Baby

Once the groove is established and the strings quiet down a bit, the singer starts telling us of all the things we need to know about so we might fit in the society she lives. The first verses seem to relate more to economic, materialistic concerns. We need to know about margarine, gasoline, swimming pools… Why we should know about them is left unexplained, as if it were matter of course. It’s also worth mentioning that the mentioned “Carolina” is not only a popular woman’s name in Brazil, but also the title of a song by Chico Buarque, another great composer to take part in the 1960s musical movement in Brazil (though not the Tropicália, since he was considered more of a traditionalist). It would be one of many popular and contemporary references Caetano would use in his oeuvre. This verse finalizes with “baby, it’s just the way it goes” and here is the trick: while the rest of the sentence is sung in Portuguese, the “baby” is sung in English. Now, over 40 years later, it doesn’t sound like a big deal at all. Back then, however, to use any Anglicism was a big deal. It was to sing just as Buddy Holly, Elvis or the Beatles sang. It was bringing the outside world in – this when the country was effectively cut out from this outside world by a military dictatorship. The next lines bring us into social context, it invites us to have ice cream, hang out and get to know the singer’s little group. It goes on with music advice: “you need to hear that song by Roberto”. Now, imagine if a song by Bob Dylan (say, in1962 or 63) told you to listen to a song by… I don’t know, maybe Petula Clark. That is sort of what’s going on here. Roberto Carlos, known in Brazil as “the King”, has been an immensely popular singer for decades. At the time, he lead a group of artists known as the “Jovem Guarda”. They were the bane of the politically conscious, seen as mere entertainment for the masses. They sung about girls, cars and parties, often playing versions of American and British pop hits. Caetano, however, could recognize their value in bringing the sound of pop culture into the country. He would, like them, embrace the sound of the guitar – only he would make it his own. It’s also in the end of this section that we get the feeling that something might not be entirely right. “Baby”, it goes, “it’s been a long time.” So where is this person being sung to that it hasn’t seen the singer for so long? How far away is she so that she should be informed of all this? As the song breaks, we go into some counseling with one of the songs most famous lyrics, which I have already written about: “you need to learn English”. Just think that at the same time this song was written the American government had sent teams to Brazil to teach them torture techniques. It takes guts for an artist to praise a language that can teach that. And yet, he wasn’t blind to all the good influence of America as well. We go on learning about what the singer knows (and what she has already forgotten), at peace in the best city of South America (peace, are we being ironic here?). It’s only towards the end that we reach the climax; the singer telling us “you need to…” repeatedly until settling into a “I don’t know, read it on my shirt” – a nod to so many slogans branded about by the youth since then and until this day, as if any philosophy worth having should fit in catchphrase. And what is it that we need to know? “Baby, I love you” – sung repeatedly in English, the simplest words that anyone would know in a foreign language. By the end of Gal Costa’s version, Caetano can be heard on the background singing (in English) “please stay” in echoes of Paul Anka’s “Diana”.

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