In Tim Maia’s 80th birthday, remember the troubles he got himself into and the musical heritage he left

[Texto de Paulo Cavalcanti. Originalmente publicado em 15 de março de 2018.]

Everyone who worked in the music business at the same time as Tim Maia There’s a story about him. The first time I heard a song from him was in 1970, when the track “Colone Antonio Bento” played non-stop on the radio. He was a baião and had little to do with the groove it’s the soul with a Brazilian look that the singer, born Sebastião Rodrigues Maiaon September 28, 1942, so well represented.

The beginning of the 1970s marked the beginning of the consecration of the carioca, but until then what played him on the radio were ballads, such as “Spring” and “Blue of the Color of the Sea”. Also in the middle of that decade, Tim Maia became involved with the doctrine of Rational Culture.

It was common to see him on television programs with his head shaved, dressed in a white coat, promoting the precepts of that sect. Before long he became disenchanted with the movement, but the involvement bequeathed two excellent and highly sought after LPs, both called Tim Maia Racionalwhich came out by a seal created by him, called seroma.

He was ostracized for a while, but that ended with the arrival of Tim Maia Disco Club, which rocked many parties and dance floors in the late 1970s. Despite the ups and downs he would face ahead – largely because of his quick temper and loose tongue – he never left the scene. When he recorded “Anything goes” (1983) alongside the singer Sandra de Sa, Maya he had at his disposal one more powerful catchphrase that would guide the rest of his career: his life had really become a kind of “anything goes”.

I saw three performances by Timall in São Paulo show houses that no longer exist, such as palace it’s the olympia. Tim Maia live has always been a mess. One of his shows on bad days went something like this: “Anything goes, anything goes, anything goes. Ah, sing it, guys, I’m not really in the mood to sing today. Oh, before I forget, anything goes!”

Another widely spread thing is that there was invariably an argument with the sound engineer: “What do I want, is it more serious, what do I want? Sharper! Hey, my friend at the table, fix that fucking sound, if I don’t go up there and you’ll see!”. And the engineer replied: “What’s up, you fat man! Come here and you will see!”. This is all in the middle of the show. Or else, on some occasions, he would say: “Look guys, I’m sick of it” and leave the show. That’s not to mention the (increasingly frequent) occasions when he simply gave up.

always folkloric, Tim it was a factory of confusion, making outlandish phrases and carrying out totally unexpected actions. In the 1980s, she recorded a lot of good stuff from funk and soulbut had more success with radio ballads like “give me reason” and “A Sunday day”, the latter a duet with Gal Costa.

It was during this period that I began to come across Tim Maia personally, due to professional reasons. Once, in the early 1990s, at a press conference at a hotel in the Augusta region, he stared at a row of seated journalists waiting to speak with him. “Shit, but how are there fat people in São Paulo?” he sneered.

Another time, around 1991 or 1992, I would interview him at the hotel Della Volpe, on Frei Caneca Street. When I arrived in the lobby, the press officer of the house where he was going to perform said: “Look, the Tim freaked out, doesn’t want to talk to anyone.” I went to the pay phone and called the newsroom: “Look, put something else on page nine, he didn’t want to talk”.

A few hours later, the Zé Mariathe photographer who would accompany me on the agenda, who had arrived at the hotel ten minutes after I left and found Tim at the entrance. He was handing out records, all smiling, signing autographs as if nothing had happened. The bipolarity of Tim broke my agenda. Congratulations to me, who also joined the list of many who once took the Tim Maia.

From 1996 to 1999, I worked as a reporter for a magazine dedicated to the phonographic market called Shopping Music. On a Friday, around 5:30 pm, in the midst of a fraternization party, the phone rang. The business owner answered and started yelling “Tony! Tony! O Tim Maia want to talk to you”.

That Tony it was the spessoto, editor-in-chief of the publication. He didn’t take it seriously: “Oh, fuck you, what a Tim Maia what”. And the owner of the publishing house insisted: “TonyO Tim Maia wants to talk to you, come soon.” When Tony finally answered, the dialogue with the interlocutor went like this: “Yes, Tim, cool, Timit can leave, Tim”. Of course it was the Tim Maia same.

The artist, at the time, had his own record company, Victoria Regia. The magazine we made published a contact page with the phone numbers and addresses of the record companies. Tim I just wanted his venture to be included there as well.

That was it, business only. The misunderstanding between Tim it’s the Tony soon it was resolved and the promise remained that we would do a story with him, maybe even a cover. The singer was solicitous and sympathetic — Tim it was engaging in a picky way; in five minutes you were his best friend and vice versa. He promised that, when he was in São Paulo, he would visit the newsroom and talk freely with us.

Soon after that, March 15, 1998, he died. The singer had been sick and had been hospitalized a few days earlier when he was filming a TV special at the João Caetano Municipal Theater, in Niterói, Rio de Janeiro. The whole of Brazil was alarmed when they saw the images of the artist leaving the stage in agony. The singer was weighing 140 kilos and his body could no longer withstand the enormous amount of chemical and alcoholic excesses to which he was subjected throughout his 55 years of life.

Today, Tim Maia would be 80 years old. If he was active and healthy, he could be making noise and also getting into trouble on social media. Or else, he would be busy with important and relevant projects, following as an eternal reference of music black Brazilian. With a face as unpredictable as Tim Maia, it is difficult to know what his fate would be. But Tim it was joy, music and fun. So today is the day to celebrate the incredible legacy left by him.