POLKA NOVA at Ophelia Dalston (28th September)

Hello, you lovely people!
This Sunday 28th September we’ve got another gig! This time, we’ll be playing at a theatre on a proper stage. And if this wasn’t enough, we’ve invited a drummer to join us so he’s bound to give it some swing it!

What can you expect music-wise? A night of lively Brazilian samba, mellow bossa nova and some jazz to top it up! We will have support from Retro Velvet.

The doors open at 8pm and it’s £5 to get in. Can you spare that much to come see us play? I surely hope so.

Venue details: 
Ophelia, 574 Kingsland Rd, Dalston E8 4AP, London, UK
Map: http://buff.ly/1v9vLXo 

Here's the link to the event on facebook if you want to join: https://www.facebook.com/events/1448329425448448/

Image source: http://lounge.obviousmag.org/sala_de_cultura/2014/05/isto-e-bossa-nova-isto-e-muito-natural.html

Heaven and... earth

One of the other good memories from Brazil, and specifically from São Paulo, is a music show my BF took me to in December 2011. I'm not a particularly big fan of instrumental music, but having seen this one, and been exposed to tons of Yamandu Costa and Raphael Rabello (because of my guitarist BF), I might be considered a convert in this respect. 

The star of the night, though quite a modest one, was Swami Junior, a guitarist, bassist, arranger, composer and producer. Apparently, he is now one of the most sought after Brazilian musicians! On December 12, when he performed at SESC Consolação, his band was formed of the following members: Swami Jr. (7-string guitar), Alexandre Ribeiro (clarinet), Douglas Alonso (percussion), with Chico Pinheiro (guitar) and Marco Pereira (guitar) as guest musicians.

When they started playing, I felt like in a dream, being transported somewhere to cloud 9 with the wonderful arrangements. I’ve got this particular, physical reaction when I experience something truly magic that tickles my musical taste; I get goose bumps. So that night, it must have looked as if I was cold, but I was simply wrapped by the veal of exquisitely delicate, yet precisely placed sounds. At times though, I was brutally brought down to earth by a neighbour from hell.

This guy in his late 50s, sat next to me, stretched his legs onto a seat in front of him as if he was about to watch a football match and… would not stop tossing and turning, visibly still uncomfortable. I tried not to pay attention to him so as not to lose touch with the heavenly music. Suddenly, the man got up, walked along the back wall (looking for the exit?), a bunch of keys ringing unmercifully by his side. I winced once or twice, but was determined to enjoy the show. He came back to his seat. And started teeth-kissing. Not in a disapproving way, rather as a means to remove hell knows what from his gurgling throat. At times like these I wish I had a gun. He was obviously enjoying himself though as he would shout an out-of-place “Bravo!” each time a track finished. The last straw was when his mobile phone rang (of course!), luckily for him - in a pause between songs, at which sign he left the hall. Luckily for him.

I was able to enjoy the rest of the concert, undistracted and, frankly, I had never heard a better quality sound at any show in Europe. I must admit, and will probably reiterate in the future, that São Paulo’s music scene is truly impressive. And so are its music venues. 

So here, a fragment of this exact show, in a neighbour-from-hell-free version, especially for you. (filmed by sesctv) Sound by Rafael Valim. 

Stay tuned! 

In the spotlight

Do you want to participate in a TV programme? I was asked one day. As an audience member, of course. Sure, why not, it might be an interesting experience, I thought. When I learned it’s a Jerry-Springer-type show, I winced, but curiosity won. After all, I had never visited a TV station before nor had taken part in any programme. This one was going to be recorded and I silently hoped they would make me sit somewhere where I would be invisible. Not that anyone would recognise me on this hemisphere, but just as a precaution. My boyfriend went with me (it was his idea!), but since the show’s host prefers female audiences, he was sent to the very corner of the bench and told not to stand up. I was granted no such privilege. Just the opposite. I don’t watch TV much and somehow I didn’t realise that the audience in the studio is expected to express loud joy/disapproval at crucial moments. Two production ladies made sure you knew when that was and encouraged you to give  your best. That meant having to clap (ok, I can do that much), wave your arms in the air (erm...),  stand up, sit down, stand up again, cheer when you, or the producers, liked what the guests said and boo when you/they didn’t. Pretty tiring, especially when you have a massive studio light shining right on your head, making you painfully aware of the power of television. Literally. The other females around me (the males were really well hidden) didn’t mind and, judging by the fancy dresses and heavy make-up, most of them seemed to think they were the stars of the night. In my jeans and Garfield top I stood out like a sore thumb.

By now you must be dying to hear what happened in the show. Nothing much. A well-endowed lady in her mid-twenties, and a very short evening dress, was accusing her ex-boyfriend/husband (sorry, I evidently wasn’t paying attention) of having betrayed her with two men at the same time and not paying child support, while he claimed not to be the father of her child. There was some pushing and shoving, with four bodyguards making sure it didn’t get out of hand, as well your regular, I suppose, cursing and blame-shifting. No tears, surprisingly, but instead, wait for it, wait for it! – some singing (the man), booty-shaking  to the rhythms of Brazilian funk (the woman) , shirt-ripping and chest-bearing (the man again)! If it’s your only chance to appear on television, you might as well make the most of it, right?

Spoiler alert. The production had had a DNA test made whose result was revealed towards the end. The man, having fiercely denied betrayal, was proved to be the father, to which the woman reacted: “Now you’re f***.” Steam rose from above the audience. I wanted to hide.

The photo was taken after the show was over.

In case you want to form your own opinion about the show, it's Programa do Ratinho @ SBT. Don't say I didn't warn you.