Photo: María Magdalena Arréllaga.
“People dance into the wee hours,” writes the New York Times. “For many young Brazilians, the charme scene has become a symbol of Black identity and culture unique to Rio’s working-class areas.”
I’m always grateful when the mainstream media digs into an aspect of another culture, something I know nothing about. Today we learn of a vibrant scene that has thrilled thousands of people since the 1970s. And what did I know about it before? Nothing.
Ana Ionova writes at the New York Times, “Trucks, buses and cars rumbled overhead, drowning out Marcus Azevedo’s voice. In the distance, sirens blared and exhaust pipes backfired. From under a highway overpass, Mr. Azevedo, a dance teacher, shouted over the noise, ‘Five, six, seven, eight!’
“He hit play on his phone, and the first song started blasting from a pair of crackling speakers. Six rows of dancers began shuffling, twisting and popping their hips in unison. The playlist? All R&B classics. …
“The dance routine wouldn’t have been out of place in New York City or Atlanta or Los Angeles. But we were on the decaying fringes of Rio de Janeiro, a metropolis better known for samba. And this dance is called charme, a style born here in the 1970s as an ode to American soul, funk and, later, R&B.
“This spot, in the working-class suburb of Madureira, has become a temple for lovers of charme over the decades. By day, it’s where many hone their moves. Once mastered, the steps are flaunted at nighttime parties known as ‘baile charme.’
“ ‘This is a magical place,’ said Mr. Azevedo, 46, who began dancing charme — Portuguese for charm — when he was 11 and now leads a dance company focused on the style. ‘There is something spiritual, an energy that can only be found here.’
“But the old-school R&B tracks shouldn’t fool anyone into thinking that this is a nostalgic crowd yearning for a throwback. This hotbed of charme is attracting an increasingly younger crop of dancers, who are keeping the scene alive — and transforming it in surprising ways.
“On a recent muggy Saturday morning, a few dozen people — from restless children and lanky teenagers to men and women in their 50s and 60s — flocked to the shady overpass. They were there for a class led by Mr. Azevedo and three other instructors, all part of a program meant to introduce charme to more people.
“A small group practiced steps before class started. ‘It’s not hard — a little step here, a little step there,’ said Juliana Bittencourt, 30, an administrative assistant, showing a fellow student how it’s done. ‘Charme is medicine, it has the power to cure anything.’
“Geovana Cruz, 20, a bank teller who had come from São Paulo by bus that morning, excitedly stepped into the front row of dancers.
“ ‘It’s addictive,’ said Ms. Cruz, who comes nearly every week and whose charme dance routines on TikTok draw thousands of likes. …
“ ‘Charme is not just music,’ said Larissa Rodrigues Martins, 25, a schoolteacher. ‘It’s a place where we share and learn from each other — not just about steps, but also about life.’ …
“The birth of charme is rooted in the influx of Black music and culture from the United States in the 1970s and 1980s. At a time when Rio’s far-flung, impoverished outskirts offered young people few sources of pride or identity, the rhythm and style of American artists like James Brown and Stevie Wonder emerged as an inspiration.
“One night in 1980, a D.J. named Corello was working at a club and decided to mix in some Marvin Gaye. ‘Now it’s time for a little charme, slow your body down,’ he called out. The term stuck and came to define the homegrown urban dance movement.
“After many Black social clubs went out of business in the 1990s, charme lovers moved the party to the nearby Madureira overpass, where they could dance undisturbed. …
“The movements that define the dance are at once familiar to urban street dancers yet uniquely ‘Carioca,’ as anyone or anything from Rio de Janeiro is known. The swings carry a hint of bossa nova’s sway; the two-steps have a distinct samba flavor; and the bold hip bounces channel Brazilian funk. …
“For many younger people, the charme scene under the overpass has increasingly become a symbol of Black identity and culture that is unique to Rio’s working-class neighborhoods.
“ ‘This is our ancestry,’ Ms. Martins said. ‘The previous generation showed us this space where we can express ourselves.’
“During the nighttime partying, older revelers mostly hung back. They swayed, stepped and turned with more subtle, sensual movements. ‘We learn from the new kids, and they learn from us,’ said Bruno Oliveira, 44, a clothes salesman wearing a bejeweled cap. ‘It’s love, it’s peace.’ ”
More at the Times, here. Great pictures, especially the videos.
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