Besides the differences in sound and style, “modern” forró is often more of a spectacle or show that is watched than participated in actively through dancing. This was mentioned as another reason why informants considered it “entertainment” and not “culture.” The active participation of the audience in performance was counted as essential.
Many decried that fact that they felt the “true” artists were not receiving the financial rewards due to them. Anchieta Dali commented that the “true culture” (“a cultura verdadeira”), represented by pé de serra forró, was not receiving its rightful share of the market after its significant contributions to the local music scene. He told me that, “The receipts for a good pé de serra show get at the maximum 5 thousand reais (1 Euro was about 2.8 reais) and the “stylized” shows at 20, 30 to 50 thousand reais or more. With that you have to pay the all of the crew, the equipment, everything. But there are people that do shows for three hundred reais; the street sweeper makes more than they make. The majority make very little.” Several informants agreed that forró had been appropriated for commercial gain without any credit (or remuneration) going to those who were and are of the lower classes who produced the base or “source” of the music.
There was a common feeling that forró, through being taken far from its social setting had created something of a “lie” (mentira) in which groups of middle class Paulistas (people from São Paulo) and Cariocas ( people from Rio) took over representations and commercial success from authentic forró, playing their own version of “pé de serra” forró that many informants felt was trying to cash in on an authenticity that was not deserved because the musicians had no connection to the Northeast (i.e. considered upper middle class Paulistas). Others such as Dominginhos, perhaps the most respected living forró accordionist, told me when I met briefly him at Arlindo’s forró that he didn’t feel as if the “university” groups from the South were at fault and that they had helped bring some needed visibility to forró pé de serra in the Northeast.
Although many of my contacts were bothered by the fact that by playing “traditional” or “authentic” forró they would be much less likely to achieve the financial rewards of “modern” forró bands, and resented perceived appropriations, many felt that for them the most essential aspect of their work was attached to deep feelings of satisfaction in producing “culture” and something that was “real.” Their music is a profound expression of not just musicality, but of their identity. When questioned on what constitutes it as “real culture,” Silvério Pessoa told me, “Forró is not just a music; it identifies a people; it’s a philosophy of a people, a poetry, a way of dressing, a way of being.” Another informant framed this authenticity she felt was inherent in pé de serra forró as her means of being, “…loyal to my roots. Stylized [or ‘modernized’] forró is not culture, it’s not from Pernambuco, but it did help the real forró and … [those playing it].” Jerimum, the percussionist who plays with many local “roots” music bands felt that even though pé de serra forró might not achieve quick commercial success that it had the strength of staying power because it was something authentic: “Pé de serra forró won’t die like [these popular musics] that are like clothes that go out of style and people throw them away. But pé de serra won’t ever end because it’s a root thing.”
These perspectives highlight some of the discourses at work in regards to what is held as authentic and is mentioned by ethnomusicologist Martin Stokes as significant in great part due to its effects on forming certain boundaries: “…we should see ‘authenticity’ is a discursive trope of great persuasive power. It focuses a way of talking about music, a way of saying to outsiders and insiders alike ‘this is what is really significant about this music’, ‘this is the music that makes us different from other people’” (Stokes 1994: 7). It is pertinent here to bring back the earlier mentioned point that the Northeast in general is considered the “traditional” region of Brazil: Like Crook mentions: “It is this ‘other Brazil’ the Brazil of the Northeast […] that today’s Brazilians perceive as the wellspring of their country’s ‘authentic’ national character and the home of its ‘purest’ traditional culture and music” (Crook 2005: 9).
Ruben Oliven has examined the rise of a traditionalist movement in another part of
He acknowledged, along with many of my contacts, that the mangue movement had awakened a dormant desire to learn about and value local music and musicians and succeeded in changing ideas especially in the middle and upper classes in Pernambuco. He told me that: “Through the mangue movement there was a re-discovery of another
My attention was brought back to boundaries, and to ideas of “traditional and “backward” by a comment at a forró event made by a young fan from
Northeastern music, especially forró, has been instrumental in constructing a sense of geographical, emotional, and cultural place and doing so in a way that creates a mixture between ideas and desires for both “traditional” and “modern” aspects of identity. The perception of the Northeast as a representation of “traditional” elements of
As mentioned above, some of these contested areas are often found in interpretations of what exactly is “true” or “authentic” and what is an appropriation. There was a certain ambivalence to “outsiders,” exampled here by informants feeling that (upper) middle class musicians from the Southeast had taken “their forró” and used it for solely profit.[36] Others argued that the success of these musicians only brought attention to “real forró,” although still often they framed the music from these groups as less than authentic. Much of the same lines were drawn around “modern” or “stylized” forró, which was also often derided as appropriating “true culture” for commercial gain. Here though the criteria was not necessarily related to class or geography, as many of the artists are Northeastern and from the middle or lower classes, but as being purely entertainment that espoused a certain commercialism viewed as corruptive. Again, other informants were somewhat less negative towards “forró moderno” noting how it had helped focus more attention on the pé de serra movement. The “truth” of pé de serra was to be found in the blood my informants argued; lived and experienced. Seen in its portrayal of values like stubbornness, fierce love of place amid great hardships, the use of Northeastern speech, accent, and particular words for places and things, respecting family, and the saudades or longing to return to a place that is far away physically and spiritually.
X. Conclusions
Forró has had ebbs and flows in its popularity since introduced to
I have argued that the re-emergence of forró can also be seen as a striving for security by elaborating an identity that has one foot firmly rooted in past cultural practices and production of a music that gives a sense of “home” and pride amid a complicated and confusing (post) modernity. There is not one single factor, but rather a set of reasons accounting for the importance of tradition. This sense of security that can be provided by maintaining tradition has been mentioned in other studies related to cultural production and consumption: “Clearly, a link with the past can be an important psychological palliative in times of rapid social change. The existence of traditions gives people a benchmark against which to measure change and, perhaps more important, it provides a sense of security and connection with an earlier time that is perceived as being simpler, happier, or creatively richer. Acting out traditions or constructing a history creates powerful moods of attachment in participants” (Cameron 1987: 166). “Traditional” music like forró also provides in its strong links to identity an alternative to the violence all too common in and near
As many of my informants have noted that the concepts of “tradition” and “modernity” and their embodiments in forró should not be considered a passive acceptance of an either-or position of these concepts, but rather an active area where new meanings are articulated and contested. Innovative meanings and stances were articulated in the past by the afore mentioned constructions and attitudes of such figures as Luiz Gonzaga and Jackson do Pandeiro, and are still held to strongly. The story surrounding Luiz Gonzaga has become a myth that has significance in that it is held as an epic of transformation from the “backwardness” of the rural interior with its numerous and rich, but unrefined traditions, towards the city, which represents the opportunity to have contact with the “modern”. On this his appeal works towards both these spaces imagined spaces: for the city dwellers he represents someone who was afforded the opportunity to display (and refine) his skills because of the very fact that he migrated from the hinterlands to the metropolis. For those in the rural milieu, his story is the personification of the belief that in order to succeed one has to move towards “modernity” that takes form in the cities on the coast, where one can have greater contact with consumer products, communicate with the outside world, and have the chance to escape poverty and the hierarchy of the large farms. Perhaps most importantly, he achieved this not through a denial of his background and “traditions”, but by embracing them and capitalizing on them.
As noted, there is the idea of “…indelible differences between the South (as culturally progressive, industrialized, and modern) and the Northeast (as culturally conservative, rural, and traditional) was an important part of the way in which
These choices being made to secure and form identities are neither irrelevant nor random, but constructed for certain means, goals, and reasons that can and do shift as individuals and groups adapt them to fulfill new perceived needs. Tradition is not static or inert, but rather something that is in a continual process of re-working and re-evaluation. As DaMatta writes: “If the concept of tradition is not seen as dynamic, it merely serves to legitimate domination, freezing differences and screening out an understanding of reality” (DaMatta 1995: 272). Through forró, social actors are creating spaces for the incorporation of “tradition” in dynamic ways in order to construct meanings in contemporary settings.
It is essential to examine the place of tradition and how it has been created in order to understand the experience of late modernity in
Just as music has been a powerful means towards creating a national identity, as in the case of samba, it can also play a vital role in envisioning and forming a vibrant modernity in which all Brazilians can take part. In the words of Patricia Cruz: “All of this popular culture, like forró and [other regional music] have a potential to create possibilities for human liberation. This human exchange is a way of reverting what wrongs exist; of learning, of drinking from the sources [of knowledge]. This is a function of art, it’s not just a question of enjoyment, art liberates.” As
XI. Bibliography
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Stokes, Martin (1994) “Introduction: Ethnicity, Identity, and Music.” In Ethnicity, Identity, and Music: The Musical Construction of Space. Berg Publishers,
Vianna, Hermano (1999) [1995] The Mystery of Samba: Popular Music and National Identity in
| Informant | Age / Gender | Profession / Details |
| Viola | 34 / Male | Musician (percussion) |
| Arlindo dos Oito Baixos | 64 / Male | Musician, music teacher |
| Berto Hortis | 32 / Male | Musician (accordion) |
| Camarão | 60’s / Male | Musician (accordion) |
| Terezinha do Accordion | 56 / Female | Musician, music teacher |
| Lu Sanfoneiro | 18 / Male | Musician, student |
| Carlinhos Monteverde | 30’s / Male | Musician (singer) |
| Anchieta Dali | 30’s / Male | Composer |
| Jerimum de Olinda | 29 / Male | Musician (percussion) |
| Ulisses | 31 / Male | Capoeira teacher, musician |
| Bia Marinho | 50’s / Female | Composer, singer |
| Roberto Lins | 40’s / Male | Buisness executive, singer |
| Juilio Sanfoneiro | 17 / Male | Musician, student |
| Hildebrando Marcos | 60’s / Male | Retired city employee, musician |
| Toinho de Surubim | 60’s / Male | Musician (singer) |
| Andresa | 29 / Female | Nurse, forró fan |
| Patricia Cruz | 30’s / Female | Radio show host, singer |
| Rebecca | 25 / Female | University student, student of accordion |
| Ivan Ferraz | 60’s / Male | Radio show host, composer, singer |
| Samuel Valente | 50’s / Male | Writer, composer |
| Herbert Lucena | 32 / Male | Music producer, musician (percussion) |
| Roberto Andrade | 53 / Male | Producer |
| Haidée Carmelo | 40’s / Female | Professor, singer |
| | | |
Appendix II. – Interview questions
Here are examples of some of the questions that I asked informants during interviews. Not every question here was asked in each interview (or asked in exactly this form), but gives the reader a general idea of the type of queries. Additionally, other questions were often asked as follow-ups or to elucidate specific answers.
- What is your background in music; how did you start?
- Where are you from? (Why did you come to the capital?)
- What were your perceptions of the capital like before you arrived here? After arriving here? Now?
- What about your early experiences drew you to forró?
- Did anyone in your family also play; were you encouraged to do so?
- What is your profession; are you a full time musician, or do you have another job?
- What is the relation of forró and social class; has this changed?
- Why do you think it has changed; what are the reasons behind this?
- What is forró?
- Is forró something Northeastern; Brazilian, or something else?
- Does it have any connection to identity as a Brazilian, Northeasterner?
- Are there different categories of forró?
- Is forró connected with tradition? Is it modern?
- What is “modern” or “stylized” forró?
- Is it different than pé de serra forró? How?
- What about “university forró?
- Is forró decreasing, increasing, or staying the same in its popularity in your opinion?
- Has forró changed in the way that people see it?
- How important is forró to your identity? To identity in general?
- Do you feel that there are any prejudices or preconceptions related to forró? To being Northeastern? (If so) Is this something recent or older?
- What does the word “modern” mean to you? The word “tradition”?
-What do you think about ideas of the Northeast as being “traditional” and the Southeast being “modern”?
- What has been your experience in the forró world?
- What does “authentic” mean to you?
- What does “roots” mean to you?
- Is there really a Northeastern identity separate from a Brazilian identity? Do you consider yourself a Northeasterner? How would this be different or the same as being Brazilian?
- Would you encourage your children to play (forró) music?
- What about your social circle; does your family/friends participate in forró community? How?
-Do you think forró will change in the future? How?
- Forro has been mentioned in the past by many as being connected to the lower class; has this changed? Why? How?
- Has playing (participating in) this music had any effects on your life? If so, how?
- Why did you choose to focus on forró and not another type of music?
- Is forró related to some of these other musics also being called “traditional” or “local”?
- Is there a “forró community”?
- Do you see any problems in the forró community?
- What is the role [papel] of “tradition” in your opinion in forró? To you personally?
- What has been a positive of your involvement in the scene? Any negatives?
- Has the social situation in your view been improving or declining here in Pernambuco in the past years?
- Are there great financial rewards for this type of music?
- Why do you play forró?
Appendix III.
Discography
The following is a (very) short list of some popular forró artists and some of their work. Also included are two albums by Chico Science & Nação Zumbi, who were mentioned in the text as vastly important founders of the mangue movement.
Luiz Gonzaga – “Volta Pra Curtir” BMG – B00005LO04, “Luiz Gonzaga Canta Seus Sucessos com Ze Dantas” BMG – B00004W3U0, “Canãa” BMG – B00004W3T2
Jackson do Pandeiro – “20 Super Sucessos” Sony – B00006LVI8, “Raizes Nordesinas” EMI – B00006LVI7, “ O Forró do Jackson” EMI – B00000G96Z
Silvério Pessoa – “Cabeça Electrica Coração Acústico” Tratore Music Brasil – B000CQO1PW, “Bate o Manca” BMG – B00006LWME
Chico Science & Nação Zumbi – “Afrociberdelia” Sony – B000002EAL, “Da Lama ao Caos” Sony – B00000G9N6
Dominginhos – “Enciclopedia Musical Brasileira” WEA - B00004TWOI
Gilberto Gil - “Eu tu e eles Soundtrack” WEA – B00004TW3X
Film
Viva São João! – A documentary featuring Gilberto Gil’s interviews with several nationally famous forró artists during his tour of the Northeast of the June festivals in the Northeast and Southeast in 2001. It covers the history of the festivals and their importance to the local communities. More information at: www.conspira.com.br/saojoao and www.sonypictures.com.br
[1] This designation of a plural for the country has been applied by both academics and is something that I heard in a number of conversations that I had during my time in
[2] Adriana Fernandes’ doctoral dissertation mentioned above is a notable exception. Crook [2005] and McCann’s [2004] chapters on Northeastern music and forró in their recently published books have been helpful sources.
[3] This is a phrase that I heard in
[4] Jornal do Commecio,
“Forró began to decline the middle of the [50’s], and it left the charts definitively in 1959. When the bossa nova charmed [the people] … the baiões, côcos, and xaxados returned to their origins and were enjoyed in the Northeast, and in the strongholds of where the migrant trucks arrived in … São Paulo and Rio.” (my translation)
5 “Modern forró” is also referred to as “stylized forró” (forró estilizado) and “electronic forró” (forró electronico).
[6] A quote from Gilberto Gil appeared in the popular Brazilian magazine “Epoca” in the 26/06/2000 edition (page 125) entitled, “De Volta ao Aconchego” (“Return to Coziness”) “Forró is the most important genre in Brazil after the samba.” (“O forró é o genero mais importante do Brasil depois do samba”).
[7] Globo News 23:30 edition 26/01/06 –“Our Minister of Culture Gilberto Gil shows that in terms of culture Brazil is among the richest countries in the world.” (“O nosso ministro de cultura Gilberto Gil mostra que em termos de cultura, Brasil está entre os paises mais ricos do mundo”).
[8] From the “Manifesto Mangue – Caranguejos com Cérebro” (“Mangue Manifesto – Crabs with Brains”) written by journalist and musician Fred Zero Quatro and distributed to the press in 1991. The text can be found in the liner notes for the “Da lama ao caos” CD by Chico Science & Nação Zumbi (see discography at end).
9 “They seem to belong to three overlapping types: a) those establishing or symbolizing social cohesion or the membership of groups, real or establishing or legitimizing institutions, status or relations of authority, and c) those whose main purpose was socialization, the inculcation of beliefs, value systems and conventions of behavior” (Hobsbawm and Ranger: 9).
10 “Believing with Max Weber, that man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun, I take cultures to be those webs, and the analysis of it therefore not an experimental science in search of law but an interpretive one in search of meaning” (Geertz 1973: 5).
[11] Caboclo is a general term used in
[12] An example from Fryer: “With its texture of contrasting timbres (basically: accordion, zabumba bass drum played with a mallet and a stick, and triangle) arranged polyrhythmically over a strong, lively beat, and with much use of call-and-response singing, the forró exemplifies the persistence in Brazil of the traditional African approach to music making…” (Fryer 2000: 180).
13 Additionally, the marcha junina is danced as a type of group dance and the xaxado is often danced with only men holding wooden rifle replicas.
[14] This was evidenced in some of the conversations I had with participants and performers as well as in interludes between lyrics in which singers would often say things like “it’s catching fire in here!” (tá pegando fogo aqui!).
[15] The official site of Paraíba state prominently lists the festas juninas as one of the top attractions of the city and lasts for the entire month of June. See: http://www.paraiba.pb.gov.br/turismo/pt/cg.shtml
The city of
[16] Partial lyrics to “Asa branca” by Luiz Gonzaga. Perhaps the most well known example of the genre.
[17]
[18] Meaning literally, “White wing,” the colloquial name for a bird of the sertão that is known to reappear after droughts.
19 Many restaurants and bars are named after Lampião and it is common to see artisan work in Pernambuco featuring him and Maria Bonita. One restaurant near my home in
[20] “...comecei a pensar que tipo eu podia fazer, porque o carioca tinha sua camisa listada, o baiano tinha o chapeu de palha, o sulista era aquele roupa do Pedro. Mas, é o nordestino? Eu tinha a oportunidade de criar sua caracteristica e a unica coisa que me vinha a cabeça era Lampião. [...] telegrafei para minha mãe, pedindo que me enviasse um chapeu de couro bonito, lembrando Lampião” (Dryfus: 1996: 134).
[21] "Clearly their [Gonzaga, and Dorival Caymmi, a successful nordestino artist] representations of the Northeast appealed not just to fellow northeasterners but to all Brazilians struggling to understand the nation's transition from archaic, rural, and enclosed to modern, industrial , and boundless" (McCann 2004: 118).
[22] When I left it was still in production and he has not since mentioned it in our email correspondence since I returned from
[23] Note: see appendix for a list of interviewed informants and further interview information
[24] In Portuguese: “O forró não é uma música negra, é uma música pra’ todo mundo.” For a list of informants and interview questions see appendixes.
[25] Translated in English as The Masters and the Slaves.
[26] For several recent examples of discussion of race questions in
[27] Jornal do Commecio, Recife 19 de Junho 2001, Caderno C (author unlisted.)
“Nos anos 70 e 80, com exeção de fenomenos localizados [...] o forró passou a ser consumido essencialmente pela “cabroeira” . Surpreendemente, no limiar do fim do seculo, a musica inventada por Luiz Gonzaga tomou o lugar do pagode e do axé. Pessoal da mata, baixa nivel social, entre a clase média do Rio e de São Paulo.”
28 Same article: “Passageira ou não, a onda pegou firme tambem no nordeste. Há decadas que não se viam tantos discos de forró nas lojas, e ocupandos a parte nobre, as vitrines.”
[29] An example of this that informants mentioned was the number of foreigners (particularly French) coming to the Recife area in order to learn maracatu (a “traditional” Afro-Brazilian music with ties to candomblé) drumming and participate in Carnaval groups previously composed of all locals.
[30] Brega here is not to be confused with the romantic “dor de cotovelo” (“elbow pain”) music known by the same name especially popular in the 1970’s and 1980’s and exampled in Roberto Carlos’ songs of the period.
[31] “In 1986 Briant Gumble, of NBC’s “Today Show,” after seeing the whole formidable and paradoxical parade of
[32] Crook writes that, “…forró clubs catered primarily to working-class audiences in
[33] “These scholars [Freyre, Mario de Andrade] and others have perceived music, more than any other sort of artistic expression, as having the potential to break down barriers of race and class and serve as a unifying element, a channel of communication, among diverse groups in Brazilian society” (Vianna 1999: 14-15).
34 "Not only geographical but, even more important, social space is clearly demarcated in
[35] Getulio Vargas was one of the leaders of the Revolution of 1930 and later established the Estado Novo (
[36] Another example of this is the local fiddle legend, Mestre Salustiano, whose son informed me when I called for an interview that he would give me “ten or fifteen minutes” but that anything more would be charged at the rate of 250 reais per hour. I later learned from an article in a local newspaper that Mestre Salustiano charged this fee to foreigners and not Brazilian researchers.
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