A Brazilian samba star says goodbye: ‘I've fought a lot, but I also think we need to live'

The Guardian

02-03-2025

On Monday night, as 100,000 people gather in the stands and VIP boxes of the Marquês de Sapucaí Sambadrome to watch the second night of parades at Rio de Janeiro's world-famous carnival, a voice that has resonated for half a century will be heard there for the last time.
It will be the final performance by Neguinho da Beija-Flor, 75, one of the country's most famous samba singers, who is retiring after leading 50 consecutive parades for the Beija-Flor – or Hummingbird – school.
At an event that brings together thousands of members from 12 samba schools, he is the most recognisable voice in Rio's elite carnival league, which operates like a championship, with a winner crowned each year.
'I can't wait to retire. After this Monday's parade, c'est fini,' said Neguinho, with his constant smile and impeccably groomed afro – not a single grey strand in sight – just before heading into the studio for his final rehearsal.
He announced his retirement in November, a decision that surprised Rio's samba world, which follows the carnival parade with the same passion that other Brazilians have for football.
The reason for his retirement? Exhaustion. 'Being a samba-school singer requires the stamina of a marathon runner,' he said.
During the 70–80 minutes of a school's parade, it is the singer's job to maintain the energy of the massive audience – which can be almost twice the size of the crowd at Maracanã soccer stadium – repeatedly chanting the year's samba-enredo theme song in an endless loop. 'It's a massive effort that has only become harder with age,' Neguinho said.
Born Luiz Antônio Feliciano in Nova Iguaçu, a poverty-stricken city in the greater Rio area, he started singing for a local samba bloco at age 22 when he was a member of the air force.
As a diminutive of negro (black), 'Neguinho' is often used in Brazil in a derogatory manner to refer to a Black boy or man generically. But among Afro-Brazilians, it can also carry an affectionate meaning, which is what he had in mind when he adopted the nickname.
'I've suffered a lot of racism in my life and career, and I've fought a lot, but I also think we need to live. If I had spent my entire life fighting, I wouldn't have had time to dedicate myself to my music and family,' said Neguinho.
His big break came in 1976 when he had to step in to replace a lead singer who died suddenly before carnival. The school won the championship – its first – and he became Neguinho from Beija-Flor.
Since then, the school has won 14 titles, all under Neguinho's raspy voice and his trademark battle cry: 'Olha a Beija-Flor aí, gente!' ('Here comes Beija-Flor, folks!')
Along with the artistry of the singers, musicians, dancers and designers, a key factor in the school's success was the financial support of a local gambling boss.
Jogo do bicho – or animal lottery – is an illegal gambling game ubiquitous across Brazil, and long been tied to various criminal activities, including police corruption and murders.
In the 1970s, gambling bosses saw samba schools as a means to clean their images and increase control over territories. At least half of the elite samba schools are still linked to bicheiros, as the bosses are known, but Neguinho does not see this as a problem: 'If it weren't for the jogo do bicho, maybe today Rio's carnival wouldn't be the spectacle it is.'
Throughout his half-century career, Neguinho has only ever sung for one school, a consistency nearly unthinkable in today's increasingly professionalised carnival, where artists switch groups as quickly as football players change clubs.
'Neguinho is the biggest star of Rio's carnival today, and his farewell marks the end of a romantic era,' said Leonardo Bruno, the author of several books on samba and carnival. 'Beija-Flor has had the face and, more importantly, the voice of Neguinho for the last 50 years, and that's why there was such an outpouring of emotion when he announced his retirement.'
Neguinho says that he has never received a salary from the school, explaining that his livelihood comes from his work as a 'mid-year' sambista, as artists with work outside carnival are called.
He has also written a string of non-carnival hit sambas and plans to continue his career through a new album and upcoming shows.
Despite his calm attitude toward his retirement decision, the singer choked up with tears as he spoke about it three weeks ago during the final rehearsal at Sapucaí.
For this Monday, however, he has a plan.
'I've been talking to my therapist, and she suggested that I bring a banner that says: 'Thank you very much.' She told me to just open the banner and say nothing. Otherwise, I won't be able to sing,' he said.
'So that's what I'll do. I'll show the banner and sing. After the parade, a car will be waiting for me – and I'll leave.'