Tag: Karina Buhr

Favorite Brazilian and Latin Albums of 2019

As much as a pain as it felt at the time, I preferred it when year-end lists didn’t print until February or March. Gave you time to suss through late-year releases and hear meditate a bit before compiling your own list. These days publications are putting out lists before a year even ends. So, although the new cycle has left 2019 behind, I’m finally ready to put out a list of what I liked most last year. And, hey, it’s my 100th post. So that’s fun.

My two favorite Brazilian albums on the list below are actually 2018 releases. So, yeah, it was a down year.  What’s more, there’s not a single full A, much less A+, record in the bunch. But that’s not to say these are not great, or at least pretty great, records. If nothing sounded ear-shattering or life-altering, well I feel lucky to get one or two of those from worldwide in any year.* So I’ll happily make do with the thoroughly enjoyable pleasures of Brazilian albums that have held up to dozens of listens each, many of which didn’t just make good sounds, but upped the political content for dangerous times in a homeland under rightwing siege.

Plus, it might be the most sonically diverse list I’ve assembled: hip hop, jazz rap, northeast meets central Africa, Krautrock revivalism, neo-samba, alt-rock. Three years into this project I continue to be surprised how deep and varied Brazil’s musical culture is, and how much American and Western engagement just nips the tip of the iceberg.

There is one notable gap, however. For the first time since 2010, not a single Clube da Encruza record made my year-end top ten. Douglas Germano is something of an affiliate member, but it’s not quite the same. It wasn’t because of bad product, but rather a lack of options: the Clube members and their side projects were quiet in the studio even as they maintained relentless touring schedules. I would have loved to see that Metá Metá/Passo Torto show, or Romulo Fróes tour interpreting Caetano Veloso’s Transa. But I don’t live in Brazil. The good news is, spoiler alert, one of them has already released a fine album this year.

And Latin music? I had plans of deeper engagement this past year, but life upsets plans, so I didn’t dig in as much as I wanted to. I still found several 2019 albums that made my ears perk up, so I’ll do a list there, too. As usual, I tend to feel the Brazilian stuff more because I devote so much more time to it, but for a change of pace, these albums more than merely serve the purpose. (I haven’t reviewed the Rodrigo y Gabriela one yet. Consider that a preview of coming attractions.)

*If you are interested, those two albums this year were James Brandon Lewis’ An Unruly Manifesto—my favorite jazz album of the decade—and Billy Woods’ and Kenny Segal’s Hiding Places, where creepy ssounds and lyrical detail keep drawing me in further. Billie Eilish wasn’t far behind. Don’t underestimate her.

Favorite Brazilian Albums 2019

  1. Dona Onete, Flor da Lua (2018) (A-)
  2. Ana Frango Eletríco, Mormaço Qeuima (2018) (A-)
  3. Douglas Germano, Escumalha (A-)
  4. BaianaSystem, O Futuro Não Demora (A-)
  5. Rincon Sapiência, Mundo Manicongo: Dramas, Danças e Afroreps (A-)
  6. Ana Frango Eletríco, Little Electric Chicken Heart (A-)
  7. Karina Buhr, Desmanche (A-)
  8. Leo Gandelman & Baco Exu do Blues, Hip Hop Machine Series #6 (A-)
  9. Ema Stoned, Yantra and Makoto Kawabata, Phenomena (A-)
  10. Siba, Coruja Muda (B+)

Honorable Mentions (alphabetical):

If I included compilations, two fine, recent ones that would make the list are Levanta Poeira: Afro-Brazilian Music & Rhythms 1976-2016 in the top ten and Jambú (E Os Míticos Sons da Amazônia), in the honorable mentions.

Favorite Latin Albums 2018

  1. iLe, Almadura (A-)
  2. Los Wembler’s de Iquitos, Vision del Ayahuasca (A-)
  3. La Yegros, Suelta (A-)
  4. Daymé Arocena, Sonocardiogram (A-)
  5. Las Yumbeñas, Yumbotopía (A-)
  6. Rodrigo y Gabriela, Mettavolution (A-)
  7. Yapunto, Yapunto (B+)
  8. Fumaça Preta, Pepas (B+)
  9. Femina, Perlas & Conchas (B+)
  10. Nicola Cruz, Siku (B+)

Honorable Mentions (alphabetical):

Oh, and I’m not quite done with the year yet. Expect something 2019 related around March 1.

2019, Part Three

Akira Presidente, Nandi – Parenthood has been good for Akira’s art. Not that he tells us much about being a parent. He still focuses on the streets, on surviving and thriving in the hustle. He still bristles against the racism that tries to hold him back. He still mocks the system when he triumphs despite it. All of which he does without really mentioning his daughter. There’s a lie that having kids makes your life boring. Different, sure. Boring? A kid seems to have given Akira Presidente focus. Where once he flailed about, now he has a reason to succeed other than pride or self, and, once again, he rises to the occasion. With smart, moody, minimalist production—mainly from El Lif Beatz, but also J. Cardim—he details the ins, outs, ups and downs of getting by, but avoids myopia or self-pity or overbearing self-regard because, at the end of the day, his dreams aren’t just for him, but for the little girl he named the album after. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy his own life. It just means there’s more to it than himself. Which, it turns out, has made his art way more interesting. Listen here. Grade: B+

J Balvin and Bad Bunny, OASIS – A surprise drop from Colombia’s Balvin and Pureto Rico’s Bunny takes advantage of the exposure they gained beyond Spanish speaking markets on Cardi B’s hit “I Like It”. Cashing in is a time-honored practice—nothing wrong with paying your bills—even if it’s not always a surefire guarantee of quality product. These two pros are too slick and accomplished to release anything substandard, but just don’t ask me to figure out which track is which again. Listen here. Grade: B-

Luiza Brina, Tenho Saudade Mas Já Passou – So different from, and inferior to, 2017’s excellent Tão Tá, I went back to that album to back-to-back the two to see why her songwriting had plummeted. But, really, it just came down to arrangements. Where the 2017 album had spare arrangements that sharpened Brina’s brittle singing and minor key melodies, here she fills the songs out with instruments playing in a pretty middle-of-the-road lush style resulting in adult contemporary bland out. Those arrangements also overwhelm her voice so that it sounds small rather than quirky. It’s good news her music doesn’t suck, but I hope next time she embraces her inner art nerd, because MPB pop star she ain’t. Listen here. Grade: C+

Brvnks, Morri de Raiva – Brvnks, a.k.a. Bruna Guimarães, is a young musician from Goiâna, but where a lot of the rock artists from that region trade in neo-psychedelia, she’s firmly in the indie rock camp. Chiming guitars, catchy choruses, melodies and hooks, only the muted production dampens the music’s spirit. Singing in English, with a non-native tang to her voice like Björk, she’s in a long line of female rockers wearied by the sexism that’s part of the rock and roll package. Lead track she reminds a guy it’s not her fault she doesn’t like him. “I Am My Own Man” notes she’s at the show to play, not support her boyfriend. But my favorite is the catchy “Snacks” where she revels in her love of food but worries about the bad breath that garlic bread might cause. Listen here. Grade: B

Karina Buhr, Desmanche – Buhr has bifurcated her career between traditional northeastern musics and more rock/pop oriented efforts, but on her latest she tries for a fusion of those interests and comes up with her best album. The roiling, explosive rhythms of frevo and maracatu propel angular guitars and synths. Buhr follows in the footsteps of manguebit pioneers but manages a mix of old and new more fertile and strange than many of the records of that movement. Drawing on the punk aggression of Selvática, Buhr keeps her listener on edge, and although the poetic lyrics don’t convert particularly well in a browser translator, enough comes across to see that this is her point. Initially, nothing jumps out as much as “Pic Nic” or the title track from the previous album, but soon the disquieting funk of “Nem Nada”, with its mournful cuica, scratches that itch, and elsewhere she’s more consistent than she’s ever been. Usually Buhr’s albums are a mix of hit and miss, but except for “Amora”, every song here lands. Not many artists do their best work nearly 20 years into a recording career. Given the anger and anguish running through this disquieting album, I’m betting Bolsonaro’s Brazil has something to do with it. Certainly “Filme de Terror”‘s claim that only horror movies tell the truth does. Listen here. Grade: A-

Céu, APKÁ – My standard objections apply, with the added penalty that this time it doesn’t sound like she’s even trying hard. Maybe it’s just me. Really. Listen here. Grade: C-

Siba, Coruja Muda – Sérgio Roberto Veloso de Oliveira, a.k.a. Siba, returns with his postmodern traditionalism. Per his norm, his off-kilter maracatus and warped frevos wobble by, but while he’s always hinted African fluidity, he’s never embraced that connection as strongly as here. That’s most obvious on the cover of Congolese artist Franco’s “Azda”, but his guitar hints soukous throughout, except instead of fleet and fast, he’s angular, with the chiming tones of his guitar lines glancing off one another to create a sonic sheen that decorates those awkward rhythms in a difficult, but rewarding clash. The uneasy mix of sounds fits his own bewilderment at Bolsonaro’s Brazil. While I haven’t found full lyrics online to translate, the snippets I’ve picked up from reviews detail someone trying to find his footing in a world turned upside down by lying ‘populists’ who pretend democracy in order to divide and oppress. Anger’s an appropriate response in these times, but so is confusion. There’s something deeply mournful about Siba’s political sounds here, but it’s not hopeless and certainly not surrender. Finding that beauty in the chaos is a way of holding onto one’s sanity and hope when it’s so tempting to give up on both. As with Akira Presidente and Karina Buhr, this longtime pro is making the best music of his career. Listen here. Grade: B+

Elza Soares, Planeta Fome – After two albums with Guilherme Kastrup and the Clube da Encruza that revived her dormant career, Soares asserts the autonomy she began to reclaim on Deus é Mulher and sets her revival in new directions. Produced by mainstream Brazilian rock producer Rafael Ramos, perhaps best known for his work with Pitty, Planeta Fome sounds nothing like her two Clube albums. Funkier, with rock and pop elements aiming right at the middle of the road, it lacks the obvious challenges of the two Kastrup-helmed dirty samba albums, but let your ears adjust, and it’s another remarkable achievement by Soares. What’s particularly striking is her singing. Her octogenarian voice is shot, as any voice would be at that age, but her performing instincts and persona are intact. Compare her singing here to A Mulher do Fim do Mundo or Deus é Mulher. Each is distinct. Where she’s apocalyptic on those two albums, here she’s vivacious, even boisterous. She sounds more like the singer who’s a legend in Brazilian music. And the performance fits the mainstream music perfectly. If her collaborators aren’t quite as compelling as the Clube, she still has good taste (BaianaSystem, Bnegão), and she’s still engaged with the world around her. She opens the album with the words “Eu não vou sucumbir” (I will not succumb), and she doesn’t. Decrying capitalism’s vampiric relationship with the poor. Connecting to the worldwide political and cultural struggles of the Africa diaspora. Celebrating the chance to have a good time. She’s locked into this life as long as she can, and if anything she seems even livelier about it than she did when she surprised us in 2015. Listen here. Grade: B+

Karina Buhr

Born in 1974, moved to Recife by her mother in the mid-’80s, singer Karina Buhr was the perfect age to enjoy and then participate in her hometown’s musical renaissance in the 1990s. After taking part in several bands, she formed her own, Comrade Florzinha (later Fulozinha) in 1997. The band had a revolving lineup across its three records with Buhr as the constant. (Alessadra Leão was in the second version of the band.) Like Siba and some other manguebit musicians, Buhr moved from reintegrating local musical traditions with modern music to a full-blown neo-traditionalism. But then she went solo and headed in a different direction.

Drawing especially upon ciranda, with its zabumba-focused beat, but also maracatu, forró, coco and other northeastern musics, Buhr’s band recapitulates regional styles without actually building upon them. Like many romantic young folk musicians, a search for authenticity leads too often to conservative sterility. Which doesn’t mean the songs are without their virtues. Singly, most of the tracks of the first two albums (Comadre Florzinha and Tocar na Banda) are fine. But strung together back to back, they begin to bleed into each other: music meant for dancing and crowds loses its utility when isolated from its proper context on a recording, and a deadening ‘museum piece’ aesthetic takes over. Although both albums are little more than 40 minutes long, they feel closer to 60.

Taking a six-year recording break, the band re-emerged with a fuller, more engaging style on Vou Voltar Andando. While still staunchly traditionalist, the sound is filled out with flutes and saxes, which boosts the melodic aspects of the songs and sells folk dance music as listening music.

Then Buhr went solo.

Except for some rhythms decorating a few songs, Buhr largely eschewed her neo-traditionalism to embrace Brazilian rock music. The title of her first solo record, Eu Menti pra Você (I Lied to You), slyly nods to the shift. The album starts slowly with a couple of light, mid-tempo synth pop numbers but gains traction with the incessant, driving rhythm of “Avião Aeroporto”. She does draw upon her northeastern roots on the fetching “O Pé” and the funny “Ciranda do Incentivo”. But elsewhere she plays a punk (“Soldat”), a German synth rocker (“Telekphonen”) and a reggae musician (“Plástico Bolha”). Except for the awful ballad “Mira Ira”, the album gains strength as it goes, which also means it isn’t sequenced as strongly as it could be. But it’s still the strongest album she had yet done.

The follow-up, Longe de Onde, is a step backward. She ups the guitar on a few songs, notably the lead track, “Cara Palavra”, and “Guitarristas de Copacabana”, and the reggae number “Cadáver” is solid. But too many of the songs succumb to mid-tempo bland out.

Her third solo album, Selvática, seems to head down the same path on the first few tracks, but clicks with the excellent “Pic Nic”. With an assist from Guizado, it’s the most convincing rock she had done until she gets to the superb title track at the end of the album. Punk as guitar freakout with a gonzo feminist apocalyptic rant by Buhr you can love even if you have to use a translation program to get its gist. It ranks among the best Brazilian rock tracks I’ve heard. The rest of the album doesn’t approach those two triumphs, and it’s a little less consistent than Eu Menti Pra Você, but it peaks higher and is nearly as good.

Buhr had bifurcated her career between traditional northeastern musics and more rock/pop oriented efforts, but on Desmanche she tried for a fusion of those interests and comes up with her best album. The roiling, explosive rhythms of frevo and maracatu propel angular guitars and synths. Buhr follows in the footsteps of manguebit pioneers but manages a mix of old and new more fertile and strange than many of the records of that movement. Drawing on the punk aggression of Selvática, Buhr keeps her listener on edge, and although the poetic lyrics don’t convert particularly well in a browser translator, enough comes across to see that this is her point. Initially, nothing jumps out as much as “Pic Nic” or the title track from the previous album, but soon the disquieting funk of “Nem Nada”, with its mournful cuica, scratches that itch, and elsewhere she’s more consistent than she’s ever been. Usually Buhr’s albums are a mix of hit and miss, but except for “Amora”, ever song here lands. Not many artists do their best work nearly 20 years into a recording career. Given the anger and anguish running through this disquieting album, I’m betting Bolsonaro’s Brazil has something to do with it. Certainly “Filme de Terror”‘s claim that only horror movies tell the truth does.

Comadre Fulozinha’s first album can be heard here, its second here and its third here. You can listen to her solo work here.

Comadre Florzinha, Comadre Florzinha (1999), Grade: C+

Comadre Fulozinha, Tocar Na Banda (2003), Grade: C-

Comadre Fulozinha, Vou Voltar Andando (2009), Grade: B-

Karina Buhr, Eu Menti Pra Você (2010), Grade: B

Karina Buhr, Longe de Onde (2011), Grade: C+

Karina Buhr, Selvática (2015), Grade: B

Karina Buhr, Desmanche (2019), Grade: A-