Long
before the term world music was coined Brazilian artists such
as vocalists Milton Nascimento, Flora Purim and husband and percussionist
extraordinaire Airto Moreira were making international waves in
the burgeoning jazz-rock experiments of the 70’s. 1972 was
early days when producer, arranger and guitarist Arthur Verocai
recorded his eponymously titled debut more for a bit of personal
fun than anything else when Brazil was languishing under the iron
fist of military dictatorship. With a free hand to use his musicians
of choice, he employed some of the leading musicians of the day
including saxophonist Paulo Moura, guitarist Toninho Horta and
people like Robertinho Silva from Airto’s band, Oberdan
Magalhaes (Banda Black Rio) and Nivaldo Ornelas (Milton Nascimento)
among others.
Arthur expanded the sonic possibilities with lush, adventurous
arrangements for strings and brass that lend a spacious filmic
quality to a work that shimmers with a myriad of influences from
bossa nova to rock, jazz and funk embraced in an air of innocent
hipness and regional sounds. It is essentially instrumental though
most of the songs do feature superb female and male vocalists
as well as chorus who register their protests in a subtle allegories
that must have wafted over the heads of the generalisimos of the
day and their ever vigilant but not too bright censors. It’s
amazing that this important, original work languished for over
30 years.
Like all great music it works its magic on many levels and with
repeated listenings.
On
one level simply a selection of beautiful songs, on another a
variegated landscape that lushly swirls or is sparse or world-weary
or funky. It could be the greatest soundtrack to a movie you have
never seen. Initially the sound quality might seem a bit lo-fi
due to the modern obsession of making the obvious bleed into your
ear-drums. That too is an illusion. The recording is crystal clear
with every nuance captured in its place. The apparent sparseness
actually works with the music as becomes abundantly clear on the
closing number Karina, a jazzy free for all with dry guitar, squalling
sax and blustering trombone who take turns at peeling the paint
off the walls. RJ