Silence is alien to Rio de Janeiro. Waves crash violently against beautiful beaches that are perpetually packed with Cariocas – the popular name for the citizens of Rio – while hawkers advertise wares that range from steamed prawns to colorful woven hammocks. Streets bustle with busy traffic and busier shoppers during the day, while at night revellers of all ages and backgrounds enjoy cold beer or caipirinhas at any number of bars that dot the neighborhoods. And everywhere, there is the music. The sound of surf mixes with the radio blasting from beachside kiosks. In the midst of a traffic jam, a couple of performers leap into the middle of the road and to the beating of drums, enact a speedy routine before running down the rows of vehicles requesting donations. Cars outfitted with huge speakers drive through residential neighborhoods playing jingles at piercing tones. Bars invariably throb with music, be it a group of Sambistas playing a pagode (a genre of Samba), a single percussionist keeping beat on a pandeiro (a tambourine-like instrument), or a radio blasting with an eclectic mix of English and Portuguese songs. The ritzier clubs in Rio’s elite Zona Sul (South Zone) attract the young and the beautiful of the city with everything from ‘trance’ and ‘techno’ to 80’s hits. And within the favelas high up on the hills and throughout the expanse of the periferia (the poor neighborhoods and suburbs that border the city) there is one genre of music that reigns: Funk Carioca.

The favelas – the slums of Rio – lie adjacent to each upper or middle-class neighborhood, and crowd the periphery of the city. The difference between the neighborhoods and the slums is not merely economic, it’s also a matter of elevation. Rio is a city spotted with numerous hills; these lush, thickly forested areas were considered unfit to build on when the city initially developed. But within the last century, as the formal city extended itself, these hills developed simultaneously. Simultaneously and illegally, the favelas came into existence. The green hillsides gave way to tightly packed houses made mostly of discarded materials. Today, the favelas – against popular belief – don’t house only the lowest rungs of society. Rather, a complex and complete hierarchy exists within them: from drug traffickers to street cleaners, from middle class professionals to the unemployed; favelas encase the essence of Rio, of Brazil, of a developing country’s problems. The majority black population that attests to continued discrimination, disparate social ranks, widespread violence and crime, and tightly knit communities that have an unspoken understanding for each other, for their problems and their needs, dwell in them. Largely ignored by the authorities, these settlements are truly a product of their inhabitants’ ingenuity, hard work and desperation.

Years ago, it was these problems and hardships of life that provided the inspiration for the initial Sambas. The lyrics narrated the stories within the favelas and were sung and danced to the beat of traditional Afro-Brazilian instruments. Samba – intrinsically related to Rio and popularly synonymous with Carnaval – became famous the world over as an inherently Brazilian music and dance. Notwithstanding the universal fame of Carnaval, this predominantly black festival was prohibited until the early 20th century. These days the problems faced by the dwellers of the favelas and the periferia have arguably worsened and a different kind of music cries out to be heard from within their locales: Funk (known outside Rio as Funk Carioca), also known as Batidão and Pankadão. Today, this is the music that carries the anger and pent-up frustration of favela youth; this rage is found not only within Funk’s lyrics, but within the music itself, which throbs with the aggression and fury of war drums.

This music inherits only the name of seventies ‘Funk’ from the US – but it is purely Brazilian music, and as with all things Brazilian, this implies the mixture of different sources into one inexplicably unique fusion. Funk is as inherently the song of the favelas as Samba initially was. Combining the sound of the violence that the favelas and the periferia hear in gunshots fired in broad daylight with the aggression of explicit palavrões (expletives) that inundate the lyrics, it is the newest and truest music of Rio’s poor.

During the Seventies, numerous ‘Bailes Black’ (Black Parties) took place on Rio’s periphery and were named as such because of the ‘Black’- American Soul – music that dominated. Initially, Cariocas heard only the soundtrack; this original ‘Funk’ music from the US was popular with crowds who, unhampered by the original lyrics, were free to interpret the melodies as they pleased. Appropriating them as their own, they invented accompanying (Portuguese) lyrics that may not have borne any resemblance to the original words in English, but nevertheless, gave the Brazilians a taste of the US hits. Funk led to Hip Hop and Rap within the US and consequently at these Bailes; drastically different from the original Soul music, nevertheless, it was still referred to as ‘Funk’.

The popularity of this extremely danceable music motivated the domestic production of similar tunes, combining Afro-Brazilian percussion and Portuguese lyrics to the rhythms of popular US tracks. This fusion of international sounds continued to be called Funk in the periferia and the favelas where it was blasted, and where it became increasingly tailored to the tastes of the party-goers. These party-goers, who grew up with the associated sex, drugs and violence – not to mention the poverty enveloping their favelas – required a vent for their feelings, and Funk became the perfect outlet. DJ Gilberto in Cidade de Deus, DJ Byano in the Complexo da Penha, DJ Fù in the Bairro do Lins or DJ Sandrinho at the Morro do Borel are among many others who help young MCs and bondes produce their songs, frequently with a weak PC, poor microphones and dismal equipment. Produced by DJs from favelas or the periferia on sparse funds, Funk first becomes successful where it is born, and then spreads to the radios and the clubs. The tracks that are played on the radio or at discotheques worldwide are usually first ‘bought’ from the original DJs at a pitiful 100 Brazilian Reais (less than $50); these DJs receive no royalties and little recognition outside the favelas, even as their songs top charts in Brazil and beyond.

Funk has evolved radically. Romantic melodies of the original Funk ruled for a long time and occasionally resurface. The Rap Consciente (conscientious or politically engaged Rap) genre of Funk saw the greatest successes ever and continues to be popular. It speaks out about racism, discrimination, poverty and the other real problems of the city. The track Rap da Felicidade (Rap of Happiness) from Cidinho & Doca (from Cidade de Deus) remains the hymn of all funkeiros (“Eu so queria ser feliz…. Poder andar tranquilamente na favela onde eu nasci.. Saber que o pobre tem o seu lugar – I only wanted to be happy, walk peacefully in the favela where I was born. Know that the poor also have their place in the world…)

The song Neurótico relates the dangers of life in the favela, of involvement with drugs, traffickers and violence. Mister Catra, perhaps the most famous MC, has composed over 300 songs of different genres of Funk. He is known for a lot of rap consciente, such as the hit Traficando Cultura (Trafficking Culture), as well as for translating into music the codes of behavior of the Comando Vermelho (The Red Command – one of Rio’s notorious drug cartels); his song made these ‘rules’ known to the entire city, from the favelas where this cartel reigns to the rich condominiums of Barra. Catra is also an eminent representative of the Putaria that dominates the scene (Mama me olhando – ‘Suck me looking at me’, which is the latest success). Lately, as Funk has been conquering a diverse and expanding public, lyrics with concerns and awareness about the city’s dramatic situation have a decreasing demand in the informal market of the Bailes Funk.

Finally, there is Proibidão (Prohibited), the playing of which genre is forbidden in the bailes of the asfalto (the ‘asphalt’ defines the regular neighborhoods of Rio as opposed to the informal slums). Regardless of the ban, these are the most popular and prolific songs. For veterans MC Junior and Leonardo (composers of rap consciente like the famous Rap das Armas – Rap of the Weapons), proibidão is the beauty of chaos, the survival of creative force amidst a civil war. According to them, proibidão goes overboard only when it incites the invasion and killing of other people. The most famous proibidão of late was the Missão Extraodinaria (The Extraordinary Mission) by MC Gil, which portrays the invasion of an enemy favela by the Comando Vermelho. The song narrates the defeat of the rival faction, the alemães (the Germans – carioca slang for enemies) as well as the police. As with nearly all proibidões, a ‘light version’, to be played on radios and in Bailes in the city was released simultaneously with the ‘heavy’ one for the favela. In many songs, Boceta (the pussy) from the ‘heavy’ version becomes Boca (the mouth), in the ‘light’ version.

The Bailes and Funk continue to be closely associated with the culture of violence that is prevalent within the favelas of Rio. But arguably, Funk encapsulates this in music, rather than promoting the existing violence. Paradoxically, though lyrics are more violent and pornographic in the ‘heavy’ versions for the favelas, absolute respect for women and girls reigns – the unwritten rule is that you cannot touch unless you know the other person well, and no one is foolish enough to start a fight. In the bailes of the asfalto with ‘censored’ songs, the morality is much more flexible and youngsters invariably try to kiss and conquer without bothering with restrictions.

Groups of boys or girls dancing and singing form ‘bondes’ – another branch of Funk artists. They create daily the most contemporary urban dance of Rio de Janeiro. Groups of friends try out new steps and dream of success, first inside their own favelas and consequently in the city. The appearance of sexy boys or girls dancing provocatively on stage is bound to be hugely popular, but it is only recently that the media has ‘discovered’ the appeal of Funk artists.

Any weekend night may witness 200 to 500 Baile Funk in the state of Rio de Janeiro alone. The heart of any baile is the Equipe de Som (the sound team) which consists of a giant sound-system – a wall of loud and bass speakers sometimes stretching upto thirty meters. The fame of the Equipe de Som attracts the public as much as the MCs and ‘bondes’. The entrepreneurs who originally owned and provided sound-systems were often the ones to organize the Bailes Black more than thirty years ago. The most famous company is Furacão 2000, lead by Romulo Costa. He named each of his sound-systems after different natural calamities; the most recent is Tsunami, and Katrina is under construction. Furacão 2000 owns a recording studio, a TV channel and an FM Radio station. According to Costa, “today, the MCs of Funk are more famous than the drug traffickers”. A career in Funk is a possibility for hundreds of poor youngsters who can make a living from this informal market. Though removed from popular media, a baile can attract 500 to 10,000 people, who hear about the party from websites of individual Equipes or by word of mouth.

Progressively, the singers who accompany the DJs live are women, and their contribution transcends the merely vocal. Funk lyrics are increasingly about sexuality rather than violence, and this can be accredited to the upsurge in female artists. On stage the singers extol self-empowerment in wonderfully irreverent lyrics while provocatively dressed funkeiros gyrate to the beat. Deize Tigrona & Tati Quebra Barraco are exponents of this international success – the rare black women from the favela (both are from Cidade de Deus) who became successful among their own people as well as beyond. Their influence on the Funk scene, through their lyrics full of innuendos and palavrões is profound. Deize, a cleaning woman until last year, can now command upto R$10000 ($4600) per show at São Paulo’s finest clubs; Tati’s price is at least double that. The female invasion of the Funk scene also ended the Baile de Corredor – parties which saw rival gangs line up on either side of the room, leaving a ‘corridor’ between them. This corridor was the battleground, resulting in injuries far more serious than a bruise or a sprain. These bailes popular in the mid 90s, became famous as the ‘Brazilian Fight Clubs’. The profusion of women on the Funk scene has made dancing the new criterion. Now men must move their hips rather than throw punches at rivals in order to attract a girl’s attention.

Funk might be the answer for the dispossessed youth of Rio de Janeiro. It might be the new feminist catchphrase or the beginning of an appeasement between the disparate worlds that divide the city, as Funk’s popularity diversifies ever further. It might be the new economy that provides for artists, DJs, MCs, technicians, radios and clubs, to name only a few beneficiaries. Or it might simply be catchy music, a pulsating rhythm, and a whole lot of dancing…