Bom dia, audiófilos!
While I’d like to think I was a performer long enough to let it translate into my writing… it’s not happening, folks. At least not today. Mornings are certainly less than perfect; I’m a certified grogster. Grogged out till nearly 11 a.m., no matter how much sleep I get—you can catch me feeling groggy until my afternoon lunch break in the sun… surrounded by trees and breeze, taking in the fresh air, loving every moment of being alive.
Being at my desk, however—not typically something I look forward to, even if I am writing. However—I’m here, and I’m typing, and it looks like you’re reading, so: I’m grateful.
But I’ve also learned that even if I wake up as Dr. Grog, professor of being groggy, I don’t have to force myself to feel perfect—or perfect enough to write. Sometimes releasing the expectation to feel positive paradoxically brings more lightness.
At the same time though… this discovery has such an incredibly warm feeling inside. My soul remembers overflowing with joy; my heart remembers feeling so open. So, in an attempt to actively come back to myself, I’m going to share with you my story of this week’s discovery—and maybe contemplate something caffeinated.
But first… how did we land in Brazil again? Or better yet, how did Novos Baianos find me? How did I get here?
Well my friends, while every discovery story is valued, not every story is as extraordinary as this one.
Whyyyyy Nooooot (Why Not)
I've been revisiting childhood anthems this summer.
One of the most superlative: “Why Not” by Hilary Duff (2003), which has incidentally become one of my favorite things to say—second only to, “The worst answer you’ll get is ‘no.’”
It’s amazing what can happen when you just give it a go.
A few weeks ago, I wound up at an Earth, Wind & Fire concert with the LA Phil and a fireworks show on a Wednesday night. Found the show at 6 p.m., picked up my mom at 6:30, called Jon—my best friend up in Hollywood—grabbed last-second box office tickets for $59 a pop in Section L because I asked for a discount since we were late.
Our seats were taken. I said to the bouncer, "we wouldn't mind moving..." So, we got moved down—to the front of Section D.
All of it: a string of decisions that started with “Why not? The worst answer I’ll get is no.”
This story has the same flare.
Oddly enough, a lot of things in my life have been like that.
Okay... I’m getting my gusto back. Let’s gooooooo.
Speaking of Jon—Jon Kakura: LA transplant from Buffalo, New York, monster bassist, and one of my closest friends on this earth—sent us all a group message:
"Hey y’all! Whitney and I and a few other people are going to this show tomorrow night, if you don’t have plans. They’re a really famous Brazilian band from back in the day, and it’s their first time being up north. This is their seminal album, we’re absolutely obsessed with it. It’s all around beautiful."
Think: samba in a hammock, psychedelic guitar riffs weaving through the smell of fruit trees and afternoon rain.
It’s joy, but not forced. It’s intimacy, but playful.
It’s Brazilian counterculture saying, “We can be soft and radical.”
It’s what happens when a bunch of idealistic, wildly talented musicians live communally, smoke weed, and casually reinvent the future of Brazilian music. What I didn't know when I said yes, was what an incredibly big deal it was that they were here. And somehow, I was able to experience it.
The Mayan is an iconic establishment. It's been around for 98 years, and is unfortunately, set to close in September. There's no telling if Novos Baianos would ever be back to the states again. This, was an easy yes.
JAZZ ESTA MORTO
Before we get into the evening and the music, I want to offer some information about the folks who helped make this show happen. Rather than tell you from my perspective, here is their bio from the About section on jazzisdead.com:
This is Jazz Is Dead, a love story.Founded in 2017 by Adrian Younge, Ali Shaheed Muhammad (A Tribe Called Quest), Andrew Lojero, and Adam Block, Jazz Is Dead began as a bold statement—plastered on walls, whispered in headphones, echoed through venues. Not a farewell, but a rallying cry. A tribute to the past and a charge toward the future. A reminder that the spirit of jazz—the innovation, the rebellion, the soul—has never stopped evolving.We are crate diggers and culture keepers. We travel the world in search of rare records and the artists who created them. We sit with the legends who shaped entire eras and bring them into the present—not to recreate the past, but to build something new with it. We do this through live concerts, analog recordings, visual media, and the growing community that surrounds it all.Our collaborations with visionaries like Roy Ayers, Marcos Valle, Gary Bartz, Azymuth, and Jean Carne laid the foundation. And the journey continues—recent releases from Ebo Taylor, Hyldon, and Dom Salvador show that greatness doesn’t fade. It deepens, expands, reinvents itself.At the heart of it all is a belief: Perfect Is Boring.Jazz Is Dead is a rebellion against the sterile and the overproduced. We believe greatness lies in the tension between chaos and control, between what is planned and what simply happens. What moves us most is found in the unpolished moments—in the grain of tape, the crackle of vinyl, the chemistry that can’t be programmed. We embrace analog because it captures something real. Human. Messy. Alive.This ethos extends beyond music. Everything we create—from records to garments to films—is meant to be lived in. To wear the marks of time. To evolve with you. We’re not just curating culture; we’re contributing to it. One imperfect, extraordinary piece at a time.Jazz Is Dead is not a brand. It’s a movement. A way of seeing, hearing, and being. A call to those who find beauty in the raw and the real. It’s for the listeners, the makers, the feelers, and the dreamers.This is Jazz Is Dead. A look back. A leap forward. A celebration of imperfection.Join us.
I believe that Jazz Is Dead is doing incredibly important work. Their bio speaks for itself. I often feel disconnected from whatever "the culture of America" is supposed to be. But this? This is it.
The innovation, the rebellion, the soul.
The belief that perfect is boring.
The rebellion against the sterile and the overproduced.
Thank you, Jazz Is Dead, for the work you do—and for bringing Brazilian music (and other global sounds) to the heart of Los Angeles.
Please check out their work and learn more at jazzisdead.com and artdontsleep.com
Now… vamos para o The Mayan!
Dancing with Legends
If you haven’t been to The Mayan, it’s an incredible venue — and I highly recommend checking out whatever shows are left before it closes (hopefully someone will buy it. Why hasn’t it been dubbed an LA landmark? Ninety-eight years… sheesh).
I didn’t fully understand what I was walking into that night. The moment I stepped into the Mayan, I was surrounded by Portuguese — always a good sign, like stepping into a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant where no one’s speaking English. You know you’re in the right place. A woman in line even corrected my pronunciation (politely), which sparked a bit of friendly banter.
I met up with my friends: Jon, Whitney (my other closest friend and the singer/performer extraordinaire behind LA pop band Babelicious), Angel (who you’ve heard of), and some of their crew. We eventually made our way down to the floor, where the energy was magnetic. Even the wallflowers clinging to their introverted corners were swaying and grooving in their own quiet ways. The vibe was infectious.
I didn’t realize until later that Novos Baianos had never played in North America before. This was a once-in-a-lifetime show. To be a newbie in a room full of diehards — to experience that level of enthusiasm, to be arm’s length from legends, to feel the joy radiating from strangers’ nostalgic souls — was overwhelming in the best way. The floor was alive with dancing feet, lovers, friends. Funny enough, it reminded me of the Earth, Wind & Fire concert I was telling you about: a shared space full of people brought together purely by love of the music, and to celebrate legends.
I’m so grateful for music and the way it unites us like nothing else.
And speaking of “walks of life” — halfway through the show, I figured I’d walk mine right outside and make some new friends to share my schmag with. Because if I’m at a show, you know a Berly’s gotta get Swirly. And why not get swirly with some strangers?
I’m a California girl through and through, but I was raised by Brooklynites. I have no problem talking to strangers. I spotted two folks standing around, asked for a light, and if they wanted to share — and they replied, appropriately, “Fuck yeah.”
We ended up having this lovely conversation about letting your head and heart exist in their truths at the same time. Turns out, they were both musicians. We bonded over my newfound love of Novos Baianos and how they discovered the band. We quickly realized that most of the people there were musicians too. And oddly enough, we were all wearing red and white. Strange coincidences? Or maybe just the energy of why not coursing through our veins.
We exchanged numbers and Instagrams — and now Kasha and Kosta are my friends. I mentioned the blog, and Kasha recommended I check out Jem and the Holograms. I sense a new music discovery on the horizon.
I made a few more connections that night — more musicians, more hugs, more “see ya laters.” Then I rejoined my crew, and we all got down together. It felt good to boogie with my pals.
At the end of the show, the band came back out for an encore. They performed one of my new favorite songs — the title of this blog — “Brasil Pandeiro,” which translates to Brazilian Tambourine. The crowd’s voices rang through my ears and down into my hips, gripped me tight, and pulled me along for the ride. Dancing with strangers, singing with new friends — this is what life is all about.
“Ô-ô, samba! Ô-ô, samba! Ô-ô, samba! Ô-ô, samba!”
That’s when you know a show was really, really good — when you’re still basking in the glow of its eternal memory days later.
From the center of my soul, through the valves of my heart, thank you for reading this blog. Thanks for sticking with me from the grog to the glory. And as always: stay tuned in, my friends.
See the links below to explore more.
Note for mobile readers:
If you’re reading this on your phone, scroll to the bottom of the page and click “View Web Version” to access older blogs on the right-hand side. If you’re on a computer (like me), the archives are already to your right, organized by month.
Coming soon:
Audio versions of each blog — mini podcasts for the non-readers who still want in on the ride.
If you dug this post, feel free to tip the scribbler: Venmo: https://venmo.com/u/berlyd
Hear Novos Baianos and "Brasil Panderio" here: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=V-PdMLOOFvk
Honorable mention? Hear "Why Not" here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gr-obmBuu-4
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