Aldo Brizzi, contemporary composer, has written the music for “Brizzi do Brasil”, an album of songs written for Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Teresa Salgueiro of Madredeus, Carlinhos Brown and many other illustrious guests. The composer, who lives in Salvador Bahia, reveals how the idea for the project came into being and how, over a course of four years of hard work, became a reality.

The original idea that inspired this recording was to write a musical based on the libretto of the Mexican poet Francisco Serrano, a story about Orpheus who descends into hell, and who, instead of meeting Eurydice, encounters Alice in Wonderland.

I prepared four demo songs for the producers of the project, and these were a bit removed from the usual projects for which I’m known. I proposed the idea to Alan Foix, director of a studio in Paris which received subvention from the Ministry of French Culture, and he became enthusiastic about the project. From him I obtained space and support to record some pieces. It was during the World Cup in France, and the presence of many Brazilian artists in Paris helped.

I recorded the first two pieces with Margareth Menezes e Olodum, who were contacted in Salvador by Luciana, who later that year became my wife. Her enthusiasm in seeing me write music connected to popular artists of her country was contagious, and it was her who contacted and convinced both Margareth and João Jorge, the president of Olodum.

Nonetheless, the general concept of the record wasn’t yet clear. In Rome I met up with an old friend, Deborah Cohen, who at the time was the tour manager of Gilberto Gil. It was to become a decisive meeting. Deborah surprised me with her acute perception of the project’s future: a recording of songs for illustrious guests. In that period not even I imagined how far the project could go.

Deborah put me in contact with Ala dos Namorados, and we recorded with them in December in Paris. And there the first phase came to an end. Alain Foix lost his position as director, his successor didn’t want to continue the project and I found myself with three pieces recorded without knowing what to do with them.

But the solution was there in hiding. Francesco Sardella, the sound technician that I’d invited to do the recording in Paris and who’d mixed my previous record “The Labyrinth Trial,” was launching a small independent label of his own, Rara Records, became passionate about the project and put his studio at our disposition for further recording.

Just during that time, Augusto de Campos, a poet among the most creative and profound that Brazil has ever given us, wrote an article in the newspaper “Folha de São Paulo” entitled “BRIZZI DO BRASIL” (a wordplay on my name and “breezes” of Brazil), about my album recorded with Sardella. He wrote of my previous work (pieces of contemporary music open to the geography’s African Latin-American rhythms), and then with the happiest of sensibilities and intuition, gave his consensus that he himself would continue in the area of song text writing and collaborate in the project.

I also decided to do something together with Arnaldo Antunes, whom I then met many times in San Paolo. But it wasn’t a clear thing. He left me some recordings of poetry read with his beautiful and very particular voice. The idea of a collage came to me: fragments of rhythms recorded with Olodum a Paris, the voice of Arnaldo treated electronically and the addition of a very rare instrument of impressive sound, the contrabass sax, recorded by an ace of contemporary music, Daniel Kientzy. That was the birth of “Abraça o meu abraço” in the studio of Francesco, in Monsano, a recording studio in a pink house with a park and a swimming pool lost among the hills of the Marche region of Italy.

By now the idea of a recording of songs written for special guests was taking shape and while thinking, along with Deborah and Luciana, of the possible alchemies of invited guests, I began to explore the concept more deeply: a homage to the Brazilian language, a reflection of rhythms and moods of the three shores of the ocean, Europe, Africa and America, with a contemporary view based on true melodies. I wrote new songs that I recorded at the studio as demos with young voices. Among the many young singers who participated in the demos, one fixed point remained: Graça Reis, from Bahia and rich in talent, who now sings all the repertoire of the record in live concerts at the side of invited guests.

Deborah introduced me to Tom Zé, whom I met in San Paolo, and there was such a spark that after just a few minutes of conversation, he wasn’t only willing to participate in the record, but wrote to David Byrne: “Please, listen to it”. The answer of Byrne was “I love it but….” Thus began the long sequence of unconditional compliments of record companies, always accompanied by polite refusal or fear of launching themselves in the adventure of producing the record. And here opens a parenthesis: the recording was initially financed only by Franceso Sardella’s studio and myself. Thus there weren’t the conditions to present examples capable of rendering the idea of the final quality of the record. Perhaps this negatively influenced the decisions of the record company people.

Deborah spoke to Gilberto Gil about my project. I met him in his beautiful house in Salvador, and his detailed comments made one realize he’d listened carefully to all the pieces. He had already made his choice: he wanted to record “Meninas de Programa”.

In Salvador I also met Virginia Rodrigues, with whom I’ve later shared many moments of friendship. Virginia accepted my proposal to record “Velada ou Revelada”, but she asked to also record “Cat’s”, a homage to her mentor Caetano. In the meantime we thought about other names to participate and complete the record. Deborah contacted some Portuguese-speaking Africans, but in the end this lead nowhere.

Various times that summer in Salvador I met Caetano, whom I’d known since 1994, and with whom I’d exchanged many opinions about music and art during summers in Salvador.

In 1994 I gave a provocative conference on him in the temple of contemporary music, the Ferienkurse of Darmstadt in Germany. At the time I was Director of the Ensembles of the Ferienkurse. That conference was a means to signal to the world that knew me best that I was widening my horizons. The choice of Caetano wasn’t by chance; it was him, with his music and poetry that made me realize that also a song could be a contemporary creation well beyond immediate commercial considerations, as is cinema, for example.

In his house in Rio Vermelho we listened to everything that was finished for the record and to the demos as well. He liked very much Ala dos Namorados’ rendition of “Este era un gato”. Afterwards, while listening to “Misterio de Afrodite”, Caetano began to improvise vocally, and this provoked the immediate desire to record these improvisations for the project. It was a moment of incredible emotion in the golden light of sunset on the very sea which the song described, and whose shores are the principal subject of the record. And if it’s the longest music on the record, this is due to him. We’d decided earlier to cut out a section, but the demo contained the complete version. Listening to it Caetano found discrepancy between the text (edited) and the recording (complete) and asked for an explanation. His comment was “don’t cut it, it’s beautiful!”

Gilberto Gil recorded in Paris, at the studios of GRM-Radio France (another temple of contemporary music), which were made available through the kind intervention of their director, Daniel Teruggi, and of François Donato. Gil was in Paris for the Percpan at the Villette. He arrived on the dot and dedicated all the time necessary to record with absolute seriousness and dedication to my music. It was one of the most intense moments in the story of the record. Later, thanks to the generosity of Cid Campos who offered his studio and his competence as a technician - beyond his talent as a musician - we recorded Tom Zé and Augusto de Campos in San Paolo.

Meanwhile an idea was born and consolidated: to compose music for one of the texts of Brazilian poetry most admired by Caetano, “ão” by Augusto de Campos, and to invite both of them to record it together. For thirty years there’d been an intertwining of profound artistic interests between the two artists that blended within some texts that Caetano had composed music for and recorded, and in various articles Augusto had written on Caetano. It’s enough to read “Balanço da Bossa” where, Augosto, speaking of MPB (Musica Popolare Brasiliana) of the sixties, dedicated space and predictions of greatness to the then very young Caetano. In his book “Verdade Tropical”, Caetano dedicates an entire chapter to Augusto and concrete poetry. My emotion for having participated in that encounter is still great: for the first time the two voices appeared together in a recording and with a poem symbolic of Brazilian language and music.

There are also some texts in the album that are less demanding, for example “Toi”, a love song with strong erotic content. Luciana thought it had to be a woman to sing this, due to the text. I sent a sample of “Toi” to various Brazilian and African singers. After they’d heard it, they all disappeared, shocked. I then spoke with Carlinhos Brown, who exclaimed, “I’ll do it, I’ll do everything, vocals, backing vocals, vocal percussion…” And hearing the result, once again one has to give credit to Carlinhos’ intuition.

To complete the record some parts were still missing, some of them fundamental. For example, it wasn’t yet determined who would sing “Misterio de Afrodite”.

In Rome I met Deborah again; this time she was accompanying Caetano’s tour. I spoke of my unrealistic hope I was carrying in my heart, a hope that seemed far away and unobtainable, which was the idea that Teresa Salgueiro, the singer of Madredeus, would be an ideal artist to participate in the album. Deborah didn’t make any comment. The next morning we were sitting at the bar in Piazza Santa Maria. She was reading the newspaper and discovered that Madredeus was in Rome for a concert. She immediately contacted their agent and explained the recording project. We were invited to the concert. At dinner it was enough to speak with Teresa, looking in one another’s eyes, to understand each other. I told her about “Ondas”, and sweetly and well educated, she thanked me for the invitation and accepted.

At the time I’d already been in contact with another singer to record “Misterio d’Afrodite”, but I’d never had the occasion to meet her personally. It was done completely through the filter of agents. That glance, that moment to see if we could connect, was missing. So was the chance to communicate heart to heart without the hard, pitiless and targeted jargon of production. My aim however, wasn’t to place limits on a game, but to observe something that could be assimilated in the territory of dreams and transformed into reality. I asked Teresa to also record “Misterio de Afrodite” and she accepted happily, saying “é muito bonita”.

To be in the studio with Teresa is a joy and intense emotion. She sings from memory, knows the music in all its details and searches for the most suitable shadings with simplicity and marvelous dedication. And, not satisfied with the results, she asked to re-record what she’d already done. Another journey to Lisbon and another surprise in seeing the profound depth, even greater than before, achieved in her interpretation.

Time passed, the project took form, but I still didn’t know which record company could truly be interested. Zeca Baleiro, whom I’d known from an interview at the TVE, called me. He was in Salvador, and invited me to his concert. Afterwards at dinner, we spoke about my record, and by the end of the meal, he too, entered in the list of invited artists and immediately thereafter sent me a text on the theme of exile.

In that period I was recording percussion music for a film of Georg Brintrup, “Tambores e Deuses”. It was yet another technical-acoustic adventure with Francesco Sardella. We were recording in a neighborhood at the extreme outskirts of Salvador, il Bairro da Paz, in the open with a portable ProTools system set up in the trunk of my car. The only source of electricity was that of an improbable bar. The only things around were dirt streets, dust, trucks and bicycles that passed by, curious children and a sky of intense blue. The recording was for the film, but I had an idea: why not use samples of rhythms inspired by the hip-hop from the outskirts of another America to intensify with feelings of protest and revolt the melancholy ballad I’d composed for the beautiful text of Zeca Baleiro?

Caetano also recorded in Salvador, in a relaxed atmosphere, telling jokes, and fooling around with Arto Lindsay, Jorge Mautner and Antonio Riserio who accompanied the recording. I was in awe of the intelligence with which he was able to “declaim” the song of “ão” and of the smoothness which he intoned the vocals of “Mistero di Afrodite”.

By now four years had passed and the record had, if we believe anything in life and the world can have one, its definite form. A point of certain importance was still missing: to convince a record company to release the record. We made contacts in many countries, but no one gave a clear, decisive answer.

During a visit to San Paolo to record the orchestrations written for the new record of Zeca Baleiro, my wife Luciana, who by now had abandoned the secure profession of an architect to open an artistic production company, asked advice from Bruno Boulay, a Frenchman who is very involved in the Brazilian and African recording industry. Luciana wrote to the record companies Bruno suggested, called them, spoke to them and spoke to them again. In a week arrived three positive answers. The recording was released in Brazil. In the meantime, Matteo Silva Cappelletti replied expressing interest for his record company Amiata. And with Luciana’s great surprise, he didn’t only write that he knew me, but that we’d studied together at the Conservatory of Milan in the class of Niccolò Castiglioni!

So, that’s how this adventure that no one at the beginning believed in continued. Meanwhile I was preparing the repertoire of the record for live concerts with a newly formed group from Bahia with the singer Graça Reis and with Alex Mesquita, whose contribution on guitar was fundamental for the record. The group is called Aço do Açúcar, and besides the launch of “Brizzi do Brasil” wants to continue an independent career with music that I’ll compose specifically for it. In the promotional concerts and tours surprises may come up, as they already have in the showcases already presented in Salvador, where some of the invited guests sang the songs I wrote for them live.

And now, after listening to the record, it’s up to you to continue this story….

Aldo Brizzi