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Brazil's
Rodrigues Conjures the Spirits The music of the pure Brazilian talent Virginia Rodrigues has been described as "chamber-samba." It's perfect: At the Marin Center on Saturday, the 36-year-old newcomer combined the joyous Carnival rhythms of her homeland with a masterly vocal artistry that owes as much to the church as the recital hall. The show promised to be a two-part celebration of contemporary Brazilian music, but opening act Moreno Veloso -- 27-year-old son of the international superstar Caetano Veloso, who discovered Rodrigues -- was under the weather. No one in the half-full, but wholly engaged, audience seemed to mind. With two albums to her credit, Rodrigues carries herself like a divinity. A former manicurist and maid, the shy, stately woman took the stage in a gleaming silver gown, a matching shawl wrapped around her head. With her exceptional trio of multi-instrumentalists playing precise polyrhythms on congas, hand drums and shells, she made delicate fluttering motions with her wrists. A bashful smile crossed her lips. Her music stands in stark contrast to the Brazilian music Americans know best, bossa nova. Where bossa nova's appeal lies in its weightlessness, Rodrigues sings even her happy-go-lucky songs (and there aren't many) with a wonderful sense of gravity. The small band supported her with an astonishing range of textures, from the cutting electric guitar chords of the traditional opening number, "Canto para Exu," to the ambling rhythm and trilling flute of the third, "Afrekete." Rodrigues is a student of candomble, the Brazilian mix of Catholic and Yoruban traditions, and her music communes with the spirits. Traditional African instruments such as calimba, or thumb piano, and berimbau, a kind of single-string bass played percussively, with a bow, gave the music a distinct mysticism. At the same time, Rodrigues' rich contralto is classically gorgeous. The contrast of her serene presence and her mischievous sashaying when the drums rumbled, as she did on "Adeus Batucada" ("Goodbye, Dance Hall"), drew shouts of approval. When an enthusiastic fan hollered "You go, girl!" the singer spoke her only English of the night. "I'm sorry," she replied sheepishly. Apparently, having just paused to sip from a bottled water, she thought she was being scolded for taking a break. She could have taken as many breaks as she pleased. Luis Brazil, the singer's musical director, gave her one near the end of the 90-minute performance when he took an impeccable classical guitar solo. Then the singer rose from her chair, leading the band through a small-scale block party of a finale. Parading the stage and swiveling her hips, the big lady bent forward at one point as if to kiss the ground. Hers is a formidable gift; she has plenty to be thankful for. |
09 de abril 2001
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