5. Maracatu de Baque Virado
Introduction
Audio: Som da Massa, “Transcontinental Baião”
Schuyler Whelden: I’m Schuyler Whelden.
Juliana Cantarelli Vita: And I’m Juliana Cantarelli Vita
SW: This is Massa, a podcast about Brazilian music and culture.
JCV: Schuyler and I are music professors and musicians. In each episode we dive into a specific genre, song, artist, or issue in Brazilian music to try to understand how it works and what it means.
SW: What’s on the agenda for today, Juliana?
JCV: How about we let the band Nação Zumbi tell us?
SW: Ooh, music right away? Love it.
Audio: Nação Zumbi, “Meu Maracatu Pesa Uma Tonelada” (Youtube) (Spotify)
SW: Whoa. That’s heavy. I mean literally, right? He’s talking about his sound “weighing a ton” and “filling his luggage.”
JCV: Yes, but that’s not the topic of the episode. It’s the other half of the title.
SW: “Meu Maracatu Pesa Uma Tonelada”, so my maracatu weighs a ton.
JCV: Exactly! Our topic today is the music tradition maracatu.
SW: Ahhh. So, is that maracatu that we just heard now?
JCV: Well, no. But it had strong elements of maracatu. We’ll get into those in a bit.
SW: Okay, but before we go any further, we need to tell everyone what maracatu is. You got this one?
JCV: Maracatu is one of the longest standing types of parade music from the state of Pernambuco in Brazil’s Northeast.
SW: That’s where you’re from, right?
JCV: Indeed. We call maracatu the “coração de Pernambuco.”
SW: The heartbeat of Pernambuco.
JCV: Like most Brazilian music forms, maracatu emerged in Afro-Brazilian communities.
SW: So how long has it been around?
JCV: Scholars trace it to the 19th century. But before you ask me more questions, can I show you one more song?
SW: Sure!
JCV: So this recording is a bit more recent, from 2019. This is the singer from Pernambuco Karina Buhr with her song “A Casa Caiu.”
Audio: Karina Buhr, “A Casa Caiu” (Youtube) (Spotify)
SW: Aha, that’s great too. So is that maracatu?
JCV: No. Again, Karina Buhr draws on influences of maracatu.
SW: Well, before we get into how that works, we should probably go back and talk about the history of this music tradition, right?
JCV: And even before we do that, I would like to point out that there are actually two different forms of maracatu in Pernambuco: one called maracatu de baque virado and another one called maracatu de baque solto.
SW: That seems like a lot for one episode.
JCV: Well, since maracatu de baque virado is older, let’s focus on that one.
SW: And we can discuss maracatu de baque solto in the next episode?
JCV: Perfect!
SW: I was Googling while you were talking and it seems like there is actually a third kind of maracatu?
JCV: Yes, there is another tradition that uses the name “maracatu.” It’s called maracatu cearense.
SW: “Cearense” from the state of Ceará?
JCV: Yes, but it’s quite different from the maracatus in Pernambuco.
SW: Okay, we’ll leave that be for now.
JCV: Sounds good. But don’t Google while I talk. How about that?
History
SW: So, maybe we could start with the origins and earliest history of maracatu de baque virado?
JCV: Let’s do it.
SW: Do we know where the name comes from?
JCV: There is some disagreement about this, actually. The Brazilian music scholar Mário de Andrade—
SW: —he’s of the famous modernist school. In addition to being a poet, novelist, literary critic, he was also one of Brazil’s first musicologists and folklorists. He traveled around the country gathering melodies and rhythms and wrote multiple books about Brazilian music in the first half of the 20th century.
JCV: Yes. He wrote that the term maracatu was an amalgam between the words “maracá,” which references a type of Indigenous shaker and “catu,” which means “beautiful” in some unspecified Indigenous language.
SW: You said that this is disputed, this take?
JCV: Yeah, well, Mário de Andrade was from São Paulo, not Pernambuco, so when he was traveling he supposedly came across this etymology, but the composer César Guerra Peixe, who researched this topic afterwards has written that because there is no maracá in maracatu, it seems unlikely that the name would derive from this instrument.
SW: So we don’t really know where the name is from then?
JCV: Not with any certainty. But other scholars, like Silvio Romero, Renato Mendonça and Gonçalves Fernandes argue that the name more than likely has African origins.
SW: Ah, but Mário de Andrade attributed the name to indigenous origins?
JCV: He did.
SW: So you’ve already said that the practice is primarily African derived, so it would make sense for the name to be as well.
JCV: It would.
SW: Let’s talk about that a bit. How did these practices emerge?
JCV: In the colonial era, some enslaved people occupied leadership positions and, as part of this, they held titles in their own communities. These were court titles, so you had a king, a queen, princess, a prince, etc. There were ceremonies to crown the king and the queen and the like. This tradition is called Kings of Congo.
SW: And I am sure we'll do an episode on that in the future, but it’s worth mentioning that some historians question the roles of these coronated people.
JCV: These leaders were selected under the supervision of the state and the Catholic Church and some historians have pointed out that they were installed to keep order among communities of enslaved people.
SW: Right, the history of Black resistance to colonization, enslavement, and subsequent disenfranchisement in Brazil suggests that there is probably more going on there than that, even. For example, scholars have also pointed out that the Kings of Congo were important symbols of African identity, agency, and power, and provided connections to African systems of social organization, in addition to any possible stuff they were doing with the Catholic Church and the Portuguese crown.
JCV: Exactly. These practices also changed over time in reaction to changes in the Brazilian political system.
SW: How so?
JCV: So, in the early nineteenth century, during the Napoleonic wars, the Portuguese crown moved to Brazil. At that time, these coronation ceremonies adopted aesthetic practices from the Portuguese monarchs: the full regalia.
SW: Wow, that’s so interesting. Do we have a sense of the affect associated with adopting this clothing?
JCV: Some see it as a gesture mocking the Portuguese royals.
SW: That seems possible. So what happened after abolition in 1888?
JCV: At some point these ceremonies were no longer used to officially coronate powerful people, but were instead symbolic practices.
SW: Got it. And how does this relate to maracatu exactly?
JCV: Well, maracatu emerges from this Reis do Congo practice (this Kings of Congo practice), and one of the places you see that influence is in the costumes. People still wear the full regalia of the Portuguese aristocracy of the 19th century.
SW: Really? That’s so interesting! So can we hear the references too?
JCV: We can, let’s listen to this example from Nação Porto Rico called “Tumaraca.” We’ll translate the lyrics afterwards.
Audio: Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico, “Tumaraca/Saudações aos 500 anos” (Youtube) (Spotify)
SW: Okay, okay. So they are saying “ The people of Recife want to see / Nação Porto Rico rise / Our king who comes from Africa / The queen was crowned.”
JCV: Exactly. But this isn’t referencing the kings and queens of Congo directly. It’s referring to the king and queen of this maracatu nation. It’s that practice that has persisted.
SW: So who are the king and queen of a given maracatu nation?
JCV: In maracatu de baque virado they are the people who are in charge of the nation.
SW: So it’s not a symbolic position.
JCV: No, not at all. In our last few episodes we talked about candomblé and we need to connect to that here to explain.
SW: For those who didn’t listen, candomblé is an Afro-Brazilian religion and way of life that revolves around the worship of deities called orixás. It is derived from west and central African religions. Its ceremonies are conducted through music, which communicates with these orixás, often causing spirit possession among practitioners during ceremonies.
JCV: Maracatu nations in Recife—maracatu nações in Recife—are always connected to a candomblé house. The members of the royal court of the maracatu nation all live at the terreiro.
SW: Wow, so what are their responsibilities with respect to the maracatu nation?
JCV: They are culture bearers. They maintain the culture of that nation. They know and pass on its history. They are active in the community, educating children about the roots of that practice, about their ancestors. They also bless the drums that are used.
SW: Oh, ok. And what about in the parades? You mentioned that this is parade music.
JCV: Yeah, so, for the parade they organize the clothing, actually choosing the costumes and teaching the paraders how to properly construct them. And they parade last. Of the different groupings within the parade, they enter last.
SW: Aha. And do they hold these positions for a determined period of time?
JCV: For life.
SW: So like a traditional monarchy.
JCV: Basically. One difference is that the king and queen aren’t a couple.
SW: Right. So how are people installed in these positions?
JCV: They are hereditary, through a matriarchal line of succession.
SW: Aha, so the rainha, or the queen, is the most important.
JCV: Yes. Absolutely.
SW: Okay, so we have this tradition of queens and kings who are part of a matriarchal lineage and responsible for the maintenance of the nation and passing on its history and culture. That all comes in one way or another from the Rei do Congo ceremony?
JCV: Yeah, in one way or another.
SW: So when did all of this happen?
JCV: Well, it wasn’t overnight. No one said, “hey, let’s invent a new music form today!” It coalesced over time. But scholars tend to date maracatu to the early 19th century. There are references to this term as far back as 1711, but it’s more likely that the music form came later.
SW: This all happened in Recife?
JCV: Yes, in Recife and Olinda, which is the city right next to Recife. Think of Manhattan and Brooklyn.
Names
SW: Got it. Earlier, I heard you say “maracatu nações,” meaning “maracatu nations.” We should explain this.
JCV: The term nação comes from candomblé.
SW: So, again, for those who didn’t listen, candomblé practice is quite varied in Brazil. When enslaved people arrived, they were often separated from people of the same ethnolinguistic groups and categorized into nations based on the port of embarkation. In candomblé, the term nação is used to differentiate traditions that have codified and persisted over time.
JCV: Maracatu nação references maracatu groups that are connected to a candomblé house.
SW: That makes sense. Baque virado, on the other hand, seems different. So maracatu de baque virado: literally speaking, it means “turned beat” or “turned around beat,” right?
JCV: Yes. Specifically the term comes from the virações, the variations, the dialogue between the drums. To "turn the baque" or “to break” means playing the variations.
SW: So that seems like a more technical distinction. It describes the genre in terms of its musical characteristics.
JCV: Exactly. Sometimes, the terms maracatu de baque virado and maracatu nação are used interchangeably.
SW: So, for example, if a group connected to a candomblé house plays this style of music, they are both maracatu nação and maracatu de baque virado.
JCV: Yes. But not all groups who play baque virado can be considered nações.
SW: Because they aren’t connected to a candomblé house? They are, say, part of a different kind of community organization or a school or something?
JCV: Precisely.
Instruments
SW: So before we get into these virações, let’s talk about the instruments that play them. I know we’ve heard them all play together in the examples so far, but can we break it down by instrument?
JCV: Sure! Let’s start with the alfaia.
SW: Why that one?
JCV: Because if we were learning to play this music, that’s the first instrument that you would learn.
SW: Great! What’s an alfaia?
JCV: Alfaias are the lowest pitched drums in the ensemble, they are double-headed bass drums, probably modeled after or adopted from Portuguese military bands.
SW: Ok, I can picture that. So, what are they made out of?
JCV: The shell is made of wood, and it was originally some kind of barrel cut down to the size of the drum.
SW: Ok, so you cut the barrel crosswise and you still have sort of a hoop that is made of wood. That makes sense. Do you know what kind of barrel this is?
JCV: It’s not known, but it was probably barrels that would carry olive oil from Portugal.
SW: Wait, why olive oil barrels?
JCV: Well, of the different barrels that arrived, some had dry goods like flour, some had clothing and fabric, and the others had olive oil. The first two were easy to reuse, but because the olive oil barrels were dirty, they were left for enslaved people.
SW: Ah, that's awful. Ah, there are similar stories about how Afro-Brazilians invented the surdo, which is the bass drum-like instrument in the samba ensemble, which they used like butter tins to make it. So what about the two heads of the drum, what are those made out of?
JCV: The drum heads are made from goat skin that is stretched with rope.
SW: And how do you play it?
JCV: With two wooden sticks, one large and one small. The large one, the bate is one that you play with the dominant hand and provides more sound. The off-hand holds the smaller stick, that we call rebate, for muted strokes and the like.
SW: Can we hear what the alfaia sounds like?
JCV: Sure! Here:
Audio: Rumenig Dantas playing alfaia
SW: Wow, so for a “bass drum,” I was expecting something lower pitched. I mean, it’s low, but it has a certain intensity. It kinda cuts through.
JCV: Some groups prefer a lower pitch and some a higher pitch with the alfaias.
SW: So, do all the alfaias play the same rhythm in unison?
JVC: No. In fact, the alfaias are generally grouped into three different parts.
SW: That’s like the drums in a candomblé ceremony.
JCV: Exactly. It’s likely an inheritance of candomblé.
SW: Some of you might have heard our episode on candomblé nagô from Recife. The candomblé house that we discussed uses three different drums, called melê, ian, and biancó.
JCV: That candomblé house is connected to Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico, the one that we were just listening to before, so they use the same name for three of the alfaias in their ensemble: melê, biancó, and ian.
SW: And those drums play pre-planned rhythms according to the parade and performance?
JCV: Yes.
SW: Let’s talk about some common rhythms. Is there a basic rhythm that these instruments tend to play?
JCV: Yes, the base rhythm sounds like this:
Audio: melê playing luanda
SW: Ah, so that’s why it’s called baque virado. I’m totally turned around. Can we play it again with a pulse or count so that I can figure out how that rhythm works?
JCV: Yes, here we go.
SW: Ah ok, so this is in simple duple meter.
JCV: It is a march after all.
SW: Right, that makes sense. Marches are in two counts to keep soldiers or people walking in step. But there is that syncopation in what you're playing as well.
JCV: There is. Though whether it’s “syncopation” or not is a cultural question. That concept is, itself, culturally determined.
SW: Ok, but if we hear the count as “strong pulse,” then some of the hits of the pattern come off the pulse, is that fair to say?
JCV: Yes, that's right. Though, those hits are preceded by quieter hits on the pulse, because I’m playing with two hands, but the louder hits that I play are with the dominant hand that create a syncopation, starting and ending on the pulse and playing off the pulse in between.
SW: Okay, this is great. So all of the alfaias play this rhythm?
JCV: Well, sometimes. The melê always plays this, but the biancó and the ian play virações, or variations, in between.
SW: Right, that’s actually where the name comes from. Can you show me an example of a typical viração?
JCV: Sure, here’s what one viração sounds like:
Audio: alfais playing viração
SW: Ok, so that example has three different parts happening. In the center channel is the base rhythm we discussed, the basic rhythm that's played by the melê. What would it sound like without that, just with the viração alone?
JCV: Like this.
SW: Wow, that’s still a lot. Can you explain what’s going on here?
JCV: Sure. So as part of the performance, at a determined time, the biancó initiates this viração and then the ian responds.
SW: Ah, so it’s like a conversation between the two drums?
JCV: Yes, that’s exactly how it’s conceptualized.
SW: That also fits with the legacy and heritage of candomblé, which we learned is organized around these drums’ “speech.”
JCV: Precisely.
SW: Alright, just for clarification sake, can you play the biancó part alone?
JCV: Sure.
SW: Ok, now let's add the ian.
SW: So it seems like the important part for us here, is to note that these drums play an interlocking, conversational rhythm called a viração. They not only give the music its name, the virações not only give the music its name, but alos create a propulsion for the paraders, right?
JCV: The expression that you hear commonly about the virações is: elas puxam o baque pra frente.
SW: So that means, “they pull the groove forward”?
JCV: Yes, it is important to keep the parade group energized and moving forward, and sticking to the base rhythm for too long, you know, the ensemble can drag. These variations are what prevent that from happening.
SW: Oh, that actually makes a lot of sense. Can we listen to one example of this viração in context?
JCV: Yeah, of course. So here’s Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico playing the song “Baque das Ondas” ("Rhythm of the Waves”).
Audio: Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico, “Baque das Ondas” (Youtube) (Spotify)
SW: Well that highlights something that we should talk about.
JCV: What’s that?
SW: The rest of the ensemble.
JCV: Oh, yeah, right!
SW: So, you said that people begin by learning to play the alfaia. What do they learn next?
JCV: Well, there are many paths from there. One option would be to play the snare drums, which are called tarol and caixa.
SW: Great! So, snare drums, I’m again imagining a military band.
JCV: Yes, it’s likely that these were also adopted from military parade groups.
SW: But there are two different snare drums in this ensemble?
JCV: Yes. The tarol is a very shallow snare drum. It’s shallower than a typical snare, but more or less the same diameter: 14 inches or so.
SW: And the caixa?
JCV: A deeper version of the same.
SW: So, more or less a typical snare drum?
JCV: Yup.
SW: Are these two instruments hierarchized, in terms of rhythmic complexity, like the alfaias?
JCV: Yeah. The tarol is the first one that you would learn. Like the melê, it plays a continual, unchanging rhythm. That rhythm sounds like this:
Audio: tarol playing luanda
SW: So I’m hearing a continual stream of 16th notes with a series of accents. Can we play it slower so that we can hear more clearly where those accents fall?
JCV: Sure.
SW: Alright, it seems like some of those accents line up with the base alfaia rhythm, right?
JCV: Right! Here, listen to the melê and tarol together.
SW: Okay, so does the caixa sometimes play along with this rhythm, like the other alfaias sometimes play along with the melê?
JCV: Yes! But it also plays some drum rolls and more ornate versions of this pattern, though it does play these same accents, roughly.
SW: Alright, but unlike the tarol, the caixa has other roles, in addition to the base pattern, right? It plays other things too.
JCV: Yes. Just before the viração, for example, the caixa plays a stop or parada.
SW: I know this is planned and rehearsed, but does this have the effect of reminding the ensemble that the viração is about to happen?
JCV: Not only the rest of the ensemble—who, frankly, shouldn’t need a reminder—but the audience. It sort of wakes them up and says, “something is about to happen!”
SW: Oh, ok, let’s hear that.
Audio: caixa playing parada
SW: So it’s like “ dat dat dat di dat da di da dat.” Do I get the gig?
JCV: Yes, but if you were to be in the ensemble, you would have to know 4 or 5 different paradas, depending on which kind of song.
SW: Okay, I’ll apply again later, then. Does the caixa play other roles, other than signaling the parada?
JCV: They also play a chamada, or call, to start the ensemble playing a particular song.
SW: So where does that happen exactly?
JCV: So, first, the mestre starts singing. After a specific portion of the song is sung, the mestre then signals the ensemble. The caixa will then play the chamada and the rest of the ensemble starts. Here’s what it sounds like in “Baque das Ondas.”
Audio: Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico, “Baque das Ondas”
SW: Cool. I can hear that. So, let’s round out the ensemble.
JCV: First, there is a single-headed iron bell called gonguê.
SW: Listeners will recognize that sound because it is very similar to what we heard in candomblé, where pretty much all of the traditions rely on a bell to serve as the timeline for the music. Is that what’s happening here?
JCV: Yes, the gonguê is similar to the gan that we heard in candomblé and most scholars agree that they’re connected, part of the African heritage of the music.
SW: So how is it different then?
JCV: Well, it’s massive. The bell itself is between 18 and 24 inches and it has a long handle that’s another foot or two long. The handle has a small cross piece that sits in the hip crease and supports the bell as you parade. You hold it with one hand and strike it with a wooden stick that you hold in the other hand.
SW: Wow! It seems like it would have been easier to use a smaller instrument.
JCV: Maybe, but the larger the instrument, the more sound you get.
SW: Right, this is an outdoor parade, so you need a big instrument.
JCV: It’s more than that. There are like 100 drummers that need to hear maybe two gonguês.
SW: Wow.
JCV: They are positioned in the middle of the parade group so that everyone can hear.
SW: What is a typical gonguê rhythm, then?
JCV: The most common rhythm is
Audio: gonguê playing timeline
SW: Hold up, this is the timeline? It's not even playing the pulse!!?
JCV: Well, yes. We know from our discussion of bell parts in candomblé that the bell doesn’t always play the pulse.
SW: So the other musicians know how to organize themselves around this complex part. Can you count it for us?
JCV: Yeah, sure, here it is.
SW: Alright, can we hear that with the alfaia and tarol?
JCV: Here it is! The bell is in the center, the alfaia is in the right channel and the tarol is in the left.
SW: Okay, so other instruments...
JCV: Wait!
SW: What is it?
JCV: Well, there is something else to say about the bell. In the candomblé episodes we talked about a few different bells: the gan, which is wrought iron and the agogô, which is usually cast metal, mass produced. As it turns out, some maracatu de baque virado groups have adopted the agogô instead of the gonguê.
SW: Whoa! How come?
JCV: Well, there are a few reasons. One, the agogô is a popular instrument in Brazil that exists in a number of musical styles, like samba and the Bahian carnaval music called afoxé. And by switching to agogô, you open the possibility of more participants.
SW: Ah. So the agogô is smaller and quieter so more people can play at the same time. But that’s not traditional.
JCV: No, this is something that you hear in maracatu de baque virado groups that are not maracatu nações.
SW: Community groups and schools, and the like?
JCV: Yes. Here’s what the typical rhythm sounds like...
Audio: typical agogô timeline
SW: Wow, that's nothing like the gonguê part.
JCV: Yeah, it's pretty different.
SW: Ok, so what else? Are there any other instruments?
JCV: The next instrument we should highlight is the agbê.
SW: Oh, I remember this from our last candomblé episode. It’s a kind of rattle made from a dried gourd with beads strung on the outside?
JCV: Exactly. Here’s what the agbê players play:
Audio: typical agbê rhythm
SW: How many agbê players would be in a given group?
JCV: Between 8 and 25 or so. It depends on the size of the group.
SW: Alright, so a typical parade group might have 2 gonguês, 20 agbês, 5 caixas, 8 tarols, and 60 or 80 alfaias?
JCV: Yep!
SW: Sounds loud!
JCV: Pretty loud, yes.
Audio: Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico parading at Recife's carnival (Youtube)
SW: We’re focusing here mostly on examples from the group Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico.
JCV: Right. That’s the group that I play with.
SW: But there are pretty big differences between different nações, right?
JCV: Yes, each nação has its own drumming accent. For example, as we mentioned, Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico turns the beat with questions and answers between instruments.
SW: Not all groups do that?
JCV: Another group called Maracatu Encanto da Alegria "turns" each drum individually.
Audio: Maracatu Encanto da Alegria, "Olha o Baque Lelê Mariano" (Youtube)
SW: Ah. So, is this just a matter of aesthetics?
JCV: That’s not how it's understood, no. One of the most prominent researchers of maracatu, Climério de Oliveira Santos, writes that "each nação considers its beats a sacred rite, an aesthetic patrimony that, owing to its symbolic dimension, is included in the ethos of each community.”
SW: Ah, this is really reminding me of our discussion of candomblé.
JCV: The one comes from the other.
SW: Right, we talked about maracatu being candomblé in the street in the last episode.
JCV: Exactly.
Songs
SW: Now that we have a sense of the accompaniment, what would you like us to know about the songs?
JCV: Well, they are called toadas or loas.
SW: Do those words have a special meaning, other than “song”?
JCV: Not that I know of, but these are the terms that are used. Other terms for song—
SW: —like música or canção—
JCV: —are not used.
SW: Who sings?
JCV: The mestre leads the song. He starts it and introduces the sections. In between, a group of women respond, either repeating what he has sung or with a different predetermined part. The drummers sing too, if they are able.
SW: What do they sing about, generally speaking?
JCV: They sing about candomblé, the Kings of Congo, their own community, and the nação and its history. There are references to the neighborhood, to the symbols of the nação, of how great it is. There are songs about the abolition of slavery and the continued inequalities experienced by Afro-Brazilians.
SW: Let’s hear one and this time maybe we can pay attention to the call and response that you mentioned.
JCV: You will hear the mestre first, accompanied by the gonguê. The chorus responds. And then after a couple of rounds, the caixas start, followed by the alfaias and other instruments. Then, once the ensemble has started, you will hear a different call and response.
Audio: Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico, “Eu vi a Terra Tremer” (Youtube) (Spotify)
SW: What is this song about?
JCV: This song is about the nação. He says, “I saw the earth tremble. Porto Rico is who passed by here.”
SW: Ah, okay. So it’s about the power of the music. Literally its volume, in part.
Parade
SW: Alright, let’s give some more context. This is parade music. When is this parade happening?
JCV: This happens on the Sunday night of carnaval.
SW: Carnaval (or carnival) is the festival that happens for about 4 days (depending on the place) before Ash Wednesday in the Catholic calendar. It’s the biggest holiday in Brazil. Where is the parade?
JCV: It's at Avenida Dantas Barreto, which is in the commercial center of Recife.
SW: Are there stands set up for spectators or is this just in the avenue like it would be on any busy Thursday?
JCV: There are stands all the way down, but it’s free to attend.
SW: Oh, that’s way better than in Rio and Salvador, where you almost always have to pay for the official parades.
JCV: We take pride in that in Recife. There are many places that host these parades and it’s all free.
SW: That’s amazing. I have to go.
JCV: It's a shame you haven't gone.
SW: Shame on me.
JCV: Sorry. You have to go.
SW: So, tell me more about the parade. In my experience with samba parades, there are always various wings, called alas. Is that the case here?
JCV: It is. But the alas are smaller, way smaller than those in samba schools.
SW: Can you run down the traditional alas in the order they parade?
JCV: First, porta-estandarte.
SW: That’s the flag barrier, right?
JCV: With the year that the nação was founded, and the symbol. And then come the drummers, who parade to the middle and then stop right in front of the jury.
SW: Ok, to be judged in their performance styles and things like that?
JCV: Yeah.
SW: They let the rest of the group pass and then rejoin at the end, right?
JCV: Yes. And then come the damas do passo, who are the women who carry the calungas.
SW: Alright, we should explain that. A calunga is a kind of doll, right?
JCV: Yes, it’s a wooden doll that represents a special figure in the history of the nação.
SW: Like who, for example?
JCV: For example, in Nação Porto Rico, one of the calungas is the woman who re-started the nação after it had a lengthy hiatus.
SW: Got it. So this doll represents her?
JCV: Not exactly. It is her. It’s part of the candomblé practice, which revolves around the connection between the visible world of the living and the invisible world of the ancestors and the orixás.
SW: Oh, s o are the women who carry these dolls candomblecistas, then?
JCV: Yes, they are ekedis, or female practitioners, which we discussed in episode 4.
SW: And there is more than one calunga?
JCV: This entirely depends on the nação and its history. Nação Porto Rico has four, the most recent of which was introduced in 2015.
SW: So these come around once in a while in response to the changes in the nação. So who’s next in the parade?
JCV: After the calungas, comes the royal court. First there is a succession of people playing the roles of ministers and empresses and all kinds of things, but at the end of this ala is when the queen, the king, and the princess of the nação come.
SW: The important leaders that we discussed earlier.
JCV: Yes, exactly.
SW: And then is there anything else that comes after that?
JCV: The rest of the alas will depend on the nação and what they want to communicate about themselves.
SW: OK, got it. Is there a yearly theme or are the songs the same every year?
JCV: There is actually a theme each year. Each nação introduces a new song, which they play along with other standards from their repertory. Usually the theme honors a candomblé orixá. For example, last year, Nação Porto Rico honored Oxóssi.
SW: Oxóssi is the patron of that nação’s terreiro.
JCV: Yes.
SW: What about the costumes? What do people wear?
JCV: It depends on the ala. The members of the court wear heavy, fancy dresses modeled after the Portuguese court.
SW: You mentioned that earlier. Although I just realized that we are talking about Recife, in summer, it must be 100 degrees farenheit. Yuck.
JCV: Yes, it's like 40 degrees celsius, it's hot. But in Nação Porto Rico, there is an ala that honors the indigenous heritage of the people in the nação and so those costumes recall what indigenous groups from that region wear, and that's a lot lighter than the heavy dresses.
History in Maracatu de Baque Virado
SW: So all of this talk of the Portuguese court and the representation of indigenous people and, of course, the dominance of the legacy of Afro-Brazilian culture in the music and parade seems to speak to the importance of history and, sort of, “doing history” through maracatu. Is my reading accurate?
JCV: Absolutely! Not only the re-enactment of the coronation as part of that tradition and trying to find connections, but also the fact that Afro-Brazilian people are still struggling for liberation and equity. And in playing maracatu, they are establishing a place and way of representing their history, which isn’t in the history books. For example, one of the loas, or songs, is called “May 13th.”
SW: That’s the abolition date—the day that Princess Isabel signed the Golden Law?
JCV: Yes, but in the song, they say “May 13th is really April Fool’s Day” because Black Brazilians still aren’t free. And the fact that Black Brazilians don’t have equal access to social infrastructure and are killed in astonishing numbers by Brazilian police and are disproportionately affected by things like the global pandemic—all this is evidence of the fact that legal abolition of slavery did very little to create the possibility for freedom and equal participation in society.
Audio: Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico, “13 de Maio” (Youtube)
SW: So Princesa Isabel’s status as a hero to enslaved people is questioned.
JCV: In fact, in this song, Mestre Chacon identifies a different heroic figure: Zumbi dos Palmares.
SW: Aha, Zumbi was the leader of the Republic of Palmares, which was a quilombo, a community of formerly enslaved people that formed in Pernambuco in the 17th century.
JCV: And this song identifies his legacy as the one that speaks to real liberation, because he fought for freedom against colonial oppressors.
SW: In fact, the day he was assassinated is commemorated as the day of Afro-Brazilian Consciousness, right?
JCV: Indeed!
SW: It seems like there is another important element to the “doing history” part of maracatu.
JCV: What’s that?
SW: Well, although maracatu has existed for a long time, it’s not likely it has experienced an uninterrupted popularity, or even a stable presence in Brazilian culture, right? Some of the groups have gone away and some have been revitalized, we mentioned that earlier with Nação Porto Rico...
JCV: Yeah, the oldest nação doesn’t exist anymore, but the other nações pay tribute and remember that nação for their role in creating the music that persists.
SW: It’s like a respect for ancestors in a way?
JCV: Sometimes in workshops, if the playing gets particularly intense, you might even shed some blood. And Mestre Chacon has even said, “well, our ancestors bled a lot more than that.”
SW: Wow. That’s heavy.
JCV: I promise he said it lovingly.
SW: So a lot of the songs have lyrics about the history of the nação, right?
JCV: Yeah.
Audio: Nação do Maracatu Porto Rico, "Respeito a Minha Majestade" (Youtube) (Spotify)
JCV: The songs are supposed to educate the players and the community about maracatu, candomblé, and that particular terreiro or nação. That song says, “Dona Inês is my queen, from Palmares to Palmeirinha. Chico de Itá has arrived, and Senhor Eudes and Zé da Ferida”
SW: Ok, so it’s recounting all of these important people. It's seems like it's a lot of responsibility to carry that history through a music group.
JCV: But it’s still so much fun! Mestre Chacon explains that maracatu is like party music, party music for the court.
SW: The queen and everyone.
JCV: Exactly. So, let’s give them a show, just like any royal court would deserve!
Baque Virado in Popular Music
SW: Okay, so before we close the episode, I’d like to talk one more time about the songs from the beginning. It occurs to me that they not only don’t really sound much like these examples of maracatu, but I worry about how much they respect all of this history and responsibility.
JCV: Well, let’s talk about it.
SW: Okay! First, “Meu maracatu pesa uma tonelada” by Nação Zumbi.
SW: So, first the name of the group.
JCV: Nação Zumbi?
SW: Yeah, that seems to be referencing maracatu nações and Zumbi, who we just discussed, right?
JCV: Yeah, right on.
SW: So, is this band made up of maracatu-playing, Afro-Brazilian candomblecistas?
JCV: No.
SW: Hmm. Is that an issue?
JCV: Well, it’s complicated. People have different opinions about it. Although they weren’t candomblecistas, their original leader, Chico Science, had a very positive relationship with maracatu mestres.
SW: And I’m assuming that through their success, they brought a lot of attention to maracatu?
JCV: They did, yeah.
SW: Good attention or bad attention?
JCV: Yes, attention. They brought maracatu into the spotlight, which meant that parents started encouraging young people to play and people from all over Brazil and the world started to know what maracatu was. It became a matter of pride for Pernambuco in a way that it hadn’t been before, really. You remember that scholar César Guerra Peixe that I mentioned at the beginning of the episode?
SW: I remember.
JCV: Well, he was responsible for bringing attention to maracatu in academic circles in the 1950s. And Nação Zumbi had that same effect with a much larger audience starting in the 1980s.
SW: Got it.
JCV: Prior to that, people would say, pejoratively, that maracatu is “coisa de negro” meaning “stuff for Black people.”
SW: Yikes. People said that pejoratively?
JCV: Yes, which is completely wrapped up in that lack of liberation that Mestre Chacon is singing about. The fact that Afro-Brazilian culture would be characterized negatively, or as low culture, is part of Brazil’s structural racism.
Mestre Chacon Viana: O sistema, o governo, a polícia chamava todo o cortejo do Rei Congo, toda a manifestação do povo negro de maracatu. Sabíamos que quando o tratado chamado de maracatu era uma palavra completamente pejorativa; o significado da palavra maracatu é sinônimo de bagunça, confusão, arruaça. Só que não era nada disso. O que a gente fazia era batucar, era tocar, cantar e louvar para os nossos orixás.
[The system, the government, the police called the courts of the Kings of Congo, everything that Black people did, they called it maracatu. We knew that when they referred to maracatu it was a completely pejorative word. The meaning of the word maracatu was a synonym for mess, confusion, noise. But it was nothing like that. What we did was play our drums, sing, and praise our orixás.]
SW: Okay, but there probably is some backlash to that too, right?
JCV: For sure. One of the side effects of the maracatu mania is that a number of groups not associated with candomblé terreiros began to spring up. These groups did and do not ground their music and practices in the traditions of candomblé, instead take the music on its own.
SW: Are these the balacatu groups I’ve heard of?
JCV: Yes. Balacatu means something like “party maracatu” (maracatu de balada), and they play the music just for fun, aren’t beholden to its traditions.
SW: I can see why people that have preserved this music and its meanings over decades, especially when faced with the kinds of racism we’ve mentioned, might bristle at the idea that, suddenly, this musical practice is cool for everyone, as long as you strip away the aspects that tie it to Afro-Brazilian religion.
JCV: Exactly. Mestre Chacon has reinforced this, saying, “Maracatu is religion. Maracatu without religion is just a percussion ensemble” (Individual Interview, December 2011).
SW: Okay, speaking of which, how well does Nação Zumbi do with the rhythms, the percussion ensemble part?
JCV: They’re pretty careful. They learned from different masters.
SW: Right, you said that they were respectful and respected by many mestres, right?
JCV: Yes.
SW: So, let’s talk about how they do it.
JCV: They do play a little snippet of that viração that we discussed before. Here, listen.
SW: I don’t hear it.
JCV: Here, listen to them and I’ll play the viração on top.
SW: Aha. So that is starting to make sense. So, can we talk about the Karina Buhr song a little bit?
JCV: Yes.
JCV: Well, her situation is a little different. She is a candomblecista and plays with Nação Estrela Brilhante.
SW: Got it. Is the reception of her music different?
JCV: It seems like she’s been pretty well accepted as someone who can function in both worlds. She used to be part of a group called Comadre Florzinha.
SW: Aha. So, when the scholar Jack Draper wrote about Comadre Florzinha and Nação Zumbi, he said that they “uphold traditional regional and local music as a valuable heritage while introducing lyrical and musical innovations in the form of local hybrids, new instrumentation, and textual reflection on the status of local culture, history and music within a transnational matrix of production.”
JCV: Now, this is a big topic and we’re going to do a whole episode about it, but it’s worth mentioning one other factor that complicates things. Traditionally, instruments in maracatu were played by men. And there are groups that uphold this tradition, still.
SW: Ah, so the fact that Karina Buhr is a woman might challenge some people’s ideas of propriety and gender roles, and stuff.
JCV: For sure. Well, in most nações women can play multiple instruments, of course. But instruments can be seen as highly gendered.
SW: What about the musicality? Are there instruments here that we might recognize in her song?
JCV: Yes, Karina Buhr frequently plays an alfaia on stage, including in this song.
SW: Oh yeah! You can hear it right off the bat.
SW: Is that a standard pattern that she’s playing there?
JCV: More or less. She’s coming from a viração that Nação Estrela Brilhante plays.
Audio: “Ensaio da Nação Estrela Brilhante Do Recife 2017” (Youtube)
JCV: Wow, that was a great discussion!
SW: Yeah, it was. I feel like we only scratched the surface.
JCV: Me too.
SW: Do you think we should do another one?
JCV: Another one about baque virado? I’m down!
SW: Okay, I think we could talk a bit more about these issues of gender that we just discussed.
JCV: Oh, great. Actually, there’s a musician we could focus on.
SW: Who’s that?
JCV: You’ll have to listen to find out!
SW: Oh, okay. So, next time?
JCV: It’s a date.
SW: Well, thanks Juliana!
JCV: Thank you, Schuyler.
SW: Esse foi massa.
Audio: Sammy Bananas, “Transcontinental Baião (Carioca Remix)”
Credits
JCV: Massa is written, produced and edited by Schuyler Whelden and me, Juliana Cantarelli Vita. Special thanks this week to Rumenig Dantas and Mestre Chacon Vianna. Find more about them in the description of this episode. For episode transcripts and links, please visit our website, essefoimassa.com. That’s E-S-S-E-F-O-I-M-A-S-S-A dot com. You can email us at essefoimassa@gmail.com. @essefoimassa is also our handle on Instagram and Twitter. Our intro music is by Som da Massa and our outro music is by Sammy Bananas. Please join us next week for our episode on Baque Mulher. Until then, esse foi massa.
*Photo by Juliana Cantarelli Vita.
