By ROGÉRIO RUFINO DE OLIVEIRA*
The class struggle, universal, is particularized in the refinement of constructive intention, in the tone of proletarian proparoxytones
Noel Rosa and Tom Jobim had a son together, born and raised as an artist after Chega de saudade. She grew up and, when reinventing longing, which cannot be translated, she wrote that “it hurts like a boat, which little by little describes an arc, and avoids docking at the pier”. Except in fiction books, she barely speaks outside the song, she never lets any words remain within it.
His formal conservatism built excellent enterprises with anti-conservative ideological coherence. With chronic subtlety, he placed brick by brick in a logical, magical and left-handed design. High literature phrased in a whistle, caymmolente, in order to make MPB's foot a constitutive part of this stature. It is in the entry “Brazilian song” for the world as the summit of the conventional example. Lucky for him, Bob Dylan, he speaks Portuguese.
Guri, Pivete and Geni. Clowns, gypsies and salaried workers. Countless black men with huge dicks in Caravans, Mar and Lua, employee and dancer. No one doubts what the supposed gay who mixes baião and rock is capable of. Biscate, Sinhá, The actresses and Beatriz. Elza Dura in the fall. Dondocas, Ode to mice, A Rita and Future lovers. Even Manuel and Miguilim. Nina from Moscow, historical nhonhô within the blues, The Notebook. Together with many others, under the artistic blessings of the Women of Athens, they do not moralize their modes of representation. They are artistic, they have artistic ways. Precisely for this reason the timeless period will probably preserve them.
In a fight between husband and wife, social criticism sticks out its tongue and together they make three-way love songs. One day, in the 1990s, a couple traveled by plane through neoliberal globalization, something real, somewhat dreamlike, without much consistency of what was happening in the air, a trip with rarefied meaning and feeling, but not the tango beat, defined, certain that Dreams , dreams are.
The class struggle, universal, is particularized in the refinement of constructive intention, in the tone of proletarian proparoxytones in movement and discipline or, via anagram, with post-romantic Iracema washing the floor of colonial America. A certain spirit of the time with four faces, Carlos Drummond, Manuel Bandeira, João Cabral and Cecília Meireles, blew along the way a breeze that is cohesion of the time, everything was as it was, and for him it still is, also because of this immense picture.
This is how the country balances itself: if its experimental counterpart, Joy Joy of Santo Amaro, has a Brazilian social theory ready in song-essays, he, who is a blood son of canonical essayism, theorized short stories through singing. He interprets himself like no one else, it seems like he doesn't interpret himself.
His poem goes like this, “My heart, that you without thinking / Sometimes you play with inflating, sometimes you crush / Just like the bellows of an accordion / Like in a Gonzaga baião”, when he does it like that. Life and work embarrassing of all affectation. Pedro Pedreiro, 21 years old like that, shocked by not lying about his age.
“How about a samba?”, the last gesture for now, is an invitation for what it proposes to happen, but, while it invites, the noise of the linked phonemes already carries out in action, without confessing, what it suggests for later. The word given, not literal, is not given. It is done in the now, but not immediately, it pretends in sound due to the fact that it is music at the same time as words. In fact, the word is flesh and the reason for the music. The guest-listener who hears the consonants is enveloped by them. Before saying whether or not to accept the invite, you find yourself in the middle of the instrumental samba circle of timbres dependent on the alliteration technique and at the same time autonomous from it when illuminated by the result produced.
He fulfills what he said: “I learned that melody and lyrics can, and should, form a single body and I tried to curb the pride of melodies”. Its trace dates back to the 80th century. It is delicate, imaginative and loving with ingenuity. It advances with the future past while discreetly flying over, as a present, the state of time in which it reaches its XNUMXs.
*Rogério Rufino de Oliveira He is a professor of literature and a doctoral candidate in Literature at the Federal University of Espírito Santo (UFES).
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