One of India's most sophisticated jazz musicians ever, Braz Gonsalves lays down his saxophone
Nigel Britto
For most of the younger generation, he’s ‘Uncle Braz’; the quiet, pious gentleman who occasionally plays hymns on his saxophone. Mention his name to a jazz enthusiast, though, and jaws will drop. In his 77 years, Braz Gonsalves has donned many hats. From jazz pioneer to spiritual flop, redeemed son of God to musical mentor, the story of one of India’s greatest musicians will unfold at a momentous concert at Kala Academy on Thursday.
He was born in Neura in 1934, the young Braz inherited his father’s musical legacy; Laurence Gonsalves was the choirmaster of Santana for three decades. Braz was the fourth of seven siblings, and the only one inclined towards music. Initially trained at parochial schools, his unique soprano vocal range took him to parishes around Goa; his repertoire included everything from Latin masses to Motetis to Gregorian chants. “That was the real music,” he reminisces.
It would be many decades later that Gonsalves would become a fierce soldier of God, but the roots of that eventuality were sown in his childhood. At seven, he lost his mother. “I felt lonely then,” he recalls. Oftentimes, he wandered around Church, looking at the various pictures and statues that adorned its walls. It was then that he found solace in the Virgin Mary, the first step of his spiritual journey. “Jesus gave me his mother since I didn’t have my own,” he says, matter-of-factly. Even then, in the ’40s, music was an integral part of his life. He hadn’t yet met his beloved saxophone; his musical studies were limited to the clarinet and violin; the sax, which was to bring him worldwide renown, was the logical next step.
His debut as a performer was rather unflattering—a band at the Kamala circus, where he was spotted while touring Delhi. A jazz band in the capital, tired of its own saxophonist’s drunken ways and health complications, asked Gonsalves to replace him. At 19, this was a dream opportunity; he moved to Delhi. Unfortunately for him, the saxophonist recovered as soon as he reached. He was jobless in a strange land, but not for long. Gonsalves got his break when the saxophone player of another Delhi-based band migrated to Goa. Quickly, he made his mark. He was offered a gig in Srinagar, which, before it became a strife-torn hell, was a hotbed of jazz and the British club culture.
“That was my first band,” he wistfully recalls. A six-month contract was sufficient time for Gonsalves to make a name for himself. After impressing one and all in Kashmir, he returned to Delhi, jobless but inspired, and then to Mumbai. A Neura club there became his regular hangout zone. At this point, “I practiced a minimum of eight hours a day,” he says. It paid off. His reputation as a master of his instrument grew; his solos on radio made him something of a household name. His reputation spread across the country to Kolkata, where he joined his first ‘big band’. At 21, he led its reed section. “We played complex bebop music then; those were the days of Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker. I began to improvise by ear,” he says.
On his return to Mumbai, he met Chic Chocolate, who was then one of India’s finest trumpeters, who bore a close resemblance to Louis Armstrong. Gonsalves’ interest in Chocolate transcended his musical genius; on 27 November 1967, Gonsalves married his daughter Yvonne. “Soon after, someone told me about a talented pianist from Darjeeling called Louiz Banks,” Gonsalves says. Soon, the duo began performing in 1971 with singer Pam Craine in what came to be known as the Louiz Banks Brotherhood.
The collaboration clicked immediately, perhaps because it was the first time two virtuosos joined forces for the love of music. Soon after, Gonsalves suggested to Banks that they move from Kolkata to Mumbai, where the former’s wife, Yvonne, would sing. Banks consented, and having moved from the city of joy to the city of dreams, their stratospheric rise reached epic proportions.
It was at the height of their popularity that Niranjan Zaveri, an entrepreneur, stumbled upon the idea of establishing the Jazz Yatra, an event which would become the quintessential festival for the genre in India. During its first edition in 1978, Gonsalves and Banks were the only Indians in a formidable line-up that boasted saxophonist Sonny Rollins and singer Joe Williams. Gonsalves and Banks were to become regulars at the festival, often overpowering their more illustrious foreign counterparts by the sheer force of talent. Zaveri then requested that they include Indian music in their set too, so the duo teamed up with a Carnatic singer to form the Jazz Yatra Sextet, which debuted to widespread critical acclaim.
It wasn’t long before the duo embarked upon their first Europe trip. “The tour was a massive success; our music was very well received, and we got several offers to go to America,” Gonsalves says. Although intoxicated with the sweet smell of success, Gonsalves also says that spiritually, those were the worst days of his life.
“I went to Church, but never heard mass. I went for confessions, but never confessed,” he whispers, aware of the moral lacuna he was spiralling into. On a stop in Munich, he stepped out to buy gifts for his family back in Goa, and tripped and fell. “There was no one around, and I was in severe pain,” he says, gesturing towards his wrist, which still bears the sign of that incident. “Lying there in the biting cold, I realized instantly that I had gone too far”, he says, marking the moment that turned his life around. “I screamed to my God, it was just Him and me”, he trails off.
Then, he returned to India. “My wife immediately realized something had dramatically changed,” and she even went to the extent of asking him “why didn’t you just become a priest?” In the months that followed, Gonsalves balanced his musical career with his new-found spirituality. “I fasted every Friday, and repented every night.” Some time later, he wanted to migrate to Canada. He spent three years there before deciding he didn’t like the place; yet, during his years there, he again teamed up with old buddy Banks, for a tour of China and Germany.
Then, he embarked on what he thought would be the last leg of his tour. “I had severe bronchitis, so I wanted to come back to Mumbai and die there,” he says. Though his health was failing, his musical career resurrected, earning him huge amounts of money which afforded him a comfortable lifestyle. Yet, he says, “I thought that this is enough; it’s time for me to serve the Lord.” Any offer he had to play on a Wednesday had to wait, because nothing could clash with his prayer meetings. This was his second innings, one that’s still going strong.
It was only in the early 90s that he completely stopped playing commercial music. “After one concert, I saw a lot of drunken people engaging in questionable behavior and using foul language. I just packed my up saxophone, told the owner of the venue never to call me again, and walked out,” he states with the conviction that comes with rock-solid faith. In 2006, he moved back to his beloved childhood home, Goa. His jazz days are over, he says, and all he plays these days is music that would glorify his God.
Thursday’s concert, an attempt to raise funds for a retreat centre north of Goa, affords the last chance for jazz enthusiasts to witness a spectacle that will in all probability never happen again. Gonsalves and Banks will team up again after decades for the former’s final curtain call. The event, planned to depict Gonsalves’ life, will also feature leading Goan musicians like drummer Lester Godinho, guitarist Savio Martires, percussionist Bondo, and the band Syndicate, among many others. During the second half, jazz will metamorphose into Gospel music, with a bunch of young Goan singers taking the stage, providing the final touches to a towering personality’s career that glitters as brightly as the instrument he now lays down.
This article was first published on The Times of India, Goa, in its edition dated February 3, 2011. A version of the article was also published on The Times of India's Crest edition dated February 12, 2011.
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