Translation is a funny thing. Even related languages don't match up exactly, and I think this is the most amazing thing about human communication. There are whole societies walking around, trying to figure out how to say something, while the country next door has a word specifically for it. The Tom Zé interview you're about to read has been through a lot of translation. First, my e-mailed questions were translated into Portuguese, and then Zé's answers were translated into English. What you're reading isn't merely my questions and his answers, but my questions and his answers with a whole lot of interpretation in between.

As ever, Tom Zé has plenty to say. So much so that he didn't restrict himself to simply answering my questions. He opened his response with a preface, printed in full and unedited below, along with musings about his abbreviated journalism career, ficus leaves, and the possible educational applications of baile funk.

Tom's preface:

1) CLEARING UP
Before I start, I would like to clarify a bit the general attitude of this album, an operetta about the woman situation.
It is not a feminist work. Though it is not a machoist CD, it is, at least, "masculinist": It calls man's attention to the huge disadvantage he has created in his present relationship with women.
A woman, nowadays, is slightly suspicious and cannot permit herself the easy-going kind of well-being of companionship that allows going from affection to a caress.
Women have incorporated a feeling of mistrust towards men. She is always tense, worried, confronted with a potential enemy, an attitude created due to the psychological context of his situation in the society.
Notice that (in English language-- I see this sound-example because I speak Portuguese) when a child-that-will-be-a-man is born, he is like a sun arriving; the word "son" is pronounced the same way as "sun." It means joy, happiness. But when a child of female sex is born, the ugly sound of the noun "daughter" is just grief and sadness. A daughter is born.

2) AS THE RESULT
The result is a bad thing for men because, if it is impossible for a woman to show the profound intimacy of the sacred secret, and she is never willing to feel in the presence of the man, he stays in a cosmic solitude, without companionship in the Universe.

In Europe they told me that the female situation was the same as the situation in Brasil. Perhaps a bit more sophisticated, more concealed. In the United States, if the woman question has been completely resolved, if the relationships between men and women are solved, for the good of mankind, then in the case of considering this record, it will simply be like receiving News of the Barbarian World.

3) HOMELESS, BEGGAR
The clothing the band wears for the shows for the album Estudando o Pagode-Segregamulher e Amor is a beggar's costume. This depicts the actual situation of man in relation to woman: he became homeless, a being that lives in want of affection. And the women are quite right not to give it.

And the questions:

Pitchfork: You have a formal musical education, but you've referred to what you do as spoken and sung journalism. At what point in your life did it occur to you that you were a journalist?

Tom Zé: First, I really was a journalist, in 1959. My inability to carry out the work led to my leaving the profession and I ended up falling into music.

There was a moment when I realized that my musical production has a lot of journalistic tendencies. I think the fact that this was true became reality when I released Imprensa Cantada in Brazil in 2003. It was not released outside of the country because I did not authorize it and because it dealt with topics that were very contextual.

Pitchfork: The album cover refers to Estudando o Pagode as unfinished. Was it ever your intention to finish it?

TZ: The fact that it wasn't completed is because I did not hope that I could resolve the complexity of the problems between men and women, or more specifically, I couldn't finalize or reach closure on these problems.

Pitchfork: Can you explain Harmony Induzida and why it appeals to you as a composer of music?

TZ: That attracts me immensly, because musical discourse sustains one's interest with tensions, or in other words, with dominants, subdominants, modulations, etc., and the induced harmony provokes a sensation of tension even when we are in tone. It also invites the listener to "correct" the harmony because, even when using one's intuition, the listener knows when the harmony does not sound correct. Right away, the errors become apparent on purpose.

Pitchfork: In a sense, the ficus leaves you use as instruments on "Ave Dor Maria" are very traditional instruments, as they are also used by Brazilian children. Is the ficus leaf whistle something you learned to make while growing up in Irará?

TZ: Joe, the ficus leaf is not a traditional instrument but it is a toy that children play with. I worked with the toy until it was converted into an instrument. You are correct, it was during my childhood in Irará that I started to learn how to play with the ficus leaf.

Pitchfork: Your music has always been built on amazing rhythms. How did growing up in the Northeast with the music of Jackson do Pandeiro and Luis Gonzaga influence your use of rhythm?

TZ: Honestly, there were influences from Jackson do Pandeiro and Luiz Gonzaga. Simply because in the Northeast, rhythm is a "dehydrated God."

Pitchfork: Has the acceptance of your music in the United States and Europe surprised you?

TZ: It surprised me. It wasn't possible to imagine the repercussions, especially because in Brazil I was completely pushed aside and ignored, while the music was becoming extremely popular in the U.S. and in Europe at that time.

Pitchfork: There are distinctly Brazilian metaphors and cultural references in your songs that many North Americans and Europeans may not immediately understand. For instance, the place of pagode music in Brazilian society. Do you think it's important for them to understand the full meaning of these metaphors and references when listening to the music?

TZ: I don't believe that it is important to understand all the references, especially because there are diverse layers of significance, principally the non-verbal significators, charged in each one of those songs-- the mythological references, the indirect, this is what I call "the shockingly noticeable."

Pitchfork: In the past, you've stated that music is work and not pleasure for you. Do you listen to much music now?

TZ: Look, when friends make music, I love listening so that I can evaluate how they are coming along, what modifications they are undergoing in their work. It's very exciting to listen to David Byrne's releases-- I enjoyed his most recent disc-- as well as listening to John McEntire of the band Tortoise, John McCrea of the band Cake. Other artists, too.

Pitchfork: What is your opinion of the urban party music, such as baile funk, that has developed as an expression of life in the favelas? This music has found popularity in the United States, but I understand that it has not been embraced by Brazil's own middle and upper classes.

TZ: My view on baile funk is one of admiration and honest surprise. They influence aesthetics as well as moral habits in Brazilian life. I often say that if I have a daughter I would like to educate her about sex using baile funk.

Regarding the music, there are some songs that I am profoundly jealous of. I would trade all my work in order to have come up with the refrain "Estou ficando atoladinha". I am becoming crazy.

Pitchfork: A major theme of "Com Defeito de Fabricação" ("With Manufacturer's Defect") was that creativity, art, and love, among other things, are viewed as defects to be suppressed by people in power. In your opinion, has the political and cultural situation in Brasil improved since then?

TZ: The power that I speak of in "Com Defeito de Fabricação" is the power of international forces. Regarding the exercise of power in Brazil, I feel that it has worsened instead of improved.