Documents from Gilberto Gil's Private Archive

S unday lunch is a relaxed affair at Gilberto Gil's Bahia residence. Along with his wife, Flora, there are sons and daughters, grandchildren and in-laws, as well as visiting dignitaries of Brazilian rock, such as singer-songwriter Lulu Santos and his heavily tattooed son. And gate-crashing the proceedings are two strangers-namely, myself and my missus, still reeling from the heady highs of a New Year's Eve in Salvador. We are invited into the inner sanctum to share in the animated poolside conversation, followed by an almighty feast. As his son-in-law hands me a glass of freshly made cashew fruit juice, Gil and Lulu explain that the echo of Jamaica's reggae rhythm can be found in the traditional Northeast Brazilian form known as xote, which itself has origins in Scottish folk styles. Further links to various local and international forms are debated, and there are broader discussions on the ever-shifting focus of popular music. The high-caliber nature of what would elsewhere be small talk gives some inkling to the kind of mind, heart, and soul that lurks beneath the exterior of this remarkable man, whose recording career now spans nearly half a century. Meeting Mr. Gil was one of those outstanding experiences that happen so infrequently during our lifetimes, and cer- tainly felt like a high point of my twenty-five-year journey as a music journalist. When face to face with the man, it is clear that you are in the presence of an icon, and it is also no overstatement to say that room lights up whenever he enters it. However, Gilberto Gil seems to hold none of the negative trappings typically associated with stardom. Instead of the egomania or delusions of grandeur that have warped the minds of here-today-gone-tomorrow types that swallow their own hype, it is instantly clear that Gil is a down-to-earth character whose warmth and conviviality are simply part and parcel of his regular being, which partly accounts for his suc- cess in the political arena. Indeed, his openness, warmth, and honesty, enveloped in an overriding sense of compassion and coupled with a commitment to addressing important social issues through his work, make it easy to picture him winning the confidence of the people, despite the initial controversy that greeted his appointment as minister of culture by Presi- dent Luiz Inácio "Lula" da Silva in 2003. As endless bowls of flavorful feijoada, spicy sausages, and tofu are placed before us, it is clear that Gil is certainly passionate about the music and culture of his native Brazil, as well as the inspiring sounds he encountered elsewhere, with rock, reggae, and highlife being among the most important overseas elements brought into his work at key points during his musical evolution. There have been many revolutionary aspects to Gilberto Gil's career, of which the best known is his key role in the launch- ing of tropicalia during the late 1960s. A form of Brazilian pop highly influenced by the psychedelic rock of Britain and Ameri- ca, tropicalia and its attendant countercultural lifestyle naturally drew the ire of Brazil's military government, which imprisoned and then expelled Gil and his close friend Caetano Veloso. But while in exile in London, the pair fit right into the bourgeoning rock scene. Gil's ongoing jam sessions with members of Pink Floyd, the Stones, and Traffic brought harder rock edges into his sound on his return to a more democratic Brazil. A trip to Nigeria in 1977 for the Festival of African Culture (FESTAC) brought further revelations as Gil musically rediscovered his Af- rican heritage on the Refavela album. He then became one of the earliest champions of reggae in Brazil through a hit cover of "No Woman, No Cry" and via collaborations with Jimmy Cliff and the Wailers band. Additionally, Gil has always mixed aspects of traditional Brazilian genres into his sound, especially the regional forms of his native Northeast, many of which are largely unknown outside the country. Gil was also one of the first to ponder the nature of technology's relation to music, as evidenced by the double-disc Quanta album, whose live coun- terpart bagged a Grammy in 1998, while his latest album, Ban- da Larga Cordel, explores the role of the Internet in shaping our present relationships with music. What follows is extracted from the lengthy conversation I was privileged to hold with Gil, after filling my belly at his table. Tell me about your early days, growing up in Bahia. I was born in 1942 in Salvador, and three weeks old, I was brought to where my parents were living, in Ituaçu, a very tiny village in the sertão region, in the countryside, which had less than a thousand inhabitants. My father was a physician, and my mother was a primary school teacher. And I was raised there till the age of nine, when I was brought back to Salvador to do secondary school. You were born in Salvador, because there was no hos- pital in the sertão? Being a doctor, my father was able to do the delivery himself, but he preferred to come to Salvador because both his and my mother's families were in Salvador, so he was assisted more at home in the family environment, to help the firstborn family child, which I was. And just one sister followed me. When you came to Salvador for secondary your parents remain in the sertão? Yes. I was here with an aunt; she was also a primary school teacher. But before moving here permanently, every year in the summer, coinciding with the school holidays, the family would come to Salvador, so I would be here for the summer season with all the events, culminating with the Carnival, staying with the same aunt, in the Santo Antonio do Carmo neighborhood. It was a very interesting environment, a lower-middle-class en- vironment, with lots of buildings occupied by many families, three- or four-story buildings with one family per floor, and very mixed, with Bahian families, Spanish families, Gallegos, and Arabs-mixed Brazilians, mulattoes, and mestizos. It was