The Man Who Played Pigs
An Ode to a Brazilian Jazz Legendby Benjamin Daniel B’29published on October 26th, 2025
An Ode to a Brazilian Jazz Legendby Benjamin Daniel B’29published on October 26th, 2025
I first encountered Hermeto Pascoal as I do so many other magical acts: on a late-night YouTube rabbit hole. The video is grainy. Five men stand shirtless in a circle, floating in a green river. They shriek into the water. At their center emerges a figure with unkempt white hair. He appears to be a wizard ripped from the legends of old. The video dissolves.
Here—a new scene. The river is the same, but the men all now hold bottles. Pascoal, the wizened sage, holds three glass jugs. The piece begins calm, controlled. Pascoal’s jugs form the basis of the baseline, while the players surrounding him weave a tapestry of sound. Pascoal then begins to play his wooden flute. At first, the playing is mere improvisations on the melody produced by the bottle players. Then all at once, chaos creeps in. Pascoal begins to play the river. He pours the river’s water over the flute and dunks his body into the waves. He then blows the flute from the wrong side, producing an eerie whistle. The video ends simply. Pascoal and the other members of his retinue beat out a drumline on the river.
This short piece demonstrates exactly the genus of Pascoal. It’s no wonder that in the Portuguese-speaking world, he is known as o Bruxo de Musica or the sorcerer of music. In his recordings, Pasocal evokes a world of whimsical creativity that can only be described as magical.
Born to a farming family in rural Alagoas, Pascoal’s path to jazz stardom was long and convoluted. Unable to join his family in the fields due to his albinism, Pascoal learned the accordion. As his vision faded, his love for music grew. He began to play at local weddings and taught himself flute and piano.
In the early 60s, Pascoal moved to the capital of Rio de Janeiro. His early groups are marked by an inventive fusion of Brazilian folk music and Jazz. My personal favorite, if not for the name alone, is Brazilian Octopus. It was from these early recordings that Miles Davis first learned of Pascoal’s talent.
The two would form a short but rich partnership that would bear three songs. My favorite of the three is Little Church. Pascoal moved to New York City and began work on a new album. Pascoal united the top names of the Brazilian and American Jazz scenes to create Slave’s Mass. The album brims with creativity and Pascoal’s signature improvisation. Of particular note is the title track. For Slaves Mass, Pascoal brought live pigs into the studio. The squeals heard at the beginning of the track are produced by Pascoal lifting the pigs to the mic.
The 80s saw a further period of innovation. Pascoal used rocks, air pumps, and even his own beard to explore the far reaches of what music could be. In the 90s, Pascoal completed, in my opinion, his magnum opus. Called the Calendar of Sound (Calendário do Som), Hermeto composed 366 pieces to accompany each day of the year (yes, dear reader, even February 29th gets an entry).
He moved back to Brazil, still taking the time to engage in the occasional tour. In 2024, he was given the Latin Grammy award for Jazz for an album comprised of pieces arranged from love letters he wrote for his late wife.
He died on September 15 at the age of 89. The world is now a somewhat less magical place for his passing. Yet for those who listen, his magic endures. So, take a minute and listen to the music around you. Maybe you can capture some magic.