A long hard look at Brazil... part 1

Before I start, I'd like to apologize to Portuguese speakers everywhere. I will mangle the language (accents a specialty)!

I've been listening to Brazilian records lately, preparing for this overview, and I've got to tell you, it's weird listening to concentrated sunshine when it's cold and nearing winter. Then again, Christmas in Brazil is at the height of summer... - and I know, I know, sorry for springing one of those clichés on you in the opening paragraph. 'Brazilian music sounds like sunshine.' But it does, it really does.

Brazil's an enormous country, and they take their music seriously, so where to start? Of course I started out thinking about some musical history and all that – but for once in my life, sod academicism. Truth is, I don't have a clue about the musical evolution, geographical scenes, socio-political meaning. Just some hunches and rumours, and I'd like to keep it that way. That's one of the things I appreciate about Brazilian records – in marked contrast to most US/UK-music. Even if I haven't heard an artist yet, I've read something. I know who came before them and after them. I usually have a pretty good grasp of what it will sound like before I hear it, even if I'm going to like it or not – I can predict with some accuracy. It's hard to get surprised. Now I know it's a quality that's not intrinsically musical, but not knowing much of anything about the Brazilian music scene guarantees I get surprised more often than not.

So, long story short, I'll focus on a couple of records I stumbled onto that surprised me, and some that altered that way I listen to music. The start is where it started for me, the first Brazilian record I heard.

I still recall the exact circumstances. I was working at the world music/secondhand record store and in charge of in-store music. One day the owner told me world music was more than British folk music. So I put on the Buena Vista Social Club – sounds kinda old, right? Ali Farka Touré – too dusty. Then I picked up David Byrne's compilation of '70s Brazilian pop. I put it on, and hell, this is the first track.

I was sold in 15 seconds – the riff, the phasing, then the rhythm fall in and the bass. I didn't know what it was, but I knew this was a portal to somewhere I wanted to go. The track is just an amazing record – the call and response vocals, the authority of the singer. I could never take 'Sympathy for the devil' seriously again after this. When you've got time – I don't want to bother you with this the first couple of hundred times you're listening to this – check out how intricate the rhythm is. When the other instruments drop out – except for this high synth part echoing – an extra beat of handclaps drops in and it's just the best groove ever. At the end, Jorge goes into this spoken part and then breaks into an amazing scat. What a record!

There's much more on this compilation. Byrne selected a very specific perspective on Brazilian pop – kinda stripped back, lots of acoustic guitars, groovy but melodic, kinda folksy. To me, that's been the heartland ever since, even though it's not an accurate picture, but it is how it is. Another one that knocked me out is 'Equatorial' by Lô Borgers, the best son-of-'Let it be' ballad I know, but I'll write more about Lô later. I'll add the great one-two punch that closes the comp: Milton Nascimento's 'Anima' and Caetano Veloso's 'Terra' (I see what you did there, David).

I know it's kind of a mystical description, but I can only say that 'Anima' always sounded to me like the spirit on the water. The sound of tuned percussion – I mean, the main riff is beautiful enough, there's a solo part that takes me straight to heaven. The song is build up out of these rhythmic/melodic cells which move ever sideways. I can't fully describe it in words.

And that's followed by 'Terra', which is as near as anyone's ever gotten to Dylan's 'Gates of Eden' in my book. With the sitar from 'Norwegian wood'. And I don't even understand a word he sings (a couple but still...). It just transports me.