Today I’d like to share with you a classic samba song: “Surdo” by Alcione, a major star of the Brazilian (and international) samba scene of the 1970s and 80s through today.
A fascinating debate appears in the comments section of this song. “Surdo,” for those just using an online translation tool, literally means “deaf” in Portuguese. Some angry Brazilian fans lament the ignorance of Anglo listeners, for “surdo” is also a drum commonly used in samba music and they adamantly argue that Alcione was referring to the drum in her song, and not to a deaf man.
surdo drum
Let’s take a look at the lyrics:
| Amigo, que ironia desta vida Você chora na avenida Pro meu povo se alegrar Eu bato forte em você E aqui dentro do peito uma dor Me destrói Mas você me entende E diz que pancada de amor não dói Meu surdo parece absurdo Mas você me escuta Bem mais que os amigos lá do bar Não deixa que a dor Mais lhe machuque Pois pelo seu batuque Eu dou fim ao meu pranto e começo a cantar Meu surdo bato forte no seu couro Só escuto este teu choro Que os aplausos vêm pra consolar REFRÃO Meu surdo, velho amigo e companheiro Da avenida e de terreiro, De rodas de samba e de solidão Não deixe que eu vencido de cansaço Me descuide desse abraço E desfaça o compasso do passo do meu coração |
My friend, what irony of that life You cry in the street So that my people will cheer up I beat on you hard And here inside my heart a pain destroys me But you understand me And tell me that the blows of love don’t hurt My SURDO, it seems absurd But you listen to me Much more than those friends from the bar Don’t let the pain Hurt you anymore For by your drumming I end my weeping and begin to sing My SURDO I beat loudly in your chorus I only hear your cry That the applause comes to console CHORUS My SURDO, old friend and companion Of the street and the land Of circle of samba and loneliness Don’t let me, defeated by exhaustion Forget to take care of this embrace And undo the beat of my heart |
Certainly we hear a woman turning to music for consolation from the pain that love has caused her. She literally beats out her frustration, sending her emotions through the instrument as she plays it. The instrument seems to understand her better than her friends do and its sounds are soothing. The beats of her heart are translated into the beats of the drum, echoing into the street and disappearing into the air.
But we can go deeper; isn’t there a beautiful irony to the fact that the instrument – whose purpose is to produce sound – is named after the absence of sound? Or more specifically, the absence of the ability to hear sound? Isn’t there something powerful about the ability to turn to music as an unbiased, ever-supportive shoulder to cry on because it has no judgements to offer? It is “deaf” to the complexities and criticisms that we must bear in our interactions with others; yet when we play music, it seems to fully comprehend and digest that absurdity of life and all starts to feel right again. We can play just for ourselves, completely absorbed in the cathartic process.
Isn’t Alcione’s description of the surdo also a description of a best friend? Of someone who hears your rhythm, who defends your heart, who doesn’t judge, who can be your soundboard, who is with you in moments of community as well as solitude. Who tells you what you want to hear in that moment – that the pain that love causes us, for as real as it may seem, does not last forever. In addition, we must never forget to love ourselves because that is the beginning of the true undoing of the heart.
Who or what is your surdo?
Reblogged this on msamba.
Muita obrigada agogo22! Please keep up your amazing work in Manchester; it is because of people like you that art remains valued.
Thank you!