Winter, 2015
On a Saturday morning I arrive at my Portuguese class to find a new teacher there. Gabriel, dressed in suit and tie and covering for our regular teacher, presents a grammar lesson entirely in Portuguese. I am relieved to find that I can understand much of what he is saying; his accent is similar to that of my Brazilian friend Enéias.
Gabriel tells us he is a writer, poet and composer. In Brazil he was a teacher of Portuguese - the equivalent of a teacher of English here. He is from Pelotas, Rio Grande do Sul, in the south of Brazil, near Uruguay.
On a Saturday morning I arrive at my Portuguese class to find a new teacher there. Gabriel, dressed in suit and tie and covering for our regular teacher, presents a grammar lesson entirely in Portuguese. I am relieved to find that I can understand much of what he is saying; his accent is similar to that of my Brazilian friend Enéias.
Gabriel tells us he is a writer, poet and composer. In Brazil he was a teacher of Portuguese - the equivalent of a teacher of English here. He is from Pelotas, Rio Grande do Sul, in the south of Brazil, near Uruguay.
He asks each of us to share something about ourselves. I talk briefly about my singing and my love of Brazilian music.
After the lesson, he asks me if I sing any songs in Portuguese. I told him that yes, I do have a couple, such as the modern song Viagei (I Travelled) by Vitor Ramil. Gabriel says "Ah yes, I know Vitor. He was my neighbour in Pelotas."
I stand there, stunned. There are two degrees of separation between me and Vitor Ramil? Ramil is a big star in Brazil.
I ask Gabriel if I can send him a video of Enéias and me performing Viagei in Adelaide. "Sure", he says, and write down his email address.
I send him the link to our video. A week later Gabriel messages me. He sent our video to Vitor, who replied, saying that he enjoyed it and is delighted that his music is being played in Australia. Excitedly, I forward this message to Enéias.
A couple of weeks later, I receive another message from Gabriel. He has written some new songs and he is wondering if I would like to perform one of them for him.
Yesssss!
He sends me a video of the new song; he's singing to his own guitar accompaniment. He emails the lyrics. It's a poem, not easy to translate. There is no sheet music. I will have to learn the song by ear.
We arrange to meet and practise the song. On a cold winter's night, I make my way to his city apartment, where I meet his wife Helena, who is doing a scientific Ph.D on a scholarship. Between the three of us we manage to communicate in a mixture of Portuguese and English. We have dinner, then we get to work on the music.
It's not the easiest song to learn. It's a different style of music from what I'm used to. None of the words rhyme. It's full of poetic language, symbolism, imagery and words I don't understand. Gabriel sings with me. The key is perfect for him but it's half an octave too low (or too high) for me; this is a common problem when working with male and female voices. At this stage I just need to internalise the melody and get my mouth around the words. Gabriel and Helena help me with the translation, but it's still not easy to understand the meaning of the song as a whole. I concentrate on fitting the words to the melody.
I record our efforts on my phone, and promise Gabriel I will practise his song.
Then I head out into the stormy night and drive home in the rain. Later, I discover that this is a very apt introduction to the music. The song is called Sul Tambem (Also South). It speaks of the cold winters of South Brazil and South Australia.
The theme of winter turns out to be significant. Vitor Ramil is quoted as saying that there is a cultural bond between the countries making up southern South America - Argentina, Uruguay and southern Brazil - in their cool temperatures and their particular landscapes.
Templadismo is a style of music born in that region. Whereas Bossa Nova speaks of the summer - sun, sand and sea, Templadismo speaks of the winter - wind, rain and cold.
South Brazil and South Australia lie at similar latitudes and experience similar weather.
Like Vitor and me, just two degrees of separation.
After the lesson, he asks me if I sing any songs in Portuguese. I told him that yes, I do have a couple, such as the modern song Viagei (I Travelled) by Vitor Ramil. Gabriel says "Ah yes, I know Vitor. He was my neighbour in Pelotas."
I stand there, stunned. There are two degrees of separation between me and Vitor Ramil? Ramil is a big star in Brazil.
I ask Gabriel if I can send him a video of Enéias and me performing Viagei in Adelaide. "Sure", he says, and write down his email address.
I send him the link to our video. A week later Gabriel messages me. He sent our video to Vitor, who replied, saying that he enjoyed it and is delighted that his music is being played in Australia. Excitedly, I forward this message to Enéias.
A couple of weeks later, I receive another message from Gabriel. He has written some new songs and he is wondering if I would like to perform one of them for him.
Yesssss!
He sends me a video of the new song; he's singing to his own guitar accompaniment. He emails the lyrics. It's a poem, not easy to translate. There is no sheet music. I will have to learn the song by ear.
We arrange to meet and practise the song. On a cold winter's night, I make my way to his city apartment, where I meet his wife Helena, who is doing a scientific Ph.D on a scholarship. Between the three of us we manage to communicate in a mixture of Portuguese and English. We have dinner, then we get to work on the music.
It's not the easiest song to learn. It's a different style of music from what I'm used to. None of the words rhyme. It's full of poetic language, symbolism, imagery and words I don't understand. Gabriel sings with me. The key is perfect for him but it's half an octave too low (or too high) for me; this is a common problem when working with male and female voices. At this stage I just need to internalise the melody and get my mouth around the words. Gabriel and Helena help me with the translation, but it's still not easy to understand the meaning of the song as a whole. I concentrate on fitting the words to the melody.
I record our efforts on my phone, and promise Gabriel I will practise his song.
Then I head out into the stormy night and drive home in the rain. Later, I discover that this is a very apt introduction to the music. The song is called Sul Tambem (Also South). It speaks of the cold winters of South Brazil and South Australia.
The theme of winter turns out to be significant. Vitor Ramil is quoted as saying that there is a cultural bond between the countries making up southern South America - Argentina, Uruguay and southern Brazil - in their cool temperatures and their particular landscapes.
Templadismo is a style of music born in that region. Whereas Bossa Nova speaks of the summer - sun, sand and sea, Templadismo speaks of the winter - wind, rain and cold.
South Brazil and South Australia lie at similar latitudes and experience similar weather.
Like Vitor and me, just two degrees of separation.
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