Bossa Nova: The Story of the Brazilian Music That Seduced the World by Ruy Castro Page A

saudade” (No More Blues) and “Bim-bom,” recorded six years later, tend to omit this first record. This is understandable: few researchers are aware of its existence, and even fewer have heard it. Not that it was released and then withdrawn. João Gilberto recorded it, it was released, and, quite simply, nothing happened. It was barely given any airtimeon the radio, few people showed interest in buying it, and neither of the two songs inspired much enthusiasm in the radio stations where he promoted them live. It wasn’t a total fiasco, probably because not even the recording company thought things would be any different. The only person who saw the whole thing as a failure was João Gilberto.
    The disdain with which his debut record was received is almost incomprehensible when one realizes that, under different circumstances, he could have been the greatest romantic singer in Brazil. Maybe this was the problem: in “Quando ela sai” (When She Leaves) and “Meia Luz” (Half Light), João Gilberto stepped back years in time, in the style of Orlando Silva, during an era when people only wanted to hear the nonchalant spirit of Dick Farney and Lúcio Alves. It was an “outdated” way of singing which in those days wasn’t even paying the rent of Orlando Silva himself. For those listening to the record today who are unable to recognize João Gilberto as the singer he would later become, there is a marked absence of something on the two tracks: his guitar. There is no point in searching for it because Britinho’s piano is heard in its place. Today it seems ridiculous, but at the time, no one particularly missed it, because João Gilberto was not yet especially well known for playing that instrument. (In Os Garotos da Lua, Milton was the guitarist.) But even though it’s perfectly normal that there isn’t the merest hint of the future bossa nova beat in that record, it’s remarkable that no vestiges of his hero, Lúcio Alves, have remained. During the recording session, João Gilberto allowed himself to be completely taken over by the spirit of the young Orlando Silva.

    Lúcio Alves was one of the first people that João wanted to meet when he arrived in Rio. Cravinho was a mutual friend and made the introductions. The ex-Namorado da Lua, only four years older than João Gilberto, was already a big star and had almost sung with Tex Beneke’s band. And that’s not all: he was finally now starting to savor the bright side of the moon. He was the singer to whom all other singers took off their hats. With his ear finely tuned to listening for mistakes, Lúcio understood the potential that the boy from Bahia possessed and immediately decided to help him. He had many opportunities to do so—whenever Os Garotos da Lua were about to go on air, for example, and João Gilberto was nowhere to be seen at the Tupi studios.
    When João and Os Garotos broke up, and it became uncomfortable for him to continue living with them, Lúcio invited him to stay at his apartment in Rua Raul Pompéia, in Copacabana—until he found another place. By all accounts, it wasn’t very easy, and João had a habit of staying indefinitely wherever someone put him up. Some months later, Rádio Nacional wanted toinclude the song “Just One More Chance,” written by Sam Coslow and Arthur Johnson, and made a hit by Les Paul and Mary Ford, in one of their soap operas, and asked Haroldo Barbosa to write a Portuguese version of it. Within a short time, Barbosa had changed it to “Um minuto só” (Just One Minute) and asked Lúcio Alves to record the acetate. But singing versions of American songs gave Lúcio hives. He declared that he was not available and suggested João Gilberto in his place. João recorded the acetate in a perfect imitation of Lúcio Alves. Except for the lowest tones of Lúcio’s voice, which he was unable to duplicate, he copied all of his idol’s mannerisms and sang in such a way that those who did not know better would swear