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Favela fave one helluva fella
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Boston's Weekly Dig, Favela fave one helluva fella >>
If Seu Jorge were an American, he’d be 50 Cent. Yes, I’m talking about the same guy who sings those David Bowie songs in Portuguese in The Life Aquatic. If he grew up in Queens, he’d be hard as fucking hell and covered in Glocks and gold and girls with just enough trunk-junk. But Jorge grew up in Brazil. So instead of gangsta rap, his pain has become heartbreakingly beautiful acoustic-guitar-based love songs.
 “I was given my first guitar when I was living on the streets by a complete stranger,” says Jorge. “If I had known he was going to transform my life, I think I would have got his name; but at the time, I thought it was quite cool to have one.”
Jorge grew up in a Rio de Janeiro favela—a shantytown that makes Queens look like Nantucket. It’d be nice to say that Jorge’s guitar pulled his family out of poverty, but it’d be misleading (and pretty cliché). A terrible amount of bad shit went down before music became his salvation years later.
“When my brother was killed by street gangs, our whole family was thrown out onto the streets,” he says. “I slept on the streets for a while, but then realized that it was very, very dangerous. When you slept, gangs used to try and burn you alive.”
Jorge found refuge within the gates of a theatre. At only 10 years old, he spent his days repairing tires to help support his family. At night, behind the locked gates, he played guitar. Encouraged by his father—who, before losing his home, had been a session musician—and the theatre community, Jorge began writing his own songs. Using the template set by favela pagode king Zeca Pagodinho and adding elements from Tropicália stars Jorge Ben Jor, Gilberto Gil and Milton Nascimento, he started to develop his own style.
At the same time, he became friendly with the actors who surrounded the theatre. They saw talent in Jorge and began teaching him the basics of acting. By his late teens, he was performing regularly in local productions.
“Without music or acting, I would still be on the streets,” says Jorge. “I owe my success to the people who helped me get a job within the theatre and trained me to act and to sing.”
The same as any American gangsta rapper, Jorge used what he learned in the slums to create his art. In another move paralleling the hip-hop model, he raised his exposure through film—most notably The Life Aquatic, but Jorge also blew some minds in his role as Knockout Ned in the favela epic City of God.
When not acting in plays or films, Jorge employed his thespian gravitas in his first group, Farofa Carioca, Brazil’s answer to Ziggy Stardust. Farofa Carioca live shows became circuses, with twirling acrobats and clownish jugglers accompanying the band’s mix of traditional Brazilian music, reggae and hip-hop.
“It was an entertainment show very much influenced by my theatrical background,” says Jorge. “[But after a while] I felt a bit stifled and wanted to go solo. I enjoyed being with them, but felt I needed to go solo for my own creativity. My Cru tour is much more stripped down and what you see is what you get.”
Cru, which translates to “raw,” isn’t gangsta-rap raw. Instead, the singer’s second solo album is all minimal ballads with just guitar and bare-bones percussion. Gone are the electronics, world fusion and theatrics that characterized Farofa Carioca. What remains is Jorge’s political awareness.
While Jorge doesn’t consider himself a protest singer, he does let loose a few well-aimed blasts of anger. “Eu Sou Favela” (“I Am Favela”) criticizes the government and media for its disregard for Rio’s slum life, while “Mania de Peitão” (“Big Bosom Mania”) questions the rationale for getting fake boobs.
“Even if one person in government were to help the terrible conditions people live in by putting reforms through, then what an achievement that would be,” he says. “I am keen to get across the injustice of our government not helping the favelas. Most governments have some resources for the underprivileged; however, our government leaves them to fend for themselves. Through City of God and my music, I hope to give them a higher profile so that hopefully somebody in government may raise it as a bigger issue and start doing something about it.”
And the silicone song?
“[That song] is not me preaching,” he says. “It is me saying that you have to seriously think about this. Are you doing this for yourself or for men?”
OK, so maybe it’s not totally accurate to say Seu Jorge’s the Brazilian version of 50 Cent—I’d assume 50’s always cool with giant tits, real or fake. 06/26/06
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