Bebel Gilberto
Gilberto is a household name among fans of bossa nova. A genre known for its crooning vocals, soft shakers, and unique syncopation, bossa nova still boasts a sizeable following since it emerged in 1960s Brazil. The intricacy of the guitar and slow tempo guarantees a laid-back energy among audiences.
Bebel Gilberto holds a special significance in my life. I’m (sort of) named after her, and her original song “Baby” can be credited as the first song that hit my ears when I emerged from the womb. So of course I would jump at any chance to see her perform live. I’ve been graced by her presence twice thus far and both shows have been unforgettable. Now, when I say unforgettable I could go on and on about her soothing voice; the way she attacks each word with a crispness that is both sharp yet smooth. She speaks directly to the audience and is always in motion through each song. Her stage presence is unmatched due to the fact that she is authentically herself. She truly does not care about putting on a facade, blah blah blah.
The first time I saw her, my bold mother got us into the green room after the show. Not only did she kindly sign my mom’s CD, but she also offered her a hit of her joint which seemed to have been lit shortly after the show had ended. As a shy ten-year-old, I simply observed. At one point I believe I held her shoe because she was quickly packing her things. It proved to be one of those moments where the curtain fell. An idolized musician is human after all. I wasn’t let down, I was more so in awe. She was honestly just doing her thing. We were there, but there was no need to continue putting on any sort of performance.
This same awe occurred the second time I saw her, which was a few weeks ago. This time, I am 18 going on 19 and my mother and I find ourselves in the second row of a tiny venue. The intimacy of this show is a breath of fresh air. We saw Bebel’s beaming smile right in front of us and witnessed a bizarre moment between the audience member in front of us and the beloved singer. She called out for some MDMA, which shocked the audience into laughter. In response, one patron perked up and shouted “I have Shroom chocolate!” Intrigued by this, Bebel shuffled over the edge of the stage and proceeded to take a piece and pop it in her mouth. Later on, she would return for about four more pieces, each one she ate right there on the edge of that stage. She was all smiles throughout her performance, even before the Shroom chocolate had settled in, and carried herself with a relaxed demeanor; perfect for a night of Bossa Nova. She sang many standards that night, many originated from her father, João, and dedicated one to Astrud, her stepmother. We sang with her many times throughout the night, and another audience member presented her with flowers and a giant wreath that she could wear as a crown. He even made one for her dog, which had joined the performance a few times throughout the night. My mother and I held each other during “Baby,” relishing in one of many songs that connects us. My mother would go on to describe this show as “the most relaxed she’s ever seen her.” And it’s true, she sang as if we were all gathered in a small jazz club in Brazil, being cradled by the familiar sounds of guitar and shakers. Most importantly, she was once again herself. Cracking jokes, eating some Shroom chocolate, and forgetting the words but continuing to sing anyway. No facades, no embarrassment, she led the show how she wanted. And yes, that includes one of her encore songs being the most beautiful and only Bossa Nova version of Radiohead’s “Creep” I have ever heard.
Bebel is a gem, and not only will she never fail to blow me away with her gentle croon, but she will always be unapologetically human.
