The Goalie´s Anxiety at the Penalty Kick is a 1972 movie directed by Werner Herzog, adapted from the novel with the same title, by Peter Handke and music was written by Jürgen Knieper. It is also known as The Goalkeeper’s Fear of the Penalty, but I personally don’t like either of the two translations.

The original “Die Angst des Tormanns beim Elfmeter” does not imply that the player is afraid of the kick, but afraid at the moment of the kick, which is completely different (and fits much better to the plot). When it comes to anxiety or fear, the choice is more complicated. “Angst” usually means fear, but “anxiety”, in general, is a term less used in German than in English (or Portuguese)

The genius title came to my mind as I take a look at the calendar, and realize that the date it shows does not correspond to where I was supposed to be in my schedule. As usual, I am a few steps behind my weekly plan. I am starting to think I have to change the way I calculate how long I need to complete my chores. Am I maybe overrating myself? Are my projections realistic or do I just overfill my plate with tasks?

One thing is for sure: if I want to understand the butterflies in my stomach (is it fear or anxiety?), I have to accept that I am doing something wrong in my planning. In fact, admitting this should not be a problem for anyone. After all, when it comes to time management, everyone struggles.

Everyone? Yes, everyone. And do you know why I can say this with such certainty? Because everybody’s life has its ups and downs. Every day, we are all subject to unforeseen events, mishaps and all kinds of unplanned events. Some dramatic, some funny, some just boring. We all have to accept the fact that we do not have everything under control (thankfully!).

Have you ever imagined how petrified life would be and how we would be subject to our old desires and dreams if everything went exactly as planned? If you’ve ever changed your mind about people and places or maybe changed courses, ended or started a relationship, tried a new job, all of this was only possible because you recalculated the path along the way and allowed yourself to change.

And, of course, there are also cases where some plans need to be revised because unforeseen opportunities arise, say, a meeting that can open several doors in your career. Don’t you think this is a good reason to get out of planning? Wish me luck!

Be seeing you!

G.F.

In her new book The Wonder of Jazz author Sammy Stein invites the reader to take a walk on the jazz road, making sure that we will have the opportunity to stop and smell the flowers along the way. Her honest and extremely respectful approach both to readers and to the object of her analysis makes it impossible to resist.

         

“(…) samba sways from side to side

Jazz is different, forward and back

And samba, half dead, got half warped

Influence of Jazz”

– Carlos Lyra, Influência do Jazz, 1962

When Carlos Lyra released Influence of Jazz in 1962, the message was clear, but not new. Similar complaints of an alleged degradation of Brazilian popular music by foreign genres date way back.

1922, Pixinguinha (Alfredo da Rocha Vianna Filho), a musician who is considered the very soul of what would be later called Brazilian popular music returned from a successful season in Paris bringing in his luggage something new: a saxophone. He got in contact with the new instrument through North American big band musicians performing at the French capital.

Immediately incorporated into his own arrangements and compositions, the sax became the trademark of Pixinguinha, until then a flute virtuoso. In the same year, the first radio broadcast took place in Brazil. In other words, when Brazilian popular music starts to be broadcasted and heard by the masses, it already had a jazz component in its DNA. In the words of Brazilian samba diva Alcione: “Samba is a cousin of jazz”.

I had the same cosy feeling of being among friends, in the company of a good cup of coffee (glass of wine, or whatever comforts you) while reading The Wonder of Jazz by author, writer, journalist, and curator Sammy Stein. Make no mistake, though: there is nothing shallow in this book. On the contrary, it is full of documentation, sources, evidences and counter-evidences, as recommended for a good journalistic investigation.

Then again, The Wonder of Jazz is so much more than that! It is also a book that builds its narrative directly from the knowledge of musicians. Interviewed by the author, these voices give a very special color to the work. Another element that makes The Wonder of Jazz a delightfully enjoyable reading is that Stein makes no secret of the fact that she is passionate and intimately connected to her subject.

Her letter of intentions could not be clearer. Stein knows to whom she writes (”I am writing for readers who want to understand more about jazz and be part of the energy . . . curious people with inquiring minds.”); why she is writing (“This book is an immersive exploration of jazz’s history, impact, and future”), and the limitations imposed by the topic (“No matter how many papers, books, reviews, and interviews one reads, unanswered questions remain.”).

This is a book about a passion, written with passion by an insider. Passion and care. In each paragraph of each chapter, a lot of care is taken to provide content that the reader can trust and use. Therefore, an aspect of this work I would like to highlight is its educational character. The Wonder of Jazz already has already a place among the reference books on the genre and it will certainly be cited in future academic and journalistic works.

The “game changers” list in chapter 3 and the “cabaret card” in chapter 5 are examples of the precious information brought by Stein. The informal yet didactic approach to the names that marked the genre in different sectors goes far beyond the simple biographical character and makes this chapter an important reference tool for students, researchers and fans of the genre.

Establishing links between jazz and the arts, Stein manages to compose a rich portrait of aesthetic influences, including boxing. The diverse range of examples makes this work recommended both for the public in general and for the specialist. Her walk in the fields of jazz also include political, cultural and social aspects of the genre. However, there would be room for more information about South-America in general (for instance, information about stablished jazz festivals on the region) and particularly about the impact of Bossa Nova on jazz.

Despite such minor issues, the bouquet offered by Stein presents a vast palette of colors. They come from the stories, outbursts, criticisms and hopes narrated by more than one hundred jazz musicians requested to open their hearts about all sorts of career related issues. Once more, I would like to praise the frank way in which Stein deals with the sensitive question of the livelihood of jazz musicians. While it is clear to many that the glamour of the stage is not reflected in multi-million payouts (at least not for the vast majority of musicians), very few people are actually aware of how fragmented and unstable the income of an average performer can be, especially during the pandemic years.

Finally, I would like to point out that the generous amount of information provided by the author on all aspects of the correspondence between jazz and society proves how the latter benefits from the development of the genre. In order words, in response to one of the many questions raised by the author (“Is jazz still relevant?”), one can only say: more than ever.

***

Be seeing you!

G.F.       

I love Tina Turner and I remember singing Private Dancer (1984) before I was old enough to fully understanding its meaning. Perhaps because of this memory, apparently ingrained in the deepest corner of my mind, I remembered this song while redoing, for the third time this week, the calculations of the texts I need to deliver by the end of the month. An article here, a review there and let’s not even talk about the podcast I need to record. Phew!

If you imagine a day in the life of a jazz musician as a creative adventure plenty of improvisation and magical moments, I must say you are half right. The other half, on the other hand, has absolutely nothing to do with it. Well, ok, the improvisation part is true. Actually, each musician has a personal list of things not related to being on stage, nor to rehearsing to deal with daily and a lot of improvising is required in order to get it done.

Now don´t you get wrong here: I love all those activities: writing, reviewing, researching, recording, promoting my music… Ok, the marketing part is not so exciting. I am not an enthusiast of social networks, and probably would delete my accounts in half of them, if it was not for the music promotion sake.

Technical chores (audio and video recording and editing) can also be very challenging for me. No wonder it is where I am usually way behind schedule, but all in all, I like to know how things related to my career are done and, as we know, learning new things is good exercising for the brain. But, come on! It is really a lot of stuff and I am not an enthusiast of multitasking either.

So, at least up to the end of the month (and, according to my last calculation, most probably for the first half of the next month, as well), I am more a writer than a singer, whether I like it or not.

In such moments, when it is easy to lose motivation, my trick is to remind myself that: 1. if I get tasks it’s because my opinion matters to someone and I should be proud of my professional reputation, and 2. I may not see the whole point now, but at some moment all the pieces will come together and voilà! That seemingly less interesting task can be the connecting point to other (more interesting) projects.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

Victime de la mode is one of the most famous songs from the album Qui sème le vent récolte le tempo, by the French rapper of Senegalese and Chadian origin MC Solaar, but surely the title also fits someone you know.

I never had neither the money, nor the inclination to be a fashion victim. My motto has always been: “do the most with the least”, meaning: handling well a limited wardrobe, and this applies to what I wear on stage, as well. Since the pandemic made us un-learn how to dress (don´t know what I am talking about? Lucky you!), I had to to exercise my special skills as never before.

In fact, I owe my little super power to my dear late aunt, who was a seamstress. She taught us from an early age to pay attention to the fit of the fabrics, the cut of the clothes and the details of making, even when buying fast fashion pieces. And once you´ve learned how to buy well, it is much easier to create several looks wearing the same dress.

It is amazing what you can do with the help of a few accessories! The choice of colors is also very important and it can make a lot of difference in the final result. I talked about my many reasons for wearing only black on stage in this podcast episode, but among the most important ones is the fact that this color allows you to recycle dresses better than any other.

As I get things done for my Jazzday 2022 event, I think that every return is like a premiere. You know what you´ve got do, but the butterflies in the stomach seem more intense than ever, the production details to handle seem more numerous than usual, and even the choice of a combination of accessories for my little black dress seems particularly difficult. Despite all that, it feels great to be back!

Talking about elegant women, Sammy Stein is an awesome writer and jazz lover and I´m sure you are going to love her website and her blog: The Jazz Report. I had the pleasure of collaborating with an article on the birth places of Bossa Nova. Enjoy your reading.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

My friend J.P. likes to know what I think about things. From a slap on the Oscars Award to international politics, he cares to hear my point of view and I certainly appreciate it. For this reason, even perfectly aware of the risks implied, I allow myself to be very sincere with him.

When he asked me about elements to consider when choosing a career, the first thing I mentioned to him was the importance of passion. People usually say that you have to like what you do, in order to become good on it, but I would go even further and say that “liking” it, is just the beginning.

If you plan on doing something for the long term, you need to be passionate about what you do. How passionate? To the point of dedicating an incredible amount of hours of your day, of your life, to it and still have a twinkle in your eye when you talk about it with someone else.

Don’t be a fool: there will always be disappointment, disillusionment and a lot of tears along the way. Will that stop you? No, because you will still know it is part of a game worth playing. How will you know that? You will simply know, trust me, or better, don´t trust me, trust yourself.

Be passionate about what you do, but don´t forget that the word passion carries both sides: the drama and the thrill, high and low, yin and yang. Be passionate about what you do and you will be in tune with the continuous flow of life.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

Que será, Será is a 1956 song by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans. It was part of the movie The Man Who Knew Too Much[, and a immediate success. Among its many versions, the one, by singer and actress Doris Day is considered a classic.

The song talks about fate and uncertainties of life and the answer to the question “how it will be”, repeated all through the song is only one:

Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be

As I opened my fortune cookie, these verses popped up on my mind. It said: “It is never too late to start it all over again”. Fortune cookie hits the bull’s-eye again! It is amazing how they never fail! This is exactly how I feel now: starting it all over again.

Remember the set list odyssey? Well, my friend, it was only the beginning. Ready for the new challenge? Looking for the right musicians. And how many failed along the way… And before you think I am being picky, let me remind you that I am not even talking about musical skills, oh no! I am actually talking about a behavior that you be in compliance with what is expected in the twenty-first century. Sounds too vague?

In one example: I have already cancelled (yes, that´s right c-a-n-c-e-l-l-e-d) a gig because during rehearsals it became clear that the musician I was working with was tremendously patronizing, which is always something unpleasant to handle and far worse if you are the boss. Got the picture? Anyway, let us drop this part and jump straight to strictly music related matters.

The right musicians to work with are the ones, who are not only interested in the gig (and we all are, nothing wrong about that), but also in taking part of the project in a deeper way, buying the idea and improving it. Musicians that are able to respect my vision, and yet leave their own signature” are the right ones for me.

And talking about talented musicians who have a signature, I would like to end with a special note to my dear friend V. and say that the sensitive souls are the ones who suffer most, but they also bear the power of turning pain into beauty. I am sure you are going to find a way to turn those rainy days into bright, starry nights.

Be seeing you!

G. F.

p.s.: more songs about fortune telling?

Superstition, (Stevie Wonder.)

Bijuterias, (Aldir Blanc/João Bosco)

One of the most undervalued untapped markets for advertisin is the condo meeting. A vast, unexplored land teeming with all kinds of people… until the meeting starts. From this moment on, all types melt into just one: the self-centered owner/tenant who tries to pass an improvement that suits him, as if it were for a common cause.

Performances are often grandiose, but over the years I’ve learned not to be affected by anything that happens at a condo meeting, especially after the pandemic turned them into Zoom meetings, which means logging into an account and using a username that will be for all to see during the meeting.

In the early days of virtual meetings, I uploaded a profile picture to my account (can´t remember where or when), but since all the meetings I´ve attended so far required an open camera, I simply forgot abot the profile pic… until my last condo meeting started.

After a short while being able to see everybody´s face (“new normal” equivalent to meet and greet), participants were asked to turn off their cameras, in order to avoid further connection failures. And there it was: my profile picture. The only smiling face amidst a sea of cold initials.

The problem was not the picture. As a matter of fact, it is a very good one for a jazz singer: good lighting, in front of a mic and all, but not exactly appropriate for a condo meeting avatar. Besides, I always tried to keep a very low profile. Most of my neighbors don’t even know I sing. Rehearsals at my place, for example, only happen on rare occasions, and I always make sure we’re not too loud or playing too long.

All this care for nothing. Just like that, I was busted at a condo meeting.

Jazz-shamed (and despite the scwitched off camera), I kept my expression as haughty as possible until the end of the meeting. As silly as it may sound, the situation was quite uncomfortable for me. “What would my neighbors say?”, I kept mentally repeating to myself.

Suddenly, I remembered that I used to sign academic essays with my other surname, to separate the researcher from the singer, something that makes no sense at all for me today. So why on Earth should I bother about my neighbors opinions? Why?

The truth is: I shouldn’t. So, I didn’t.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

Summertime, the world-famous song by George Gershwin was originally the opening aria of the opera Porgy and Bess, and is a jazz-inspired lullaby. Summer time is also (and you have to love the irony) the period of the year when I get the less sleep.

Summer in Rio, as far as I can remember, has always been very hot, but global warming and disorderly urban growth (did someone say rampant real estate growth?) are apparently doing their job and every summer temperature records are broken. Forget the expression “Rio 40 degrees” (Celsius), usually used to express the party side of the cool city. What we experience now is “Rio 50 degrees” and there is, literally, nothing cool about it.

I use psychology and the air-conditioning and try to stay positive. It works, sometimes. Not during the night, though. Instead of “the livin´ is easy”, my summer time is an ode to insomnia. And who can be more sensitive and vulnerable than a sleepless human being? Don´t forget to take my sleep deficit into account in the next parapgraph, will you? I wasn’t exactly myself, but my semi-zombie version.

After another night of hellish heat and failed attempts to sleep, early morning found me in a semi-asleep state which, along with a sudden gentle breeze suddenly running through the room, was the best I could hope for at the moment. And that’s where it started. The noise. That tremendous noise of tiles being cut, which had been tormenting me all week at alternate times of the day. That unbearable noise had decided to spoil my morning of almost falling asleep as well.

I got up and went straight to the window overlooking the building next door, where the noise was coming from. Well, straight is a way of saying it, because to reach that window, I have to climb a little bench. From there, I started waving my arms to get the attention of the man who was cutting the tiles with his noisy machine: “Sir! Oh, sir!” It took a while for him to realize where the voice was coming from. “Up here, in the window! “Up here!”

When he finally looked my way, I used my best polite-yet-firm tone and asked him to continue elsewhere, if possible. And to my enormous surprise, he shook his head. I yelled, “Thank you so much” and the deafening noise stopped.

Maybe you’re asking yourself now, “yeah, so what?” Maybe that’s the way you solve all your problems: directly, without further thinking. Maybe my solitary revolt against acoustic abuse seems trivial to you, but to me it was a big deal. I tend to be the type that thinks, reflects (too much), and never goes into, shall we say, extreme actions. Until now, at least.

Maybe it is the insomnia speaking, or maybe it is because I’ve run out of musings, but in this particular situation I’m glad I acted on the spur of the moment, jazz style. I felt really brave and able to take care of myself. No drama, no overthinking.

I doubt this is a concept applicable to all areas of life, and eventually summer time will be gone and I’ll go back to sleep well, but until then it is good to know that I can still surprise myself.

… and the livin´ is easy…

Be seeing you!

G.F.

January 25th marks the birthday of a very special person, a true genius that brought the small neighborhood of Ipanema, in Rio de Janeiro to the world map. Antonio Carlos Brasileiro Jobim is one of those iconic musicians whose reputation needs no introduction.

His work goes far beyond the legacy of Bossa Nova and largely describes the changes that took place in Brazilian music of the 20th century. Originally influenced by samba, Jobim is part of the team that consolidated MPB as a genre (Brazilian Popular Music, the genre is often classified as Brazilian Jazz by international critics). Not by chance Chico Buarque, another brilliant musician refers to Jobim as “his sovereign maestro”.

Jobim would reserve a special place for samba in his latest works in a settling of accounts with his own personal story, especially after years living in New York. A true Brazilian even in his family name, Tom embodies Leonardo da Vinci’s maxim that defines simplicity as the highest degree of sophistication. His songs, whose most distinguishing feature were the highly sophisticated harmonies, are also easy to listen to, with their striking melodies and ingenious lyrics.

He was the first one of the Bossa Nova “Dream Team” to leave the stage of life and, in his honour, January 25th is considered Bossa Nova Day. I thought of a tribute of my own to celebrate Tonzinho (as he was affectionately called by another giant named Vinícius de Moraes), but it was not easy to get out of the classic list-of-favourite-albums-and-songs box, and even that would had been a hard task for me. The reason is simple: his oeuvre is multiple.

Relaxed, as during the early years of Bossa Nova or engaged in the environmental cause, as in the songs on his latest albums, there is a Jobim for every moment. There is a Jobim to sing along (did anyone say Águas de Março?), a Jobim to smile, to dream and even a Jobim for those moments when “it is essential to cry”, as in the verses of the song Caminhos Cruzados (lyrics by life long partner Newton Mendonça, with whom Jobim shares the authorship of many of his greatest hits).

However, there is one aspect of Jobim’s work that perhaps has not yet been given the attention it deserves. In addition to the fantastic content, his albums also used to have very interesting covers. Let´s take Wave as an example. One of Jobim´s best known albums, it was released in the United States in 1967, with graphic design by Sam Antupit and photos by Pete Turner, a renowned photographer in the musical world.

Turner developed a look of his own that would become a real trend. He created abstract compositions instead of the usual posed portraits of the musicians. The result was simple, and yet very appealing (da Vinci strikes again!). The clever and innovative use of colours on the cover of Wave provided a new kind of representation for a new kind of music. By bringing art and music closer to each other, it helped to establish a visual reference for Bossa Nova, as it went through the process of leaving Ipanema and Copacabana to become a genre appreciated worldwide.

See? Even when you think you’ve heard everything about it, there’s still a lot to contemplate in the work of Antonio Carlos Brasileiro Jobim.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

Do you have many shoes? I don´t. In fact, shoes are a top item on my gotta-buy-sometime-very-soon list. I recently got two pairs back from repair, and it was such a relief! I say it a very practical, non-shoe fetishist way. I just happen to have a very limited number of choices and any item matters.

Maybe you are one of those “sneakers will do everywhere” kind of person. There are so many of you out there! I admit it: maybe a tiny part of me envies you, but I could never be part of the gang (same applies for the “jeans will do in any occasion” fandom). And then there’s also this particular group, whose skills I truly admire: people that actually feel comfortable in high heels.

You may not believe they exist, and I do not blame you for that. I also used to be skeptical about their existence, until I was warmly welcomed into the house of one of them. Long story short: I had a few stop-over days in Paris on my way to India, and this very nice couple of friends of my good friend M. welcomed me into their lovely place, and by welcome I mean a great dinner and subway tickets. Best hosts ever!

One night we went out and then I had my vision. Walking around Paris cobblestone streets, I realized my hostess was one of those heavenly creatures that rather seem to float, so graceful are their steps. Effortless Parisian elegance, materialized right in front of me.

Anyway, I know my limits and I do not plan to achieve this level of expertise, but after such a long time (ages, it seems) out of stage, and maybe slightly influenced by this series I am streaming, I thought it was the perfect time to practice walking in heels again. Just a little bit. For fun.

My first enthusiasm faded a bit when confronted to the bitter reality of a low-budget season, apparent temperatures of 50º C (!) in Rio, and the Omicron variant, all very good reasons to stay home. Nevertheless, my determination to go back into heels (go figure) was stronger. After cleaning them carefully, I put on my favourite pair and used my apartment as a catwalk, so to speak.

The first steps were not easy, but after a while I was doing the laundry on heels with no problem. A great song started on the playlist, and voilà! I was dancing on my living room and really enjoying it. In heels!

My tiny condo may not have the same magic appeal of the streets in Paris, but I guess as long as I keep moving, it´s all right.

Be seeing you!

G. F.