A truly remarkable book, or, more accurately, a truly remarkable story: In 1992, British freelance writer James Woodall brazened his way into an interview with Brazilian songwriting legend Chico Buarque, who had written a novel that had just been translated into English, and was being released in Europe. Woodall, who was entirely ignorant of Brazilian popular music, had never heard of Buarque or the MPB scene he helped pioneer. To the author, writing about this Brazilian guy just represented a chance to bluff his way through to another paycheck. The two of them hit it off, however, and while researching the story, Woodall fell under the spell of Buarque's muse. Seeing Buarque and, later, Caetano Veloso, performing in London -- amid adoring audiences packed with fervent Brazilian fans -- clinched it for Woodall, and he soon became a diehard fan. The article led to an invitation to visit Buarque in Rio de Janeiro, which Woodall accepted, and timed to coincide with the 1994 Rio Carnaval. what started off as a journalistic lark led to an extraordinary series of events: over the next couple of years Woodall was able to meet not only Buarque, but Veloso as well, and other superstars such as Gilberto Gil, Gal Costa and even the legendary Antonio Carlos Jobim, not long before the great bossa nova composer passed away. It's something of an innocents abroad adventure: Woodall steps over a few of the gaps in Brazilian musical history (when explaining the role Roberto Carlos played in the early '60s, for example, he doesn't seem to be aware that Carlos was in fact playing teenybopper rock music, and not the syrupy romantic stuff he later became known for...) and seems almost to blunder into the presence of greatness. That being said, however, this book includes fine, cogent narratives, particularly of the lives of Chico Buarque and Caetano Veloso, and is a fine introduction to the history of mdern Brazilian pop, as well as a charmingly unglamorized travelogue of modern Brazil, and an exploration of how the yearly Carnaval celebrations have become a routinized tourist-dominated event.
Some of passages may evoke resentment or ire: Woodall's frank ogling of scantily clad, robust Brazilian natives and his blunt appraisals of the state of their society may seem patronizing, although as an outsider, I have to say they have the ring of honesty and accuracy. Most of all, Woodall ably conveys the sense of discovery, mystery and fervor that Brazilian music can inspire: he isn't slavish in his adulation, and is willing to dismiss beloved artists such as Djavan or Milton Nascimento, simply because their music doesn't appeal to him, but he is a fan. And, as someone who seems to share a lot in common with Woodall, aesthetically speaking, I find his unglamorized approach pretty refreshing.