out of the ashes

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Sina

I ran across The Manhattan Transfer yesterday. Not in person…on iTunes:) Ahh, they were a fabulous group; very hip in the pop/jazz genre! Always loved them. In 1987 they recorded a song from Brazilian master, Djavan. “Sina”. I went back to iTunes today and did a Power Search for the cut by The Manhattan Transfer, found it, and so downloaded it.

Wow!

I don’t know of anyone who could have stayed so close to the original recording and captured the incredible lilting melody of it; the entire flavor. And a bonus. The lyrics were in English! Ah, yes, I remember them. “Soul Food To Go.”

I’ve played The Transfer’s version, oh…20 times maybe already this evening. Check it out at iTunes:)

While you’re there see if you can pull up Djavan’s amazing album, “Luz”, recorded and released in 1986. Not the remix version done about ten years ago. The original.

’86 was a special year in my life; a joyful year, and I used to rod around in my truck with the cassette deck turned up full blast, listening to Luz. “Sina” is cut five on the album (I can’t find the original Luz album at iTunes!:( Sina (The Manhattan Transfer’s “Soul Food To Go.”) is totally Brazilian, sung by Djavan Caetano Viana playing Ovation, in front of his musicians on Yamaha Rhodes, Yamaha GS1, Baixo electric, acoustic, and Timbales-xequere. Simply too cool and heart melting!

Music:) I love it. I write to it.

I fell in love that year with the Brazilian language; the great musicians who rarely broke into the American mainstream music market. Pity. But Djavan did with this and other compositions. The language is so lyrical, so soft, and with the right singer, inspiring.

Sina
Djavan
Pai e mãe, ouro de mina
Coração, desejo e sina
Tudo mais, pura rotina, jazz
Tocarei seu nome prá poder falar de amor

Minha princesa, art-nouveau
Da natureza, tudo o mais
Pura beleza, jazz

A luz de um grande prazer é irremediável neon
Quando o grito do prazer açoitar o ar, reveillon

O luar, estrela do mar
O sol e o dom, quiçá, um dia a fúria
Desse front virá lapidar
O sonho até gerar o som
Como querer caetanear o que há de bom

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