Bossa Nova: The Story of the Brazilian Music That Seduced the World Read Online Free Page A

became the bossa nova composer and vocalist Walter Santos, who wrote “Amanhã” [Tomorrow].) Joãozinho was the leader and arranger of the group.
    Underneath the tamarind tree, they rehearsed an entire repertoire in preparation for the day on which they might sing into the microphone of Mr. Emicles’ sound system. Their hits were “Marina,” which Dorival Caymmi had just released, and the Spanish “Malagueña Salerosa” (Sexy Woman from Malaga). But in fact, they sang everything they heard played through the speakers. If it had been left up to the four, all of whom were very shy, they never would have approached Mr. Emicles and the world would have been none the wiser for what it had missed. But a cousin of Joãozinho’s, Dewilson, convinced the owner of the sound system to allow them to perform now and again. They sang, pleased thousands, and became mini-celebrities in the region. They weren’t exactly the Mills Brothers, but in 1947 the nightlife in Juazeiro hadn’t quite made the Top Ten Most Exciting list, so even a small live performance by young local musicians was always a big deal.
    The town had one movie theater, the Apollo, whose films had already been gathering dust for at least ten years by the time they made it there—and it was because of this that Joãozinho was able to see all the old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers musicals released by RKO, which had long since left the larger cities. (He was so taken with Fred Astaire that he even talked about learning how to tap dance.) After the movie, there was the mandatory stroll down Rua do Apolo, with the speaker presiding over all, and at eleven, the plant gave the signal to turn in for the night. For the boys, an alternative to serenading was the red light area in Rua da Boa Esperança. (During Carnival, the prostitutes would form a group and parade through the town, wearing Technicolor costumes and painted lips. Theirs was considered the prettiest group.) But there is no evidence that, even at eighteen, Joãozinho ever frequented Rua da Boa Esperança.
    Life finally acquired a little more meaning on the weekends, with the club dances. The 28 de Setembro featured an orchestra conducted by the saxophonist Babauzinho, whom Joãozinho much admired. During Carnival, Babauzinho would host two dances daily: one at night for the adults, and one in the afternoon for the kids, which Joãozinho always attended. He didn’t gofor fun—to be honest, he didn’t care much for Carnival—but to accompany his girlfriends Merita, Belinha, and Ieda, and occasionally, to squirt ether in their armpits. But what he really liked to do was to listen to Babauzinho.
    After months of straining their vocal chords over Mr. Emicles’s sound system, Joãozinho and his friends were given the chance to perform at a dance at the 28 de Setembro—fortunately, not during Carnival. Just as happens in the movies, Babauzinho’s orchestra could not play for some reason, and Joãozinho, Waltinho, Pedrito, and Alberto were invited to take their place. It would be their first paid performance, and they had given the arrangement of “Malagueña,” with which they would open the show, special treatment. It promised to be a big night for them and—they hoped—for the audience.
    And it was, but not quite as they had expected. As soon as they played the first chords of “Malagueña,” a fight broke out in the dance hall between a well-known doctor in the town, Dr. Lauro, and the husband of one of the society ladies. Other revelers joined the brawl, and bottles and chairs flew through the air. Joãozinho, Waltinho, Pedrito, and Alberto continued to sing at the top of their lungs in the middle of the chaos, in an attempt to convey the lyricism of “Malagueña.” Joãozinho’s friend Merita still remembers today how he insisted on fulfilling his obligations, singing in the middle of the tumult. But when a bottle narrowly missed hitting them, he and his friends decided it would be wise to