2023, Part Five

Ana Frango Elétrico, Me Chama de Gato Que Eu Sou Sua – Avoiding being pigeonholed as indie, Frango makes a disco move. Bass, string and horn arrangements, dance beats: Frango would be unrecognizable if not for that voice. But if the sounds change, the smarts remain. With each record, Frango’s grasp of music making has deepened. The records sound richer and more thought through. That’s not an entirely a good thing, however. The loose, punky spirit of the debut has receded. Instead you get something that’s impressive, but not quite as fun. Frango still has a sense of humor. “Boy of Stranger Things” plays with both Frango’s looks and nonbinary status for laughs. But back-to-back this album with scene- and label-mates Bala Desejo’s Sim Sim Sim, and you hear a difference. Bala Desejo’s Brazilian disco gets how essential frothiness is to the fun that makes the redux work. Frango has too many straight ones here. Sad or melancholy, the songs are still good. But impressive and well-built aren’t the first adjectives you want to reach for when describing disco music. Don’t let the relative disappointment of the words here distract you from the grade I give the album. Frango remains one of the bright young talents of Brazilian music. However much I hope Frango brings back the guitar, this latest album shows why Frango has a career worth following closely. Listen and buy here. Grade: B+

Rodrigo Brandão, Outros Estado – Give Brandão credit. He’s figured out a way to make spoken-word music that busts through the language barrier, made even more necessary by the difficulty in tracking down lyrics. His sprechgesang leans into mood and cadence that centers the music even if you can’t follow the verbal meaning. Instruments, played mostly by musicians from São Paulo’s  avant-jazz/instrumental scene, skronk over beat percussion that backs him, but then the nearly ten-minute “Dreams of Drums” flows by on the dulcet sounds of the kora while Brandão’s gravelly near-whisper soothes, interrupted by some African singing. As unlikely as it might have seemed when he made the spoken-word move a couple of albums ago, Brandão has ended up making some of the best music of his career. Listen and buy here. Grade: B+

Adriana Calcanhotto, Errante – Traditionalist and modern simultaneously, Calcanhotto inhabits a space where MPB held on to its innovations into the ’70s and then just decides to do its thing well. In her case, very well. Like Marisa Monte, she finds a way to make her neoclassicism click without getting stuck in retro, retread or retreat. If she doesn’t feel the need to incorporate rock or hip hop, that doesn’t mean she isn’t interested in finding new ways to make old sounds sing and, most importantly, she remembers the value of a good tune. It’s not so much comfort food as a favorite meal: the familiar is for savoring moments of beauty in life, not for dulling the pain of a world that so often goes wrong. Listen here. Grade: A-

Filipe Catto, Belezas São Coisas Acesas por Dentro – Drawn toward the showy and decadent feel of cabaret, Catto might seem like an unlikely candidate to honor the legacy of Gal Costa, but that assumption proves gloriously wrong. Unlike her fellow tropicalistas, Costa retained elements of bossa nova’s Vegas-y lounge aura. Early in her career she managed to turn those aesthetics inside out on albums that both celebrated and undermined those commitments. If she eventually became what she originally deconstructed, the impact of her early albums remains. What makes this tribute so effective is how Catto captures those two sides of Costa’s legacy while making music that sounds like nothing Costa herself made. Imagine Costa as a Velvet Underground fan—so, a Brazilian Bettie Seveert—but with the big, go-for-it riffs of arena rock latched to those alt sounds. Channeling and and transmuting her spirit, Catto sounds eerily like Costa without simply mimicking her thereby bringing out something in Costa that isn’t immediately present, but is obvious when heard. The ten tracks from across Costa’s career are assembled into a package that’s arguably stronger than any single album she released. Play loud. Celebrate Costa. Admire Catto’s impressive achievement. Listen here. Grade: A

Sophia Chablau e Uma Enorme Perda da Tempo, Música do Esquecimento – Cute indie pop rock band releases debut EP with a terrific lead track and mostly nothing else somehow comes back two years later and learns all the right lessons from that misfire: fast is better, slow needs a good melody or something to have a chance, surface is fine if you make it shiny enough, it’s best when she sings. Except two in the middle—tracks seven and eight if you want to get specific—they take everything that was good about that lead track and turn it into a full album. There’s nothing deep here, despite some lyrics that try. Just fun and pleasure. Which is usually enough, even in the bad times. Listen and buy here. Grade: B+

Bebel Gilberto, João – Daughter honors dad, but since he was a revolutionary and she’s merely a talent the results won’t make you forget the originals. Which is fine. Gilberto acquits herself well as she reminds the world how important her dad was as she gives us a goodbye album that won’t be as meaningful for us as it was for her—how could it be?—but is meaningful enough for anyone who likes João. Listen here. Grade: B

Rodrigo Ogi, AleatoriamenteKiko Dinucci made his name as a guitarist. On both solo and group (Metá Metá, Clube da Encruza collaborations), he combined samba and rock as effectively as anyone in Brazilian music has. So his recent turn away from that strength toward more electronic sounds has been something of a surprise. But with Juçara Marçal’s Delta Estácio Blues and now Ogi’s latest, Dinucci is building an intriguing new stage in his career. Ogi has worked with Clube members before on 2015’s R Á!, but, like Dinucci, he seems to be pushing himself hard into new directions here. Ogi’s previous albums were fairly standard hip hop, but there’s often little funk in Dinucci’s beats and noise, and Ogi adapts by declaiming as much as he raps. Often he sounds as if he’s trying to escape the claustrophobic noise Dinucci as assembled, which heightens the tension and unease of the music. This is the sound of a city: dense, unnerving, exciting, hinting at both freedom and entrapment. Dinucci deepens the sonics of the Marçal album to create music unlike anything in his career, and Ogi rises to the occasion as well. If everything doesn’t quite land, it could just be the difficulty and disorientation of sounds that may sound much more normal as Dinucci continues to develop his new interests. Like Dinucci’s early samba work, the results here are as much about possibilities as they are arrival, and however much I want him to break out that guitar again, I’m also really intrigued with where he is going here. Listen here. Grade: B+

Os Tincoãs, Canto Coral Afrobrasileiro – Cult band from Bahia with a twisted history finds a lost album in the vaults and reminds current audiences why they deserved more than their cult. Os Tincoãs’ gorgeous melding of choral music to Afro-Brazilian traditions resulted in a several nice albums in the 1970s, but on a trip to Angola in 1983 two of the three principals decided to stay and the band mostly disappeared. (Two members recorded an album in 1986, and some sites say the band continued until 2000 in Angola.) In the ’00s singer Mateus Aleluia returned to Brazil and restarted his recording career there, which led to a resurgence of interest in the band. This final disc by the trio captures them leaning even more into the choral than on the previous three albums, and those  gorgeous vocal arrangement help send this one over the top. A few moments hint schmaltz, but mostly the trio and their choir create a beauty that sounds like the Beach Boys going to church although the religion in question—candomblé—here is different and the feel much less European. But both see beauty as a means of transcendence that can heal the everyday immanence, which is as relevant today as it was in 1983. Listen here. Grade: A-

A Beginner’s Guide to Brazilian Music: Classic Albums

New subjects can be daunting. Where to begin? How to summarize without losing depth? That’s even more true when the subject is as deep and varied as Brazilian music. But you have to start somewhere so to fight the quarantine blues for me and you, I’m going to make a list of 20 albums, ten classic and ten current, that I think serve as good starting points for someone wanting to explore Brazilian music. It’s not comprehensive—no sertanejo (Brazilian country music), which is rampantly popular there—and it’s probably too focused through Western reception, especially the classic albums, but it’s a way to begin exploring. And to anyone who knows Brazilian music, the classics will seem painfully obvious choices, but that’s kinda the point, no? Most importantly, my ears say all these sound pretty great. So, in historical order, the classics.

João Gilberto, Chega de Saudade – The album that started the bossa nova revolution, only that’s complicated because there were precursors even if this one still earns its crown. Tricky guitar and sophisticated sadness aim upwardly mobile and mimic the class aspirations and growing confidence of an entire society, or at least its emerging bourgeois elite. As seminal to Brazil as “That’s Alright (Mama)” was for America, the music here opened up a future that’s still unfolding. If you like try: The Warm World of João Gilberto, which includes this debut with his second and third albums; Stan Getz & João Gilberto, Getz/Gilberto (w/ Stan Getz).

Baden Powell and Vincinius de Moraes, Os Afro-sambas – Brazilian classical guitar paired with Afro-Brazilian rhythms and references, this album is a touchstone for Brazilian music. Powell’s technical virtuosity dazzles throughout as de Moraes’ lyrics are littered with nods to Candomblé (Afro-Brazilian) gods while backup vocalists Quarteto Em Cy draw from choral rituals. If you like try: Hmm. Beats me. Nothing else by Powell has grabbed me like this one.

Various Artists, Bossa Nova and the Rise of Brazilian Music in the 1960s – I’ve favored original albums over compilations on this list, but here I must make an exception, because I cannot think of a more useful (or enjoyable) compilation of the bossa and post-bossa period in Brazilian music. Full of name artists and classic songs, with a dynamic flow that never lets up, Soul Jazz Records made a damn near flawless summary of the period in Brazilian music between Chega de Saudade and the tropicália explosion. Some have criticized this set for false advertising, as not every song is strictly bossa nova, but that “and” in the title is crucial. This set traces out bossa nova and its impact. More importantly, bossa nova is best heard not narrowly as a musical style, but broadly as a set of cultural and aesthetic emphases—upwardly mobile, class conscious, aggressively sophisticated—that this set captures perfectly. The sounds of a sometimes complacent hope as a military dictatorship begins to throttle you. Honestly, if only for reference purposes, this set should be in every music fan’s life. If you like try: tracing down the artists covered herein.

Various Artists, Tropicália: ou Panis et Circencis – As far as revolutions go, this one might sound tame to ears used to free jazz or punk rock, but put it on after listening to the Soul Jazz comp above, and you hear both what the tropicalistas are rebelling against and how they do it. This statement of purpose from Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Os Mutantes, Gal Costa and the rest of their merry gang set the stage for the dozen or so albums that would refashion Brazilian music as definitively as João Gilberto and Antonio Carlos Jobim did a decade earlier. Some of those dozen or so albums might be better than this group effort, but none shook Brazil as breathtakingly as this one did. If you like try: Os Mutantes, Os Mutantes (1968); Gilberto Gil, Gilberto Gil (1968), Caetano Veloso, Caetano Veloso (1969), Gal Costa, Gal Costa.

Milton Nascimento & Lo Bôrges, Clube da Esquina – Aching, lyrical beauty is a central to Brazilian music as a wop bop a loo bop is to American, but it’s also the thing that turns people (myself included sometimes) off of Brazilian music. Few Brazilians in that mode have made as much of a Euro-American impression as Milton Nascimento, and although he’s guilty of plenty of goop, here he’s at his finest. Working with fellow Minas Gerais artists Lo Bôrges, Beto Guedes and others, Nascimento and the Clube filter bossa sensibilities through pop, rock, sertanejo and classical influences. The results: gorgeous. If you like try: Milton Nascimento, Milton; Lo Bôrges, Lo Bôrges.

Os Novos Baianos, Acabou Chorare – Brazilians hopped on the rock and roll bandwagon in earnest with the jovem guarda movement in the mid-’60s, but rock beats and Brazilian musical culture weren’t a natural mix, so results were mixed. Even with the famed tropicália movement, show tunes and pop were more prevalent than rock, and the rock moves often misfired (check out Gal Costa’s Gal). Os Novos Baianos began as second tier tropicalista wannabes, but on their second album, they manage to combine rock and samba more successfully than any other Brazilians had up to that time. This album sizzles, with guitars galvanizing a sound that jumps off the record as they fuse the light, spry dexterity of samba with the driving rhythms of rock. Electric. Literally and aesthetically. If you like, try: Novos Baianos F.C. and Novos Baianos, but truth be told, they never fully captured the magic of Acabou Chorare again.

Antonio Carlos Jobim and Elis Regina, Elis & Tom – Bossa nova’s master conceptualist teams with perhaps its most celebrated vocalist. Jobim worked right along with João Gilberto in giving shape to bossa nova, while Regina commanded attention with her performances as well as through hosting the influential music program O Fino da Bossa. Separately they recorded seminal music for the bossa nova and MPB (música popular brasileira) eras. Together they made one of the classic albums of modern Brazilian music. Intimate and upscale, it transports the showier elements of mid-60s bossa to a more sedate, withdrawn culture where the military’s choke hold had increased across Brazilian society. But even as it’s more restrained, the music finds moments of beauty and funkiness to sustain in dark times. Which seems kind of relevant these days. If you like, try: Elis Regina, Como & Porque; Antonio Carlo Jobim, Wave.

Joyce, Passarinho Urbano – Singer/guitarist Joyce scandalized some when her career began in the late ’60s by singing so forthrightly from a female perspective, but her early records wandered stylistically until she found a solid, middle-or-the-road MPB path around 1980. She made memorable music after that, but that period of wandering remains her most compelling. Recorded and released in Italy in 1975, this album saw her deploy her formidable guitar work covering the songs of artists who had been censored or reprimanded in some way by the Brazilian military government, which was at its oppressive peak in the early ’70s. Spare, short, sunny, sweet, these 10 tracks are done in less than 21 minutes and provide nifty survey of the bounty of musical talent Brazil produced in the 1970s despite the dictatorship’s best efforts. If you like try: Nelson Angelo & Joyce, Angelo e Joyce; Joyce, Naná Vasconcelos, and Maurício Maestro, Visions of Dawn.

Jorge Ben, África Brasil – Seven years into a run of samba funk albums that would make him a legend in Brazil, Ben plugged in his guitar to juice a brilliant formula before it risked getting stale. Many consider this Ben’s peak (I prefer 1969’s self-titled album), and you can hear why. The massed band explodes over the dense polyrhythms with sledgehammer force. Ben tends control freak, but here there’s a wildness and looseness to his music that joyfully threatens to break down as he celebrates his Afro-Brazilian musical roots as well as his own African heritage, all the while singing about his passions: football (soccer), black identity, Brazil and mysticism. Oh, and if “Taj Mahal” sounds familiar, start humming Rod Stewart songs in your head. You’ll get there eventually. If you like, try: Gilberto Gil, Refavela; Jorge Ben, Jorge Ben (1969).

Tom Zé, Estudando do Samba – Zé was a minor tropicalista who released a couple of pretty good albums in that movement, but it wasn’t until his commercial fortunes dried up that he discovered his avant calling. Tweaking samba, Bahian and northeastern styles with strange tunings, homemade instruments, and prickly rhythms, Zé fashioned music that picked up the radical implications of tropicália and took them further than any of his contemporaries imagined possible. He virtually disappeared from public life before David Byrne discovered his music and jump-started a second phase in his career that was more successful and artistically satisfying than his first phase, but this peak from those early years set a standard that Zé would continue exploring for 45 years and counting. If you like try: Todos os Olhos, Jogos de Armar.

 

Remembering João Gilberto

The 20th century is crazy full of great music and musicians. That’s due largley to the spread of recorded technology, which not only preserved music in new ways, but allowed traditions and styles to interact globally with a speed that they hadn’t really before. Consider the titans of that fecund century: Louis Armstrong, Igor Stravinsky, Franco Luambo, Aretha Franklin, Hank Williams, Billie Holiday, Fela Kuti, Bob Marley, Caetano Veloso, the Mighty Sparrow….You get the idea. But with all the competition for your attention and devotion, João Gilberto still managed to stand out.

Gilberto, who died today aged 88, was one of those rare talents who leaves you wondering what the world would have sounded like without him or her. In contrast think about the immensely talented Bob Dylan. He made amazing music that still sounds vibrant a half century later, but it’s not that difficult to think of what popular music would have sounded like without him. Others were fusing folk traditions with electricity and studio games. Others would have stumbled onto the word games and pop art manipulations he pioneered in rock music. Or Prince, a genius synthesizer who encapsulates an era rather than starting it. That’s not to diminish their contributions, but to recognize how they are positioned historically in a way where they ride the change more than create it.

Gilberto’s different. Think Arnold Schönberg, James Brown, Ornette Coleman, the Beatles, Public Enemy. These talents so altered the soundscapes around them that it’s hard to imagine what music would have sounded like if they hadn’t existed. Without his innovations that birthed bossa nova Brazilian music as we know it wouldn’t be.

That’s not to buy into some lone genius argument. Gilberto emerged from a context, and he had Antônio “Tom” Carlos Jobim at his side as he revolutionized Brazilian culture, and Stan Getz to leverage his influence internationally. But he remains a singular, transformative talent.

Imagine a fusion of Elvis Presley—the attitude and persona of rock and roll—and Chuck Berry—the guitar and the content provider for the form—and you’ll get a sense of how significant Gilberto’s contribution was. His tricked up chords and suave character ushered Brazilian music into the future. It matched the confidence and aspirations of a society diving brazenly into modernity.

Of course it couldn’t last. Military dictatorship snuffed hopes. Globalization introduced rock music that led to the jovem guarda. Resistance to internal tyranny helped birth tropicália, which led to música popular brasileira and an explosion in styles. Some of that would have happened without Gilberto, but it’s a testament to his significance—and the quality of his art—that’s it’s so hard to imagine what it would have sounded like without him. We were lucky to share a planet and time period with him.

João Gilberto Prado Pereira de Oliveira. Born June 10, 1931. Died July 6, 2019. Rest in peace.