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

leave. (Talk about traumatic!) The dance ended there, but the following day, Joãozinho insisted on, and received, remuneration for their work.
    Other dances would come and go, including that of New Year’s Eve, 1949, and Joãozinho sang at many of them. His voice was powerful enough to be heard throughout the dance hall, and it didn’t matter if the audience joined in. With a good microphone, his every
tremolo
could be heard—which, together with being perfectly in tune, was one of his specialties. Joãozinho’s voice wouldn’t exactly shatter crystal, but then that of Orlando Silva, the object of his greatest admiration, did not achieve that extreme, either. And Orlando was even sensational in sambas and
marchinhas
, as he would prove at other Carnivals with his recordings of “Jardineira” (The Gardener), “Jurei, mas fracassei” (I Broke My Promise) and “Meu consolo é você” (You Are My Solace). When they called him “the new Orlando Silva,” Joãozinho swelled with pride, because that’s exactly what he wanted to be.
    He was now living for music to the exclusion of all else. His guitar became almost a part of his body, and one of his pastimes was to sit in the window of his home in Praça da Matriz, singing to girls who walked past in their frilly dresses. Some songs had lyrics that bore an impudent message, such as “Um cantinho e você” (In a Corner with You), a current hit of Dick Farney’s. But the messages, if they were even understood, were received infun by the girls because Joãozinho, despite being continually surrounded by female friends, had never had a real girlfriend in Juazeiro. If he had been able to, he would have dated Ieda, the prettiest girl in town—a
gaúcha
whose father, a civil servant, had been transferred there. Ieda had blonde hair and green eyes, and she inflamed the desire of all the boys. She liked Joãozinho to serenade her at her window, but when it came to choosing a boyfriend, she opted for a young man named Charles, over whom the other girls squabbled. The boys of Juazeiro envied Charles and, given that they could not beat him in the game of conquests, spitefully branded him a fool and tried to show him up in the only way they knew how, with their songs and guitar playing.
    The guitar fit Joãozinho’s reserved character like a glove. Not that he was shy; his friends from Juazeiro describe him as anything but. If he had been, he wouldn’t have opened up to the point of sighing and telling the group, “I would like to marry a ballerina …” Nor would he have stood at the microphone of the sound system and dedicated his songs to the girls of the town. On the contrary: he was witty, talkative, and could be delightfully devilish, as when he attributed those dedications to other boys who already had girlfriends, forcing them to explain themselves, and enjoying seeing them get into trouble. However, the arrival of a stranger in the group was enough to make him hide behind his guitar. Without realizing it, he began to turn his instrument into a shield, to prevent the world from getting too close. Luckily, the world rarely went to Juazeiro.
    His father was not at all happy about Joãozinho playing the guitar. His plans for Joãozinho involved him becoming a doctor, engineer, lawyer, or other serious professional. And if he didn’t become any of the latter, then he would inherit the company, together with his brother. Mr. Juveniano had still not realized that Joãozinho was not made for the world of business or academics. And among other idiosyncratic characteristics, Joãozinho was the least religious in a family of pietists and devotees. Not even Dadainha, the eldest sister and the only one with any kind of influence over him, managed to drag him into “The Unfinished Symphony.” (Years later, Joãozinho would embrace his faith to the point of crossing himself before entering an elevator. But in Juazeiro, he seemed very removed from those kind of concerns.)