Excerpt from Big Boy's program
“Hello crazy people!”: hearing this greeting in the 1960s and 70s, listeners knew the “Big Boy Show” was about to start. Hosted by Newton Duarte, the charismatic and irreverent radio host better known as Big Boy, the Rádio Mundial AM program always opened with the catchphrase “a Mundial é shoooow musical!”. Lively, danceable, and innovative, it was there that the latest foreign music was launched first-hand, forever transforming the language of Brazilian radio by bringing a younger, more spontaneous approach that felt closer to the audience.
O disc jockey Big Boy, em 1971. Foto: Jose Vasco/Agencia O Globo
By day, Newton Duarte was a shy geography teacher; by night, he became the country's most important disc jockey (or simply, DJ). It was by his hand, still at Rádio Tamoio AM, that the Beatles' historic album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was played for the first time in Brazil, in 1967. The radio host was also responsible for introducing psychedelic, progressive, and hard rock sounds to the country, along with plenty of black and soul music — all of this in the midst of the military dictatorship.
His somewhat crazy style, his passion for music, and his monumental record collection guaranteed him early success on the radio. When Grupo Globo acquired Rádio Mundial in 1966, journalist and poet Reynaldo Jardim was given the task of giving a new identity to a station that had, until then, focused on religious programming. The change was radical, but successful, especially with the hiring of Newton Duarte, who adopted the nickname Big Boy and incorporated a jovial language, full of slang and expressions that completely contrasted with traditional broadcasters. Daily, from 3 p.m. to 4 p.m. — and, later, from 6 p.m. to 7 p.m. —, Rio de Janeiro would stop to listen to the unmistakable “Hello, crazy people!”.
Albery / Divulgação
Big Boy helped change the history of popular music in Brazil beyond radio waves. In partnership with the disc jockey Ademir Lemos, he conceived, in the 1970s, the legendary Bailes da Pesada — events that became true cultural and social landmarks for Rio's youth. The first of them took place on July 12, 1970, at Canecão, in Botafogo, gathering around five thousand people to dance to the sound of James Brown, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, and other soul music idols. For the first time, the Rio audience experienced a collective celebration of Black music amplified by powerful sound systems, with lights, spinning vinyl records, and Big Boy himself commanding the microphone, repeating another of his famous sayings: “the DJ is the show.”
The success was immediate, and the dances multiplied, quickly migrating to clubs and gyms in the Zona Norte and the suburbs, such as Magnatas, in Rocha, and Mackenzie and Renascença, in Méier. The geographic shift transformed the movement: upon leaving the Zona Sul, the dances began to attract mainly Black and peripheral youth, who found in them a space of belonging, expression, and pride. They were not just dance parties — they were celebrations of identity. There, visualities and behaviors inspired by African-American culture took hold: colorful clothes, platform shoes, black power hair, choreographed steps... It was the emergence of a new way of being and of seeing oneself as Black in urban Brazil of the 1970s.
Dj Big Boy apresentando o Baile da Pesada no Canecão, 1970. Acervo MIS
In the midst of the military dictatorship, the Bailes da Pesada also drew suspicious looks from the authorities. Large gatherings of empowered Black youth, in tune with a discourse of racial pride, were seen as a threat. Even so, the dances endured — and out of them was born the Black Rio Movement, which established soul music and funk as legitimate forms of popular culture. More than that: the dances laid the groundwork for the later explosion of Rio funk, with its sound crews, DJs, dancers, and the centrality of the beat and of performance.
Between the radio and the dances, Big Boy became a symbol of a sonic and behavioral revolution. With his charisma and musical instinct, he was one of those responsible for connecting Brazil to the sound of the world's youth and for turning the act of dancing — and of listening — into a form of cultural resistance. The cry “Hello, crazy people!” remained as the mark of a generation that, in the midst of repression, dared to be modern, Black, and free.