As you know I’m Brazilian. E não desisto nunca. But I haven’t updated my blog with our songs up to now. There is just a little one! My friends ask me: “por que você não põe músicas brasileiras? (why don’t you put Brazilian songs?)” and I try to explain that there are many others that I end up taking a rain check. Today’s post is for them and for my followers from my beautiful country.
Gilberto Gil is largely known here. For you to have an idea, he and his friend Caetano Veloso are like our John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Without Yoko, luckily. And what’s striking is that they are as good as their British fellows. Be sure, I'm not overstating. ;)
Gil was there when Tropicália was born and gave his contribution to its growth. Because his political engagement he was exiled for 3 years (1969-1972) in London during the Military Dictatorship. Years later, in January 2003, he was appointed Minister of Culture by President Lula.
In 1976, Gilberto Gil formed with Caetano, Gal Costa and Maria Bethânia the group “Doces Bárbaros”. “Esotérico” was composed by himself for their eponymous debut album. It was released in a live show in Rio de Janeiro.
In Gil’s official website there is an explanation about the creation of this song. I get so happy when I find these things! I put it below, however, still remembering my friends who complain a lot about my decision to write only in English here, I’ll revenge them now: if you don’t understand Portuguese, you won’t get anything. Rá!
“Uma tentativa de transpor a idéia do mistério divino, místico-religioso, para o campo do amor terreno; de desmistificar e humanizar a categorização do esotérico como algo inatingível, colocando-o como inerente à nossa natureza, à complexidade de nosso afeto. O ímpeto da canção nasceu da vontade de falar do sentido esotérico das coisas através de algo que fosse demasidamente humano como é a relação amorosa entre duas pessoas — não deixando, no fim, de remeter a questão para a divindidade (qualquer mistério está aquém do mistério do criador).”
He sings with brother Caê in the YouTube video!
Não adianta nem me abandonar
Porque mistério sempre há de pintar por aí
Pessoas até muito mais vão lhe amar
Até muito mais difíceis que eu pra você
Que eu, que dois, que dez, que dez milhões
Todos iguais
Até que nem tanto esotérico assim
Se eu sou algo incompreensível
Meu Deus é mais
Mistério sempre há de pintar por aí
Não adianta nem me abandonar
Nem ficar tão apaixonada, que nada!
Que não sabe nadar
Que morre afogada por mim
PS: the song stops to play at 2:16. To continue to listen to it, click in the next second.
Do you remember that I told here that there was a french rap in which they only whistle on the studio version? And it was not time to post it yet? I think it's time now. It's not a Tupac song but it’s on too!
“Happy Hour” was composed for Svinkels’ fourth album named “Bons pour l’Asile” from 2003. This song was produced by Ludovic Bource, as we can read here. And that’s all! I looked for something else but there’s few things about the Svinkels and almost none interview. To worth it, my French is terrible...
There’s not a music video or also a decent live record, so I can only give you the audio and one picture of the trio. If at least they were handsome... =P
Get drunk, get stupid,get fucked up, get freaky
Happy hour
[Nikus]
A voir l'heure j'avoue qu'ça donne envie d'avoir à boire
Y-a t'il des amis en vie après l'happy hour d'hier soir?
Allo aujourd'hui tu restes à l'eau, tu pars en Thalasso
Ou tu rappliques illico à cette terrasse qu'on s'mette la race au soleil
C'est l'dernier tango à Buenos Aires l'heure d'la pétanque à Marseille
Du match à Manchester ça lève des pintes en Bavière u m'faut d'l'air
Faut noyer cette journée dans un verre qui durera au moins 10 tournées
[Baste]
Y'z'ont une caricature d'soirée à caractère caritatif
F'sant pitié à des bourges pour qui nous payent plein d'apéritifs
[Nikus]
Chercheur d'orge jusqu'à 20 H dans tous les rades sur la terre
On ira s'coucher à l'heure d'l'apério dans l'autre hémisphère
[Baste]
J'bois à ptities doses tout plein d'petites doses
Mais là j'suis vénér et j'vide le bar à vitesse grand verre
Ça y est y'a l'Nikus quis s'est mis en sup
Qu'est monté sur une table et qui beugle "on veut des chips on veut des chips"
Y'a d'l'excès en terrasse etc ecterrasse
Fais voir c'qu'y a ay fond d'ta bouteille ça c'est l'plan vigipicrate
Mon 5 à 7, j'tourne à l'anis comme Morissette
Fait Péter une p'tite assiette de cahuétes
Tape un pas d'claquette sur l'bar comme Fred Astaire
En vidant d'la biére d'monastèreni dieu ni maître sauf maître kanter
J'suis tellement tripé des tripots qu'si tu veux mon avis, "mon ami"
J'voudrais qu'ces 2 heures durent toute la vie
[Baste]
Tu peux préciser au barman sans vouloir l'comander
J'aimerais bien en r'commander une même si c'est peu r'commandable
J'arrive à oublier tout c'que j'voulais oublier
J'vais rouler sous la table et j'commence à étre sec et deshumecté
Tiens c'est chelou l'anis ça r'ssemble à d'la menthe
Pourtant j'ai l'haleine défunte stop zeuzeu faut qu'on s'rince commande deux pintes
Et précise à la serveuse qu'l'autre fou c'est pas pilote
Ça tome pile pour boire des p'tits jaunes
Mauvais exemple pour les p'tits jeunes ramèn ta boutelle de gin
Dans ton boui y'a toute ma tribe comme boo ya
On fait la bringue sur l'zinc la noce la nouba la bamboula
Ambiancé radio nova à j'suis à l'quest rien d'nouveau
Bourras comme djamel pourtant d'pois 12 ans j'fais plus d'judo
Y'a d'la bière gratuite ouvrez grand vos becs les poivrots
C'est pas d'l'opéra, rien qu'du rap d'apéro
[Nikus]
J'm'entiche d'un pastis, puis on potache tel le gang des postiches
Qui s'attalbe, sors les bakchichis, le popo mais pas d'eau potable
Laisse sonner c'mobile on verra pas nos copines
Ça pue d'la boite vocale, c'soir on est trop débiles car on s'met trop minable
Interminable tournée d'enfoiré, cette girafe c'est la tourn' infernale
Tache de pisse sur l'froc, les poches pleines de fric et d'pistaches
A transformer les chiottes en pistoche
J'te postillone qu'ci on a des pistons, eh riton
Une ristourne sur la prochaine, on y r'tourne
Mais c'te plait pas du postillon du rouquin tout roussis sorti du rossillon
Sinon J'sens qu'j'vais piquer un roupillon par terre avec les cotillons
Keeping posting rap / hip hop songs, today I’ll update a song from a legend live in the hip hop: Jay-Z. As well as the rock’n’roll legends (which are my cup of tea), it was expected that the rappers would not do it different. I prove myself that the whistling also appears in world wide hip hop hits with Usher’s song. Now with Jay-Z’s I finish with style this trinity. Unless if I find one whistling rap by Tupac! =P
Jay-Z should need no introduction for being the american artist who put more albums in the first place ever and for selling so many million discs around the world, but as many of you may not know his work (like me!) I’ll write a few lines about him.
This song, “Some How Some Way” is in the 2002 album “The Blueprint²: The Gift & The Curse”. It wasn’t released as a single and doesn’t appear among the best known of the general public. As I said before, I’m not a hip hop fan, but I kind of liked to listen it. And if you want to know about the whistling, you’ll have to go to the end of the song... it’s just a few notes almost when the fade out starts.
(Please believe that) Some how some way
We gotta make it up out the hood some day
Some how some way
We gotta make it up out this life
Some how some way
We gotta make it up out this life
Some way we gotta make it up out this life
Weather we dribble out this motherfucker
Rap metaphors and riddle out this motherfucker
Work second floors, hospital out this motherfucker
Some how we gotta get up out this motherfucker
Some day the cops will kill a motherfucker
I don't always want to be this drug dealing
Motherfucker damn
Wish I could take us all on this magic carpet ride
Through the sky I
Use to play the hall up fifth floor me and my boys we
All poor getting high I
seen the worst of the worst I deserve every blessing
I received I'm from the dirt
I planted my seed on unfertile land Myrtle Park
Marcy, Flushing and Nostrand and
Still I grew some how I knew the sun will shine through
And touch my soul take hold of my hand
Look man a tree grows in Brooklyn
Some how some way
I gotta make it up out the hood someday
Some how some way
I gotta make it up out this life
Some way I gotta make it up out this hood someday
To old Nell, Sigel street I ain't forget you
Twenty niggas on the block trying to chase that buck
Nosey neighbors and haters keep their face on stuck
Cops roll up on the pavement break the dice games up
Behind smoke kids can't chase the ice cream truck
Girls fighting over Rollie young boys hype things up
Niggas fighting over Cold young boys light things up
All the petty ass wars fuck the night scene up
Remember Lil' Eddie man how he light mean up
Then they wonder why we light green up
Back to back steamers trying to relax but I can't
I lean up ain't the L or the refer that steam up
It's my head stress to the point I get a fever
Thinking bout the block and all the mothers and kids
That can't leave and how the Chinks gotta feed'em
For the rest of their life fucking wings fried
Vegetable rice(gotta be kidding)
No breakfast Cap'n Crunch at night
Our kids eating lunch at night
In their beds all bunched in tight
No less than three or four(you know how it go)
Two by the foot two by the headboard
Man I'm getting scared for them (Yeah I know)
Thats how I feel for them
And we gotta grip the shorties on the block
All they do is smoke weed and drink forties
Cop their quarties
Enough to get the latest ROC, newest glock, and old Jordies
Some how some way
We gonna make it up out the hood someday
Some how some way
We gonna make it up out this life
Some how some way
We gonna make it up out the hood one day
Some way we gonna make it up out this life
Right here another lil' story bout this click I claimed
Another chapter based on how I get that game
Hanging round my neighborhood and bang my street
Sit and watch the passer-bys play my sweep
South-side sunny side
Blocks I run South Vegas, South Paul
Nigga all got guns
Over here we got this poor (?) get that there
We know tomorrow ain't promise so we get that there
Fuck sitting in the living room guarding the steps
Working inside a slump house starving to death
Serving these nigga flippers, quarter-ounces and
Zippers agents snapping your picture neighbors
Plotting to get ya
Situations is critic I was out here to get it
Living it like a savage cause nigga I gotta have it
And holding back all the mothers for a minute
Pumping hard dog
Erase enough to walk it down and fuck it all dog
Love being willied and your creek gonna rise
I'm be a nigga and these streets gonna rise
(Some how some way)
(Some how some way)
I'm be a nigga and these streets gonna rise
Some how some way
We gotta make it up out the hood some day
Some how some way
We gotta make it up out this life
Some how some way
We gotta make it up out the hood some day
Some way we gotta make it up out this life
“Country Boy” led Tyra B. to the red carpets of the fame. It was the year 2004, she was on a talent show when a radio producer or something listened her and liked her music. So he started to play this song on the radio. In the next year “Country Boy” peaked #35 on the Billboard R&B/Hip-Hop Chart and her rising carried on with her next song “Still in Love”.*
“Country Boy” is full of whistlings! If you are like me and love to whistle while you browse here and there, this song is a full plate for you. ;)
Let's make 'em whistle y'all....
Yea, this one right here
Is to all my country boys, yea
Awwww
See I love everybody
Mid-west, east coast, west coast
But its something special
About these country boys
Down here in the dirty south, ya know!?!?!
I met a lil cuttie
He was round my way
Accent was a little funny
Are you from VA
He said no I'm not
Im from ATL
Well u doin the damn thing
And u doin it well
Well I had my share of men
Black whites and indians
But I never had a dude like you
Im trynna tell you now
That I'm feelin ur style
Can I chill one night with you
You aint seen nothing
If you aint had lovin
From one of them country boys
You aint got a clue
If you don't know what to do
When you see one of them country boys
He's got Henni in his cup
24's on his truck
Butterflies in my gut
Cuz he said "wussup!"
He's got fronts in his mouth
Cuz he's from down south
Come and holla at me
Cuz u drive me crazy
Boy, go 'head with yo bad ***
What you need from me just ask
See, cuz a guy like you
And a girl like me
Not usually into rushin,
But u drive me crazy
He's crunk like Jon
With a body like Usher
Up in the club
Never scared like Bone Crusher
I'll take you home
We can tag team wrestle
And if you like it slow,
Give you that red light special
You aint seen nothing
If you aint had lovin
From one of them country boys
You aint got a clue
If you don't know what to do
When you see one of them country boys
From VA to GA
Miami to the Lou
All these country boys
Yall I'm feelin you
The Carolinas to my boys in Alabama
Even down in Mississippi yall I don't think yall hear me
Go 'head with yo bad ***
What you need from me just ask
Take my number
And baby please call
Any time I don't mind at all
You aint seen nothing
If you aint had lovin
From one of them country boys
You aint got a clue
If you don't know what to do
When you see one of them country boys
Aw, leave the rockabilly song behind... Today I wanna shake it!
Yeah!
“Yeah!” is the only song in the Usher’s forth studio album “Confessions” that was released as a single. As a single it became #1 in several charts around the world. Billboard Hot 100, UK Singles Chart, Dutch Top 40, French, German, Canadian Single Charts were a few example of its success. Usher was, with this song, the most successful artist of 2004, peaking #1 on Billboard Hot 100 during twelve weeks. According New Yorker, “‘Confessions’, which has sold nine and a half million copies, may turn out to have been the last true blockbuster in pop music. Since 2000, only five albums have sold more copies.”
Still citing New Yorker, “its first single, ‘Yeah!,’ was an uncomplicated song about flirting with girls in a night club; it left plenty of air-conditioned space for Usher to coo and for the producer Lil Jon to bark the interjections (‘O.K.!,’ ‘Yeah!’) that earned him a parody on ‘Chappelle’s Show.’ The lyrics were delivered like flashes of light: brief, anxious, and exciting, and perfectly suited to a voice that is long on control and short on texture. Texture, and a welcome dose of humor, came from the rapper Ludacris, who turned ‘birthday suit’— slang your grandmother could use — into a filthy hoot. To stay at No. 1 for twelve weeks, as ‘Yeah!’ did, you must sound salacious but not dirty, and keep it simple enough to lure out the non-dancers, who can latch on to a phrase or word that they already know: yeah!”
About the music video, directed by Little X, you can read here an amazing interview by MTV.com with its director himself.
About the whistles, they are beating slow on the chorus while Usher sings in the background.
[Usher (Verse 1):]
I'm in the club with my homies, tryna get a lil V-I,
keep it down on the low key, cause you know how it feels.
I said shorty she was checkin up on me,
from the game she was spittin my ear you'd think that she knew me.
So we decided to chill
Conversation got heavy,
she had me feelin like she's ready to blow!
(Watch Out!, Watch Out!)
She saying come get me, come get me,
So I got up and followed her to the floor,
she said baby lets go,
When I told her I said
[Usher (Chorus):]
Yeah (yeah) Shorty got down to come and get me
Yeah (yeah) I got so caught up I forgot she told me
Yeah (yeah) Cause if my girl new it'd be best to hold me
Yeah (yeah) Next thing I knew she was all up on me screaming:
[Usher (Verse 2):]
Shes all up in my head now,
got me thinking that it might good idea to take her with me,
Cause she's ready to leave.
Now I gotta keep it real now,
cause on a one-to-ten she's a certified twenty,
and that just aint me.
Cause I do know if I take that chance just where is it gonna lead,
But what I do know is the way she dance makes shorty alright with me.
The way she getting low!
I'm like yeah, just work that out for me.
She asked for one more dance and I'm
Like yeah, how the hell am I supposed to leave?
And I said
[Chorus]
[Lil' Jon:]
Luda!
[Ludacris (Verse 3):]
Watch out!
My outfit's ridiculous, In the club lookin' so conspicuous.
And Rowl! These women al on the prowl,
if you hold the head steady I'm a milk the cow.
Forget about the game I'm a spit the truth,
I won't stop till I get em in they birthday suits.
So gimmie the rhythm and it'll be off with they clothes,
then bend over to the front and touch your toes.
I left the jag and I took the roles,
if they aint cutting then I put em on foot patrol.
How you like me now,
when my pinky's valued over three hundred thousand,
Lets drank you the one to please,
Ludacris fill cups like double d's.
Me and Usher once more and we leave em dead,
We want a lady in the street but a freak in the bed to say
[Chorus]
[Ludacris (Bridge):]
Take that and rewind it back,
Lil' Jon got the rhythm make ya booty go (clap)
Take that and rewind it back,
Usher got the voice make ya booty go (clap)
Take that and rewind it back,
Ludacris got the flow make ya booty go (clap)
Take that and rewind it back,
Lil' Jon got the rhythm make ya booty go (clap)