Sofia Avelino is about to become a new Infidels Jazz classic. Last week’s Hero’s Welcome gig was her second time performing the music of Brazilian jazz legend Elis Regina after a sold-out show on Granville Island in May — and as Infidels founder Tim Reinert said at the start of the night, when you have someone sell out a show, you have to ask them to come back for another.
After studying jazz at Capilano University, Avelino did a bachelor’s in education at UBC and has since been teaching high school music classes, so she doesn’t perform much these days. You wouldn’t know it from watching them work together, but she hadn’t really sang with this band before. Drummer Jordy McIntosh is Avelino’s partner, so he was a shoo-in member, but bassist Julia Farry, guitarist Vicente Regis and pianist Mauricio Zani were completely new to her.
Regina didn’t have a very long career, but she made the most of what she got. She was regarded as one of the greatest singers to emerge out of Brazil — she was also known for her fiery personality, which earned her the nicknames “Hurricane” and “Little Pepper.” While a lot of her work centres samba and bossa nova, she was willing to experiment with genres like rock. No matter what she did, though, her greatest quality was her understanding of how to make lyrics sound like they really meant something.
In “Casa no Campo,” the second song of Avelino’s set, Regina yearns for a quiet life: a house in the countryside, with only close friends, farm animals, books and music to keep her company. She never got to see that for herself — for the majority of her tragically short life, Regina was one of Brazil’s biggest superstars. On her 1972 recording of “Casa no Campo,” she delivers the text with unexpected rasp; her voice almost breaks as she begs — for a second chance at life, maybe, one where she might be able to choose peace over stardom.
Avelino’s delivery is also packed with emotion, but her voice is smooth and controlled, bringing more of a tenderness to the words than sadness. This effect might have partially been the result of her presentation — a floral dress with ruffles and puffed sleeves, and glasses with a delicate, grandmother-esque chain — but Avelino approached the entire set with a sense of softness. It was almost as if she was a version of Regina who had got the quiet life she wanted, and was celebrating her fortune rather than grieving something unattainable.
That’s not to say Avelino didn’t have power in her voice when it counted. Before her encore, she closed with “Como Nossos Pais,” which let her lean into some of the grittiness that hadn’t quite come through earlier in the set. Originally written by Brazilian composer Belchior, the song translates to “Like Our Parents,” and is interpreted by some as being critical of military dictatorship — it’s Avelino’s favourite to perform.
She had led into this song with another politically-charged classic, “O Bêbado e a Equilibrista,” in which the titular drunk and tightrope walker, inspired by the characters of Charlie Chaplin, represent the decline of the regime. Zani gave a musical nod to this history by playing the melody of Chaplin’s “Smile” in the piano intro and outro.
Beyond having heard Elis & Tom — Regina’s legendary collaboration with Antônio Carlos Jobim — Avelino didn’t grow up having much of a connection to Regina’s discography or Brazilian music more broadly.
But bossa nova, a blend of samba and jazz which rose out of Rio de Janeiro, is a fundamental part of any good jazz education. During Avelino’s time at Capilano, she felt that because she was Brazilian, people were calling on her to be an expert on Brazilian music even though she didn’t know much at all. Her parents had listened to it around the house, but Avelino had more of an affinity for alternative rock at the time.
“Como Nossos Pais” happens to be the opening track of Falso Brilhante, the first Regina record that really caught Avelino’s attention. During an hour spent on a bus crossing the Iron Workers Memorial Bridge as part of her daily commute to Capilano (it really does take that long to cross the relatively short bridge during rush hour, Avelino joked during her set), she came across Falso Brilhante and stopped in her tracks. Being forced to commodify her musical talents for her degree had caused her to become somewhat disenchanted with music, but the way Regina could pack so much emotion into one song reignited something in Avelino.
Regina’s music seems to have that effect on everyone. Avelino told me that when she did this show for the first time in May, she wasn’t quite sure who might want to see it. Vancouver’s Brazilian community showed up for her then, and they did this time around, too.
The 30-some concertgoers seated at the long table behind me joined in for most of the set, barely letting Avelino get a word in between their hoots of recognition as soon as the first few chords rang out and their own triumphant belts during refrains. It wasn’t what I, a bossa nova beginner, thought I might hear that night, as I had only really got acquainted with the softer, more subdued side of the genre.
But there was a time and place in the night for the gentler things, too. In front of me, three different couples reflected this — I watched them pull each other closer at the softer points of the set. One of the couples left their seats for the very last song of the night, “Tiro ao Álvaro,” and stepped into the open patch beside my stool and spun each other around in what little room they could find.
A somewhat bitter and jaded music student myself, I left the bar feeling how I imagine Avelino did that day on the bus: like music was my release again, if only for a night.
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