/ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT/MUSIC-BRAZIL: Funk, Rap at Opposite Ends of Moral Spectrum

By Mario Osava Reprint | | Print |

Mario Osava

RIO DE JANEIRO, Apr 17 2001 (IPS) - The funk and rap musical genres, both originating from African-American movements in the United States, have found a place in Brazil, but have been altered to fit the reality of this country – and with surprisingly different results.

The Brazilian funk movement, a musical wave that originated in Rio de Janeiro and later extended throughout the rest of the country, has the authorities and sociologists worried because of the highly sexual content of the song lyrics and the incidents reportedly occurring at funk parties.

Testimonies from adolescent girls who attribute their pregnancies to “impulsive and successive sex with multiple partners” at funk dances have alarmed officials at this coastal city’s social and health agencies. In addition to the phenomenon itself and the rise in unwanted teenage pregnancies they fear an increased incidence in sexually transmitted diseases (STDs).

One pregnant 14-year-old affirmed that she had become infected with HIV, the precursor to AIDS, at a funk party earlier this year.

Sensual dance moves and erotic games are associated lyrics such as one song that says: “Sex machine, I do it like an animal.”

Other lyrics refer to women in a similar tone: “if you act crazy, I’ll give you a slap./ Because a little slap doesn’t hurt”, or “call me a (female dog), I say bow-wow/ call me kitten and I go meow/ enjoy it in my face, in my mouth, wherever.”

These songs reflect the sexist nature of local funk, which treats women “always as an object, an appendage” without an identity, says Alba Zaluar, an anthropologist at the Institute of Social Medicine at the State University of Rio de Janeiro.

The movement has caused panic among middle-class parents, as they fear for the safety of their children at the thousands-strong dances where there are also frequent outbreaks of violence.

One common accusation is that the movement is linked with drug trafficking, an activity that predominates in many ‘favelas’ (Brazil’s marginalised neighbourhoods), where funk has prospered. The police used this to justify the harsh repression implemented there in the early 1990s.

But the wave of funk gradually extended to middle-class youth, which is believed to have contributed to less conflict with the police and somewhat reducing the violence associated with the parties.

The massive acceptance of Brazilian funk allowed one leader of the movement, Veronica Costa – owner of Huracán 2000, the firm that promotes the dances – to be elected last October to Rio de Janeiro’s city council, garnering the second highest number of votes.

Funk, after some years of adaptation, has once again begun disturbing some sectors of society with its provocative choreography in its group dances, and also because of its expansion to other parts of the country – though it is most identified with Rio de Janeiro.

Costa and other hosts of the parties refute the image of sexual orgies the media have disseminated. What the songs say is purely in fun, it is entertainment, and is no different from what is said in the streets, or among friends, they argue.

Some sociologists and anthropologists recognise funk as a legitimate cultural manifestation of the poor neighbourhoods, observing that the genre has taken on typically local characteristics, undermining criticisms that it is just a trend imported from abroad.

The scarcity of entertainment options or places to spend time with friends, especially for the younger population, contribute to criminal violence, indicate the funk movement’s defenders.

Funk itself originated in the 1960s in the United States, with James Brown as one of its masters, and arrived in Brazil the following decade, maintaining similarities with its original sources.

But in the 1980s it began incorporating other types of music and conquered the poor neighbourhoods on the periphery of Rio de Janeiro, turning into a musical and social phenomenon, and, as a result, the subject of academic studies.

Music critics point out that funk deteriorated musically, with a paucity of melody or harmony, with its heavy beat and played at exaggeratedly high volume – intended to energise the crowds to shake their hips and leave their inhibitions behind.

Rap music also expanded among the youth of the big cities’ marginalised neighbourhoods, but followed a route that has been socially the opposite of funk.

Integrated into the hip-hop movement, with its breakdancing and graffiti, rap became the voice of the poor, a protest against social ills and a call to seek solutions.

Its popularity is at least partially thanks to the texts spoken with rhythm and strong percussion, a tradition that reflects the ‘cordel’ from northeast Brazil, which involves poetry and music with a repetitive melody, characterised by seemingly endless improvised verses.

Experts believe the rap movement caught on in other areas of Brazil because a large portion of the poor populations found in the nation’s cities from Sao Paulo to Brasilia and Rio de Janeiro, are made up of migrants from the northeast.

Rap and hip-hop became a movement of salvation for young people at risk of falling into a life of crime, agree specialists in the area.

“Rap Is Education,” reads the title of a book by Eliane Nunes de Andrade, who provides insight into the dynamic of integrating young blacks in Sao Paulo through this social trend.

Other books and various documentary films have been produced in several Brazilian cities about the rap phenomenon.

One of the films, ‘The Rap of the Little Prince against the Filthy Souls’, follows the lives of two friends in showing the paths of youth in the poor neighbourhoods of Recife, one of the big cities of the northeast.

It documents the life of Helinho, who turns himself into a killer of criminals, “the filthy souls”. He confessed to 47 of the 65 assassinations for which he was accused and is considered a hero by the favela’s residents. He died in January, at age 24, stabbed to death by three of his fellow prison inmates.

In contrast, his friend Garnizé opted for rap, organising a band and teaching music and poetry to poor children in the neighbourhood, providing them with an alternative in life.