THE RED FLOWER PRESS: POSTS

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A few weeks ago I saw a call for applications for the use of a recording studio. The application form was not very complicated, but I had to write a description of the project. Since I had not come up with a name yet, I started thinking about a good one that would convey what I wanted to express.

When I finally managed to think of a title that I liked, something that truly resonated with the theme I was aiming for, I opened the application page with a sense of anticipation, only to discover that all the positions had already been filled.

A wave of disappointment washed over me and left me with a harsh (and not exactly new), but valuable lesson that I should never forget (again): if you wait too long to seize an opportunity, you may miss it. And how much time I wasted looking for the perfect title, which will now be shelved until a new opportunity arises! It wold for sure have been better to send a less perfect title that could had been modified later, but now it was just too late.

Time, relentless, marches on, urging us to act decisively. We know what happens when we refuse this call: the more we hesitate, the more we allow our ambitions and passions to fade into the background, leaving us with a sense of regret and what could have been. Every moment we hesitate not only allows our ambitions to fade but also creates a chasm between us and our goals, ultimately limiting our control over life.

The fear of making the wrong choice can paralyze you and it is not hard to find why. After all, making decisions, either big or small, can be very hard for numerous reasons, such as the potential for failure, the expectation of others, or the innate desire for perfection.

However, it is important to recognize that each choice we make, regardless of its outcome, contributes to our personal growth. Our control over our lives is subject to the control of time over all things, including ourselves. Every moment wasted in indecision can lead to lost opportunities, and many lost opportunities are the stuff of which lost dreams are made.

The ability to weigh options and consider consequences is a crucial skill that builds confidence over time, ultimately making the next decision a bit lighter than the previous one, since we begin to understand ourselves, our choices and their potential impacts better.

In the situations that life presents, it is not always up to us to make the decision, but when there is this gap, we must use our capacity for agency to the maximum. As hard as decisions may be, they are our opportunity to assert ourselves; otherwise, it is life that will invariably decide for us, and we may find ourselves being swept along by circumstances rather than steering our own course.

Each choice has the potential to guide us toward opportunities we never imagined possible or to steer us away from our goals. Embracing the potential of our agency allows us to shape our destinies, ensuring that we do not merely react to the tides of life but actively sail towards our desired shores.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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Last October, while getting ready eparing for a performance in a park, I surprised the makeup lady who had asked me if I was nervous. I replied that I was not nervous, because I got used to accepting unexpected events. She kindly said: “Oh, but I am sure there will be no unexpected events.” “Of course there will”, I thought, but since I had to be quiet so she could apply the lipstick, I kept my mouth wide shut.

I did not want to sound pessimistic, blasé or anything like that. I just knew that something would go wrong, simply because it was a live performance, in a public place. For starters, you cannot control the weather (although humanity has systematically proven that it is possible to make it considerably worse).

What experience has taught me is that live performances are subject to unforeseen events (of course, studio recordings are too, but in these cases, repetitions and corrections are made until the desired state is reached, and if you are interested in recordings, you will probably like to read about my most recent recording experience, reported here), they are is a kind of playground for the unexpected. The stage is a place where every corner invites spontaneity and surprise. Good and bad ones, of course.

In my first live performances I was nervous precisely because I wanted to control everything that happened, from the technical part, through the musicians, to the interaction with the audience; I wanted everything to be rehearsed to the millimeter. This desire for meticulous control stemmed from my deep passion for music and an unwavering commitment to providing an unforgettable experience, but despite its noble origins, this type of behavior can be quite harmful in the end.

The very thought of an unforeseen was responsible for a good amount of totally unnecessary anxiety, until I understood that live performances are unpredictable, it does not matter who is on stage. It is not a question of being a professional or not. Even the performer with the largest team and infinite financial resources will still be acting under the influence of several factors that he simply cannot control. And if we are talking about a festival, with several acts, the unpredictability factor increases exponentially.

I realized that this exaggerated fear of the unexpected was limiting and, above all, very frustrating. It held me back from experiencing the richness of the stage experience. Worst of all, it kept me from having fun while performing, and darling, if you are not having fun on stage, neither is the audience.

Learning to appreciate the beauty of uncertainty can be a difficult exercise, but the more you practice, the easier it becomes, and once you learned the ropes, nothing can make you nervous anymore. In fact, I believe it is a dynamic process that extends not only throughout a career, but also into our daily lives. By accepting and embracing the unexpected, I have become not only a more confident performer, but also a less fearful human being.

Let us not forget that the great Nina Simone once stated that freedom is to live without fear. And this is the kind of lesson that you take from the stage to life.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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At the end of last month I went into the studio twice to record. I have already talked about the experience of the first day here, and at the end of this text you will find the video of the second day of recording. The track is a samba and is called “Todo Domingo É Assim” (Every Sunday It Is The Same). The next step is to mix and master the material while planning the release strategy.

Recording work, like rehearsals, involves a lot of repetition and preparation, and the final product is a future prospect. The way I see it, the opposite of this situation, the moment in which you deliver the product is the moment of the live performance. And talking abou live performances, last week I had a delightful experience at a concert by the great master of the harmonica Mauricio Einhorn.

In a very inspired evening, four musicians had great fun on a small stage and entertained us even more with impeccable performances and fantastic improvisations. The fact that the band leader was about to turn 93, in top form, made the night even more memorable.

And how beautiful it is to see the affection of the audience for the musicians! But of all these exciting aspects, nothing compares to watching the musicians perform on stage. If there is a face for a blessing, for a state of ecstasy and transcendence, it is the ones of performing artists doing their thing: dancers dancing, painters during the act of painting, writers during the act of writing and so on.

When it comes to musicians performing, each performer will have their own way of experiencing the bliss: some will close their eyes, immersing themselves completely in the music, allowing the melodies to wash over them like a warm wave, while others will contort their faces in a vivid reflection of the emotions stirred within.

There are also those who seem so intensely focused, as if the only thing present at that moment were the instrument itself, and in this trance-like state, they create a connection that transcends the physical realm. Others may even mark the time with subtle movements, tapping their feet or nodding their heads, creating a rhythmic pulse that echoes through the space, and for me, it is a spectacle in itself to watch them, as each performance tells its own story, enveloping the audience in a shared dreamlike aura, which not even the forty-degree Celsius heat outside and the wobbly air conditioning can disturb.

Perhaps this is (another) good definition for art: it is what makes you greater than the adversities of life, a powerful force that transforms our struggles into something beautiful and meaningful.

When facing challenges, art acts as a refuge, allowing us to express our emotions and thoughts, fostering resilience. It is a powerful tool to turn pain into creativity and sorrow into hope, ultimately making it possible to rise above circumstances and connect with something bigger than us.

It is a beacon of light, illuminating our potential for growth and renewal.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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This week I am going to record some new songs. The recording studio environment is not unanimous among musicians. Some say that the recording atmosphere never matches the energy on stage and therefore would be a lesser representation of the real potential of the artist, and I understand their point. In my case, however, I love both situations.

Sure there are some shortcomings in capturing sounds. I once heard a guitarist say something very clever about using microphones that also applies to recording sessions: “It’s a losing battle.” Indeed.

There is no denying that no device will be able to reproduce the natural voice, with all its imperfections and unique sonic details, during a live, unamplified performance. There is something magical about this unmediated contact between the voice of the singer and the ears of the audience, no arguing with that.

Another interesting aspect that greatly differentiates these two types of performance is the ability to correct your voice. If you, like me, perform live without using any technology to correct your voice (Pro Tools, etc.), then you will understand what I mean. When you go up on stage, everything is for real and it only happens once: Did you get the lyrics wrong? Keep going! Did your voice fail? Keep going! The stage is perhaps one of the places that best illustrates the maxim “The show must go on”. Recording, however, is a completely different story.

You will always want to record one more line, re-record a verse, try out some idea for the chorus. And even when everything goes well, you will inevitably hear from your producer (in my case, from myself): ‘I want to do another take, just in case.’ In a live performance, the song is finished when it is finished, but in a studio session, well, the work is never really finished, or you will never really consider it finished.

I think that was the great moral I took from the video in which I recorded the entire recording session of a song (yes, just one). There are moments of great discovery, about how an ultra-powerful microphone was not the best suited for my voice or the difficulties of recording a guide vocal.

It is not an edited video. It is raw material, just like that which we have when we leave a studio, before the mixing process. It is a raw record of one of the aspects of the job of a singer job, but perhaps it would be interesting to you because it is also an example of how to deal with a team and, above all, of accepting that, many times, it is the clock that will dictate the pace of your creativity.

The song is called “Cadê Você?” (Where Are You?), and I guess I can call it a waltz. The recording took place in the studio of the State Library Park in Rio de Janeiro. The musician who accompanies me is Guido Tornaghi, and the technicians are Leo Nzazi and Davi Amorim.

Enjoy!

Recording session: Cadê Você? (Geisa Fernandes)

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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What is a blog for? Today marks four years since I started this one and, honestly, I still do not know the answer. Well, to be honest, there was a break of a little over four months, but even so… It is enough time to write short weekly articles about experiences that, in some way, are connected to music or at least to my music. Sharing insights, stories, and experiences with readers.

I know that on dates like these, readers always expect some uplifting story, about how an experiment without great pretensions became a true community that reaches a huge number of readers, impacting their lives, etc. But that ís not my case at all. For the good or for the bad, I do not have a story like that to tell.

Over the years, I have explored a diverse range of topics that interest me and yes, some kind readers were kind enough to not only read the text, but also to make some comments, but from there to impacting lives? I honestly do not think that is the case here at all. As a matter of fact, I am quite critical of this maxim of “impacting the lives of other human beings” having become the perfect excuse for anyone to sell anything, preserving the image of moral purity, which rarely finds support in reality.

But what about me? Am I not also selling something here? Of course, in a philosophical sense we could say that we are all always selling something, in my case, my image, my persona, if you will.

It is true that I hope to attract your attention to my songs or at least to social networks, with the aim of you becoming a follower (a sign of the times). Yes, all of this is true, but that is not why I want to continue with a blog, even though I know that the format no longer attracts crowds. In fact, this slight shift in relation to the group generated the simple family nickname of “Weirdo” and that, because it is so true in the end, I had no choice but to embrace it.

In fact, I am always a little out of step with the latest hit, whether it’s the format of releasing an album or the repertoire. Maybe because, just like the time of the samba-enredo of the samba schools of Rio de Janeiro (honey, do your own research, okay?) the time of the internet has become too fast for me. Or rather, I prefer to keep up with my own pace, the one that makes sense to me.

But then why continue writing, even after four years if, besides not believing that I have impacted my audience, I am not even sure that I have built a captive audience over these four years? I have thought a lot about this during the four months of hiatus and the only conclusion I have come to is that, if I do not do it, I really feel that something is missing.


I really missed these weekly meetings. They are for me a moment to organize my thoughts, to digest some fact that occurred throughout the day, to express an opinion, an impression, a feeling, to share an experience, because at the end of the day that is what it is all about.

I do appreciate you following them, or any of them.

Hapoy birthday, Red Flower!

Be seeing you!

G.F.