All our shows are now done. I've got four more days in Brazil.
We have planned to record a CD of Enéias' original songs. There are just two minor problems:
1. I haven't got much voice left, and
2. The songs aren't finished yet.
But I guess we can try a few things.
Enéias has some recording equipment in his apartment, so we are not paying for studio time. We record a song that we performed. After a few "takes" we listen back to the recording. I am not happy at all with the sound of it. My voice doesn't stand up to the scrutiny of a studio microphone. It sounds very rough around the edges. The bronchitis is taking its toll.
I guess I would have sounded OK yesterday in the cafe, amongst the sounds of conversation and grinding of coffee beans. But now my voice is more velcro than velvet.
What are we going to do?
We move onto one of Enéias' songs. I've already translated it into English and sent him a copy, but he's not sure it will fit with the music. I think it will, because I've spent a lot of time trying to get it right. He plays his guitar and I sing my English lyrics. We reach the end of the song. "Yes!" he exclaims, putting down his guitar. He comes over to where I'm sitting, takes my hand in both of his and kisses it. "Yes!" He's happy with my translation.
I'm happy that he's happy.
Enéias has to do some teaching, and Mara invites me to a theatre production which is playing at lunchtime. It is a tragi-comedy called "Maria the Washer-woman" and is played entirely by a man. It's a commentary about domestic violence. The piece is based on original research and was written by Mara's husband. There's a good audience, and they respond appreciatively. It's both entertaining and sad - I can follow it to some extent, though I need Mara to explain the ending to me.
In the afternoon we try recording the song with English lyrics. Enéias says my vocal will be a "guide" recording only, and I can record over it again in Australia.
That's just as well, because right now my voice doesn't sound good at all.
We have planned to record a CD of Enéias' original songs. There are just two minor problems:
1. I haven't got much voice left, and
2. The songs aren't finished yet.
But I guess we can try a few things.
Enéias has some recording equipment in his apartment, so we are not paying for studio time. We record a song that we performed. After a few "takes" we listen back to the recording. I am not happy at all with the sound of it. My voice doesn't stand up to the scrutiny of a studio microphone. It sounds very rough around the edges. The bronchitis is taking its toll.
I guess I would have sounded OK yesterday in the cafe, amongst the sounds of conversation and grinding of coffee beans. But now my voice is more velcro than velvet.
What are we going to do?
We move onto one of Enéias' songs. I've already translated it into English and sent him a copy, but he's not sure it will fit with the music. I think it will, because I've spent a lot of time trying to get it right. He plays his guitar and I sing my English lyrics. We reach the end of the song. "Yes!" he exclaims, putting down his guitar. He comes over to where I'm sitting, takes my hand in both of his and kisses it. "Yes!" He's happy with my translation.
I'm happy that he's happy.
Enéias has to do some teaching, and Mara invites me to a theatre production which is playing at lunchtime. It is a tragi-comedy called "Maria the Washer-woman" and is played entirely by a man. It's a commentary about domestic violence. The piece is based on original research and was written by Mara's husband. There's a good audience, and they respond appreciatively. It's both entertaining and sad - I can follow it to some extent, though I need Mara to explain the ending to me.
In the afternoon we try recording the song with English lyrics. Enéias says my vocal will be a "guide" recording only, and I can record over it again in Australia.
That's just as well, because right now my voice doesn't sound good at all.
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