The steady move from Ipanema

Mielniczenko travels a wide path through Brazilian music, with an audience following.

By Lynell George, Times Staff Writer

If not for Sergio Mielniczenko, the world of Brazilian music, to L.A.'s ears, might very well have been summed up in one sweet, albeit Muzak-worn samba:Stan Getz and Astrud Gilberto's beguiling 1964 recording "The Girl From Ipanema."That transformation has been no small thing, but Mielniczenko has made it look like nothing more than a sly chord progression.For nearly three decades, Mielniczenko has performed yeoman work as DJ, emcee, curator and general, all-around tastemaker, spreading the word of the breadth of Brazilian music.

Over the years, through a group of weekly radio shows —"The Brazilian Hour," the now defunct "Sounds of Brazil" and "The Global Village" — on KXLU-FM, KPFK-FM and beamed by satellite, he has presented, in his precise and placid, Portuguese-accented English, the best of samba, bossa nova, música popular Brasileira, Brazilian jazz.More importantly, however, he has coaxed L.A.'s listening audience around unexpected corners -- and through regions and rituals and artists who fall off well-trammeled paths of say bossa nova or jazz samba.                             As these things go, he is more than a bit of a ubiquitous dignitary, floating from festivals to tucked-away clubs to living room jam sessions.

When renowned Brazilian pop artist Caetano Veloso arrived in Los Angeles to perform for the first time in 1997, Mielniczenko was there to greet him. When the notoriously taciturn João Gilberto touched down last summer for his first L.A. performance in more than 30 years, he may have been testy with the Hollywood Bowl crowd, but he cleared time for Mielniczenko to visit with him backstage."It's just how we are," he says, with a wave of the hand, "we Brazilians like to become friends in a half-hour," Sitting in his CD-lined studio-office at the Brazilian Consulate, where he also works as part of its cultural sector, Mielniczenko is making lists. The phone rings nonstop. The greeting, he purrs in Portuguese, "Oi! Como vai?" Assistants and secretaries buzz in with letters to sign, and there are messages to return, meetings pending.

As usual, Mielniczenko has one foot in one world, the other in another.He's hours away from hopping a plane to Rio de Janeiro to ferry a group of young musicians to L.A. for a set of shows tonight and Sunday at the Getty.The performance — Flor Amoroso: The Brazilian Modern Choro Ensemble — is one that Mielniczenko has been planning for some time.It's been more than 10 years since a choro group has come to Los Angeles. And even in Brazil, choro had begun to recede into the backspace, so assembling this one has been a multipronged affair.

While the imprint of choro greats Pixinguinha and Jacob do Bandolim still lingered, Mielniczenko noted that a revival was in the air — with artists such as Paulinho da Viola becoming enthusiastic choro revivalists.

"What caught my attention is that these kids, they are in their 20s and they are playing this music that was developed in the 1800s," he explains, sinking his swivel chair in front of his radio console where he tapes "The Brazilian Hour." Instead of the typical grouping — flute, guitar, cavaquinho (a miniature Portuguese guitar), perhaps a clarinet — this modern ensemble will include a violin, harmonica, six- and seven-string guitars and a pandeiro (tambourine)."When I was last there, I stumbled into a little bar in Copacabana called Bip Bip. It's tiny. The proprietor tells you you can't clap:

'You'll wake the people upstairs.' But it's hard not to. When you have these young musicians playing their version of this thing, it could change the whole thing, the history. I wanted to be there for it."Mielniczenko's history here speaks for itself. The studio walls are a mosaic of color and black-and-white snapshots of him alongside a collection of Brazilian treasures — some visiting, some who have, since Mielniczenko's KXLU debut in 1978, come to put down roots here: Djavan, Milton Nascimento, Oscar Castro-Neves, Ivan Lins, Gilberto Gil, Dori Caymmi — even Pele.

As he opens the morning mail, out pops a CD that gives even seen-it-all Mielniczenko a start: The late Brazilian diva Elis Regina's daughter, Maria Rita, has recorded a new CD.

He slides it into the changer. Maria Rita eerily channels her mother: "Ah. Look at the goose bumps."Staying in L.A. wasn't the original plan. With two years of composition and conducting under his belt from studies in Sao Paulo, he came to the States in the mid-'70s to finish his music studies but instead got caught up in mass media studies. In L.A. at the time, "People were still feeling the aftereffects of bossa nova. Sergio Mendes was very popular. Performing big shows in Vegas," he remembers. But, as Mielniczenko began to learn, Southern California was beginning to nurture and influence its own strain of Brazilian music.

"Antonio Carlos Jobim and Elis Regina recorded 'Waters of March'! Right here! Right here in L.A. in 1974.It's a classic. I met Milton Nascimento right here, with Wayne Shorter, just before they were getting ready to record 'Native Dancer.' It was the first time Milton was to work with a major jazz musician. It would change his career."Those shifts also changed Mielniczenko's. About the same time, a Brazilian he knew from a local club was leaving his job at the consulate. He put in a good word for Mielniczenko. They found space for him. When talk of creating a "cultural sector" became a reality, he stepped into that role. The radio studio followed shortly after.

"And here I was, the radio and TV guy," he says. "It's all of these little coincidences. It's not that I was brilliant. It was about being in the right place at the right time.""My first year of radio was … cute," he says, blushing at the memory. But in time it became more confidant and influential — and many would say essential: "He's done a great job getting the music out, educating people," says Brazilian counsel general, José Vicente Pimentel. "Letting people know about Brazil and its contributions — beyond coffee and Carmen Miranda."Time and duty seldom permit Mielniczenko to consider the long view, to really examine the changing landscape.

Too often he finds himself mired in the details: the next show; the next concept; will the musicians all get there safely on time? But gifts come wrapped in unexpected packages.Just the other night, fresh from his Sao Paulo trip, the consulate was hosting a party at the Jazz Bakery to celebrate the publication of a splashy new resource book about Brazilian popular music. Mielniczenko is doing the meet and greet — in English, in Portuguese.

The room swells. Musicians, dignitaries, DJs, fans file in — a community growing where at first there was none. An hour in, special guest Oscar Castro-Neves, leans over his guitar — thanks the consulate, thanks Sergio for all the years of support. But he needn't.As he and a pianist and violinist begin to sketch a pastel set of songs by Jobim — those songs that bloomed out of L.A. 30 years ago. It's thank you enough."Ah," Mielniczenko says, "the goose bumps. Again. I wish it could always be just like this."                                         

Flor Amoroso: The Brazilian Modern Choro Ensemble

Where: Harold M. Williams Auditorium at the Getty Center, 1200 Getty Center Drive, L.A.                             

When: Today, 8 p.m.; Sunday, 3 p.m.                                                                                                                                Price: Sold                                        

Imagination elevates Brazil's choro styles

By Don Heckman

Special to The Times  

April 5 2004

Before the samba became the national sound of Brazil, before bossa nova transformed samba into a global music, there was choro. Emerging in the late 19th century as a blending of European melody, harmony and form with the rhythms of Africa, it was a Brazilian manifestation of similar Western mélanges such as ragtime, jazz and tango.Although it has been changed in many ways, choro continues to be a vital element in contemporary Brazilian music.And the performance by the Brazilian Modern Choro Ensemble at the Getty Center's Harold M. Williams Auditorium on Saturday provided a fascinating display of its creative powers.

Some of Brazil's finest young players were present in the ensemble, instrumented somewhat differently from the traditional grouping, with Nicolas Krassik's violin replacing the more common clarinet or flute and the addition of Gabriel Grossi's chromatic harmonica. The music, similarly, embraced traditional works of the great choro mandolinist Jacob do Bandolim as well as more contemporary, jazz-tinged pieces from Hermeto Pascoal and Egberto Gismonti. Interpretations ranged from the romantic balladry of early choro through the fast-paced improvisatory style of choro master Pixinguinha to collective improvising reminiscent of the music of Ornette Coleman and Lennie Tristano.

What was most compelling about the ensemble, however, was the distinct imaginativeness with which it employed these elements. The front-line players — six-string guitarist Daniel Santiago and mandolinist Hamilton de Holanda as well as Krassik and Grossi — were superbly supported by the dependable foundation of Rogério Caetano's seven-string guitar and the driving rhythms of Amoy Ribas' pandeiro (tambourine) playing.De Holanda was particularly charismatic, roving the stage, interacting with fellow players, his mandolin vital to the choro tradition. Grossi's solo spot on his own tribute number, "Domingo Pascoal," was a virtuosic marvel, with Santiago and Krassik adding improvisatory light and imagination to a stellar evening of Brazilian music making.

Published on the Los Angeles Times on de October 4^th de 2004

Tribute to Tropicália blends sound and sight  

By Don Heckman, Special to The Times

The Brazilian Tropicália movement lasted only a few years, roughly from 1967 through 1969. But its impact was powerful, opening the way for the stylistically inclusive MPB (Música Popular Brasileira) genre that would dominate Brazilian music in the last decades of the 20th century.On Saturday night, the transformative aspects of the brief Tropicália era were celebrated at the Getty Museum's Williams Auditorium in "Tropicália '68 — Daring Days," a fascinating presentation mixing video, live music, period recordings and dance. Performed nonstop, with songs flowing seamlessly from one to another, the program touched upon individual high points as well as the broad, genre-bending aspects of the movement.  The structure of the evening was both simple and imaginative.

Grainy images from the period, interspersed with Joshua Light Show-like swirls of color and form, were projected onto a huge video screen. On one side of the stage, the ElectroTropic trio — guitarist Kleber Jorge, keyboardist Bill Brendle and percussionist Meia Noite — added their live supplementation to the playback of original recordings, mostly by the movement's guiding lights, Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil.The recorded songs included numerous classics — including Gil's "Domingo no Parque," obviously inspired by the Beatles, and Veloso's "Tropicália" and "Proibido Proibir."From time to time, dancers came spinning out onto the stage: the Sundara Varna Tribal Fusion Bellydance ensemble (Monica Fernandez, Kaite Knecht and Ayse Cerami); flower girl Iliana Ramirez, the amazing Hula Hoop dancer Tisha Marina, and the vigorous samba dancing of the shapely, statuesque Paula Napole.Ricardo Cassettari added DJ touches, and Carmen Doane delivered colorful vocal renderings. The hodgepodge of elements provided an illustration of Tropicália's all-inclusive philosophy — reaching across the worlds of poetry, literature and film as well as music — which reflected the desire to shake off the limitations of traditional art forms. The production, by Sergio Mielniczenko, was an innovative and entertaining approach to the documenting of an important historical period. And it's a method that could clearly be applied to other eras — the folk music movement of the '60s, the dance music of the '70s, to mention only two possibilities.