Red. Photo by Jovino Santos Neto
Here in Seattle, the arrival of autumn brings very unique sensations - the colors of the trees in which each leaf becomes a flower, the scents of sap returning to the ground, the harvests of late summer and important changes for the world ahead.
I was boarding a flight to Houston last week, and due to a very early start, I forgot to remember to remove a Swiss Army knife from my pouch, causing it to attract the attention of the security workers at the gate. A polite officer asked me: “Sir, do you have any sharp pointed items in your bag?”
“I don’t think so, I said”
“You don’t think so?, he asked”
He then pointed to my red Victorinox clearly outlined in the X-ray screen. Faced with the options of either returning back through the crowd and mailing it to me, or dropping it in the river of confiscated objects that flow towards somewhere unknown, I chose the latter. This was probably the 10th such utility tool I have had and lost since the age of 13. Each time one of them decides to part company with me, they choose their own goodbye rituals. Once I had a black Victorinox drop between my feet at a beach, and the sand immediately swallowed it. I dug a good trench trying to catch it, but it burrowed itself further and further towards somewhere unknown, away from my attempts. That’s when you realize that while these objects hd been traveling with you for years, they were never yours - you were just the horse on which they traveled through life. Sometimes they disappear in a cloud of smoke or in a sand pit, but most often they jump into the Great Bin of Airport Confiscation, somewhere unknown.
Back at home, I am glad to see that the tomatoes outside and the peppers now living indoors are bearing and ripening fruits. In the photo you see a Brandywine heirloom tomato, a plump cherry tomato flanked by two pods of the elusive pepper Bode Mãe (a secret non-spicy variety from Bahia, Brazil) and the curly spiral of an Aji pepper.
Framing them you will see:
Above, a pencil, which for me has the same function of the Swiss knife. With it I scribble notes I hear inside and around me on paper. A very analog experience. When composing, I hold the pencil in my mouth like a horse with a bit. Remember, the rider controls the horse by subtle moves of the bit by the reins. I am the horse, and the Muse is the rider, or the Amazon, sending subtle hints of melodies, grooves, harmonies and other musical shapes. When the Muse, the Pianist and the Piano are properly attuned and in tune, Music flows.
Below, the new replacement for the recently departed Victorinox, displaying a few of its tool options. I love the idea of tools as extensions of our articulated body. If you think of it, a piano is also a tool, an articulated mechanical contraption created out of more elements we can count: many different woods, bronze, flannel, steel, copper, even elephant teeth for some time - each one made to resonate with the others. This is the physical version of harmony: If all these very different “materials” (all received from the animal, vegetal and mineral circles (not kingdoms, please) can coexist and be harmonized while being touched by an articulated human, so can our life on Earth be made harmonious. The musical perspective of harmony hears the combination of tones as a aromatherapist blends scents or a traditional cook combines flavors to create a spice rub. This is what we do as musicians: we combine different tones and set them in motion to a rhythmic pulse, creating the dynamic field of forces we call Music.
Here is a batuque I composed for the Quinteto, Batuki Di Bangu. It was recorded in our Latin Grammy-nominated album Canto do Rio. It features Hans Teuber and Harvey Wainapel on alto saxes, myself on Rhodes, Chuck Deardorf on bass, Mark Ivester on drums and Jeff Busch on percussion:
We also played it live at Symphony Space in NYC:
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Obrigado!
Jovino
Jovino, You are not only an amazing composer and musician, you are a poet!