Though improvisation is by no means a novel concept to musical performance, and has been recorded in recitals as early as the 9th century, no genre other than jazz has relied on it so heavily as a means of self-definition. Despite the origins of jazz, and even the definition of jazz, being widely debated, the turn of the 20th century saw many freed slaves taking up “lower-class” entertainment jobs in the brothels and bars of New Orleans. Many had learnt to play European instruments, particularly the violin, which they used to parody European dance music, gradually introducing the rhythms and idiosyncrasies of the African oral tradition they had brought with them. And thus began the notorious catwalk of the hallmark American genres, from ragtime to swing, bebop to Latin jazz, all of which are loosely classified under the umbrella term jazz. Throughout the 1900s, the likes of Miles Davis and Charlie Parker dedicated their lives to the harmonious (and disharmonious) creation of spontaneous melody, always conscious of the emotion they were purveying through their instruments. Their fast-paced lifestyles and revolutionary harmonics awarded them global reputations as improvisational mavericks.
However, on the southern side of the Equator, improvisation was already a highly developed art form. A full 30 years before the turn of the 20th century, the Brazilian genre choro had surged into the popular sphere, rousing up its listeners with its upbeat and passionate improv sections. Why is it then, that, of the two genres, both of which lean heavily on the expression of a fleeting moment, it is only jazz that has really gained global renown?
Although superficially the pacy clarinet or saxophone leads of choro sound a world apart from the swung, moodier renditions of jazz standards, the two genres are born of very similar parentage. What gave rise to these two genres was slavery, and more importantly, its abolition. In Rio de Janeiro, the abolition of slavery in 1888 created a new social class, that of the postmen, the public employees, minor business owners, generally occupied by those of African origin. Many ex-slaves had migrated to Rio de Janeiro from the state of Bahia in search of better opportunities, where the African rhythm of samba was beaten out through the bars of these Bahian “Tias”. With their flutes, saxophones, guitars, cavequinhos (a sort of ukulele), and the essential tambourine, these public employees gathered after work to play polkas, waltzes and square dances by ear. They began playing at parties, bars and in the street, gradually gathering respect and recognition, much as the first jazz musicians cruised the bars of New Orleans.
And though the creation of this genre was very much a popular one, its compositional sophistication cannot be readily denied. Its rigid rondo form, regular key changes and absence of vocals might classify the genre purely as a musician’s music. However, according to the popular Brazilian singer, Aquiles Rique Reis, ”Choro is classical music played with bare feet and calluses on the hands.” Despite its relative age, choro remains a popular and well-known genre throughout much of Brazil. Meanwhile, jazz in the United States is seen very much to be an intellectual’s taste, restricted to parents’ living rooms and the headphones of precocious adolescents.
Mário Soares, a violinist of the Bahian Orchestra, who also plays in various contemporary music groups, is keen to emphasise the importance of choro in his popular repertoire, as a result of him listening to the genre as a child and throughout his adolescence. According to him, though there are many genres which serve as influences for contemporary Brazilian music, choro is particularly influential in modern day sambas. Hermeto Pascoal, for example, a highly respected Brazilian musician, described by Miles Davis as “the most impressive musician in the world”, drew heavily on traditional choros to compose ‘O Calendário de Som’, in which he wrote a song for every day of the year.
Why is it then, that choro remains a vital influence for Brazilian contemporary music, while jazz influences are little to be found in the pop and electro music of the American charts? The answer could well be found in Brazil’s most renowned genre: the notorious samba.
Samba, under the Vargas dictatorship in the 1930s, was heralded as a vital symbol of national identity which constituted the notion of ‘Brasilidade’, or Brazilianness. The advertising of this music of both European and African origins was not just aesthetically appealing, but useful in its ability to forge multiracial and class alliances. In short, nowadays, samba and patriotism go hand in hand. And while choro was subtly nudged from the foreground, it was never lost from sight; rather, the two genres seem to have established a mutually symbiotic relationship, feeding off and influencing the other, thus ensuring the other’s popularity. Jazz, on the other hand, was positioned as a reaction to racism in the United States, emphasising the racial divide.
And though Brazilian popular music is ever evolving, and more fusion genres pop up in music magazines than their fans can keep up with, samba, with its upbeat rhythm, lyrics which narrate the everyday life of the people and essentially define what it is to be Brazilian, will never go out of fashion. And choro, as its more erudite cousin, is sure never to lose sight of its samba roots, basking in the publicity it brings this more obscure genre. As long as popular instrumentalists such as the clarinettist Paulo Moura and the guitarist Paulinho da Viola continue to compose and arrange traditional choros, all the while maintaining the unique danceable samba rhythm, choro will maintain all the zest of its humble street side origins.
The contagious buzz perpetuated by the spontaneous improvisation of both genres will indisputably continue to excite and entertain their faithful fans. However, despite the fact that jazz currently enjoys a more widely spread global success than choro perhaps ever will, the genre’s significance on its home turf might well become increasingly marginalised. Choro, on the other hand, having been promoted as a music of the Brazilian people, rather than just a “black man’s music”, will most certainly continue to enjoy a widespread national popularity for many generations to come.
