Hermeto Pascoal Shares His World of Natural Music

Transmission 115: Interview with Hermeto Pascoal

Hermeto Pascoal is a Brazilian composer, arranger, and multi-instrumentalist whose innovative music incorporates a wide range of instruments, including the accordion, flute, piano, saxophone, and various others. Pascoal has an inventive approach to music, often incorporating unconventional objects like kettles, toys, and animals into his compositions, alongside traditional instruments. His upbringing in rural Brazil influenced his relationship with nature, as demonstrated in compositions such as “Música da Lagoa,” where musicians play flutes while submerged in water.

Pascoal’s early career included playing with his brother José Neto at forró dances and weddings. He moved to Recife in 1950, where he became involved in radio performances and later joined the group Som Quatro in São Paulo. In 1966, he formed the Quarteto Novo with Airto Moreira, Heraldo do Monte, and Théo de Barros, creating a sophisticated and harmonically intricate sound. Pascoal’s international career began when he collaborated with Miles Davis on tracks for the album Live-Evil in 1970.

Throughout the 1970s, Pascoal continued to explore new musical territories, releasing albums such as Slaves Mass (1976), and collaborating with prominent musicians. In addition to his ensemble work, Pascoal has contributed significant solo efforts, such as his Calendário do Som project (1996-1997), which consisted of a composition for every day of the year.

Related : From the tropical experiments of Meridian Brothers to the legendary wizardry of Hermeto Pascoal.

Growing up in a rural area without electricity, how did that influence your connection with natural sounds and your creative development as a musician?

Ah, man, not having electricity out there in the countryside was a blessing, you know? Without electricity, all I had was the nature surrounding me. I listened to the wind, the sound of the water running through the streams, the birds singing, the frogs croaking… all of that was my school. These things, they talked to me, you see? They taught me that any sound can be music; it just depends on the ears of the listener. Out there, without a radio or electricity, I discovered that music was everywhere—you just had to pay attention and play along.

You were fascinated by the sounds of nature from an early age. Can you tell us about the first time you realized you could create music using water, pumpkins, or your grandfather’s tools?

Oh, I remember it well! I was playing in the stream near my house, messing with the water. Then I started noticing the sound it made when it hit the rocks, and I began to play rhythms with my hands in the water. Later, I saw that I could do the same with pumpkins, with my grandfather’s hammer. Everything has its own sound, you know? For me, it was like discovering a new toy. From early on, I knew the world was a big orchestra, and I just wanted to be the conductor of all of it!

Sivuca played a key role in your early career. How did his support impact your trajectory, particularly when you were just starting out?

Sivuca was like an older brother to me. He had a very broad musical vision, and he always encouraged me to explore what was in my head, no matter how crazy it seemed. When I started out, he helped me a lot, especially in not being afraid to be different. Sivuca always said, “Hermeto, music is an endless universe, dive deep!” And that’s what I did. He gave me that initial push, showing me that I could mix the sound of the pandeiro with the noise of the kettle, that everything could make sense in my music. His support was crucial for me to feel free as an artist.

How did performing in different cities across Brazil, from Recife to Rio de Janeiro, expose you to a broader musical landscape?

Every city has its own smell, its sound, its rhythm. Playing in all these cities was like diving into an ocean of influences. Each place gave me more ideas, more colors for my musical palette. Brazil is so rich in rhythms, sounds, and cultures that I never get tired of exploring. And playing in each place, I would pick up a little piece of each sound to bring into my music.

How did you first come into contact with Miles Davis, and what led to your collaboration on Live-Evil? What was the initial meeting like?

Ah, Miles… a genius, but also a buddy, you know? The first time we met was in New York. I already knew who he was, of course, and it seems like he had heard about me too. Then, things flowed naturally. Miles had this thing about seeking the new, not wanting the obvious. And I was always like that too. He liked my craziness, the way I used everyday sounds in my music.

Nature has always played a crucial role in your compositions, from your childhood experiments to Música da Lagoa. What is it about natural sounds that speaks to you so deeply?

Nature, to me, is the mother of all sounds. Everything we hear comes from it, the desire to make music together with the sounds of water, of birds. I don’t like separating man from nature because it’s all one thing.

What does the USA mean in your career?

The United States gave me the chance to take my music to the world, to show that the sonic madness I was creating in the countryside had a place on the international stage. It was in the USA that I played with great musicians, people with open minds for experimentation, like Miles Davis. There, I could expand my music, reach new audiences, and prove that Brazilian music has no borders. But I never stopped being who I am. My essence always came from the countryside, from Brazil.

Sinfonia do Alto Ribeira is an extraordinary work that incorporates the environment itself into the music. How did you conceptualize this piece, and what was the process of creating music in such a setting like?

I wanted to create a work that was literally part of nature, that made music emerge along with the sound of the river, the birds, the insects. I went there with this idea of mixing the sounds of the place with traditional instruments, and there, everything happened naturally. I didn’t want it to be just a performance; I wanted it to be a celebration of life. Every sound from the environment entered the symphony as part of the orchestra. It was a magical experience, like composing with the earth itself.

There seems to be a Pan-like feeling in much of your work, where the music embodies a deep connection to the natural flow of life. How do you channel that sense of unity with nature when you compose or perform?

I am part of nature, just like all of us are. When I play, I’m not creating something separate from the world; I’m just translating what’s already happening around me. Music, to me, is the sound of life, and life is a continuous flow. Everything is connected. I don’t think much when I’m composing or playing; I just let the sound carry me. It’s like breathing; it’s natural. When I pick up a flute or sit at the piano, I’m just listening to what the universe is already playing. We’re all part of this, and music is a way to remember that.

Photos courtesy of Hermeto Pascoal

Matteo Damiani

Matteo Damiani is an Italian photographer and author. Curator of the sites Retrofuturista.com; weirditaly.com; china-underground.com and others