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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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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.

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When was the last time you did a serious cleaning of your computer? Deleting not just files, but entire folders of information (images, music, documents) that you simply no longer need and that continue to take up space, slowing down your machine? Actually, this was exactly my motivation to start a real cleaning, which started in my work area and grew and spread to the most hidden corners of folders from more than ten, fifteen years ago.

“Oh, but I do not use a computer anymore, I only use my cell phone,” you might be saying. Okay, so when did you clean up your photo and video files? “But I only use messaging apps,” you insist. But did you know about the existence of a somewhat hidden folder in the system called “sent files”? When was the last time you went there?

Getting rid of old things is not easy and the history of all arts is there to prove it. The music field, for instance, is full of memorable representations of the pain involved in letting something or someone go. The feelings in this process may vary a lot, and hold a vast palette of colors, which goes from the not so gentle avarice to the celebratory affective memory, you know, that warm corner of our minds.

But, as I said, I needed to make some free room and there was not much to negotiate anymore: I needed to delete files, including a lot of concert memories, old videos, photos of performances, audio files of early versions of songs and such. Not easy, I tell you, not easy at all.

Each separation process is unique but they all have a breaking point, a certain moment of no return. In my case, after much negotiation with myself, it finally occurred to me that it was not necessary to get rid of the files, but just to get them out of my way, so to speak, which in practice meant transferring them from my notebook to the cloud, a nice back up. By doing, it I would also finally making good on the monthly fee I pay to the provider and which until now had only been used to share some files with musicians or producers.

But the ultimate argument to finally making the decision of cleaning up my computer was remembering why I indeed needed more free space: because I have other songs to record, shows to record, in short, I have more life to live.

Well, maybe you are not the type of person who keeps unnecessary files in your device, but there is for sure some area(s) of ​​your life where you need more free space. It does not matter if it is in your closet, in your basement or your heart.

The good news is that you do not have to give up the feelings these things once gave you. The feelings remain, but not just left somewhere along the way. Instead of risking falling on them, how about taking them to a safe place where you can access them, if necessary or from time to time, just for old time sake. What a relief that would be, don´t you agree?

Be seeing you,

G. F.

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When I was a little girl, my parents took me to see the Christmas decorations on the streets which, in addition to twinkling lights and decorated trees, also included a small crowd of Santa Clauses. Nothing special, a prosaic family activity that my older sister loved, as did most children. Most, but not me.

The memories I have of that first encounter with the street Santas are one of those blurred memories we have of events from our early childhood, but the impact that the experience had on me was so strong that I can still feel it vividly today, and I can only describe it as fear and amazement.

Fear because they were obviously impostors, trying to pass themselves off as the real Santa Claus. and amazement because the adults seemed not to realize that, if there was a Santa Claus on every corner, they could only be copies of the real one, the true Santa, who would never stay on the sidewalk shouting out promotions for a shoe shop.

To make things even worse, they insisted that I should sit on the lap of one of the fakeSantas and have a picture taken! Were adults really that stupid? Apparently, yes.

If the adults who were supposed to protect me seemed not to realize the danger (who were those men in red with fake beards, anyway?), then it was up to me to get out of that situation. I was alone in my mission to unmask the fraudsters and I resisted bravely, fighting with the weapons I had at the time, crying and probably kicking a bit, too. It had some effect, I guess. At least, not a single photo with Santa Claus. And, by the way, I also learned not to trust people who pretend to be what they are not.

You might think that I was a very suspicious little girl and that I did not experience the magic of Christmas, but I prefer to believe that I was, in fact, a very smart little girl, who was not easily fooled and had an admirable sense of survival.

I certainly did not doubt the existence Santa Claus, quite the opposite, but my Santa Claus, the one who inhabited my mind and heart as a child, was a transcendental, powerful being, and he did not even remotely resemble those poorly made copies that were certainly not the responsible ones for the presents I found under the Christmas tree in the living room on the morning of the 25th.

Probably many other kids have cried the first time the met a street Santa or questioned the profusion of Santa Clauses on the streets, I was just more determined than average and did not give in.

This Christmas, I wish you the determination of that little girl and the discernment to distinguish the true magic of Christmas, the one you cannot explain but feel deep in your heart, from the false promises and the meaningless “ho-ho-hos”.

Merry Christmas.

Be seeing you!

G. F.

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I haven’t been here in over four months (wow!), and there were many reasons for this long absence: screen fatigue, overwork, and even a slight feeling that there was not much to tell, no really interesting adventures to share. But today is my birthday and I decided to start the new trip around the Sun with a new post because, well, because they say that the things we do on our birthday have a lot of power, so why not give the universe a little help, right?

Besides, even though the day is barely half over, I have already accumulated so many lessons that, at the rate things are going, I will not be able to absorb them all byalone, so I would like to share the top three with you, my loyal reader. Ready?

Lesson #1: It does not matter how prepared you are: on your birthday, the probability of something not being to your liking is approximately 100% with no margin of error.

Unfortunately, and much to my displeasure, the universe does not stop to celebrate my birthday (or yours), so there must be some room for adaptation. The challenge is to readapt the route without losing the way.

Lessom #2: Who said one day can ruin a year? This one serves more or less as compensation for the first one. Even if your birthday starts off on the wrong foot, who says that this is a sign that things won’t go well in the next 365 days?

This morning, for example, I was interrupted while taking a shower, and then again when I was about to start my breakfast. The reasons for the interruptions were noble, but it is no fun to drink bad coffee with burnt bread on any day of the year. But instead of seeing this as a sign that things will not go well in the next twelve months, I prefer to think that, on the contrary, by exhausting unpleasant situations right at the beginning of the first day, things can only go very well from now on. It is like doing an annual spring cleaning.

Lessom #3: Do not get lost in melancholic daydreams about what happened. Today is the day to congratulate yourself on the path you have traveled so far, and focus on what is to come.The way I see it, each year lived represents an achievement, after all, living is not exactly an easy task and yet here we are, alive. Who knows how, who knows at what price, but alive. And about to begin another cycle. It is no small feat. Cross the threshold and celebrate yourself.

I know that certain days, and not just birthdays (perhaps for you it’s the changing of the seasons, or the end of the year) have the power to cause us very strong and not always pleasant feelings. Days in which emotions are on the surface and every action or thought takes on much greater contours than usual. Do not let yourself get too carried away, these moments will pass.

The beauty and irony of life is that both good days and bad days have the same amount of hours.

And, a last word, a bonus, if you will: if possible, listen to some tango music. No birthday personal drama resists to tango: they all turn, magically, into beuaty and passion. I strongly recomed Piazzolla for better results..

Be seeing you!

G. F.