Documentos do Arquivo Pessoal de Gilberto Gil

boston.com MUSIC REVIEW On a spare set, Gil is all you need By James Reed, Globe Staff March 23, 2007 NEW BEDFORD -- Even from the back of the theater, the stage looked almost like a mirage. With the burgundy velvet curtains parted, a lone spotlight illuminated a shimmering and spare setup: two acoustic guitars, two microphones (one for voice, one for guitar), a bench, and a music stand. THIS STORY HAS BEEN FORMATTED FOR EASY PRINTING The Boston Globe Gilberto Gil doesn't need anything else, and once he was in that setting, the audience at the Zeiterion Theatre didn't need anything else, either. It's hard to imagine how any sort of backing band could have improved on what he did for two hours that encompassed 26 songs. Gil, the Brazilian maverick whose 40-year career has been a road map through his country's rich musical heritage, is the kind of performer you want to hear unfettered. He doesn't tour much these days, especially since he became busy with his duties as Brazil's minister of culture. Making his only New England stop at the Zeiterion, Gil is touring behind "Gil Luminoso," his new album in the United States, featuring just his voice and guitar. With that conceit in mind, Gil culled widely from his vast catalog (somewhere around 500 songs, he estimated), from breezy bossa novas ("Retiros Espirituais") and sambas ("Marina") to the reggae ("Three Little Birds") and funk ("Aquele Abraço") directions he began exploring in the '70s. When he needed a trumpet solo or maybe an electric guitar interlude, he simply did it himself, tapping his upper register for an otherworldly falsetto. The bird in question on "Nightingale" magically appeared through Gil's pursed lips. Unlike bossa godfather João Gilberto, whom you watch in utmost reverence (God forbid a cellphone erupts!), Gil thrives on audience interaction, be it eager sing-alongs or unsolicited pick-up lines. (Contrary to what a woman yelled out from the crowd, he said, he is not the most beautiful person to come out of Bahia, Brazil; he's merely "a little pretty," he said with a sheepish grin.) Even his covers sounded like his own compositions. In a bit of comic relief, Gil turned Paul McCartney's "When I'm 64" into a sprightly bossa and said the song's message suddenly dawned on him when he turned that age last year. Mexican composer Agustín Lara's "Farolito," stripped of its usual speakeasy-piano melody, became a lovelorn lullaby, and Steve Winwood's "Can't Find My Way Home" sounded perfectly suited to the languid strum of Gil's acoustic guitar Gil, with his chocolate-brown dreads twisted into a braid that dangled just past his shoulders, hit his stride with the stomp-and-strut percussion of "Maracatu Atômico," inching closer and closer to the intensity of Bob Marley. So it made sense when two songs later he went into full Marley mode with a Portuguese/English version of "No Woman, No Cry." He sang it with the conviction of someone performing his signature song; the little slivers of blue stage lights cast into the audience felt a bit contrived, very high school prom. You don't need more when you have less. James Reed can be reached at ireed@globe.com. © Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company