As many readers will have seen, the great Paco de Lucia passed away last week. So to honor him, here is the (to my knowledge) only song recorded by him with a Brazilian musician, namely Djavan. The song is ‘Oceano’ of 1989, and to be honest it is not among my favorite Djavan songs (it doesn’t help that it was the main theme of the ‘love story’ between the protagonists of a soap-opera, so we all got over-exposed to it back in the day). But there is a beautiful solo by Paco de Lucia between 2.30 and 3.00 mins., which already makes it all worth it. I’m also posting one of the many breath-taking duos of Paco de Lucia with the equally great (and also prematurely deceased) Camarón de la Isla, simply because one can never get enough of these two; here, 'Tu cariño es mi castigo'.
Carnival has already started in Brazil. The internationally most famous carnival celebration is the parade of samba schools in Rio, but two equally strong carnival traditions thrive in Salvador (Bahia) and Recife/Olinda (Pernambuco) – democratic, street carnival in both cases. What the samba school is for carnival in Rio (and a few other places, like São Paulo), the ‘bloco’ is for street carnival. Blocos are (more or less) organized groups with their own music band and participants who dance along. In Bahia, the most famous bloco is probably Ilê Aiyê, created in 1974 as an affirmation of black pride and a celebration of the Afro cultural heritage in Bahia and in Brazil more generally. When it first came into existence, it was viewed as ‘racist’ given its emphasis on the value of African-Brazilian culture, and to this day only blacks are allowed to parade with the group. Ilê Aiyê remains one of the symbols of the strength of the Afro-Brazilian culture – here is a song by Caetano Veloso celebrating their existence.
In their first carnival, in 1975, Ilê Aiyê paraded with a song that remains emblematic for the black pride movement in Brazil: ‘Que bloco é esse - Ilê Aiyê’. And so to join the carnival spirit this week I’ll be posting numerous versions of this song. It’s really a great song, and here is a bit of the lyrics translated (as usual, very hard to come up with a decent translation):
Ok, so today is my birthday (yes, somehow every year it coincides with Valentine's day), and most of it will be spent packing and then in the car, driving to the mountains. So not exactly the best birthday ever, but with a nice reward to come after: a week of vacation. (So no BMoF next week.)
Anyway, to congratulate myself I'm posting the Brazilian version of 'Happy birthday', 'Parabéns pra você', quite possibly the most often sung song in the whole history of Brazilian music (damn, not an original Brazilian song!). So here it is, sung by soulman Ed Motta, who already made an appearance here at BMoF a while back.
And yes, I'm happy to accept congratulations in comments.
Yesterday (February 6th) would have been Bob Marley’s 69th birthday. As it so happens, I spent a huge portion of my adolescence and early adulthood listening to Bob Marley. In fact, it is difficult to express how much his music has always been and still is an integral part of my life. Reggae in general, and Bob Marley in particular, is extremely popular in Brazil, and I’ve posted before some samples of Brazilian reggae (here, here, and here). But today, to celebrate Bob’s birthday, it is time to post a few songs from the 2002 tribute album to him by Gilberto Gil, Kaya N’Gan Daya (which phonetically reads as ‘Caia na gandaia’, something like ‘Go party’, and is of course a reference to Bob Marley's song 'Kaya'). Gil is a long-time Marley fan; his version of ‘No woman no cry’, ‘Não chore mais’ is a classic from his Realce album (1979), and received a new version in the 2002 album (I like the older version better).
It is hard for me to choose which songs from Kaya N’Gan Daya to post, simply because I’m such a huge fan of pretty much every existing Bob Marley song (and possibly the non-existing ones as well), but I’ll go with ‘Waiting in vain’ and ‘Positive vibrations’. Fellow Bob Marley fans, feel free to post your favorites in comments below!
There have been quite a few musically relevant events this week. Most important of all, Pete Seeger left this world. But on a more down-to-earth dimension, the Grammy earlier this week had a few memorable moments, including the Daft Punk-Stevie Wonder performance of ‘Get lucky’. At the same Grammy, but receiving much less publicity, a Brazilian trio, Trio Corrente, won the Latin Jazz Grammy award for their album Song for Maura, a collaboration with iconic Cuban saxophone player Paquito D’Rivera. So here is the beautiful eponymous song from the album. (It’s not like I had heard about Trio Corrente before, so thanks Grammy for calling my attention to this beautiful gem.)
Rolling Stone Brasil announced their ‘Best of 2013’ lists. Topping the list of best Brazilian songs of the year, a curious item: ‘Problema seu’, by Felipe Cordeiro, a singer from the northern state of Pará. In Pará, the genre ‘brega’ (initially a pejorative word, something like tacky/distasteful/cheap, originating from a term for 'brothel') is particularly popular, with its over-the-top aesthetics and ultra-mellow lyrics, but in Pará mixed with local sounds and with a splash of Caribbean influences thrown in.
Brega, like funk carioca, was for a long time considered to be ‘cheap music’ and frowned upon by the intellectual and cultural elite, while being widely popular with the masses. The fact that a song with a clear brega inspiration makes it to the top of Rolling Stone Brasil’s list of best songs of the year is remarkable (though in previous years brega diva Gaby Amarantos had also scored well on the RS lists), but for this song in particular, it is not that surprising considering the groovy guitar riffs, a high danceable factor, and catchy lyrics (Você pra mim/é problema seu…). So yes, a rather good song!
Big pile of exams to mark here today, so this will be a short post. I’m going with an unchallenged classic: ‘Fé cega, faca amolada’, from Milton Nascimento’s 1975 album Minas (one of the albums I listened to over and over again as a child), in a duo with Beto Guedes. Besides the awesomeness of the song and of Milton’s voice, I really like the instrumental arrangement: it mixes jazzy undertones with some psychedelic distorted guitars, and the overall result is quite unexpected -- and quite something!
This week, a friend reminded me on FB of this song from Marisa Monte's second album, Mais (1991), which I listened to a lot back in the day. (It has some other great songs, like 'Ainda lembro' and 'Ensaboa'.) The song itself is beautiful (and beautifully sung), but what makes it really cool is the accompanying video-clip and how it matches the lyrics. Here is the text in Portuguese, and you can try your luck with google translate; my favorite line: "Para dias de folga: namorado" (For your days off: a boyfriend). I was watching it with my kids this morning, and they loved it; indeed, the song has a lullaby ring to it, and the animation in the clip is simple and yet clever. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as we did!
I’m still waiting for Rolling Stone Brasil to publish their ‘Best of 2013’ lists, which often give me good ideas of music to post here at BMoF. But for now, let me post a 2013 song by one of the most experimental of all experimental musicians in Brazil, Tom Zé. He is relatively well known outside Brazil in alternative, world music circles, after having become of one of David Byrne’s protégés in the 1990s (he was an iconic figure in the Tropicália movement in the 1960s, but was then by and large ‘forgotten’ for many years). But one of the remarkable things about Tom Zé is that he continues to make music exactly as he sees fit, completely ignoring any ‘market pressure’ and not trying to please anyone with facile tricks.
The song below is ‘Tribunal do Feicebuqui’ (‘Feicebuqui’ being a transliteration of ‘Facebook’), a song that shows not only that Tom Zé keeps up with current social phenomena (recall that he is 78 years old), but also that he looks at these phenomena with astute, critical eyes. I’m also posting ‘Curiosidade’, from his great 1998 concept album ComDefeito de Fabricação. There is much more memorable music by Tom Zé one should listen to, but these two give at least an idea of the work of one of the most creative, independent musicians currently in activity in Brazil.
A few weeks ago I posted ‘Sua estupidez’, sung by Gal Costa but composed by Roberto Carlos and Erasmo Carlos. Roberto Carlos is known in Brazil as ‘The King’, that is the king of folk music, and is immensely popular especially among the less economically favored segments of the population. He is known in particular for his ultra-romantic, ultra-mellow songs – yes, ‘tacky’ would be an appropriate description for lots of it…
But the duo Roberto/Erasmo Carlos has also produced some real gems, such as ‘Sua estupidez’ of a few weeks ago, ‘Debaixo dos caracóis dos seus cabelos’, ‘Fera ferida’, and ‘Cachaça mecânica’, which I am posting below: the first two sung by Caetano Veloso, and the third by Erasmo Carlos. (It turns out that Roberto Carlos’ versions themselves are usually not that good, not because he is not a good singer, but because of tacky arrangements…) The first two are real classics known by everyone; the third one is much less known, but possibly the best among the three: a wonderful, sad samba. So start with the third!
This week’s post is again not entirely Brazilian, technically speaking: today we have Cape Verdian young singer Mayra Andrade, who some of my friends have been raving about for a while (Jeroen and Rafa, that's you!). What justifies her inclusion among the BMoF guests is not only the fact that most of her songs are sung in Cape Verdean Crioulo, a variation of Portuguese; Mayra herself claims to have been highly influenced by Brazilian music. In fact, the first song she recalls singing as a child is the beautiful lullaby ‘Leaozinho’ by Caetano Veloso (equally popular among Brazilian children at large). Mayra often collaborates with Brazilian musicians and records Brazilian songs, and while not yet very widely known in Brazil, she is definitely a rising star worldwide. Her newly released album Lovely Difficult moves away from world music and towards something that can be described as ‘universal pop’, including songs in English (such as the single ‘We used to call it love’), while retaining the freshness and innovation she is known for.
I’m posting here some of Mayra’s versions of Brazilian songs, but music lovers should really also check her ‘non-Brazilian’ music, including her interpretation of Cape Verdean mornas but also her more recent work. So here is her version of 'Berimbau' (classic by Baden Powell and Vinicius de Moraes) with Trio Mocotó, featured in the Red, Hot + Rio 2 album, and a live version of ‘O que será’ (classic by Chico Buarque), a duet with French singer Benjamin Biolay. And I couldn’t resist posting a duet with the marvelous Cesária Évora, ‘Petit Pays’ – Cape Verde, that is (such a beautiful line: ‘Petit pays, je t’aime beaucoup…’) (See here for more of her songs, and a short interview with Mayra (in Portuguese).)
BMoF today could not but honor Nelson Mandela, without a doubt one of the greatest humans in the 20th century and possibly of all times. There is probably no better way to honor him than with music – a man who once said “it is music and dancing that makes me at peace with the world and at peace with myself”. There is much in common between the place that music occupies in people’s lives in South Africa and in Brazil, and this statement by Mandela encapsulates how many Brazilians feel about life, music and dancing (that's certainly the case for this particular Brazilian…).
I found this 1990 video of the pop band Paralamas do Sucesso performing ‘Free Nelson Mandela’, where they reveal their roots as a ska/reggae band. They appeared in the 1980s, and provided much of the soundtrack for my childhood and early teens. They continue to play and record to this day, despite some set-backs (in particular the ultra-light accident of the band leader Herbert Vianna in the early 2000s, which killed his wife and left him paraplegic).
So let’s all get up and sing for (and with) Mandela, and thank him for all he’s done to make this world a better place. (The music itself starts at 1.10.)
This week I had to deal with a fair amount of emotional stupidity from people who are very dear to me. So I was inevitably reminded of this song, ‘Sua estupidez’, composed by Roberto Carlos and Erasmo Carlos but at its best in this Gal Costa version (1969), which I listened to a lot around the time that my father died, in 1998 (he was also an example of emotional stupidity of this kind). The key part of the lyrics: “Your stupidity does not let you see that I love you”. Enough said.
UPDATE: This post seems to have gotten some people worried, apologies for that. It's nothing serious, just an argument with someone I'm very close to.
Here is one more for the ‘new sounds’ category (we’ve been surprisingly modern as of lately here at BMoF). Anelis Assumpção is a young singer who mashes Brazilian and Jamaican rhythms (dub, reggae etc.) in her music. She also happens to be the daughter of Itamar Assumpção, one of the main exponents of the alternative music scene of São Paulo in the 1980s and 1990s, known as Vanguarda Paulista (he died prematurely 10 years ago). But Anelis is her own woman, and has been making some great music for some years already.
I discovered her music through a school friend I reconnected with thanks to almighty Facebook, Giba Nascimento. Giba is himself a musician, and composed and recorded the reggae ‘Not falling’ with Anelis -- he’s the guy on the bike in the brand-new (and pretty awesome!) video-clip below. (It’s not so surprising that so many of my friends from school ended up becoming musicians/artists, as until the age of 14, I went to a typical artsy/lefty school.) I’m also posting ‘Sonhando’ (a collaboration with another young singer, Karina Buhr), from her 2011 album Sou suspeita estou sujeita nao sou santa. Both great tracks but very different from each other, which reveals Anelis’ versatility. Good stuff!
Here is a brand new band, which my kool friends in Sao Paulo are all raving about, but which is still little known outside these circles: 5 a Seco. (They are so new that they don't even have a wikipedia page!). I'm still getting to know them, so I can't tell you much more than this, but when they become the new hot thing in Brazilian music worldwide, you can say that you heard about them first here at BMoF. So here is 'Feliz pra cachorro'.
My friend Fabio Goes posted a very nice link over at FB earlier this week: 10 fairly established artists/musicians (including Goes himself) were asked to talk about the newcomers in the musical scene they are particularly fond of. The result is a priceless collection of the very latest good music being made in Brazil. To give you a taste of it, I’m posting a song by newcomer Rodrigo Campos sung by rap star Criolo, and a duet of Goes himself with his ‘nominee’, Jennifer Souza. But in truth, the whole selection is very much worth listening to.
I haven't posted anything by Jorge Ben(jor) for a while, so here is the easy-going, mellow samba 'Ive Brussel', from his 1979 album Salve Simpatia. It is a duo with Caetano Veloso, which makes it even more enjoyable. So let the weekend come!
Short BMoF today, but with a real gem, and
again (after the Venezuelan Los Amigos last week) something coming from one of
our dear neighbors. ‘Volver a los diecisiete’ is one of the classics composed
by the Chilean iconic singer Violeta Parra, and here it is sung by a stellar
group of people: the great Argentinian singer Mercedes Sosa, Chico Buarque,
Caetano Veloso, Milton Nascimento and Gal Costa. (This extraordinary confluence took place at a music TV show that Caetano and Chico used to host back
in the 1980s – those were the days…) It's a South-American classic, which I listened to countless times in my childhood (it was especially popular among academic lefties like my parents), and which remains timelessly beautiful.
It’s been a while since I last posted
something that is 'technically speaking' not Brazilian (in the past, I posted on
Cuban piano player Roberto Fonseca, Cape-Verdean diva Cesária Évora and
Argentinian hero Spinetta), so today I’ll be posting a couple of songs by the
awesome Venezuelan band Los Amigos Invisibles. I first got to know their
music back in 1999, when I stayed at an apartment full of Venezuelans for a
week in Florence (long story…). All they played, day and night, was Los Amigos’
second album The New Sound of the
Venezuelan Gozadera (1998), and I immediately fell in love with the music:
it’s disco, Latin, fun, groovy, funky, all in one! What more can you ask for?
Since then, I continued to follow their
career, and in 2006 attended one of their concerts at the SoB venue in NYC (Los
Amigos relocated to NYC after the success of their 2003 album, The Venezuelan Zinga Son). They keep
producing great music; their latest album was released earlier this year, and
coming to think of it, why don’t they come play here in the Netherlands?
I’m posting here my favorite song from The New Sound…, ‘Ponerte en cuatro’
(yep…), my favorite song from the album following it (Arepa 3000), ‘La vecina’, and to justify their appearance here at BMoF, one
of their songs with Brazilian undertones, ‘Es la verdad’, from their 2009 album
Commercial. So now you really have no
excuse not to get up and dance: it’s Friday, and you've just discovered one of the
most danceable bands of all times.
I’ve mentioned a fewtimes that Djavan was
for years my very favorite singer, and I’m still a huge fan of much of his
oeuvre (but admittedly not very familiar with the more recent stuff). In this
context, I was very happy to hear about an album that came out earlier this year: Samba Dobrado, where singer Rosa Passos
sings nothing but Djavan songs (some of the classics as well as lesser known
gems). Rosa Passos has a limpid, precise singing style, which reminds me of the
great João Gilberto (she openly acknowledges him as one of her greatest
influences). She has built a solid career over the last decades, but is not
very well known among the ‘masses’, so to speak. Her Djavan album, however, has
attracted a considerable amount of attention, so it looks like she is finally
getting the recognition she deserves.
I haven’t been able to listen to the whole
album yet, and only found two of the songs on youtube (there are quite a few live videos, but with poor sound quality): ‘Linha do equador’ (here
in the original Djavan version of 1992) and ‘Samba dobrado’, which lends the
name to the album (here in the original Djavan version of 1978). But if all
goes well I should receive my copy of the CD at the end of this month, when a
dear friend who is in Brazil now returns to the Netherlands. Can’t wait!
And in the meantime, I treat BMoF readers to some beautiful music.
(Short BMoF ahead.) I’m a reasonably big
fan of the guitar-voice duo Tuck and Patti, but to my knowledge there is only
one Brazilian song recorded by them: ‘O Cantador’ by Dori Caymmi (son of the great Dorival Caymmi). The song has been covered by a number of
other people, including Ella Fitzgerald and Sergio Mendes (but then again,
which song has he not covered?), and in English it is referred to as ‘Like a
lover’. So here is the original version with Dori Caymmi, from his 1972 album,
and then the Tuck and Patti version, from their 1989 album Love Warriors. (The video is really weird though, it looks like some
creepy tribute to Michael Jackson, but it’s the only one with the Tuck and
Patti version that I could find on youtube.)
Last weekend my husband and I welcomed the visit of very
dear friends: a couple who, like us, is Dutch-Brazilian. They are both musicians (she is a singer, and he is a trumpet
player), so we always end up spending a considerable amount of time talking
about and listening to music. Interestingly, she (the Dutch half of the couple)
had never heard of the best Brazilian band of all times, Os Mutantes, while he
(the Brazilian half) had never heard of the best Dutch band of all times, Doe
Maar. So it was my pleasure and honor to rectify this strange situation, and we spent
quite some time listening both to Os Mutantes and Doe Maar. This gave me the
idea for this special edition of BMoF: THE BATTLE OF BANDS!
I’m posting below two songs by each of the two bands, and
people can vote in comments if they want. Os Mutantes have already made a
number of appearances here at BMoF, as befits the best Brazilian band of all
times. They were active in the late 1960s and early 1970s, and their music is
of the best experimental, psychedelic vintage around. Doe Maar was active in the early 1980s, and their music is both a reflection of the
Zeitgeist of the time (punk, post-punk, ska, verging towards new wave) and
perennially awesome. For Os Mutantes, I
give you ‘Top top’ and ‘Technicolor’ (in English), both from Jardim Eletrico (1971); for Doe Maar, I give you
‘Tijd genoeg’ (1982) and ‘Bella Donna’ (instrumental, 1980). (You can see it as a musical version
of the football epic matches between Brazil and the Netherlands in numerous
World Cups – last time, to the latter’s advantage…)
I wasn’t quite sure what to post today (a
good friend suggested an album by Francis Hime and Guinga, according to him a real
gem, but I haven’t had the chance to check it out yet – maybe for next week!). Then,
Sublime FM, the radio station I listen to in the car, came to the rescue. They
play the occasional Brazilian song, and one that they seem to like quite a bit
is ‘Quero ver você no baile’ by singer Paula Lima, below the fold in a live version. I first came across her in
the late 1990s, as one of the singers of Funk como le gusta (a band I posted
about before), and now she has been enjoying a fruitful solo career for quite a few
years. So here you see what happens when samba meets funk -- good stuff! (And I don’t mean
funk Carioca, about which I still have mixed feelings...)
By the time this goes on line on Friday, I’ll be in
Salzburg for the SOPhiA conference, so I'm writing on Tuesday evening. For a variety of reasons (including the terrible weather, and we are officially still in summer!), today I could use
a bit of optimism in life, so I figured I could post a song that has been on my
mind for BMoF for a while: ‘O que é, o que é?’ (1982) by Gonzaguinha. The diminutive,
‘little Gonzaga’, refers to the fact that Gonzaguinha was the son of the great
Luiz Gonzaga, the king of baião. But Gonzaguinha did not follow his father’s
footsteps of forró and baião; instead, he developed his own style, mixing and
matching different strands of folk Brazilian music. ‘O que é, o que é?’, for example, is an
amazing samba, and one of those songs that everyone in Brazil can sing, at
least the chorus:
Mas isso nao impede que eu repita/ é
bonita, é bonita e é bonita!
(This doesn’t prevent me from repeating/ it
is beautiful, it is beautiful and it is beautiful!)
I've been so absorbed with thoughts on reductio proofs today that I forgot that it's Friday! But in the spirit of dialectic and adversarial encounters prompted by the conference on dialectic and Aristotle's logic that we hosted this week in Groningen, I was reminded of a peculiar Brazilian folk tradition, that of the Repentistas. These are duels involving two musicians, where each improvises the lyrics as they go along, attempting to ridicule their opponent -- in other words, very much in the spirit of ancient dialectic! (Historically, the tradition traces back to the medieval troubadour tradition.) The name 'repente' means 'sudden', and refers to the improvised nature of the music.
There are two kinds of repentes: accompanied by guitars, called 'cantoria', and accompanied by tambourines, called 'embolada'. Below a video of two emboladores performing in the center of Sao Paulo, and here a link to an album entirely dedicated to repentistas. Things can get quite aggressive with these guys!
One of the places I visited while in Brazil recently was Recife, the capital of the state of Pernambuco (unfortunately, a very brief visit this time). Pernambuco is culturally
very rich, both in terms of folk culture and in terms of education (including
one of the oldest institutions of higher education in Brazil, the Law Faculty
of Recife), and more relevant for BMoF readers, it hosts a lively musical tradition. The
‘King of Baião’ Luiz Gonzaga is a Pernambucan, and the region has a number of
other characteristic rhythms such as frevo and maracatu.
So to showcase this great musical tradition, I’m posting
here songs by three of my favorite
musicians from Pernambuco: Alceu Valença, Chico Science and Lenine. All three
have made previous appearances here at BMoF, but good music is always worth
listening to again! (At least I’m picking different songs…)
So BMoF is back after the summer break. I always have wild plans
of restocking on all the latest releases when I’m in Brazil over the summer
(well, winter there), but this time in particular the harvest has been somewhat
meager (I seem to have been busy with other things). But I did buy one album
that I’ve been enjoying quite a bit since: Vanessa da Matta canta Tom Jobim.
Tom Jobim is without a doubt the most remarkable composer of all times in
Brazilian music, as attested by this collection featuring nothing but memorable
songs, one after another.
One might think that there isn’t much left to be done
in the ‘interpreting Tom Jobim’ department, and yet Vanessa da Matta achieves
quite a few surprising versions of these beautiful classics. Today, I’m
posting her version of ‘Eu sei que vou te amar’ ('I know I will always love you' -- lyrics by Vinicius de Moraes),
which is surprising in that it’s almost humorous, in a slightly mocking, bolero
style. For the contrast, I’m also posting the über-dramatic (and awesome)
version of the song by Caetano Veloso (from his 1978 album Muito). Which one do you like best, people?
Yesterday we hit the night and went to one of the most fun events currently in the São Paulo nightlife: Festa Javali, which takes place every two weeks and fills the dancefloor with people of all walks of life, who are there to dance to a mix of Brazilian and non-Brazilian non-obvious 'classics' of the 80s and 90s (think B-52s, New Order, Tim Maia, but even including Madonna and the occasional Euro-trash of the 80s), along with some recent stuff too.
One of the tracks that made its appearence yesterday was a gem of Brazilian 80s pop, 'Totalmente demais', a big hit by the otherwise not very remarkable band Hanoi-Hanoi. The original version is of 1985, and soon after Caetano Veloso recorded the song in one of his (many) live albums, Totalmente Demais (1986). (He clearly did like the song a lot...) So here are the two versions, the ultra-pop original version and Caetano's very 'caetany' version. (And check here for a recent live version with Caetano and Arnaldo Brandão, the composer and original singer of the song.)
Special edition of BMoF, but not a happy one: Dominguinhos,
one of the greatest Brazilian accordionists and musical heir of Luiz Gonzaga –
second only to Gonzaga in the pantheon of Brazilian northeastern music (think
forró and baião) – passed away yesterday, aged 72. He is also known as the composer
of a number of classics, such as ‘Eu só quero um xodó’ (famous in
particular in the Gilberto Gil version), ‘Lamento sertanejo’, and so many
others. I’m posting these two songs below, the first in the somewhat unusual but beautiful combination of Dominguinhos and a
jazz orchestra, and the second a live performance. (If you want more, check this
list of 10 Dominguinhos tracks by the Brazilian Rolling Stone.)
The bit of good news is that a documentary on Dominguinhos,
featuring in particular duos with a number of musicians such as Gilberto Gil,
Lenine and many others, is in the final stages of production. It was shot in
2011, before Dominguinhos’s health deteriorated further, and promises to be a
more than deserved final homage to a great musician. (See here for a teaser.)
This one is coming from the Facebook updates of my buddy
Fabio Góes: Curumin, a young (well, he’s my age, so I’ll call him young!)
musician from São Paulo whose music mixes Brazilian beats with funk, lounge,
hip hop, electronica, and more. (Curumin, which means 'child' in the indigenous Tupi-Guarani language, is the stage name of Luciano Nakata Albuquerque. The nickname comes from the fact that Curumin started performing at a very young age, and thus was the 'kiddo' among the grown-ups.) He’s still a bit of a hidden gem internationally, but ready to
be discovered! I’m posting here ‘Selvage’, which has a newly released fun
videoclip (below), and the reggae ‘Doce’, both from his third album Arrocha, from last year. I don’t know his work very well yet, but certainly intend
to explore it further in the very near future. (Maybe he’ll be performing in
São Paulo somewhere in the coming weeks? That would be great, as I’ll be there for much of the next 4
(And on this note, BMoF will take its usual summer break, unless
I come across stuff that requires urgent posting. We’ll be back on August 23rd
at the latest.)