I imagine that many readers of this Sunday’s space have heard the news this week about the mock protest by Chico Buarque de Holanda, the genius composer of the MPB – a classic!
At a show on his tour, which unfortunately won’t be here, Chico came up with this:
– They call me bologna, leftist caviar, a mammal on the government’s nipples. I don’t bother anymore. You can even call me a chutchuc, but not a music buyer. I don’t buy music.
What I regret is that the note went out without a proper explanation as a rule, because this is a great example of distortion and criminality that can be practiced on the world wide web.
If I may, let’s go to her. And I will start with a personal experience that puts me as a witness to the spread of a whole lie in the form of a half-truth (and a lie has never had such long and easy legs).
It was Saturday, the day of my weekly meeting with dear friends from the past decade. I arrived at Akuaba, which was then commanded by the late Osvaldo, and Fredão was already waiting for me bitterly:
– Did you see Chico’s confession?
– He says he buys music. That was great!
Right after, my lifelong friend – who left us in 2018 – showed what he got for electronic mail. Trust me: Chico himself “admitted” that he bought his songs from an unknown composer of Arab origin named Ahmed.
The chip fell quickly. I’ve already seen, and more than once, the “whole” declaration of the most sophisticated and prolific composer of our best music (admittedly, he’s not the most listened to or the best-selling, but that’s another part – advertising).
When I found out that Fredão didn’t have a CD From Rio, 2006, Chica, I explained to him the circumstances of the recognition of the new great national defendant, denounced as a buyer of songs. Along with the CD, he also brought a DVD to leave shots: Chico plays in the studio, and the musicians who accompany him have fun in a moment of necessary relaxation from exhausting work (I highlight the song Because it was her, because it was me. The guy is also a reader and admirer of Montaigne).
What apparently happened is that someone, out of spite or a joke, ten years later decided to edit Chico’s speech – absolutely credible, after all, he’s the one who made his crime known to the world – and throw it into the Internet sewers, part of the filth of the world networks.
We had a lot of fun with the joke, even though we knew that Chic’s enemies, and there would be plenty of them, would continue to spread the “good news” – to them (to this day, it seems). After all, being so lucid and talented at any time or in any place does not happen with impunity, imagine in a polarized country, where hatred and ignorance cloud human relations and become more and more inhumane.
What seemed bad to me then – and we haven’t even lived through the social media pandemic, which creates and feeds so much blind faith and false farce – has since become much worse. The amount of criminal information grows in the same proportion as the number of believers of all faiths grows.
I recently heard, with an impression, a question from a saleswoman at a pharmacy in my neighborhood. The young man, very cordial and serious, when he recognized me, began to inquire about topics that are current again, from the time of snoring (an expression that has recently returned). I replicated his behavior and responded with delicacy, avoiding heated dialogue, not least because that was not the case.
But here comes the H-bomb (literally):
– What do you think about the Apocalypse Treaty?
– Or what?????
– From the Apocalypse, signed by the UN and the World Health Organization.
– End the world?!
– Yes of course.
– Where did you see that?
– In my zap group, everyone has already received several messages, so we can prepare. You didn’t know that, did you?!
His tone was puzzled and ironic at my insane ignorance, being a first-hand informant of something so spectacular. And then also to those who, out of professional obligation, would have to know in detail that the end is near, thanks to the agreement of two important international organizations.
I shook my head, with the silence that only a large atomic mushroom could provoke people to witness, predicting the outcome of the new chalk.
I left there with the suspicion that, yes, “my” world would fall apart.