12. Forró: Baião

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 musicians and music professors. 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: How’s it going today, Juliana?

JCV: Great! How about you?

SW: I’m very excited about this episode.

JCV: You say that I say that all the time. And now you’re saying it.

SW: Fair enough.

JCV: The topic today is baião, which is—no surprise—a, kind of, complicated term.

SW: But most succinctly, baião refers to a duple-meter dance genre from the Brazilian Northeast that is characterized by a specific syncopated rhythm. It’s the primary and probably first rhythm of the broader genre of forró that we’ve been focusing in these last few episodes. In fact, before the term forró was used to describe this genre, a lot of people just called it baião.

JCV: Like all of these subgenres within forró, the person most responsible for the popularity of the baião is Luiz Gonzaga. 

SW: I mean, he is the GOAT.

JCV: Yes, I see what you did there. But he’s also the Rei do Baião.

SW: Meaning, the King of the Baião.

JCV: So I see no reason why we don’t start with one of his compositions.

SW: How about we don’t overthink it and just play the song “Baião”?

JCV: Sold. Here’s a 1981 live recording of Luiz Gonzaga playing “Baião.”

Audio: Gonzagão and Gonzaguinha, “Baião” (Youtube) (Spotify)

JCV: This is a pretty concise and clear showcase of all of the elements of the baião.

SW: The ensemble is the classic trio of accordion, triangle, and the bass drum-like zabumba.

JCV: The baião rhythm, which we’ll explain shortly, is clearly audible.

SW: And the lyrics are even about dancing the baião.

JCV: So, let’s get into the context and qualities of the baião.

SW: With some help, of course.

JCV: Of course! We’re happy to welcome Julinho Mendes again to share his expertise as an accordion player and forrozeiro.

Julinho Mendes: Meu nome é Julio Cesar Mendes. Minha família e meus amigos me conhecem por Julinho, que é um diminutivo do meu nome. Eu toco acordeom. E aqui no Brasil, na região nordeste o acordeom é chamado de sanfona.

[My name is Júlio César Mendes. My family and friends know me as Julinho, which is the diminutive of my name. I play accordion. And here in Brazil, in the Northeast region, the accordion is called the sanfona.]**

SW: Julinho will be popping in throughout the episode to play for us and recount some stories.

Origins

JCV: Let’s start with the term baião. Everyone must be dying to know what that means.

SW: The term baião may be a regional variation of the word baiano, which means “Bahian,” or “from Bahia.” Bahia is the largest state in the Brazilian Northeast. It’s possible that it was a particular rhythm that was thought to originate in Bahia and thus given that name. As a designation for a particular dance rhythm, the baião is not the same as the baiano, but is likely an outgrowth of it.

JCV: In the early part of the twentieth century, the baião wasn’t its own genre, but a rhythmic characteristic played by singers on the viola, a guitar-like instrument that we discussed in our very first episode. They would play this rhythm in between their singing portions.

SW: Just to draw a couple of parallels: for those who listened to our episodes on maracatu de baque solto, you might remember that there are traditionally two poets who improvise verses, trading off. Well, the viola tradition in the Northeast has this characteristic. While one person is improvising lyrics, the other is accompanying, and they trade off.

JCV: And the baião was a rhythm that was often used, either before the poetry or as an accompaniment.

SW: Julinho told us about a recording that showcases the baião rhythm as played by one of these violeiros.

JCV: Yes, in 1938, the writer and folklorist Mário de Andrade had a number of regional musics recorded. And in Paraíba, they were lucky enough to find a violeiro, a virtuoso, who could play without the sung parts. 

JM: Então, provavelmente disseram a ele, “toca aí alguma coisa pra gente gravar,” e ele toca um baião. Você reconhece claramente o que ele faz como baião, com que é feito hoje. [demonstra]. Eu tenho quase certeza absoluta que o baião, como ele é hoje, ele vem dessa coisa da viola e dos violeiros. Porque enquanto o violeiro tá pensando ali no verso e tá prestando atenção ali no outro, ele tá fazendo um baião.

[So probably, they told him, “play something for us to record” and he plays a baião. You clearly recognize what he is doing as a baião, as it’s played today (demonstrates). I can say with near absolute certainty that the baião, as it is today, comes from this way that the violeiros play the viola. Because while the violeiro is thinking up a verse and one is paying attention to the other, he is playing a baião.]

JCV: Check out that recording:

Audio: Mário de Andrade’s Missão de Pesquisas Folclóricas, “Baião” (Youtube)

SW: We’ll come back soon to what makes that a baião.

The Baião in the Recording Industry

JCV: In terms of the baião’s entrance into the Brazilian recording industry, there is a very definitive originary moment.

SW: Let’s hear it!

JCV: Okay, well what do you know about Luiz Gonzaga’s life?

SW: Let’s see. I know he’s from a small village in the interior of Pernambuco.

JCV: Right.

SW: And that he enlisted in the army when he was pretty young.

JCV: In 1930, to be exact, when he was 17.

SW: And that while he was in the army through the 1930s, he lived all over, eventually being transferred to Rio.

JCV: In 1939.

SW: In Rio, he played music and quit the army.

JCV: We should say that he was an accordion player.

SW: Right. Like his father, Januário.

JCV: His father played a type of accordion called oito baixos, which is so named because it has only 8 bass notes.

SW: But Luiz Gonzaga played the more common accordion that has dozens of bass notes.

JCV: Exactly.

SW: So, in Rio he was playing music, mostly popular songs from Rio and even some international hits. But he wasn’t having that much success, until one day a group of Northeasterners requested some regional tunes.

JCV: Which Gonzaga knew because that’s the music his father played while he was growing up.

SW: And so, he played them and suddenly he started to get some attention, so he refocused his efforts toward northeastern rhythms like xote and xaxado that we talked in the last two episodes.

JCV: Pretty good!

SW: Thanks! Folks can read a bit more about this story in Bryan McCann’s book Hello, Hello Brazil.

JCV: Even if Luiz Gonzaga had that realization one day that he should start playing northeastern rhythms, he still wasn’t quite an overnight success.

SW: Ok.

JCV: He wrote songs and had them recorded during the 1940s. And he had some success on the radio as a performer. But it wasn’t until 1946 that his fame exploded.

SW: What happened in 1946?

JCV: Well, in 1946, he met a guy named Humberto Teixeira, who was a songwriter from the state of Ceará who had moved to Rio to go to law school.

SW: Wait, in our xote episode, we heard a song that Gonzaga and Teixeira wrote together called “No Meu Pé de Serra.”

JCV: Spoilers! 

SW: Oh, sorry.

JCV: Actually, it’s fine. That’s the first song that they wrote together.

SW: Not bad for a first song.

JCV: Not at all, though their second song is the one that really established them as a formidable duo. It also established the new genre.

SW: Baião?

JCV: Exactly. The song is called “Baião.” The genre would soon be called baião, as well. You can read more about this story in Michael B. Silvers’s book Voices of Drought.

SW: Great book. Let’s listen to some of the first recordings of that song. This is the 1946 version of “Baião,” recorded by Quatro Ases e Um Coringa.

Audio: Quatro Ases e Um Coringa, “Baião” (Youtube)

JCV: Before we get into the musical features of this song, let’s have a look at the lyrics.

SW: Sounds good.

JCV: The opening lyric is “I’m going to show you / How to dance the baião / And whoever wants to learn / Better pay attention.”

SW: We’ve seen this so many times now: music about the music.

JCV: Yes, the lyrics establish the baião as a dance.

SW: He also mentions some other dance rhythms that he’s danced in the past, like xamego and samba.

JCV: And balanceio, which apparently is similar to the baião. But the baião is a bit simpler and therefore caught on a bit more easily.

SW: One other lyric I’d highlight is the later verse where the lyrics recount Luiz Gonzaga’s personal journey and simultaneously establish his credibility as a cultural emissary of the Northeast.

JCV: He says, “I’ve already sung in Pará / Played accordion in Belém / Sung in Ceará / And I know what’s best.”

SW: Clever.

JCV: Isn’t it?

Musical Features

SW: So, apparently, that version by Quatro Ases e Um Coringa was so popular that Gonzaga had to wait three years to put out his own version. But Gonzaga’s version moves things a ways towards the sound we’ve come to expect when we think of forró, or even Luiz Gonzaga himself.

JCV: Yes. The traditional forró ensemble of accordion, triangle, and zabumba (that we mentioned before) was partly established by Gonzaga and now known as the ensemble for forró pé de serra.

SW: Gonzaga’s first recording of this song moves part of the way toward that ensemble, but for a variety of reasons, it’s not exactly that ensemble. It seems that the jangles on the pandeiro, which is sort of a tambourine-like instrument, are standing in for the triangle.

Audio: Luiz Gonzaga, “Baião” (Youtube) (Spotify)

JCV: That’s much closer to the sound we expect from forró, but it actually doesn’t have the characteristic baião beat.

SW: I know! It’s kind of ironic, actually. But also, no one knows what we’re talking about, so let’s get into the musical features and explain.

JCV: Sounds good! Let’s start with the zabumba, as that’s the instrument that establishes things.

SW: Here’s how Julinho described the baião beat:

JM: O baião tem colcheia pontuada, semicolcheia, semínima. Tem uma colcheia pontuada e uma semicolcheia ligada a uma outra semínima. Então [demonstrates]… e variações disso, que aí são várias. 

[The baião has a dotted eight, sixteenth, quarter. It has a dotted eighth and a sixteenth tied to a quarter note. So (demonstrates). And variations of that, of which there are many.]

JCV: Let’s demonstrate.

SW: So, as we’ve pointed out before, the zabumba is a double headed bass drum played with two sticks. One is a mallet, called pirulito, that can play open strokes or closed strokes on the top head of the drum.

Audio: pirulito on zambumba

SW: The other stick, called bacalhau, is thin and plays on the bottom head. It has a higher pitched sound, like this:

Audio: bacalhau on zambumba

JCV: The baião is in a duple meter—1, 2, 1, 2.

SW: The characteristic rhythm is established with the mallet hand. It plays a closed stroke on the first pulse and an open stroke just before the second pulse.

JCV: That creates an asymmetrical pattern that sounds like this:

Audio: baião beat with “1, 2” count

SW: Let’s show what it would sound like if you played the second stroke on the pulse instead of before it.

Audio of simple march beat with “1, 2” count

SW: And now again, what does the baião sound like?

Audio: baião beat

JCV: It’s fairly simple, but something about that syncopation keeps things interesting and moving forward.

SW: Let’s add the bacalhau.

JCV: The simplest version of the pattern has the bacalhau playing on the “and” of each pulse, that is, dividing the pulses evenly.

Audio: complete baião beat

JCV: From that base, the zabumbeira can play many different variations. 

SW: Adding these variations is important to maintain interest, both for the players and the audience, but requires an intimate knowledge of the structure of the song and the melody and everything else.

JCV: And, for the most part, these variations are not pre-rehearsed. They come with the improvisatory interactions between the members of the ensemble.

SW: Julinho told us about this.

JM: Tudo no forró gira em torno da zabumba. É a zabumba que diz o que é o negócio. Mas o zabumbeiro experiente, ele percebe como o sanfoneiro toca e o negocio fica casado, como no rock, bateria e baixo. … Isso tem que dar certo, tem que se combinar, tem que conversar direito, na mesma língua, e o negócio fica equilibrado. 

[Everything in forró revolves around the zabumba. It’s the zabumba that defines what kind of song it is. But an experienced zabumbeiro recognizes how the accordion player plays and the ensemble comes together, like in rock with the drum set and bass. This has to work, it has to go together, they have to converse, in the same language, for the performance to stay balanced.]

JCV: We’ll get into how the accordion works in a minute, but this is notable. Here is an accordion player talking about the centrality of the zabumba to the forró ensemble.

SW: Let’s listen again to Luiz Gonzaga’s 1949 recording of the song and compare it to the version he recorded thirty years later. Try to focus on the zabumba and listen for that pattern that Juliana just demonstrated.

JCV: So, um, it’s not there.

SW: Nope. The player is playing those two beats that characterize the baião, but then adds two more after.

JCV: To those listening, I promise we’re not just showing you this to confuse you.

SW: Are you sure?

JCV: I am! It’s not to be confusing. It’s to show that these defining musical characteristics are rarely static. A new genre emerges. It’s played in all kinds of ways. Eventually one of those ways catches on. After some time, that genre gets taught, formally, as opposed to being transmitted only through performance. And in that process, things get codified.

SW: Speaking of which, let’s go back to the 1981 performance we heard at the beginning.

JCV: There is that zabumba rhythm we’ve come to expect from the baião.

SW: Exactly! Here, compare that recording to the violeiro we heard earlier, the field recording from Paraíba as part of Mário de Andrade’s 1938 folkloric mission.

JCV: Yeah, those are the same. So, what’s going on here? Why is the 1938 field recording more similar to the 1981 recording than the 1949 one?

SW: It’s hard to know for sure, but let’s think about the conditions under which the 1949 recording was made. The baião is a Northeastern rhythm that Luiz Gonzaga was introducing to a broader audience through recordings he made in Rio de Janeiro. I don’t know who’s accompanying him in Rio in the late 1940s, but it’s possible that whoever it was didn’t know the baião like he did. 

JCV: Right, so in these earliest commercial recordings, it was already being adapted by and for a southeastern audience.

SW: And over time, the rhythm starts to coalesce more in the way it was played in the Northeast.

JCV: Then, once the pattern is established, it can be augmented with variations. Note how the zabumbeiro takes liberties with the pattern when Gonzaga isn’t singing.

SW: Yeah, in fact, if we listen to a bunch of different baiões—that’s the plural of baião, by the way—we’ll notice that people insert all kinds of variations into their accompaniment. 

JCV: So much so that it can sometimes be hard to distinguish whether a rhythm is, in fact, a baião. 

SW: I like to think of the classic accompaniment, the one that you would learn in your zabumba lesson, as a point of departure. Depending on the qualities of the song, the intimacy between the performers, and how much they want to make their music legible as a baião, they might stick to that traditional rhythm or they might depart from it.

JCV: That’s a good way to think about it. With all of these different dance genres we’ve been discussing—baião, but also xaxado and xote.

SW: How about we talk about the harmonic and melodic aspects of this song.

JCV: Great! The first thing to note is that this song uses the mixolydian scale, or mixolydian mode.

SW: We explained this in our episode on the poetry of maracatu de baque solto, but to quickly recap: the mixolydian mode is a seven note scale that is similar to the major scale, except that the seventh scale degree is flattened, or a little lower.

JCV: It sounds like this: do re mi fa so la te do. 

SW: This scale is very common in a lot of Northeastern music, including many baiões.

JCV: This scale is typically not established linearly, like I just sang it. Rather, it’s established by outlining a four-note chord: do mi sol te. This string of notes tells you right away that you are not in a major key. And a lot of songs include it in their melodies.
SW: Including this one, as Julinho told us:

JM: Outro exemplo que na verdade é modal é “Baião.” A música “Baião,” que é uma arpejo já com 7a no começo, um arpejo num acorde com 7a. “Eu vou mostrar pra vcs como se dança o baião” [demonstra] Já começa com um acorde com estrutura dominante.

[Another example that is truly modal is “Baião.” The song “Baião”, which is an arpeggio with that flattened seventh right from the start. “Eu vou mostrar pra vcs como dança o baião” (demonstrates). It begins right away with the structure of a dominant chord.]

JCV: If this were a major scale, that chord the melody outlines—eu vou mostrar—would be used to create tension that requires a harmonic resolution to a home chord. But here, it is the home chord. That is the settled, resolved space. 

SW: The roots of that harmonic/melodic structure are outside of the scope of this episode, but Julinho told us that he had a chance to inspect the accordion, the oito baixos, that Luiz Gonzaga’s dad, Januário, played—the actual instrument itself. And when he did, he noticed that the instrument itself was connected to this scale choice.

JM: Você pega nos 8 baixos de Januário antigo e você entende que vez ou outra você tá tocando um negócio bem tonal e ele fica ali a 7a do mixolídio no V grau, e isso virou uma coisa estética. Eu já vi mil teorias sobre isso e vim entender que simplesmente é uma coisa da limitação técnica.

[You take Januário’s old oito baixos and you understand that, once in a while, when you are playing something very diatonic, it lands on that seventh scale degree of the mixolydian and this became part of the aesthetic. I’ve seen a thousand theories about this and come to understand that it is simply a matter of the technical limitations.]

JCV: The instrument itself only had that mixolydian scale as an option if you started on a certain note, so it may have contributed to the development of this aesthetic.

SW: It’s so interesting to see how the material conditions contribute the aesthetic properties of a particular genre, or something like. I find it fascinating.

JCV: Yeah.

SW: What about the accordion accompaniment? One thing I noticed is that, in a small instrumental ensemble, all of the instruments end up playing a rhythmic role.

JCV: Yes, Julinho described how the two different hands of the accordionist—one of which plays bass notes and the other of which plays melodies and chords—contribute to the rhythmic aspects and arrangement of a performance.

JM: Um padrão básico que é muito parecido ou igual ao que LG fazia, que já é bem preenchido, é esse daqui [demonstrates]. Tem aqui duas coisas muito simples: se eu separar uma da outra, não vai fazer sentido. A mão direita é essa daqui [demonstrates]. Com a acentuação e articulação específica, obviamente isso vai se aprendendo. E o baixo é só isso [demonstrates]. Separados, eles não vão fazer muito sentido. … A questão é que é um conjunto de pequenos elementos. A partir desse padrão básico, existem mil padrões que aí já começa a entrar os efeitos de bellowshake do fole e efeitos de articulação em si. Esse padrão aqui [demonstra], ele pode ser [demonstra]. Se eu faço só o baixo, ele fica aparentemente mais completo [demonstra]. Mas se eu faço esse padrão cheio aqui, ele fica tudo embolado, sem espaço. Se faz esse padrão mais ornamentado quando você tem que solar alguma coisa na mão direita [demonstra]. Se eu faço esse solo com um padrão mais simples, ó [demonstra]. Com padrão mais ornamentado [demonstra], ele fica mais completo. E muitos sanfoneiros tocam esse padrão de outro jeito.

[The basic pattern that is very similar or the same as what Luiz Gonzaga played, which is already very filled in, is this: (demonstrates). There are two very simple things here. If I separate one from the other, it’s not going to make sense. The right hand is this: (demonstrates). With the specific accents and articulation, obviously, this will be learned eventually. And the bass is just this: (demonstrates). Separately, they don’t make much sense. It’s a mixture of little elements. From this basic pattern, there are a thousand other patterns that begin with the entrance of the effects of the bellowshake and the effects of articulation. This pattern (demonstrates) can become (demonstrates). If I play only the bass, it apparently is more complete (demonstrates). But if I play this full pattern, it becomes totally overcrowded, with no space. If you play this more ornamented pattern when you’re soloing with the right hand, it’s (demonstrates). If I play this solo with a simpler accompaniment, it’s (demonstrates). With the more ornamented pattern (demonstrates), it’s more complete. And other accordionists play the pattern in other ways.]

Baião in Popular Music

SW: As with all of these subgenres of forró, time has helped solidify standard musical features, such as the ones that Julinho just demonstrated. But players have also taken liberties and explored their possibilities as modes of expression.

JCV: With that in mind, let’s share some examples of other songs that either are baiões, or draw on the baião as inspiration.

SW: Sounds good.There are literally thousands of options. I listened to all of them preparing for this episode.

JCV: Yes you did.

SW: So where should we start?

JCV: Well, since we are going to play a few well known examples in our next episode, let’s get weird and show off some lesser known songs.

SW: Yes, let’s get weird! I’m into it.

JCV: I’d like to start with a baião played outside of the forró genre. 

SW: Okay.

JCV: This is an example of a banda de pífanos, which is a flute-based ensemble that you will encounter in both sacred and secular contexts in the Northeast. The zabumba was likely adopted from this tradition.

SW: Great. This example is by the group Banda de Pífanos Cultural de Caruaru 100% Regional. It’s called “Baião em Novena.”

JCV: Listen for the standard baião rhythm but also take note of how the flutes fill in the harmonies and melodies much like the accordion in the forró ensemble.

Audio: Banda de Pífano Cultural de Caruaru 100%, “Baião em Novena” (Youtube) (Spotify)

SW: Okay, yeah! That zabumba beat is clearly the t-chum rhythm that we’ve heard before.

JCV: And while there is no triangle, there is a snare drum and some kind of cymbal that fill in the subdivisions of the beat.

SW: I think it’s fair to say that the mixolydian scale is what we’re hearing here too?

JCV: Yes! [sings]

SW: Now, I don’t want to create any misconceptions about where this recording falls in the history of the baião’s standardization. This recording is from decades after Luiz Gonzaga established that rhythm as a popular touchstone. So it’s likely that this recording is as influenced by Gonzaga as Gonzaga was by bandas de pífano that he had heard earlier in his life.

JCV: Absolutely.

JCV: Next up is Clemilda, a singer from the state of Alagoas.

SW: Clemilda’s recording career started in the mid-1960s, but she didn’t achieve any major fame until the 1980s.

JCV: We’re going to talk about a song from her very first album, Forró Sem Briga. This is the title track.

SW: See if you can’t pick out that t-chum baião rhythm in this one.

Audio: Clemilda, “Forró Sem Briga” (Youtube) (Spotify)

JCV: So, here we are about 15-20 years after Luiz Gonzaga established the baião and by this point, it has really coalesced into a recognizable rhythm.

SW: Absolutely. But the lyrics don’t mention the baião. In fact, they mention forró.

JCV: But in this case, the forró in question is the party, not the music genre.

SW: Right. We discussed this in our festas juninas episode, but to recap: the term forró originally referred to the party where all of these genres would be played. Eventually, that term came to be used as a genre marker.

JCV: So, within the genre of forró, you might hear xotes, xaxados, and baiões. 

SW: Sometimes, forró is also used to describe a particular rhythm that is derived from the baião. We’ll get into that in the next episode.

JCV: Now, the lyrics of this song are really wild. 

SW: Totally wild. The composers Amadeu Macedo and Garcia Santos—I’ve never heard of them, actually—but they paint quite a picture of a forró.

JCV: The refrain lyrics are “I don’t like a forró that has no fighting / Forró without a fight, don’t tell me that’s a forró / I don’t like a forró that has no fighting / At least a little intrigue has to happen at a forró.”

SW: It’s really heavy, especially in English. At least the internal rhymes and repetitions provide a little sonic pleasure in the original Portuguese.

JCV: “Eu não gosto de forró que não tem briga / Forró que não tem briga não me diga que é forró / Eu não gosto de forró que não tem briga / Pelo menos uma intriga tem que sair no forró.”

SW: Okay, it’s still heavy in Portuguese, but somehow it’s fun too?

JCV: Yes. It’s fun to say. But we’re not endorsing the message.

SW: No, not at all, especially the part later in the song about the knife fight that ensues after the check arrives.

JCV: I will mention that the knife wielding tough guy is called a cabra, which some listeners might remember as the term used for the members of Lampião’s crew.

SW: Yes! The other important aspect of the lyric is some sexual imagery that is, frankly, surprising to hear in a song from 1965. At that point, censorship of popular recordings was extremely common, both on political and moral grounds.

JCV: Clemilda is actually known for the double entendres in her lyrics.

SW: This is very evident in her first big hit, 1985’s “Prenda o Tadeu.” She was the lyricist for this song.

JCV: We’ll talk about the lyrics in a minute, but for now, see how that t-chum baião rhythm has been moved to the bass guitar and slightly obscured by the arrangement, which now includes a drum set in addition to the accordion.

Audio: Clemilda, “Prenda o Tadeu” (Youtube) (Spotify)

SW: For a lot of listeners who are familiar with forró nowadays, this is probably closer to what they are used to.

JCV: Yeah, this isn’t forró pe-de-serra. This is a contemporary ensemble appropriate for a stage or bar performance.

SW: An experienced forrozeira would have to say for sure whether this is technically a baião or not, but there is no question that it is derived from the baião.

JCV: Definitely.

SW: What about the lyrics?

JCV: Well, the lyrics jokingly ask the police to arrest a womanizer named Tadeu. She says that Tadeu already “got” her sister and [sound effect]. It’s fairly easy to imagine what happened next. The joking manner in which she communicates the lyric and the fact that her sister was “happy” with Tadeu, only growing sad after he split seems to indicate that everything was consensual, but I think nowadays this would be a hard sell.

SW: I agree, but this song showcases something important that I don’t know that we’ve discussed yet. Forró is not just about teaching dance steps and telling the stories of legendary folk heroes. It often speaks to the real, everyday experiences of normal people. And that’s part of the reason that it is one of the most popular genres in Brazil and has been for a long time.

JCV: And the fact that this story is embedded in a very danceable song is also important.

SW: Yeah, so even if it has this risqué story that we might not be so inclined to write in 2021, it’s still an important part of the genre.

JCV: Yes, exactly.

Baião in MPB

SW: The baião has also been an important part of MPB, or Música Popular Brasileira for decades.

JCV: We talked about this in our very first episode, when we discussed Raimundo Sodré’s song, “A Massa.”

SW: Yes!

Audio: Raimundo Sodré, “A Massa” (Youtube) (Spotify)

SW: Let’s listen to another example of this with Djavan’s song “Maçã do Rosto.”

Audio: Djavan, “Maçã do Rosto” (Youtube) (Spotify)

JCV: Like Clemilda, Djavan is from Alagoas.

SW: He is a major MPB star.

JCV: Yes. This song is from his first album, 1975’s A Voz e o Violão: A Música de Djavan.

SW: Much as we explained with Raimundo Sodré’s “A Massa,” the zabumba beat that we associate with the baião has been transposed onto the bass guitar here. That second bass note comes just before the pulse, which creates that asymmetrical baião feel.

JCV: Meanwhile, the offbeat guitar is reminiscent of the bacalhau hits. Or, the way that the accordion frequently plays the chords as offbeats.

SW: There is also an electric piano that fills in the chords in the absence of the accordion. And the prominent triangle, which continues over from the forró ensemble.

JCV: Lyrically, this is a love song. Djavan is describing his sweetheart’s cheeks, or cheekbones, using the popular expression maçã do rosto, which translates, literally, to “apple of the face.”

SW: It’s interesting how the baião here doesn’t seem to have any special significance as a rhythm. It’s not highlighted; it’s just part of the vocabulary.

JCV: For sure. It subtly signifies Northeasternness, but it’s not obvious and the song isn’t about a Northeastern topic, so to speak.

SW: As long as we’re discussing MPB musicians that draw on the baião, let’s listen to a song that is less subtle.

JCV: Okay! 

SW: During this forró journey, we’ve already heard the likes of Alceu Valença, Zé Ramalho, and Elba Ramalho drawing on these regional dance rhythms in an MPB context. 

JCV: Speaking of which, let’s listen to Zé Ramalho, Elba Ramalho, and the Pernambucano Geraldo Azevedo performing Vital Farias’s “Ai Que Saudade D’Ocê.” This is from the 1997 album O Grande Encontro II.

 Audio: Zé Ramalho, Elba Ramalho, and Geraldo Azevedo,“Ai Que Saudade D’Ocê” (Youtube) (Spotify)

SW: The song starts with a non-metrical introduction sung by Elba.

JCV: This kind of voice and guitar arrangement is obviously common in a lot of popular commercial music, but in this context, I’d have to say that it connects to the violeiro tradition of the Brazilian Northeast that has come up a bunch of times recently.

SW: No doubt. It’s an incredibly poetic sentiment. The song’s protagonist is feeling that saudade, or nostalgic longing, for their beloved and sends a hummingbird with a kiss to quench that longing.

JCV: Hummingbird, in Portuguese, is beija-flor or “flower kiss,” so having that particular bird serve as the emissary of a kiss is a poetically informed choice.

SW: After the introduction, we have that clear baião rhythm. And it’s even played on a zabumba.

JCV: The rest of the ensemble includes a triangle and an accordion, completing the classic ensemble.

SW: But it also includes a flute section, which recalls the bandas de pífano that we heard earlier. And the acoustic guitar continues as well.

JCV: This reads more as forró than the Djavan song, but it still has something MPB about it.

SW: It’s funny. We’ve been playing examples of MPB throughout the run of this podcast.

JCV: Almost every episode has at least one.

SW: And since, say, the 1970s, MPB has been defined, basically, as popular recorded music that draws on North American popular music, but filters it through the lens of Brazilian traditions. 

JCV: So you might have samba with electric guitars, or a rock song with a berimbau, or, in this case, a baião reinterpreted through what might sound to non-Brazilians like a pop rock ensemble.

SW: And because this song is, deep down, a baião, it’s a good example of how the baião has come to be one of those standard referents, a genre that has enough markers of Brazilianness, or of northeastern Brazilianness to connect this music to that MPB tradition.

JCV: Yes, it shows that samba is not the only Brazilian genre that MPB is derived from.

SW: Shots fired! 

JCV: To round things out, let’s check out one more song. This is the song “Baião de Nós” by Tiago Araripe and Zeca Baleiro.

Audio: Tiago Araripe and Zeca Baleiro, “Baião de Nós” (Youtube) (Spotify)

SW: Okay, so I hear the zabumba part that marks the song as a baião. 

JCV: Yeah. And like a lot of the songs that we’ve listened to, the three characteristic forró instruments are audible, along with a few other things.

SW: What about the lyrics?

JCV: The title of the song, “Baião de Nós,” means “our baião.” 

SW: Wait a minute, it just occurred to me that if you were to say “our baião” in everyday speech, you would actually say “nosso baião,” not “baião de nós.”

JCV: That’s true.

SW: So by saying, “Baião de Nós,” the title is a pun on baião de dois.

JCV: Exactly. baião de dois is a classic Brazilian dish. 

SW: Yeah, I’ve had that.

JCV: Yeah. The dish differs depending on what part of Brazil you are in, but the “two” from the title refers to the rice and beans.

SW: Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think one of the distinguishing features is that the rice and beans in baião de dois are cooked together, which is something that isn’t typical in other Brazilian dishes.

JCV: Right on. But there’s actually another layer here.

SW: What’s that?

JCV: “Baião de Dois” is also a song, written in 1950 by Luiz Gonzaga and Humberto Teixeira.

Audio: Luiz Gonzaga, “Baião de Dois” (Youtube) (Spotify)

SW: Whoa, whoa, this has bass guitar and all kinds of things. What’s going on?

JCV: Well, they wrote the song in 1950, but Gonzaga didn’t record it until 1977, and by that time it was common for forró recordings to be augmented, as we’ve seen, by other instruments.

SW: Right. I’ll be honest, I didn’t love the lyrics.

JCV: Yeah, he’s telling a man to put down his spoon and get out of the kitchen, because that’s a woman’s space. 

SW: The melody of the refrain also reminds me of the classic maxixe/samba “Pelo Telefone.”

Audio: Almirante, “Pelo Telefone” (Youtube)

JCV: Yeah, maybe not Luiz Gonzaga’s most original work. But the song is well known and probably contributed to the popularity of the dish.

SW: So, how does it relate to the Tiago Araripe and Zeca Baleiro song?

JCV: Well, the lyrics of their song reference both the dish and the Luiz Gonzaga song.

SW: Yeah, it starts, “Baião de dois é mais que feijão com arroz / Baião de dois é prato do rei / do rei Luiz.”

JCV: Which translates to, “‘Baião de dois’ is more than beans and rice / Baião de dois is a king’s dish / of the king, Luiz.”

SW: Then, they play with the the reference point by singing “zabumba, triângulo, sanfona / baião de três, digo a vocês / nunca é demais.”

JCV: Which is “zabumba, triangle, accordion / baião for three, I tell you / is never too much.”

SW: Seems like it’s kind of an homage to the classic forró ensemble.

JCV: The chorus continues, “in a 2/4 measure / the portrait of the sertão / in the tarrabufado the beating of the heart”.

SW: 2/4 measure is a reference to the duple meter that we discussed before.

JCV: Tarrabufado seems to mean “leftovers,” so we have a connection to food here as well. 

SW: Ah, I was wondering about that.

JCV: They are making the argument that the baião is a relatively small art form that, nonetheless, captures the spirit or flavor of the sertão, the arid interior region of the Northeast of Brazil.

SW: There is a harmonic shift between the verse and the refrain that seems meaningful.

JCV: Yes. The song moves from some kind of minor tonality to a major (or mixolydian) one. It has the effect of opening up, of feeling more hopeful.

SW: I love that that harmonic shift corresponds to the discussion of the sertão.

JCV: Yes, the sertão is a place with a complex history. In the twentieth century, the difficult climate there, and lack of structural support led millions of sertão residents to migrate to urban centers, both in the Northeast, and in the Southeast.

SW: But here, the sertão is mentioned in this major tonality, which reads, at least in a certain cultural context, as more positive.

JCV: For sure. It mixes the positive associations between the dish baião de dois, the rhythm baião, and the place sertão.

SW: Tiago Araripe is from Ceará and went to college in Pernambuco. Baut in the 1970s, he moved to the Southeastern metropolis of São Paulo, where he stayed for a couple of decades.

JCV: And Zeca Baleiro is from the state of Maranhão, but he also moved to São Paulo a long time ago.

SW: These specific migrations might not be equivalent to those of the early 20th century, but migration is an important element of forró and the role of these Northeastern rhythms in the Brazilian music industry.

JCV: Because of that, we’re going to take an entire episode to look at forró and migration stories.

SW: So, for those of you who have been shouting at us through your podcast app, wondering why we didn’t talk about “Asa Branca” today, do not worry. It’s coming.

JCV: Yes, we will quench your thirst in just two weeks.

SW: I see what you did there.

JCV: Until then, go make some baião de dois, Schuyler. Don’t listen to Luiz Gonzaga.

SW: Good idea! 

JCV: Esse foi massa.

Credits

Audio: Sammy Bananas, “Transcontinental Baião (Carioco Remix)”

SW: Massa is written, produced and edited by Juliana Cantarelli Vita and me, Schuyler Whelden. Special thanks to João Paulo Rechi Vita and Julinho Mendes. For episode transcripts and links to further reading, 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. Follow us @essefoimassa on Instagram and Twitter. Our intro music is by Som da Massa and our outro music is by Sammy Bananas. Please join us in two weeks as we continue our forró series with a discussion of songs about migration. Until then, esse foi massa.

*Cover photo from Fundo Correio da Manhã.
**Translations of Julinho Mendes voiced by João Paulo Rechi Vita.