Ramiro

A few years ago, I quit my job, took all my savings and headed to Brazil. I was travelling alone. I knew nobody there. I didn't speak the language. I hadn't really planned it at all, in fact - the whole trip was kind of on impulse. I'd heard that Salvador was a good place to start, so I booked a ticket. But I had no idea how to get going, musically, in Salvador.

I'd recently joined a UK-based samba email list, so just before my flight to the Brazil, I posted a little note there, saying I was going to Salvador and asking if anybody had any tips on how to find teachers, where to go, what to see. A fellow named Ramiro wrote back and said to get in touch with him when I got to Salvador. He said he was a musician.

So I got to Salvador, got in touch with this Ramiro guy and he said he was doing some recordings with some friends. He invited me to come over and meet everybody. I managed to find the address, walked in, and...as I walked into the studio and started seeing all the framed Daniela Mercury posters around, and saw the size of the studio and the quality of the equipment, and the caliber of the instruments lying around.... I slowly realized that I'd stumbled into some kind of musical big league, quite by accident. This was Daniela Mercury's studio, it turned out. Even I, a total Brazil novice, had heard of Daniela Mercury. (She's one of the great national superstars of Brazilian pop music. She's also always a central figure in the Salvador Carnaval parades.) The "Ramiro guy" turned out to be none other than Ramiro Musotto. A world-renowned berimbau player, brilliant all-around percussionist, a core member of Daniela's touring band and (as I began to gather) a central figure in her recording studio as well. He's recorded with every superstar imaginable and has toured the world multiple times.

The night I visited, Ramiro and his crew (Leo and Ramirito) were recording afoxe songs being sung by a wonderful, creaky old fellow in his 80's. The old guy was the very last person alive who knew some of these ancient songs, and Ramiro was trying to preserve that beautiful ancient music before it vanished entirely. This was my first glimpse of Ramiro's passion for the old folk genres of northeastern music. Later I came to see that he was quite an ethnomusicologist, in addition to being such a fine musician in his own right. He had a phenomenally deep knowledge of the music of northeast Brazil - the genres, subgenres, the soul and the spirit, and the history stretching back centuries.

Americans don't even know his name. But to this day when I mention to a Brazilian (especially any Bahian) that I've studied with Ramiro, they gasp and say "You know Ramiro Musotto? Wow! He's incredible!"

Every time I've been to Salvador since, I'd always write to Ramiro first and ask him what was going on, and ask him for tips on teachers for whatever I was studying that time. He'd always write back with a teacher recommendation - always somebody who turned out to be brilliant - and with information about a music show I should go see, or tips on where to find music listings in the newspapers. Whatever I asked about, he'd always write back immediately with great advice.

Over the years I came to realize that Ramiro is one of those musical teachers who can't help wanting to share the music that he loves with everyone he meets. He taught at the local university; he ran fabulous week-long workshops in samba-reggae and berimbau (where I discovered he is one of the finest music teachers I have ever seen. I learned very quickly, if I needed a clear explanation about anything relating to samba-reggae, Ramiro is the very first person I should ask and the person I should trust the most.) He wrote fascinating articles about the history of afro-Brazilian music, and was planning a book.

I made a special trip to Salvador once to take his week-long samba-reggae workshop. It was, simply put, a transformative experience. He took that class right back to the original patterns of 1976 Ile Aiye, right back to the roots. I'd never heard the original Ile Aiye patterns, and immediately, once we'd learned all the old parts, everything made so much more sense! I'd never understood how the calls fit in; I'd never noticed that samba-reggae always begins and ends on the 3. I'd never realized how the repique rolls tend to wrap up on a clave hit; I'd never known there were 4 or even 5 surdo parts, not 3; I'd never realized how many instruments are actually playing straight samba, how literal the "samba-reggae" name is. He explained the historical progression of the genre in a way I'd never heard before. He'd actually been in the recording studio when Ile Aiye was recording their cds; he knew the changes they'd made for those recordings, the differences between what they played in the street parade and what ended up on the radio. He'd seen them arguing about whether or not to eliminate the tamborim. He knew the one place in Salvador where, on Friday nights, you could still see the old guys playing the original repique pattern.

It suddenly all made sense.

This spring he wrote to me asking advice for arranging a US tour. I was so excited - at last the American sambistas would get a chance to learn from this marvelous musician! I wrote back suggesting next year would be a good time. I was going to try to connect him with California Brazil Camp for 2010 - oh, he'd be such a perfect teacher for them! The students would love him - his teaching is so marvelously clear and organized, he has such a good eye for where a student is, and such a wise way of explaining things. I wrote back sketching out a little plan for a tour, and also telling him I was coming to Salvador in June, and asking about timbal teachers. Ramiro wrote back right away, as always, recommending a timbal teacher (Kaboduka!), telling me about the upcoming Caetono Veloso show, recommending two sections of two newspapers for me to check for other shows.

We also arranged that we'd get together for a beer sometime. But somehow I got too busy when I was there - I headed up to Praia do Forte to look at the sea turtle project, and I didn't quite have time to get in touch with Ramiro again.

When I was just about to leave Brazil, I got one more email from him that said: Where are you? Weren't we going to get together for a beer? Are you still here? - and I wrote back and said, oops, sorry, I've run out of time, but let's get together in December!

I now know he had just found out he had advanced stomach cancer. I had just missed my last chance to see him, ever. Though I did not realize it till this week. I did not know anything about it till I heard, a few days ago, that he died last Thursday, just a few short months after the diagnosis. He was only 45.

I cannot even think of what else to say. If you met Ramiro, you know what we have lost. If you never met him, I am very sorry for you.