This year didn't go well for me; I wasn't able to rent out my house for the carnival period. Here in Olinda, Brazil, you can earn well during these four days when the city is invaded by this crazy carnival that even surpasses my party limits. Oh well, since I'm here instead of relaxing on some beach, I'll try to enjoy it. So I decided to attend the carnival opening in Recife, the capital of the state of Pernambuco, for the first time. I took the bus, holding my wife's hand and with my daughter in my arms, and set off early to beat the crowds and secure a good spot. I've been eager to see this spectacle for a few years now, both because I'm an admirer of Naná Vasconcelos and because I was curious to hear the power of six hundred "alfaia."
The idea, in fact, is born from the desire to unite, for one night, the "naçõe" of maracatu of the state, fourteen in this case, present yesterday for a total of six hundred drummers arranged under a large stage set up in "Marco Zero" square. Naturally, Naná leads and conducts them from the top of the stage with his voice and his beautiful timpani. I had a different idea of how things would play out, thinking that Naná would explore other rhythms or different situations with the maracatu. Instead, he merely directed them in the basic rhythm, so I deduce that the meeting itself holds more political-cultural value than strictly musical. However, this matter comes to light when Naná and the maracatu have to interact with the other musicians present on stage; a brass band (Orquestra Popular da Bomba do Hemeterio) conducted by an unconventional maestro (at one point, he stood upside down to conduct with his feet!), which, logically in maracatu rhythm, performs repertoires from the most varied backgrounds, from frevo to Strauss (the piece from "2001: A Space Odyssey"). The "problems" began when Victor Araujo arrived, a young piano talent; in fact, the piano amidst all that sound couldn't be heard, so, perhaps as planned or to save the situation, the instrument was ultimately desecrated, played with the stool and feet, while the wind conductor madly tried to climb it. It is good to break the barriers between classical and popular, but after all, the tropicalistas already did that forty years ago, among them Caetano Veloso, an illustrious guest of the evening.
Invited on stage by Naná, he immediately grabbed the microphone, but there were technical problems, and all we could hear was a whisper. Caetano, being experienced, realized this and wasn't pleased, but what can you do, he kept singing until the voice audio improved, and the entire audience joined in on the little extracts he presented of his classics, needless to say, in maracatu rhythm. His appearance left me somewhat puzzled; it wasn't impactful, almost accessory. Perhaps one can't expect too much from a spectacle of this scope, but the names involved are nothing to scoff at. Surely, Caetano couldn't be desecrated like the piano, although I bet someone might have thought about it, given the cultural rivalry between Bahia and Pernambuco.
In the end, it didn’t go as I had expected, nor in the best way, but who cares, the important thing is that it happened. Here, there are few fans of perfection, and then tomorrow there is the "galo da madrugada," the world's largest carnival parade with more than a million people (98% drunk and high) flooding the capital. I don't have the courage to go; I'm content with what will happen tonight here in Olinda, precisely a hundred meters from my house: the opening of the Olinda carnival, the "homem da meia noite," precisely in four hours, so now I leave you to go grab another beer, just to get in the mood.
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