Egberto Gismonti guitars, piano, flutes, dilruba, voice
Nana Vasconcelos percussion, berimbau, voice
Recorded June 1984 at Rainbow Studio, Oslo
Engineer: Jan Erik Kongshaug
Produced by Manfred Eicher
Sometimes I wonder. I wonder what forces were at work to have brought two brilliant music makers like Egberto Gismonti and Nana Vasconcelos together on this earth. I wonder what energies nourish their spirits any time the two of them step into the studio, alone or otherwise. I also wonder how a surefire recipe for continued enchantment could come out of the oven as this misshapen improvisation session from 1984. Neither musician has ever needed a definitive structure around which to coil his respective song in order to be captivating (just listen to, for example, the breadth of freedom in Gismonti’s Solo or Vasconcelos’s Saudades), but during the first few steps of Duas Vozes I find myself craving it. It’s not that the images painted therein aren’t unique, only that the colors with which they are painted simply don’t blend. Thus is the album’s first half the backside of a one-way mirror: we can see through its devices, even if the microphones can’t. Thankfully, in the latter half we come face to face with a reflection that shows us only the depth of our awe.
Our first confusions arise in “Aquarela Do Brasil,” which begins playfully enough, but quickly degrades into six long minutes of Vasconcelos’s whooping (compare his sparing use thereof on “Carneval Of The Four”). “Rio De Janeiro” also breaks its promise when, after the lively pulse that opens it, Gismonti’s guitar wanders in circles without ever enlarging any of them. And while much of this sounds like outtakes between jam sessions, there are some flashes of brilliance in which these longtime friends explore insanely microscopic avenues of their craft, particularly during a passage for which Gismonti plays the little strings at top of his instrument. The cavernous flute of “Tomarapeba” opens the portal just a little more, as do Vasconcelos’s calls from the treetops in “Dancado.”
It isn’t until “Fogueira” that we get something undeniably special, something far beyond what I would already have expected. Its balance of restraint and full-out effusiveness blossoms with a Ralph Towner-like sensibility, Vasconcelos adding masterful color all the while. With this, the portal is thrown open, letting in the floodlights that are “Bianca” and “Don Quixote.” In the latter, Vasconcelos’s insectile tongue-fluttering adds the perfect environmental touch, even as Gismonti unveils his piano for a final stretch of droning brilliance.
For an album that is only half the masterpiece it could have been, how it ever came to be included in ECM’s Touchstones series would seem unwarranted were it not for its destination. But even if we aren’t quite sure about how it gets there, Duas Vozes is worth your attention for that destination alone.
<< Pat Metheny Group: First Circle (ECM 1278)
>> Jack DeJohnette’s Special Edition: Album Album (ECM 1280)
Between Sound and Space: ECM Records and Beyond 
You let yourself be amazed by music so that poetry flows trough your writing, but never lose the distancing that a critic must have.
Grateful,
R., from Brazil.
I owned most of the Gismonti catalog on ECM, and this was by far the most poetic, the most beautiful, the most profound of them all.
It is first, one of the last great all analog ECM productions. The recording room and the capture technique open up spaces that seem unlimited… I owned 100+ ECM recordings and none of them sounded like this record.
Second, the album title is deceptive, a sort of ruse even. Yes it is two extraordinary Brazilian collage improvisors, but they accidently(?) also made a statement about dissatisfaction with modern life and the preference for God’s country, a simpler life dwelling there, an escape from the decay of urbanity. This idea is a grace. The conveyance of it’s “retreat” is palpable and inspired.
The first of these perfect eight tone poems is like the overture; and the second gives us the reason for the rest of the album. Crazy city traffic gives way to green gliding Purity.
Fogueira and Bianca are the pinnacles of this flight. In the first, Egberto’s guitar is allowed to throw enormous shouts into the vault of Rainbow Studio, casting images of eternity. No record I ever heard in 50 years of listening yielded moments like these. Meanwhile, the full melodic relay of his guitar is unimprovable; it is sure, patient, clear, affirming, good. It segues seemlessly into Bianca where Nana fingertip smacks his palms in two channels, giving the compelling image of raindance. In the midst of this patter, a simple organized rhythm emerges: out of the sweet chaos of Divine music steps a human figure, “found” in a blessed place, while Egberto’s gently perambulating melody etches again an excursion of deep healing. Deep.
There are impressions of both day and night throughout, but a tender, smiling night seems to predominate.
A record filled with great care and freedom, an intimate Brazil, evocations of God’s majestic creation. “Primitive” (ha!) sound paintings reaching for the stars in the duo’s inimitable approach once described as “conservatory-in-the-jungle”.
Most of the ECM records are austere and distant and do not necessarily hug you, but this one, one of the very few, does. A gift of world music way before many were even thinking in that category and an immense offering of love with an incredible audiophile signature. The CD is pretty good, but the vinyl is sublime.
And while they did not seem religious, the two voices released this record in the same year Arvo Part gaves us Tabula Rasa, which is where Nana and Egberto really seemed to be headed throughout these sessions: to a redemption.
Nature is a church for many. We find Heaven through Jesus. Amen.
Amen, brother! My apologies for the delayed response. Thank you for finding the Spirit where it may not have been intended. Music is life, and life is nothing without the LORD.
Thanks for two slightly differing but enhancing views of the album. I always wondered about Gismonti’s guitar sound on the album, which to me sounds like he used a guitar synthesizer in certain parts. This, in my opinion, just doesn’t work. I love his natural acoustic tone a lot more. I wish I could hear the album without this sound gimmick, but I guess it was state of the art in the 80s. I wonder what Manfred Eicher thinks about this nowadays.
Jens, thank you for your comment. Egberto was doing extended techniques, playing at times in typically unplayed domains of the instrument, like below the bridge. Also, he was doing these things on guitars of unusual construction: 10 and 14 string guitars. The instruments are one of a kind, and on top of that we don’t know how he tuned them. If he was searching for a signature of mystery, he definitely found it. At some point I gave up trying to figure it out how he was making the fascinating sounds and just relaxed into the rustic textures they present. They are a delight unto themselves. Like some kind of new harp from the woods.
You might say, he was like a ‘painter’ who ground his own pigments. That’s why the guitars seem so unrecognizable.
The entire production though is assuredly all acoustic and natural. The real variable was the studio room.
peace to you
Steve in MD, USA