Read Online Bossa Nova: The Story of the Brazilian Music That Seduced the World by Ruy Castro - Free Book Online
Authors: Ruy Castro
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ties, and blond cowlick. That kind of risk simply wasn’t there with Lúcio.
Lúcio Alves, six years younger than Dick, was perhaps the first Brazilian cult singer. Everyone who heard him on Rádio Tupi as the lead singer of his group, Os Namorados da Lua, was enchanted and believed that no one else had heard of him—as if he weren’t on the air, and as if radio transmission weren’t free and available to anyone who had a radio. Within a short time, he had so many such fans that the composer Silvino Neto dubbed him “the singer of the small multitudes”—in contrast to Orlando Silva, who belonged to “the real multitudes.” Orlando, by the way, was Lúcio’s hero; not knowing English, Lúcio felt a greater connection to Brazilian music than Farney felt. But like all young singers of his generation, he was also unable to escape American influences. The model for Os Namorados da Lua, of which he was the crooner, guitarist, and arranger, was a fabulous American vocal ensemble, the Starlighters. And as the lead singer, Lúcio was magnificent in adapting Crosby’s tricks, and later those of Haymes, to his style of singing sambas.
Lúcio, a prodigy, at fourteen years of age, founded Os Namorados da Lua in 1941. By growing a little mustache, he looked much older, and consequently was able to perform with the band during those lean years at the Atlântico and Copacabana casinos, which contracted the biggest names in Brazilian music. During the 1940s, Os Namorados da Lua competed with Anjos do Inferno for recognition among vocal ensembles, but in contrast to the latter, who had a successful track record, they only managed to get one song into the charts: the very same “Eu quero um samba” (I Want a Samba) by Janet de Almeida and Haroldo Barbosa, that had betrayed Donato in the Sinatra-Farney Fan Club. But vocal ensembles are born to die, and the closure of the casinos was the kiss of death for many of them, so Lúcio disbanded the group in 1947 and launched a solo career. He was doing well singing solo, but in early 1948, at twenty-one, he also decided to go to the United States as a member of the Anjos do Inferno, who had gone to Mexico and sent for him to join them on an American tour.
Léo Vilar was the leader of the Anjos. He had taken the group on tour but while on the road had married a Cuban woman and left. Lúcio was invited to replace him in New York. The Anjos were not only capable, they were also ingenious. From the start, they landed contracts with high-class nightclubs, like the Blue Angel and Reuben Bleu, singing risqué songs in Portuguese,such as “Doralice,” “Bolinha de papel” (Little Paper Ball) and “Eu sambo mesmo” (I Really Samba). They managed to do this despite working completely illegally, as far as the American Department of Immigration was concerned. They weren’t to blame in the slightest for the fact that the name under which they performed in the United States—Hell’s Angels—later became associated with a far less musical kind of group.
Under the wing of the Anjos do Inferno, Lúcio had everything he needed to be happy in America. The Anjos were paid, met their bills promptly, and had work in several cities. In New York, Lúcio became friends with Dick Farney, who in Rio had merely been an acquaintance, both personally and musically. Dick was right at home in New York and introduced Lucio to Stan Kenton, Billy Eckstine, Nat “King” Cole, and other idols. Lúcio was slack-jawed during these introductions, but could never manage to utter a single sound. He did not feel at home and preferred not to venture too far from the Somerset Hotel on 46th and Broadway; at least, not until he met and became inseparable from Jorge Aminthas Cravo (Cravinho) a wealthy young man from Bahia who was studying business administration at the University of Syracuse, close to New York. During Lúcio’s breaks, the two of them would wander down 52nd Street, which was the hottest music
Lúcio Alves, six years younger than Dick, was perhaps the first Brazilian cult singer. Everyone who heard him on Rádio Tupi as the lead singer of his group, Os Namorados da Lua, was enchanted and believed that no one else had heard of him—as if he weren’t on the air, and as if radio transmission weren’t free and available to anyone who had a radio. Within a short time, he had so many such fans that the composer Silvino Neto dubbed him “the singer of the small multitudes”—in contrast to Orlando Silva, who belonged to “the real multitudes.” Orlando, by the way, was Lúcio’s hero; not knowing English, Lúcio felt a greater connection to Brazilian music than Farney felt. But like all young singers of his generation, he was also unable to escape American influences. The model for Os Namorados da Lua, of which he was the crooner, guitarist, and arranger, was a fabulous American vocal ensemble, the Starlighters. And as the lead singer, Lúcio was magnificent in adapting Crosby’s tricks, and later those of Haymes, to his style of singing sambas.
Lúcio, a prodigy, at fourteen years of age, founded Os Namorados da Lua in 1941. By growing a little mustache, he looked much older, and consequently was able to perform with the band during those lean years at the Atlântico and Copacabana casinos, which contracted the biggest names in Brazilian music. During the 1940s, Os Namorados da Lua competed with Anjos do Inferno for recognition among vocal ensembles, but in contrast to the latter, who had a successful track record, they only managed to get one song into the charts: the very same “Eu quero um samba” (I Want a Samba) by Janet de Almeida and Haroldo Barbosa, that had betrayed Donato in the Sinatra-Farney Fan Club. But vocal ensembles are born to die, and the closure of the casinos was the kiss of death for many of them, so Lúcio disbanded the group in 1947 and launched a solo career. He was doing well singing solo, but in early 1948, at twenty-one, he also decided to go to the United States as a member of the Anjos do Inferno, who had gone to Mexico and sent for him to join them on an American tour.
Léo Vilar was the leader of the Anjos. He had taken the group on tour but while on the road had married a Cuban woman and left. Lúcio was invited to replace him in New York. The Anjos were not only capable, they were also ingenious. From the start, they landed contracts with high-class nightclubs, like the Blue Angel and Reuben Bleu, singing risqué songs in Portuguese,such as “Doralice,” “Bolinha de papel” (Little Paper Ball) and “Eu sambo mesmo” (I Really Samba). They managed to do this despite working completely illegally, as far as the American Department of Immigration was concerned. They weren’t to blame in the slightest for the fact that the name under which they performed in the United States—Hell’s Angels—later became associated with a far less musical kind of group.
Under the wing of the Anjos do Inferno, Lúcio had everything he needed to be happy in America. The Anjos were paid, met their bills promptly, and had work in several cities. In New York, Lúcio became friends with Dick Farney, who in Rio had merely been an acquaintance, both personally and musically. Dick was right at home in New York and introduced Lucio to Stan Kenton, Billy Eckstine, Nat “King” Cole, and other idols. Lúcio was slack-jawed during these introductions, but could never manage to utter a single sound. He did not feel at home and preferred not to venture too far from the Somerset Hotel on 46th and Broadway; at least, not until he met and became inseparable from Jorge Aminthas Cravo (Cravinho) a wealthy young man from Bahia who was studying business administration at the University of Syracuse, close to New York. During Lúcio’s breaks, the two of them would wander down 52nd Street, which was the hottest music
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