I stopped into several local music stores while I was there this time, and took some photos of stock and prices, while making some observations. In electric guitars and basses, anything imported was slapped with a huge import duty plus local taxes. Look at the whopping price tag on this Boss GT-10 multi effects unit:
R$1669 equates to about US$930.00, or almost exactly twice the street price in the States. This reflects the punishing duties that imports face in order to prop up local industry. Prices are similarly high for anything in stores that is imported.
The result is that there are very few premium brands on offer--most of what you see here in electric instruments is made in the Far East. Acoustic instruments are about 1/2 locally-made, 1/2 imported.
The instruments on the wall here are mostly proprietary Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese products. The highest end would be Epiphones. A genuine, USA-built Les Paul or Fender Strat is beyond the reach of all but the very wealthy, and among name musicians the Strat rates very highly, it seems. I did see one Rick Bass in use by the bass player for a very well-known band.
They do likes their pedals...
...and a Brazilian band without some kind of keyboard synth is rare:
If you can read these price tags, you will experience sticker shock.
Saturday night the 7th of January, we went to a friend's studio opening three doors down from my own studio in the oldest part of town, which has been gradually gentrifying over the last 3 or 4 years. Eight years ago, I was given a serigraph by Flavio Freitas for our house, which I framed myself. It hangs over our piano. The weekend after Thanksgiving, Flavio stopped into our house on Saturday evening, and we all got together and played a bit of Bossa Nova. Our local friend in SF, Chris Huson, is a terrific BN pianist, and Flavio carries his trumpet everywhere. Great fun--we left the doors open and let the music fill the street. Across from our house in CA is a golf course, and the closest neighbors are a hundred yards on either side, so the acoustics are fine...
Now we were in Flavio's own studio in Brazil, and he wasn't aware we were in town. A big, happy surprise for him!
This is us at the opening. You haven't tasted anything like cachaca punch--it's got a kick like a mule, so I stuck to Coca-Cola.
After the opening, we walked a half-block over to the street running behind our street, and heard some intriguing Latin acoustic music being played. It was a corner bar, and the setting--with its outdoor patios, arched colonnades, narrow cobblestone streets, run-down 19th-century commercial buildings, and weird sodium vapor lighting, could have been Old Havana. The venue was a corner bar/restaurant with old wooden floor, arched ceiling, flaking paint, incandescent lighting (rare in the Land of Fluorescents, even in houses...) and great tropical energy. The band was a casual and nameless group of friends: older guys who got together to play and sing the old songs. Nylon-strung guitars, an electric bass, a couple of percussionists, a mandolin/cavaquinho player and a trombonist. This may be a cliche, but I felt like I was listening to the Buena Vista Social Club...
We sat on the patio. At midnight it was a balmy 78 degrees F with a slight breeze. Perfect weather for snacks, drinks, and live music.
The street was barely wide enough for one car, but was two way, necessitating driving on the sidewalks on either side.
(This guy is sitting on a homebuilt 4-wheel trailer that he towed behind a 50cc moped. Duct-taped to the trailer frame were three large foam coolers filled with beer and mixers. A portable bar.)
Across this street and a few doors down was a bar named "Consulado" (Consulate), which was in a converted and restored large private home. I was attracted to the large painting of the PBY Catalina that I glimpsed through the front window. The place had a 1940s aviation motif; the town was the home of a very large US Army Air Corps base during WWII, as it was the closest point in South America to the African continent.
We stopped in the Consulado and spoke to the manager. There was another Latin band playing--these were younger guys, and their instruments were electric. They were loose, happy, and great at carrying a mood. It seems this building was owned by a Nazi sympathizer in the 1930s who was run out of town after Hitler invaded Poland in '39. On the floor of the main salon, where the musicians played, was a large swastika inlaid in terrazzo. It was covered by a rug...
This is the main street where my studio is located. My studio is right where the white van is parked. In daytime, it is swarming with people...
Anyway, maybe I've got some more photos. It's sure good to be back in SF.
