After landing between the skyscrapers of Sao Pãulo, we were tipped off about a small shop selling old hats and caps and scarves. The shop was on a street right behind our hotel. The father-and-son owners were French and made a bucket of money that day as almost all of us (except for me) bought a hat or cap.

Eric of Shout Out Louds and John of Peter Bjorn and John — who already look as if they have the same mother — bought identical caps. How ridiculous, ha ha! But funny.

The two gigs we did together were amazing. The audience knew almost all the songs by heart and we ended both nights at the same small bar where we stayed until the sun came up.

Bebban and Eric joined Peter Bjorn and John for a performance of Young Folks and Björn was our guest behind the mixing table. We had our last gig for the Our Ill Will album in Sao Pãulo and it couldn’t have been in a better place. The day after, everyone went their separate way but we’ll all meet up and have dinner before Christmas.

Adam, Shout Out Louds

Tonight was our last show for God knows how long. It´s very sad, indeed, but how great is it that it was in São Paulo, Brazil. I don´t mean to slag off all the other cities on this planet (Tellus), but how the hell can any band or any person, playing in any town, beat the feeling of playing their self-made music to the people of one of the five biggest cities known to man? 

When my mother was a young teen she attended a boarding school in Switzerland. As far as I can tell, it was an awful place by any measure. It was called La Pensée, which was supposed to reflect the idea of 13 year old misfits reconsidering their bad seed ways and adjusting to a world where young women didn’t rat their hair or smoked cigarettes, but attended tea dances with their grandmothers and had but one éclair rather than two no matter how delicious they were. Needless to say, my mother loathed La Pensée with passion. But then there were the Brazilian girls. My mother watched them from a distance, their shiny raven black hair, their hoarse voices and their skirts that were just a tiny bit shorter than what was appropriate. She thought they were the most exquisite creatures that ever walked this planet.

Shout Out Louds on stage in Belem, Brazil. Photo: Sweden.se

So, even long after she escaped La Switzerland and La Pensée altogether, she would never forget the Brazilian girls and their larger than life charisma. When I was about seven and refused to wear the cobalt blue ski-pants my mother had bought for me, she convinced me simply by uttering the magical words: “This is what all the Brazilian girls wear.” Said and done. I wore the blue ski-pants with tremendous pride, and especially made sure to always keep the rubber bands tucked in neatly somewhere between my heal and my toes so that there could never be any misunderstanding on what sort of pants I was wearing.

In Recifé, Brazil, Bebban and Ted of Shout Out Louds and John of Peter Bjorn and John warm up before their gigs. Photos: Sweden.se

Brazilian girl pants. It was a fail-safe fashion statement and I would hear nothing else of it. Ever since then I have always wanted to go to Brazil, not for the ski-pants, but for my mother. So in May when I found out we were actually going to play here, the look on her face was somewhat hard to take. It was sheer joy on my behalf, but also the look of admiration and awe I had imagined on her much younger face ever since I was a child. So when we landed in Recife, me and the boys, for me it was something even better than the five of us finally visiting our very last continent, illusive and exotic, far and coveted. It was a little bit like coming home. Even though I haven’t seen any ski-pants around yet. I’ll be sure to tell my mother.

Bebban/Shout Out Louds