As the shipwrecked minds of nativism attempt to split humanity into ragged chunks of homogeneity harkening to back an eden that never existed, we celebrate the hybrid, the mongrel and the intersectional with two songs sitting at the crossroads of cultures and traditions.
We begin with Música Esporádica, an experimental band involving Suso Sáiz (who we told you about last week) his mates from another cool Spanish improv pop band, Orquesta de las Nubes, and some other people including renowned frame drummer and drum designer Glen Vélez.
When you listen to Música Esporádica’s 1985 s/t album for the first time, you have this uncanny sensation of space and time collapsing. They hail from a past which is another world, but sound fresh and of the present, peers and forebears of Gang Gang Dance and a myriad other Silk Road travellers (as well as the odd tourist).
Música Esporádica was their first and only album and in it they sound free and fully formed, like mysterious strangers arrived to the caravanserai after springing from the brow of a sub saharan zeus. They nod at you from the outskirts of the party before sliding into the shadows, you better follow them in this incredible trip.
We leave you with our favourite track in the album, ‘I Forgot the Shirts’, a crystalline Music for 18 Musicians-like palace of vocal harmonies hosting a surrealist house party jacked by an outfit of Luaka Bop funk renegades.
Music From Memory’s forthcoming Outro Tempo – Electronic and Contemporary Music from Brazil 1978-1992 compilation will be one of 2017’s album, and we will feature it here in due course.
In it, you can find Cântico brasileiro nº 3, a mind-blowing drum-trax banger in the same lineage as Secondo Coro Delle Lavandaie, 3rd Face’s Canto Della Liberta, and OOIOO’s Uma. The artist responsible for it is called Maria Rita Stumpf, and we have become sort of obsessed with her.
According to our Google-translate enhanced investigations of Brazilian music blogs, Maria Rita is an artist and cultural entrepreneur who, for a moment in the 1980s, came close to pop stardom. It didn’t quite happen. Perhaps her music was too strange, too intense, sounded too much as if arrived from a Herzogian jungle of the id, raw and perhaps scarred also by Brazil’s history of slavery and violence.
This is precisely why her songs mesmerise us, like Jeanette, like Zelda, like Mariah. They are plugged into a universal Chomskian pop-parsing framework which knows their language but doesn’t, every unexpected and misunderstood twist in their progression is a source of surprise and joy, also gratitude for living in a world with such variety of beauties.