Registering Protest: Voice, Precarity, and Return in Crisis Portugal

Abstract

This article examines the circulation and reception of a song that catalyzed a youth movement and widespread protest in 2011 Portugal. Through a theorization of “register”, it argues for the importance of attending to micro-shifts in aesthetic form, engagement, and response, to understanding macro-shifts in public and political feeling.

Keywords:

• Portugal
• Protest Song
• Crisis
• Europe

Acknowledgements

Versions of this paper were read at the 2014 American Anthropological Association Meeting on the panel, “Reframing Europe's South: Anthropologies Across ‘P.I.G.S.’”, the 2014 Society for Ethnomusicology Meeting panel, “Strident Voices: Aligning the Material with the Political”, and for presentations at the ethnomusicology seminar at the School of Oriental and African Studies (University of London) and at Reed College in 2015. I am grateful to discussants (Neni Panourgiá and Susana Narotzky at the AAA and Amanda Weidman at SEM), panellists, and audience members, and to Daniel Knight, Charles Stewart, and the anonymous reviewers for their feedback. Research and writing were completed during 2014–2015 at the Amsterdam School for Cultural Analysis and the Institute of Musicology at the University of Amsterdam.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

ORCID

Lila Ellen Gray http://orcid.org/0000-0002-6783-6705

Notes

[1] See Minder (2012).

[2] http://www.theportugalnews.com/news/revolutionary-freedom-song-interrupts-parliamentary-debate/27779. http://internacional.elpais.com/internacional/2013/02/23/actualidad/1361636930_230878.html. http://www.tvi24.iol.pt/economia/videos/grandola-vila-morena-tambem-se-canta-em-madrid.

[3] I paraphrase and translate (Deolinda 2011).

[4] First verse of “Parva que Sou”: (lyrics and music by Pedro da Silva Martins): Sou da geração sem remuneração/ e nem me incomoda esta condição. / Que parva que eu sou!/ Porque isto está mal e vai continuar/ já é uma sorte eu poder estagiar. /Que parva que eu sou!/ E fico a pensar, que mundo tão parvo, onde para ser escravo é preciso estudar. Translation by the author.

[5] A video recording of the performance of “Parva que Sou” I write about can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGS7vAliIjI.

[6] For an example of this early circulation (February 2011) on the television news (Telejournal RTP 1) in Portugal, see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=387WJG8o108.

[7] For examples in Brazilian popular press of “Parva que Sou” as the “hymn of the lost generation” and Deolinda as the “sound of the lost generation”, see: Capelas (2013); Claudio (2011).

[8] For an alternate reading of Deolinda in relation to the geração à rasca and fado (“neo-fado”), see Arnold (2013). Arnold notes that lyrics to “Parva que Sou” were chanted in every protest he attended in Portugal 2011. See also Accornero and Pinto (2015, 505); Baumgarten (2013, 466).

[9] “register”. OED Online. October 2014. Oxford University Press. http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/161292?rskey=pChp4A&result=1&isAdvanced=false (See in particular, “register n. 1”: 9a–9d and “register v.”: 1a, 1e, 4c–4d).

[10] While the primary ensemble consists of one vocalist and three instrumentalists (guitar, bass guitar, and string bass), and sometimes these instrumentalists sing, Deolinda's instrumentation, and choices of invited guest musicians, has grown increasingly adventurous, expanding with their repertoire to create a multifaceted sound world. For example, the 2011 Coliseum concert featured the pianist Joana Sá (known in Portuguese avant-garde art music circles for her compositions for prepared piano) on the toy piano and bells; other instruments included a classical string quartet, noisemakers, and a clarinet.

[11] Deolinda's 2011 concerts occurred during the same year in which the genre of fado was awarded ICH status by UNESCO, during which time fado sounds and discourses were increasingly amplified, and linked to nation, in the public sphere.

[12] I refer to some of fado's stereotypical registers and not necessarily to nuances through which fado musicians, poets, and skilled listeners might perform, craft, or understand fado.

[13] Arnold (2013) has characterized Deolinda as a “wolf in sheep's clothing”, the cartoon like presentation, rendering provocation palatable.

[14] Deolinda's (2011) performance of the song can be found at the following url: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCZf4C2ErKk. In contrast is the ornamental and plaintive “Ai” performed by Amália Rodrigues in the fado song “Ai Mouraria” in the mid-twentieth century: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkKYiyJAhRM.

[15] Anda, desliga o cabo/que liga a vida, a esse jogo/joga comigo, um jogo novo/com duas vidas/um contra o outro (music and lyrics by Pedro da Silva Martins). (video url: http://www.deolinda.pt/gallery.cfm?langID=PT&smid=clips&aID=a04#).

[16] “Fungagá da Bicharada” (Animal parade) emerged in 1976 as a song (music and lyrics by José Barata Moura) associated with a children's television series, and later became a comic book series, of the same name. Video urls for Deolinda's (2011) performance and the television series song follow. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YfwpXUHQK8 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0ywMLaaiG4.

[17] Music and lyrics by Pedro da Silva Martins. I use the English subtitles and my paraphrased translations of the Portuguese (Deolinda 2011). Carlos Paredes (1925–2004), a beloved virtuoso of the guitarra portuguesa (Portuguese guitar), had a well-known, but very different “Movimento Perpétuo” in his repertoire.

[18] See Sardo (2014) for an historical account of the relations between protest song and fado.

[19] Anthropologist Almeida (2008, 5, 45) describes post-revolution Portuguese politics as a “sudden leap from ancien régime authoritarianism to post-modern globalized capitalism, without the transition and change of mentalities that was witnessed in Northern Europe in the post-World War II period and in the 1960s”.

[20] Allison (2013) builds on Lauren Berlant's aspirational normativity of a “cruel optimism” (2011). In Allison's case, this involves a brand of Japanese capitalism (“Japan Inc.”), dependent on particular relations of gender, sex, reproduction, labour, and employment.

[21] Richardson and Gorbman (2013, 10) write about digital media as implicated in an academic discourse of “techno-optimism”. See Juris (2012) on techno-optimism and the Occupy movements and Briggs (2013) on “contested mobilities”.

[22] See Theodossopoulos (2013) on actors in Greece engaging with an “international community of discontent” vis-à-vis the Spanish “Indignados” movement.