Not sure why but this week’s playlist has quite a few songs from 1979, from artists as varied as ELO, Smokey Robinson and Dudu Pukwana. Weird. Speaking of weird, check out the opening track - a re-recording of Wilson Simonal’s “Nem Vem Que Não Tem” by French crooner Zanini - trop cool. I heard it for the first time this weekend during a DJ set by a new friend of mine who invited me to have a radio show again after many years. When I know more I’ll talk about it here, but for now you can enjoy the following tracks and travel to 1979 and beyond.
1. Zanini - Tu Veux, Tu Veux Pas
From Tu Veux, Tu Veux Pas, Riviera, 1970
2. Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill
From Hounds Of Love, EMI, 1985
3. Van Morrison - Warm Love
From Hard Nose The Highway, Warner Bros., 1973
4. Clifford Jordan Quartet - Shoulders
From Glass Bead Games, Strata-East, 1974
5. Smokey Robinson - Cruisin’
From Where There’s Smoke, Tamla, 1979
6. Art Ensemble Of Chicago - 597-59
From Nice Guys, ECM, 1979
7. Dudu Pukwana - Madodana (The Young Ones)
From Diamond Express, Freedom, 1978
8. Donald Fagen - New Frontier
From The Nightfly, Warner Bros., 1982
9. Electric Light Orchestra - Last Train To London
From Discovery, Jet, 1979
10. Júníus Meyvant - Dwelling Side By Side/Mr. Minister Great
From KEXP Live at Kex Hostel, Not on Label, 2015
CLICK FOR THE LAST TRAIN TO (AROUND) 1979! JUST HEADING OUT...
Nothing special to say about the playlist this week other than it almost featured a solo Paul Stanley song but I decided against using that weapon in the arsenal, and keep it for times of true desperation. Enjoy!
1. Joni Mitchell - Just Like This Train
From Court And Spark, Asylum, 1974
2. Van Morrison - Warm Love
From Hard Nose The Highway, Warner Bros., 1973
3. Stephen Stills - Go Back Home
From Stephen Stills, Atlantic, 1970
4. Booker T. Jones - Everything is Everything
From The Road From Memphis, Anti-, 2011
5. The Majestic Arrows - One More Time Around
From The Magic Of The Majestic Arrows, Bandit, 1973
6. She & Him - Fools Rush In
From Levi’s Pioneer Sessions, Levi’s, 2010
7. João Donato - Bambu
From A Bad Donato, Blue Thumb, 1970
8. The Band - Get Up Jake
From Rock Of Ages, Capitol, 1972
9. Devo - Gut Feeling
From Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!, Warner Bros., 1978
10. Keith Jarrett - New Dance
From Nude Ants, ECM, 1979
Out of their vast and soon to be expanded discography, "And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out" is my favorite Yo La Tengo record. There is a lot to like about it, starting with the incredible cover picture by Gregory Crewdson, and the Sun Ra quote used as a title, but inevitably it's the songs that make this such a great album. What I like about the compositions here is how they sneak up on you. There is such a specific sort of sound to the songs here that first time listeners to this album might find it hard to distinguish between some of the tracks. The beauty here is in the details. Songs like "Madeline", "On Our Way To Fall", and the especially beautiful "Last Days of Disco" have some of the prettiest, simplest melodies I've ever heard. It's almost impossible not to relate to some of the stories being told, and the best thing about it is that since Georgia and Ira Kaplan are a successfully married couple, you know that there is truth behind these vignettes of ordinary romance. Love, here, is perfectly represented not by declarations of mopey self-obsession, but by a series of banalities like not being dressed right for a night out, being so close to a friend that people mistake you for sisters, or the smell of Cherry Chapstick. By highlighting the importance of the mundane, Yo La Tengo mastered the recipe for sentimentalism/nostalgia/hopelessly hopeful romanticism in music, making it too easy for the listener to forge an emotional relationship to "And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out." Ask me how I know. #yolatengo #matadorrecords #dreampop #indierock #vinyl #nowspinning #gregorycrewdson #vinyljunkie #recordcollector
Wilbur sat inside the compact rental car in bumper to bumper traffic, checked the fuel gauge for the eighth time in 32 miles, and let out a sigh of resignation. The needle in unrest, its position struggling in noncommittal somewhere between the half and quarter tank readings - a position constantly susceptible to minor changes brought on by his clumsy and frequent disengagements of the car's clutch pedal. The voice coming from the navigation software in his smartphone reminded him to continue travelling straight ahead for 1.5 miles. For a moment Wilbur pondered on the evolution of present parlance, brought on by the rapid improvement in cellular phone technology, and thought that it may be wise to reconsider the current term used to describe this particular device. Given that he was looking at certainly more than 1.5 miles of cars packing the avenue ahead and around him, he thought of proposing the more accurate though less flattering "obviousphone" as what was perhaps a more adequate descriptor for the small rectangular gadgets. At least until they develop some sort of sentient ability that would make them conscientious enough to preclude the tendency to blurt out pre-programmed directional advice that, at certain points in time - such as in intense traffic - could be understood by the gadget's owner as, euphemistically, inconvenient. Wilbur chuckled at the thought, but was quickly discouraged from self-amusement when he reminded himself of what 1.5 miles of vehicular congestion meant: a lot more clutch pedal depressions. A clock on the street indicated time and temperature below an unintelligible advertisement. 1:37 P.M, 32 degrees Centigrade. Mercifully, the compact shitbox came equipped with air-conditioning. Possibly the world's most justifiable $100 surcharge.
São Paulo residents are among the world's most overcharged tenants, and yet in the few days Wilbur experienced as a driver in the city, he had grown convinced that the most valuable real estate in this particular place was open road space, as people seem to go to dangerous lengths to occupy it within seconds. A brand new 3 square feet of space appeared in front of Wilbur's car, and he was determined to become its occupier, lest the woman in the SUV next to him come to the decision that she wants to make what most drivers in São Paulo consider to be a potentially life changing decision: a lane change. He disengaged the clutch. The car vibrated violently, as if it were laughing at this hopeless product of suburban American life, then proceeded to inch forward. The fuel needle was now definitely closer to the quarter tank reading.
An "auto journalist" that cannot profess a love for the manual transmission. Only another embarrassing quality Wilbur had to juggle during this and other assignments. A not-so-recent graduate with a degree in history and what used to be a healthy interest in automobile racing, he came to São Paulo in order to secure an interview with the son of one of the owners of the defunct Brazilan racing team Scuderia Madunina, which provided the legenday Juan Manuel Fangio with a winning car during the 1957 Cuban Grand Prix. Wilbur was writing a small piece on the race to accompany an article in a car magazine about the more exciting, politically charged 1958 running of the race, in which Castro kidnapped Fangio in a symbolic display of rebellion against then president Fulgencio Batista. Nothing really came of the kidnapping - Fangio even befriended his captors - but the race was not held the following year. In any case, Wilbur's article was only a small blurb, and the ultimately shallow interview could certainly have been conducted over the phone, however he was persuaded by an old college friend who lived in the city to make the trip, and take a few days off. If, he argued to his editor, he managed to conduct the interview in person, would the magazine at least cover his hotel expenses? They did, so he came. Now, sitting in gridlock on the way to his friend's 5 year-old son's birthday party - "sorry man, last minute work trip, but I would love to see you so why don't you come over for my kid's birthday party on Sunday afternoon? - Wilbur certainly regretted his choice of holiday location, filled with awkward interactions like the one he was about to face as he arrived at his friend's house. That is, of course, only if he didn't have to deal with a Brazilian gas station attendant, first.
Several clutch engagements later, the navigation system delivered the good news by announcing a left turn was imminent. Finally he heard the words he had been waiting for being delivered by the pleasantly robotic female voice: "You have arrived." He followed his friend's instructions and stopped in front of the apartment building garage gate. He began to sift through the few phrases he knew in Portuguese in anticipation of an interaction with the inevitable security guard - there is an alarming number of them in São Paulo, they all wear suits and seem impervious to the scorching heat. This awkward exchange never came, however, as the gates opened and Wilbur understood why his friend had asked him to provide the car's license plate number. Momentary relief. He parked the car, rode up the elevator to the eighth floor, exiting into a small hallway and finding himself face to face with a small uniformed maid wiping up what looked like orange soda from the hardwood floor. She smiled to him, as most Brazilians tend to do, and pointed towards the door. Pleasantries having quickly been exchanged with the host and his English-speaking family, and before he could finally relax and have a beer with his old college friend, Wilbur remembered to ask his friend to meet his son. Responding to his father's call, the child, who betrayed undeniable resemblance to his father below the Batman costume, came into the room. With a look of confusion on face, the child - sweaty, tired, excited - looked up at Wilbur - sweaty, tired, resigned - then turned to his father and said;
Meus Discos Favoritos de 2013 - Sun Rai: Live at Studio Delux
Pianos elétricos salvam vidas!
Foi isso que eu resolvi espernear no Facebook no dia em que descobri essas canções do australiano Sun Rai no YouTube. E foi completamente sem querer. Na verdade eu estava procurando vídeos do baterista Mark Giuliana com o pianista Brad Mehldau, mas sem querer eu escrevi o nome do Matt Chamberlain, que é outro baterista que toca com o Mehldau de vez em quando. Aí fui cavando, irritado por não achar o vídeo que eu estava procurando, quando na colunazinha ao lado eu vi a pequena foto de um cara tocando piano elétrico frente à um baterista. Cliquei antes mesmo de ler que não tinha nada de Mehldau. E ainda bem que cliquei.
O que eu acabei achando foi uma de uma série de 8 músicas que o cantor e pianista Rai Thistlethwaite (mais facilmente conhecido como Sun Rai) gravou ao lado de dois grandes bateristas de estúdio - famosos session men - dos EUA: Matt Chamberlain e Victor Indrizzo. As gravações foram todas feitas em um estúdio em Los Angeles chamado Studio Delux (sem o e no final, mesmo) e lançadas no iTunes e YouTube.
Eu nunca havia ouvido falar desse cara que aparecia no vídeo quebrando tudo em 2 teclados diferentes, e ao mesmo tempo cantando com uma voz invejável, e por isso fui procurar um pouco sobre a sua história. Acontece que o Rai é cantor e tecladista de uma banda relativamente conhecida na Austrália chamada Thirsty Merc, e que está agora tentando emplacar uma carreira solo com um EP gravado, o Pocket Music, e uma série de shows pelos EUA. Se esse cara não virar estrela, tem alguma coisa errada com esse mundo.
Confesso que passei a maioria dos últimos meses de 2013 re-visitando alguns dos meus discos antigos de Jazz favoritos, e por isso nem dei tanta atenção à música nova. E isso já estava até me deixando um pouco nervoso, por que sei que alguns artistas deixam para lançar discos ótimos mais para o final do ano, então essa descoberta não só me fez fica rmuito feliz, mas até um pouco aliviado. Essas gravações tão básicas, mas tão bem feitas, me capturaram completamente. Me peguei deixando o disco no repeat, especialmente a primeira faixa, Chase the Clouds, uma canção original do Rai que já havia sido gravada antes, mas que ganhou uma nova vida na sua versão Piano-Bateria, com uma levada simples do mestre Matt Chamberlain que propagandeia uma autoridade reservada a pouquíssimos músicos ao tocar seus instrumentos. Com a fundação mais do que garantida, Rai consegue brilhar ao tocar o seu clássico piano Wurlitzer com a mão direita, e fazendo o baixo com a mão esquerda num synth Moog analógico. Old school, a parada. E nem precisa falar que a voz do cara é espetacular. Essa musica devo ter escutado repetidamente umas 15 vezes. É contagiante, assim como a maioria das outras.
O mais legal de ter descoberto isso, acho, foi de ter visto um cara que tem um respeito imenso pelo poder do simples. É muito difícil hoje em dia você ver alguém fazendo esse estilo de música sem pesar para o lado exageradamente produzido, com orquestrações densas e ritmos desnecessariamente quebrados. E para falar a verdade, se você for procurar a gravação de Chase The Clouds no EP "Pocket Music" vai ouvir um pouco disso. Mas isso só prova o quanto a escolha de produtores, músicos acompanhantes, e até local de gravação fazem a diferença. E esse é um disco que não só acertou todos esses aspectos, mas também fica definido por eles. Live At Studio Delux é um disco Californiano por natureza. Desleixado, cool, despreocupado. Um disco para escutar em qualquer situação. Um disco para nos lembrar que as vezes o ápice do descolado não passa de um belo som de piano elétrico, voz e bateria.
My Favorite Albums of 2013 - Bárbara Eugênia: "É O Que Temos"
I first heard Bárbara Eugênia when my friend Irina, the keyboard player for Garotas Suecas, shared the track "Ugabuga Feelings" from É O Que Temos on her Facebook feed. Since I trust her taste in music, and since it had been a while since I had listened to a new female singer who sung in Portuguese, I decided to click on the Soundcloud link. What came next worked like a cupid's arrow.
Ugabuga Feelings starts with a contagious jungle shuffle beat like those you could hear in early Rock n Roll songs from the 50's, which is good enough, and then suddenly I heard her voice. With a sort of paused delivery, she begins singing and immediately I thought, "I'm going to like this girl." And as the track progressed, with simple lyrics that I still absolutely love for reasons I can barely explain (more later) she conquered me. I was hooked. I needed to know more about her, and crossed my fingers that the rest of the tracks would at least provide me with the satisfaction of hearing her voice singing some other equally pretty melodies. After watching a few videos online, and exploring her soundcloud page, they did, but I didn't hear that many other songs because another interesting thing caught my eye: she would be playing a live concert soon, with songs from the new album.
I decided that that was where I was going to really listen to her.
I don't think I've ever outgrown the teenage tendency to fall for beautiful women of the singer/songwriter variety. I have always preferred the sound of a woman's voice in music, but it's not only that. I don't know if they are better at emanating feeling through their voice, or if it is simply the physical aspect of a woman on stage that gets to me, but I fall for it every time. And that means I am generally more forgiving of what could be a lesser song or record if one of them is responsible for it. I admit that much.
I went to watch Barbara and her band perform at a small club here in São Paulo, alone. It was just before I was meant to take a much needed 10 day vacation, and I was fed up of everything and everyone. I didn't want any intruders to ruin what would be the first time I would watch and hear her playing live.
The concert started with the first song on the album, called "Coração". She stood on stage wearing a pink full length jumpsuit, high heels, her hair cut extremely short and dyed blonde, with a heart painted onto her left cheek. It was like I walked into a 1960's photo shoot. I didn't even have time to second guess myself facing this almost exaggerated scene, and instead actually found myself singing along, if not particularly inclined to dance. I noticed, by the end of the concert, that I was feeling happy for the first time in a few weeks. And then I remembered why I liked her so much, right from the first time I pressed play on Irina's link.
It was because even in its saddest, most introspective moments, Bárbara Eugênia's music is straightforward, honest, and most importantly, it is uplifting. This is particularly true throughout É O Que Temos. With a backing band comprised of extremely capable musicians, producers who know how to play to her strengths, and guests that enhance her performances without overshadowing them, Bárbara is allowed to express all she has to say with the nonchalance reserved to the few among us who are confident enough to be unconfident about their technical abilities, but not about their message.
I bought my copy of the CD directly from her, just as the concert ended with the best rendition of Roberto Carlos' "As Curvas Da Estrada De Santos" I've ever heard. When I approached her to ask if I could buy a CD, she was standing outside the club with a group of friends smoking cigarettes, and looked at me for a few seconds as if she had no idea what I was talking about. As if she had been a witness to the concert, and not its protagonist. As she thanked me and handed me the record, she looked me straight in the eye and asked "did you really like the concert?". I babbled a positive response (standard procedure for me when talking to gorgeous, impressive women) and then I finally saw her relax, crack a hint of a smile, nod and walk away. In her pink jumpsuit, high heels, with her short, dyed hair and a heart painted onto her right cheek. It would have been an extremely pretentious scene, if it weren't so damn honest. Just like her music.
But then again this might be the teenager talking.
Meus Discos Favoritos de 2013 - My Bloody Valentine: "m b v"
Sim, eu também fui pego de surpresa.
Tem um amigo meu, aquele que eu falei de Los Angeles que me apresentou o Medicine, que deu risada alta quando eu falei pra ele no final do ano passado que tava puto com o Kevin Shields por que mais uma vez ele foi lá e prometeu que agora sim, o disco ia sair, antes de 2012 acabar. Colocou até no Facebook da banda, que antes não servia pra muita coisa, ou nem existia, uma mensagem falando "estamos finalizando a mixagem das faixas". Ahan, beleza... Depois de parar de gargalhar ele virou pra mim e disse: "Você tem sorte - só está sofrendo isso durante 5 anos."
Eu comecei a escutar as músicas do My Bloody Valentine depois de tanto ouvir a trilha de um dos meus filmes favoritos - "Lost In Translation" da Sofia Coppola - que foi feita com ajuda do Kevin Shields. Além da música "City Girl", uma composição inédita do Shields para o filme, a trilha também contou com "Sometimes", do lendário album Loveless de 1991, que eu fui procurar logo depois de escutar tanto essa trilha, e ver tanto o filme, que eu decorei todas as falas e já tenho uma boa idéia do que o Bill Murray fala pra Scarlett Johansson no final. O Loveless pra mim foi para o meu entendimento do Rock como o disco Free Jazz, do Ornette Coleman, foi para o meu entendimento do Jazz. Ao escutar o Loveless de cabo a rabo pela primeira vez (ou devo dizer pelas primeiras 15 vezes seguidas) foi como se diques houvessem rompido, e finalmente os meus ouvidos se abriram completamente para todas as possibilidades sonoras possíveis dentro do gênero, que eu nunca havia considerado. Do nada, o rock deixou de ser sobre solos longos de guitarra de músicos hoje mortos ou velhos, e se revelou como uma grande tela em branco, e o Kevin Shields como um pintor espetacular.
Aí fui ler sobre toda a história do grupo, e do perfeccionismo quase clínico do Shields, e cansei de ler o quão improvável seria que eu pudesse ver um disco novo desses caras enquanto eu estivesse vivo.
"Você só está sofrendo isso durante 5 anos," disse o meu amigo, "E eu que estou esperando desde que comprei o Loveless em 91?"
Em Fevereiro desse ano, nós dois, e tantos outros ao redor do mundo, fomos pegos de surpresa. Com um comunicado no Facebook tão comum que se você não tivesse prestando atenção nem teria percebido, o My Bloody Valentine lançou o seu primeiro disco em 22 anos, chamado m b v.
Eu não tive todos os problemas que tantos tiveram na hora de tentar baixar o disco. Não, o que na verdade aconteceu comigo naquele sábado em fevereiro foi até mais bizarro, e adequado. Eu descobri sobre o lançamento do m b v por que resolvi entrar no Facebook as 5 da manhã após voltar de um casamento, completamente bêbado. E foi assim que escutei o disco pela primeira vez - totalmente embriagado. E eu juro por deus que ter escutado o m b v nesse estado me fez ir dormir mais louco do que eu já estava. E eu tinha que passar o dia seguinte inteiro no trabalho. E no dia seguinte foi o m b v que curou a minha ressaca.
Tanta gente já escreveu sobre esse disco na internet, e como ele provou que apesar dos 22 anos entre ele e o Loveless, o My Bloody Valentine continua a mesma banda de sempre, e continua a ser a melhor no que faz. Eu concordo com tudo isso. Mas pra mim, o lançamento do m b v significou uma coisa importante. Antes do Random Access Memories, antes do David Bowie, antes do novo da Beyonce, o m b v foi o primeiro disco a realmente revolucionar o mercado da música esse ano. Essas 3 letras viraram o assunto em pauta nas redes sociais, e na internet. 22 anos depois, todos os fãs de My Bloody Valentine, desde os que eram jovens na época do Loveless e agora são pais e mães, até os jovens que roubaram o CD do Loveless do carro dos pais, todo mundo acordou, escutou e comemorou. E o mais legal era ver o quanto esse grupo de pessoas era grande. E o quanto ele espantou aqueles que nunca haviam ouvido falar de MBV na vida. Pra cada comemoração tinham 3 comentários de gente perdida, perguntando que diabos era m b v e por que todo mundo estava tão feliz. Imagina se a internet existisse na época do Loveless.
Passei o resto do ano escutando o disco - a versão em vinil é até mais gostosa e maluca do que a digital - e pensando, "será que o MBV vai demorar mais 22 anos pra lançar um disco novo?" Fui perguntar pro meu amigo o que ele achava, e ele falou uma coisa muito legal, e muito verdadeira.
"Não se preocupa, cara. Não posso garantir que a banda vai resolver lançar ou gravar mais alguma coisa, apesar de tudo o que o Shields fala, mas o que eu posso garantir pra você é que daqui a 22 anos você vai colocar o m b v pra tocar, e vai descobrir um efeitinho, uma nota, uma palavra que você não havia escutado antes e vai dizer: Puta que pariu, esses caras são fodas. Aí você vai correr pro Facebook pra ver se eles atualizaram a página com algo novo..."
My Favorite Albums of 2013 - Garotas Suecas: "Feras Míticas"
I have known the members of Garotas Suecas since 2006, when they followed my band in what turned out to be the first of 3 concerts together in a theatre at a hotel here in São Paulo which no longer exists. I remember how impressed I was by them even back then, when we were all starting out playing garage rock tunes out of compilations like "Nuggets" by lesser known bands, and feeling so great about ourselves. Being in this group of kids who had a band and who knew about these actually not so obscure tracks felt like being a member of a special little club that not many people had access to. And since they were almost all slightly older than my bandmates & I, Garotas Suecas always seemed to me like the band to follow.
I was very fortunate to remain friends with them, and to witness closely their evolution from a band that was playing Brazilian Garage Rock that owed a great debt to those who came before them, into a rock steady Brazilian soul group, and finally into to the fully developed independent powerhouse that they have become. The release of their second record, Feras Míticas, is a confirmation that Garotas are now a band that has not only paid all those debts, but that will inevitably start being owed to, as a new generation of the inside club of teenage garage rockers develops here in Brazil.
I was invited to attend a concert in October of last year at a very cool little club here in São Paulo called Casa Do Mancha, where the band had decided to preview some of the tracks they would begin to record shortly. Unfortunately, Guilherme Saldanha, the singer, fell ill on the day of the show, but despite that, they decided to play anyway. Having known the band for a while, I knew Sal's signature singing style was an important part of the band's essence, and I confess I was wondering if the concert would truly sound like a Garotas concert after all, as the other members of the band had rarely taken to the microphone in the past. Luckily, they proved me wrong.
I didn't know it at the time, but that concert gave me the first hint that the new record would be a huge step forward for the band in terms of their development as a group of composers and musicians. Almost a year later, when the record finally came out, I was surprised and delighted by all the different sounds and textures that were to be found within the album's 12 songs. There were tracks with vocals by almost every member of the band, there were tracks sung in an accented English, and there were even a few guest appearances by other musicians, old and new.
Perhaps they planned it this way, but after the album was finished, they set up an album release concert at the very same club I had seen them perform the early versions of some of these tracks. Garotas Suecas' live act has always been spectacularly lively, and I rarely miss one of their concerts, so I was very excited to go and listen to these finalized tracks in my favorite environment to listen to Sal on vocals, Perdido on bass, Nico on drums, Tomaz on guitar and Irina on keyboards. As you can imagine, it did not disappoint.
Most importantly, though, listening to the album the next day, and for the rest of the year since then, I have realized that these guys & girl have finally become comfortable enough to live with the fact that the band has two distinct identities: one in the studio, and one on stage. Whereas their first album - Escaldante Banda - seemed like a polished version of their live act, Feras Míticas is a work of studio-focused creation and production, which is later translated to the stage through hard work and a lot of practicing. It has become proof that the band has made it into that desirable group of bands that can be considered important to the development of new music in the country. Many groups who started out at the same time as these guys & girl have stayed behind, never surviving the garage rock tribute phase, or only very slowly making our way out into the world of independent rock & roll groups trying to get their unique message across. I'm very proud to see that of the many bands I had the pleasure to know, these guys seem to have made it there first, and that we have remained friends along the way. Feras Míticas is just the beginning, and I am sure that now that they've found their growing audience, they have a lot more to say. I can't wait to hear it.
Esse foi o primeiro disco novo que eu comprei em 2013, e o ano começou bem por isso. Álbum novo do Yo La Tengo, afinal, é razão para comemoração, sempre. Com quase 30 anos de estrada, essa nunca foi uma banda com muita pressa para lançar discos novos. Apesar disso eles conseguiram manter um ritmo quase constante de lançamentos a cada 3 ou 4 anos, que nada mais significa que esse é um grupo que sabe que a paciência é uma virtude rara, mas valiosa aos músicos que a exercitam.
My Favorite Albums of 2013 - Cérebro Eletrônico: "Vamos Pro Quarto"
This week I'm going to write about my favorite albums that came out in 2013. I've decided to write about the albums that came out in the US/UK in Portuguese, and I'll be writing about the albums that came out here in Brazil in English. I'm doing it this way because when the albums originally came out I probably did the opposite, and so I think it will be a good idea to introduce some of the great music that has come out here to the English speaking group among those of you who actually spend time reading what I write on here. There is no order of preference here. In fact, at the end, if there are any, I'll be posting a list of "honorable mentions", in case any of you are interested in hearing some more great music.
I first heard Vamos Pro Quarto as a live performance in a great club here in São Paulo called Serralheria, where there was poetry stuck to the walls, some great beer, and some crazy art for sale. The actual reason I had attended the concert was because I knew that the DJ for the pre and post concert sets was this beautiful and very interesting singer called Barbara Eugênia, about whom I will be writing in a few days, and I wanted to go see what she'd be playing, and maybe have a chat. I also knew the singer in the band, Tatá Aeroplano, who had composed a few songs that I really enjoyed. I had heard about the band itself back in 2009, when my band was recording our first & only record. Cerebro Eletronico actually recorded their first CD on the same label that was recording us, and the label owner gave me their record, though I confess I probably listened to it once before tossing it aside.
Meus Favoritos de 2013 - Medicine: "To The Happy Few"
Essa semana vou postar aqui sobre os discos que saíram em 2013 que eu mais gostei de ouvir tanto de música Brasileira, quanto das músicas de fora. Resolvi que vou colocar os reviews de discos gringos em português (por que devo ter escrito algo sobre eles em Inglês quando cada um saiu) e dos discos Brasileiros vou escrever em Inglês pra galera gringa que presta atenção no que eu escrevo ficar sabendo do que tem de bom aqui no Brasil. Vou tentar colocar aqui um por dia, vamo ver se dá certo. Não existe bem uma ordem de preferência, por sinal. Inclusive, no final ainda vou por uma lista de mais alguns que gostei pra quem quiser ouvir...
Medicine - To The Happy Few
Começo por um dos discos que eu mais escutei esse ano, e que mereceu receber muito mais atenção do que recebeu. Mas essa é a história do Medicine. Toda hora que você vai ler sobre essa banda, é gente falando que eles foram a resposta Americana ao My Bloody Valentine, e coisas desse tipo. Inclusive, foi ouvindo o MBV que eu acabei chegando nesses caras em 2009, com a ajuda de um amigo meu de L.A que me passou uma baita lista de bandas de shoegaze para procurar depois que eu falei pra ele que tinha passado uma semana inteira com o Loveless no repeat, e que eu já queria ouvir mais musica com guitarras distorcidas e espaciais e vocais que pareciam ter sido gravados de baixo d'agua.
Paul Motian was my hero. He was the greatest drummer of all time, I think. Perhaps not the only one, but certainly the one who left the biggest impression on me. I took this picture of him on one of the many (but few) times I was privileged to see and hear him play in person. We lost him a year ago today. I still can't believe it.
Hope you enjoy the music.
Paul Motian Trio - K.T
From the album "Time and Time Again" on ECM Records
Paul Motian - Drums
Bill Frisell - Guitar
Joe Lovano - Sax
For a long time — probably too long — not enough people have thought about the far-reaching accomplishments of Helen Frankenthaler, foremost inventor in the fifties of what is variously called American Color Field painting and post-painterly abstraction. Whatever you call this short-lived movement, Frankenthaler used it to throw up an artistic bridge allowing artists to cross the blood-and-thunder-encumbered cosmos of Abstract Expressionism into a new world of Minimalism. Painter Morris Louis called her “a bridge between Pollock and what was possible.”
