Em
2009, Aline Calixto despontou no mercado fonográfico com o lançamento
de álbum superestimado, cujo repertório remetia à vivência mineira dessa
cantora nascida no Rio de Janeiro (RJ), mas criada nas Geraes. Sucessor
de Aline Calixto (2009), Flor Morena
chegou em junho de 2011 com alteração na rota
geográfica do samba propagado na voz afinada da intérprete. Embora faça
escalas em vários pontos da crioula nação do samba, reverenciada em Cabila
(Peu Meurray e Leonardo Reis), o segundo disco de Calixto aposta na
diversidade do gênero ao mesmo tempo em que aproxima mais a artista do
samba cultivado nos mais nobres quintais cariocas - a ponto de ter sua
inédita faixa-título assinada pela dupla de bambas Arlindo Cruz e Zeca
Pagodinho (com a adesão de Jr. Dom). Flor Morena
- o samba fornecido pelo trio carioca para Calixto - segue linha
melódica e poética pouco original, mas é belo e dá o tom elegante de um
disco que começa em clima de terreiro com a Gemada Carioca oferecida por Martinho da Vila. A letra desenha a árvore genealógica da cantora. Na sequência, Me Deixa que Eu Quero Sambar
- grande tema de Mauro Diniz - celebra o próprio samba, citando em seus
versos a luz divina que iluminou a obra atemporal de criadores como
Candeia (1935 - 1978). É sob essa luz que floresce ainda a regravação de
Coração Vulgar (Paulinho
da Viola), samba de 1965, alvo de registro interiorizado. Contudo, certa
de que o samba não tem fronteiras, Calixto extrapola o quintal carioca
em Flor Morena. Caçuá (Edil Pacheco e Paulo César Pinheiro) - tema já gravado por Edil no álbum O Samba me Pegou (2003) - evoca a sensual manemolência baiana com citação de Maracangalha (Dorival Caymmi) enquanto De Partir Chegar (Joca Perpignan e João Cavalcanti) transita com poesia entre a ciranda e o maracatu de Pernambuco. Já Conversa Fiada
- única faixa assinada somente por Calixto - esboça diálogo entre o
samba e a salsa que não chega a ganhar forma e consistência. Ainda na
seara autoral, Calixto é parceira de Thiago Paschoa e Arhtur Maia na
romântica Teu Ouvido, faixa em que o som do bumbo simboliza as batidas descompassadas de um coração apaixonado. Em linha mais bem-humorada, Je Suis la Maria
(Dora Lopes, Jorge Rangel e Jean Pierre) leva o samba para um salão de
gafieira por conta dos sopros arranjados por Marcelo Martins. Aliás, há
todo um frescor nos arranjos que valorizam até sambas medianos como Blá Blá Blá (Serginho Beagá) - efeito provável da produção de Flor Morena
ter sido confiada ao baixista Arthur Maia, nome pouco pronunciado nos
quintais onde se cultiva o samba mais tradicional. Maia pilotou o álbum
com respeito às tradições do samba, mas sem os clichês recorrentes em
discos do gênero. Neste CD pautado pelo sincretismo musical, Ecumenismo (Moacyr Luz e Nei Lopes) reza pela cartilha da diversidade religiosa no mesmo tom libertário da miscigenação saudada em Cafuso (Toninho Geraes e Toninho Nascimento). Cafuso prepara o terreiro para o fecho de ouro do disco, Reza Forte
(Rodrigo Maranhão e Mauro Reza), samba-jongo que explicita a criação
mineira da artista enquanto festeja a nobreza suburbana na qual está
enraizado o samba cultivado nos quintais do Rio de Janeiro. Muito
superior ao primeiro disco da cantora, Flor Morena alicerça a voz, a imagem e o samba reverente de Aline Calixto. (Notas Musicais)
O baú de influências da banda recifense
consegue unir de forma coesa e bem trabalhada progressivo, rock,
hardcore, jazz, pop, krautrock, post rock e regional tanto em passagens
comuns quanto em ambientações aleatórias. Uma vantagem do som
instrumental é justamente deixar mais tranquila essa união de ritmos.
Além da cozinha trabalhada e das guitarras adicionando melodia, viagem e
peso de maneira consistente, o uso da flauta institui um ambiente
regionalista, lembrando Mombojó (Felipe S. e Marcelo Machado foram
alguns dos responsáveis pela produção). As participações especiais
também engrandecem o disco, como o pianista Vitor Araújo e os metais do
Móveis Coloniais de Acaju. “A Banda de Joseph Tourton” é um álbum para
ser escutado primeiramente com calma, tendo como intuito degustar
texturas e idéias. Depois, uma aproximação maior é bem vinda. Faixas
como “16 Minutos”, “Aquaplanagem”, “100m”, “O Triunfo de Salomão” e “A
Festa de Isaac” são provas mais do que suficientes para corroborar isso.
Um rockzinho leve e despretensioso parece ser o principal mote do primeiro registro oficial da bonita banda paulista Mão de Oito. Intitulado Um Dia Que Já Vem, o álbum está nas ruas desde o dia 13 deste mês – e pode ser baixado gratuitamente no site oficial. Apostando em guitarras dançantes, quase reggae, o disco vem recheado de participações especiais.
Uma delas é o maior nome do rap nacional atualmente, Emicida, que acompanha os vocais na faixa “Beats”. Ao lado do também célebre rapper Kamau,
a música apresenta uma atmosfera refrescante, quase como aquele som
perfeito para ouvir enquanto caminha na praia. Em contradição à esta
sensação de tranquilidade e paz, a letra conversa sobre a realidade de
vários jovens da favela – que, sem opção, acabam indo para o caminho do
tráfico. Só que, na música, o tráfico é de discos.
Outra belíssima voz que dá ainda mais corpo às músicas da Mão de Oito
é a cantora Marcela Bellas, que acompanha o vocalista Daniel Cohen na
faixa “Acorda”, uma música dançante e cheia de trompetes. Um Dia Que Já Vem foi lançado pelo Laboratório Fantasma e contou com a produção de Daniel Ganjaman.(ROCK IN PRESS)
When a fetus becomes the impetus. "Impetus" is a favored word lobbed
by Elizabeth Shepherd into the conversation these days as she takes a
deep breath and plunges into the great unknown of traveling on the road
with a family. The winsome vocalist and jazz pianist had her first child
six months ago and has unplugged her tribe from their downtown Toronto
home to cover Canada, literally performing dates from Nanaimo, B.C. to
St. Johns, Nfld. "Gosh, that's the hope; it's still a huge uncertainty
at this point because I haven't done it yet," muses Shepherd. "If I've
learned anything in the first six months of being a parent, you have to
let go of all expectations of anything, because they will just be
thwarted anyway." That said, Shepherd is a jazz musician, and
improvising is has been ingrained in her psyche. "I've never been as
flexible as I am now, there's a certain openness that comes with being a
parent."
The tour follows the release of Shepherd's Rewind
(Pinwheel Music, 2012), which officially hit the streets and avenues of
the virtual superhighway and record stores on April 10, 2012, and is
available for download, with a limited edition vinyl pressing also in
the works.
For Shepherd, jumping onboard the tour bus comes as naturally as childbirth—replete with the requisite pains—but the manouche
spirit permeates her very soul. "My parents were Salvation Army
ministers from the time I was two until about three years ago. When you
become a full-time minister with the Salvation Army, you open yourself
up to be appointed anywhere; the army brats and I would have a lot in
common," confesses Shepherd. And though such a lifestyle can often lead
to solitary childhood, in Shepherd's case spending formative years in
France would have an ineffable effect on her sound and musical tastes.
"In moving to France I was exposed to a great variety of things. The
music you heard on the radio was quite different; it was far more
diverse that what typical radio was in Canada."
Though the seeds
of a career in jazz were planted in Europe, ironically it was when she
returned to Canada to study jazz at McGill University that Shepherd came
to embrace the fruits of great songwriting. "'Love for Sale' is one of
those tunes that really stayed with me all of those years," she says. So
much so, that Cole Porter's
unassailably beautiful song opens up the new album. "There is a certain
sadness and weight to the lyrics, but at the same time it's the oldest
profession, it's a song about prostitution," says Shepherd. "I kind of
wanted to infuse it with a little more power, not treat the lyrics as
lightly as they have been in the past."
Somewhere in the hallowed
halls of every jazz school is a rather haggard-looking pianist hunched
over the keyboard, looking like the Grinch on the morning after an
all-night bender, thinking, "Please, not another version of 'All the
Things You Are.'" Shepherd would be no exception. "When I went to school
we had to learn 60 to 80 standards; that was really the bare minimum
requirement in jazz school. My first gig, before I even considered being
a professional musician, I took because I needed money. I was actually
waitressing and they noticed on my CV that I played piano; they asked if
I would play because the house pianist was going on vacation. I had to
learn a whole bunch of tunes and fell into that gig for three years."
And
if a career is born out of necessity—in this case the need to eat, and
there is something magical in watching a talent come to life because of
providence—then Shepherd knows the road is not paved with yellow bricks,
and every jazz player must pay his/her dues. And so she learned a
litany of songs from jazz standards and chanson to pop tunes, and
played, and played and played. So much so, that she earned the right to
bank studio time and sculpt her own material, which figures prominently
on her debut disc, Start to Move (Pinwheel Music, 2006).
Three
well-respected albums later, chock-full of delicious observations on
contemporary society and accessible grooves—all punctuated by Elizabeth
Shepherd's uncanny gift for writing melodies that stick—fast forward to Rewind,
a collection of cover tunes. "I think there's a beauty in hearing tunes
that come to the public, because they are covered in a certain unique
way. I've found that given a chance to reinterpret a song you can find
real beauty there." Shepherd goes on to justify her decision by saying,
"I wanted to take some tunes that maybe didn't quite make it into the
jazz canon, as way of uncovering them I can maybe bring them to light,
and have people say 'Wow, that's actually a great tune.'"
Placing the needle gingerly into the groove (pun intended), Rewind
does not disappoint in unearthing a few gems that may not have had
their fare share of time in the spotlight; in particular, "Lonely House"
sees Shepherd's ethereal voice hanging in the air like the wisp of
tinsel dangling from a fir tree late at night on Christmas Eve. The
ethereal wanderings of "Lonely House" do not, however, tell the whole
story: Rewind also features funk and soul sounds parsed with
jazz harmonies that characterize the flavor of Shepherd's earlier
releases—though the exception, in this instance, is that her piano
spends much of the time riding in the sidecar. "I was really drawing on
more of a folk tradition in how to present the songs. In jazz, the
lyrics often get bogged down in the harmony and the complexity, but when
you're talking about a song with lyrics, the main thing is the
narrative of the tune, and if that gets obscured then I feel like you've
kind of missed the point."
The
paradox of any contemporary record of cover tunes is that it must
deftly attempt to blend the past with the present in a way that suffuses
the two into something unique. Presented with this option even the most
road-weary music veteran may balk; but in Shepherd's case the evolution
of embracing the past was a natural one. "The impetus for this album
was when I was in Japan touring Heavy Falls the Night (Pinwheel
Music, 2010), and some A&R reps approached me to do a standards
album. I dismissed the idea at the time, but then when I was four-months
pregnant, I thought, 'Okay what are my limitations? Things are going to
change; a new album of original material is just not going to happen
under the circumstances.'" Confronted with the limitations of bringing a
new person into the world, Shepherd was undaunted and pursued what felt
like the only option, "Realizing that I would have nothing to keep me
busy for the last five months of pregnancy and nothing to look forward
to after the baby was born, I revisited the idea of covers, knowing it
was something I could record and be connected to."
That said, Rewind
is not a direct homage to Shepherd's daughter, and it's not an album
designed to assuage tears, or throw on the turntable to induce heavy
little eyelids. In fact, Shepherd indicates that this is a far cry from
singing, "Love for Sale" to induce sleep (a beautiful tune, but perhaps
not the first lullaby that comes to mind. "My daughter informed the
process all along the way; I could feel her growing in me, we would be
in the studio and she would have the hiccups while I was trying to sing,
and we would just crack up laughing. So, she informed the process, she
is in there." Shepherd says in her mellifluous voice, "Now I realize
that though, in the beginning the album came from a place of
apprehension, I ended up with something where I can sit down with her 15
years from now—if she wants—and say, you are in there, you are a great
part of this."
Too often in music, attaining maturity equals compromising the musical
search. This might never be the case for our generation's darling
Natalia Lafourcade. In an interview earlier this year Lafourcade
confessed feeling incredibly moved by Mexico’s bicentenario, where she
played chanteuse as part of Alondra de la Parra’s Travieso Carmesí.
The event led her to a renaissance of national composers from the past,
falling in love particularly with Agustín Lara (“El Flaco de Oro”). The
follow up to the majestic Hu Hu Hu is a duets tribute album to Lara, to his ever-peeling melodies and the poetry of his profound words.
For the first time in a long time (perhaps since Café Tacvba’s pre-drums
era), Mexican indie is witnessing an appreciation for Mexico's music.
And it’s happening at different levels: from the indie-gone-mainstream
success of Carla Morrison to the cult-gone-classic feat of Juan Cirerol.
These artists are reinstating the fact that it’s okay and beautiful to
sound Mexican. This observation is of particular significance when
considering Hu Hu Hu was the result of Lafourcade’s creative expatriation to Canada. Mujer Divina
finds a Natalia Lafourcade that’s less transitional and more acquainted
to a classicist artistic scope. She’s quieter than we usually like her
to be, but refinement has its perks. Featuring a stellar lineup of
accompanying men, this is a record that skips the innate charm of duets
and carves for deep emotional exchange.
Mujer Divina starts at a high point, with the always-comforting
voice of Adrián Dárgelos (Babasonicos) describing the haunting gaze of a
divine woman. When Lafourcade’s voice enters the spectrum, she quickly
resolves the biggest anxiety felt by the album’s gendered premise: Will
Lafourcade play a passive/recipient role or will she be an active
participant in the storytelling? From track one, she refuses to be the
muse of Lara’s love songs, and not once does she bow submissive in front
of these worldly celebrated men. Lara would be proud of her stance.
Lafourcade and her respective companion approach every song with due
respect, negotiating rhythmic pace and idiosyncrasies without hurting
the album’s overall refined coherence.
Leading single “La Fugitiva” (featuring Kevin Johansen) is a
slow-burning cut where tangents from Lara’s original composition are
subtly revealed. While the departure might seem impersonal, there are
historical margins to be followed. Lafourcade’s approach is
considerate and, with the exception of “Aventurera” (featuring Dominican
singer Alex Ferreira), she opts to step away from the mounting
orchestrations that defined a lineage between Las 4 Estaciones del Amor and Hu Hu Hu.
Other standout numbers include the flourishing “Limosna” (featuring
Café Tacvba’s Meme), the whimsical “Farolito” (featuring Gilberto Gil),
and the ethereal “Amor de mis amores” (featuring Devendra Banhart). To
be totally honest, the idea of a tribute collaborative album never
really excited our staff, but we should know better than to
underestimate the pulling of our heartstrings at the touch of the
eternally consoling Natalia Lafourcade.
