Documents from Gilberto Gil's Private Archive

GILBERTO in characteristically abstract fashion. “I've gone from being the stone thrower to the glass,' he said. "That's the way life is: you move from one state of things to another. Gil is rocking back wards and forwards on a mat, dreadlocks flailing in his wake, when we enter his exercise room. He stands up, revealing a pair of skimpy black briefs and the wiry body of somebody in their twenties: no fat, no sag, no wrinkles. He sits on the floor, legs outstretched into near splits, and leans forward to put his forehead on the floor: no puffing or panting, no cracking of joints, despite his 61 years. Not every government Minister or pop super- star - would let you see him like this. Since the Sixties, Gil has been one of the most famous singers and composers in Brazil and in the middle of that decade was part of the dadaist and popular anti-estab- lishment movement called Tropicalia. His oblique lyrics criticising the military dicta Over the course of eight days, Gil allows us unprecedented access into his circle, as he moves from politician to pop star and back again, right across Brazil. In striving to be all things to all men, and all things to him self, it helps that he has the energy to leave others flagging, No doubt the diet helps. 'I went macrobi otic in prison,' he says, stretched in an arcon the mat. 'I read a report on John and Yoko doing it and asked friends to find some books. They bought me Zen Macrobiotics - written by a Japanese guy living in Brazil - and I asked the soldiers for some suitable food." In London, where and then exile in London for two years. Since January this year, in the most exquis- ite case of chickens coming home to roost, he has torship of the time landed him in prison, he jammed with limi “MY LIFE IS SIMPLE. I GO TO MY APARTMENT, HARDLY EVER WATCH music of Bob Marley for the first time, he fre- In october last yea, Brazilians voted their entrane me orker TELEVISION, READ, DO MY EXERCISES, TRY SOME THINGS ON THE GUITAR' Street. John Peel remem- bers the clientele there sitting on the floor and eating fat chips made of parsnips. Breakfast buzzing provincial English university of the today is porridge, brown rice and a glass of Seventies - except that the trendy young green cauliflower juice. His daughter Maria, staff look like extras from The West Wing - who keeps Gil's diary and shares this apart visitors include ambassadors, presidents of ment in Brasília, passes through the kitchen.corporations which might relieve the min 'Ugh,' she says, looking at her father. That looks horrible.' Her dad tells her the juice is good for the blood system. first government in for more than four decades, led by former factory worker Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, Gil was one of Pres. ident Lula's appointments, and at the gov- ernment's inaugural ceremony in Brasília, he led the celebrations with a headlining per- formance. His masterful use of image gave a message to the country of what they were promised: his white tunic and trousers sym: bolised the Afro-Brazilian religion of can- domble, centred in his home state of Bahia, frowned upon by previous administrations; his short, dangling dreadlocks made an ele gant statement about his alliance with Brazil's black communities. This govern- ment would champion the common people. Gil included a version of Marley's Three Lit tle Birds' in his three-song set and then led chants of Viva Lula!", which the vast audience carried across the arid plains that surround the capital, a city designed solely for politics by the modernist architect Oscar Niemeyer. The challenger of the establishment will now experience things from the other side,' said one national newspaper. Gil responded As we leave his apartment for his office this morning, Gil carries his black guitar case over his shoulder and trundles a holdall in the lift to the basement car park. I comment on the complete absence of security, and he shrugs. 'I don't need it.' We cram into the ministerial car, and zoom through the capital alongside hundreds of other political workers. Brasília is a weird place,' he suddenly says from the front of the car, but I like being here. I can focus on the job here, there's no city madness and I don't need urban stimulation.' Gil was born near the city of Salvador, in north-eastern Bahia, in 1942. Although he is black and has been regarded as a more authentic representative of the masses than his great friend, the lighter-skinned singer Caetano Veloso, he came from a middle-class family. But rather than follow a safe career path, Gil grew up listening to bossa nova, local traditional music and The Beatles, and despite dabbling in business, became a trou- bador - to use a word that he employs. What does he do out of the office? My life is simple,' he says, disarmingly. 'I go to my apartment, hardly ever watch television, read some papers and books, do my exer- cises, eat, try some things on my guitar, lis- ten to music.' But life as a Minister has its pressures. At the ministry of culture, which resembles a 36 OMM October 2003 ings are made. The atmosphere is informal, more like conversations between friends or colleagues. Only the coffee and water wal- lah, walking in and out in a bow tie and black suit like a bit-part actor at the start of every meeting, preserves the formalities enforced by previous administrations. Gil's style is to watch from his corner, to lis- ten a lot, stroking the leather arm of his chair or the brown skin of his leg with his long gui- tarist's fingers, and to inject questions or statements which can seem bizarre or unconnected, but which gradually reveal a personal logic and an understanding of the essence of the issues. The range of subjects covered in just three days is staggering from a pan-South American campaign for literacy, to cultural events in support of the landless peasants movement (the Sem Terras); fund- ing for an art exhibition by indigenous Indi- ans, and Gil's personal bandwagon: raising the respectability of hip hop, and using it to bring the favelas' youth out of the ghetto and into mainstream society. "I'm being taught an incredible amount of things,'enthuses Gil, smiling, 'It's been like doing a PhD pro- ject - a crash course.' istry of some funding responsibilities, pre- fects and mayors from outlying cities and states with begging bowls. To reach the Minister's office, you go to the third floor and walk along a long mush- In the late Eighties, the singer stood for room-painted corridor to a wooden door local office in Bahia and served as Salvador's with gold lettering. Beyond that, a vast desk secretary of culture, while continuing to work reveals surprisingly little evidence of con- as a full-time touring musician. Critics ventional ministerial action: a laptop, a tele accused him of not achieving as much as he phone and a charging mobile phone; a few might have, and then had a field day with the sheaves of paper, some small figurines of shopping habits of his wife Flora. The expe- Afro-Brazilian candomble deities - hardlyrience didn't inspire confidence among those the props of a bureaucrat. There isn't much in the cultural industries who thought that paperwork to read,' he tells me one morn his record disqualified Gil from taking office ing. 'It's all filtered out before it reaches me, under Lula. Add to that a personal philoso- but I sign a lot of things.' Incredibly, not a phy created from a lifetime of private study, single meeting is minuted, and no record including green politics, ancient Eastern and