Author: Tyran Grillo

Ernesto Snajer & Palle Windfeldt: Guitarreros (CARMO/12)

| Tyran Grillo

Guitarreros

Ernesto Snajer
Palle Windfeldt
Guitarreros

Ernesto Snajer 10-string, 6-string, and 12-string guitars
Palle Windfeldt 6-string guitar, 6-string Western guitar
Kristian Jørgensen violin
Flemming Nilsson udo drums, congas, caxixi, chimes
Kaare Munkholm vibraphone, marimba
Recorded at Sound Lab.Studio, Copenhagen
Sound engineer: P.H. Juul
Musical direction: Egberto Gismonti
Produced by Carmo Produções Artísticas Ltda
Release date: June 21, 1999

Guitarists Ernesto Snajer and Palle Windfeldt present their debut album as a duo. The title, Guitarreros, translates from the Spanish as “Guitar Makers,” and perhaps no more fitting a term could be used to describe them, as both build their repertoire in the most physical sense. Just as photographers must learn to think about light from the camera’s point of view, Snajer and Windfeldt think about music from the instrument’s point of view. Like the Delia Fischer album that preceded it in the CARMO sequence, its timeless qualities fit edge-to-edge into the Egberto Gismonti mosaic. Both guitarists clearly take inspiration from Brazilian master in their penchant for grace notes, fluttering finger work, and terrains footprinted by childhood.

Most of the composing credit goes to Snajer, whose brushstrokes, so to speak, leave circular patterns behind on their paths across each canvas. From the first blooms of “Algaby,” it’s clear that the travels we are about to embark on will be colorful and nostalgic. A quality bordering on effervescence, yet which keeps at least one root in the ground at all times, inspires a dance for the lost to follow under threat of silence. Tenderer climates await in “Éramos inocentes” (enhanced by a liquid metal 12-string), by which a dreamlike sensibility casts its spell. Snajer’s finest marriages of writing and performance are the skittering brilliance of “Qué hacé, pescau!!” and the folksier “Viento rojo.”

Windfeldt offers two originals of his own. “Abispa” is a Django Reinhardt-esque tune (and, in this regard, is the soulmate of Snajer’s “El poste”), made even more reminiscent by the appeal of violinist Kristian Jørgensen. “Chinese chacarera” is another clever fusion of styles, the title of which indicates its rhythmic form while also hinting at a pentatonic feel. Joined by Kaare Munkholm on marimba and vibraphone, it has a modern kick.

And then there’s the title track by both guitarists, which melds the best of their talents in hybrid form. Light percussion from Flemming Nilsson grounds the melody in local charm.

Two arrangements round out the set. Where “Recuerdo” by Danish fusion group Bagdad Dagblad) is an achingly lyrical song without words, “Maracatú” spins from the play of children a sublime take on the Gismonti evergreen: a gentle ode to this living treasure of inspiration.

Snajer and Windfeldt shimmer like skyscrapers in the distance, high enough to look both toward the future and the past, their glinting windows visible from the trees beyond, where animals continue to live untouched, far from the folly of human entanglements.

Delia Fischer: Antonio (CARMO/11)

| Tyran Grillo

Antonio Cover

Delia Fischer
Antonio

Delia Fischer piano, vocal
Ricardo Amado violin
Carlos Moreno violin
Débora Cheyne viola
Luciano Vaz violoncello
Cássio Cunha drums
Augusto Mattoso acoustic bass
Luiz Sobral drums
Nivaldo Ornelas soprano and tenor saxophones
Henrique Band baritone saxophone
Luciana Araujo vocal
Baticun’s Group percussion, choir
Marcelo Mariano bass
Carlos Bala Gomes drums
Nico Assumpção acoustic bass
Romero Lubambo guitar
Recorded at EG, Drum, and Fórum de Ciência e Cultura
Recording engineer: Fernando Guihon, Carlos Signoreli, Peninha, and Alexandre Hang
Mixing at Studio AR
Mixing engineer: Marcelo Sabóia
Musical direction by Delia Fischer
Produced by Carmo Produções Artísticas Ltda
Executive producer: Gustavo B. Santos
Release date: June 21, 1999

Voted as the top-ranked Brazilian artist of 2019 by DownBeat magazine, pianist Delia Fischer made her recording debut with Antonio two decades earlier. Welcoming a top-notch band as well as a string quartet along for the ride, she removes the rearview mirror without a scratch and keeps us attuned to what lies ahead. Fischer’s skills at the keyboard are not unlike those of Egberto Gismonti, under whose encouragement this album came to be. She moves with a kindred sense of purpose, draws from an equally broad color palette, and pays respect to heritage in her choices of rhythm and texture. But there’s also so much unique about her method that makes this a wonder to embrace with the ears as an experience of ongoing transformation. And experience really is the watchword here, as Fischer describes one fully fledged world after another.

The string quartet fades us into “Abertura” by honing a metallic edge as piano and drums complete the picture with their complementary auras. Fischer’s voice joins them as an instrument in and of itself, foregoing words in favor of feeling as a seed of the greenery pictured on the album’s cover. Much of what follows falls into three categories. First are tunes that, like this opener, evoke specific weather conditions. Voices, as heard in “Ixejá” or via a field recording of children in “Tarde em Laranjeiras,” play occasional yet vital roles in reminding us of the human tapestry of which Fischer’s music represents a selfless thread. The latter track is noteworthy for the soprano saxophone of Nivaldo Ornelas, to whom it is dedicated, and who changes to tenor in “Post Meridien” in tandem with bassist Nico Assumpção. These brief spotlights on solo instruments allow different voices to be heard in a collective peace. Other instances to listen out for include the overdubbed cellos of Luciano Vaz in “Choro de Pai” and the guitar of Romero Lubambo, baritone saxophone of Henrique Band, and drums of Carlos Bala Gomes in “Dona Lia,” a grittier upward climb that never loses pace.

A second form, running slightly askew with relation to these wider expanses,  is the piano trio. “Øslo” finds Fischer sharing the room with bassist Augusto Mattoso and drummer Luiz Sobral. The nostalgia they create is touchable, shifting between places and times with that same easy sense of overlap that happens only in dreams. In “88,” Gomes hits the drums like a vessel to water while bassist Marcelo Mariano opens the river to whatever may come.

And then there are Fischer’s piano solos. “Araçagy” is complex in the most organic way, bouncing between metaphors at the drop of a hat yet holding on to a sense of integrity at all costs. Fischer proceeds as if catching a ride on a coastal train to meet a lover somewhere along the shore. The more elegiac qualities of “Velhos Tempos Lá em Casa” hint at the underside of nature, lamenting the very earth as a source of inherited trauma and pain. Here we see an artist who understands that our histories are all connected, and that we cannot just allow them to dictate our actions without encouraging some form of sacrifice. “Maio” bears dedication to the late pianist and composer Luiz Eça, echoes of whose humanity linger on. Finally, “Arcádia” balances mourning and invitation, shifting into architected spaces where sunlight always finds purchase.

An atmospheric gem very much in the Gismonti mode, and a high point of the CARMO catalogue.

Egberto Gismonti: Alma (CARMO/10)

| Tyran Grillo

Alma

Egberto Gismonti
Alma

Egberto Gismonti piano
(1) Steinway recorded at Sala Cecília Meireles by Jorge Teixeira, 1987
(2-8) Steinway recorded at Dreshsler Studio by Otto Dreshsler, 1987
(9-13) Bösendorfer recorded live at SESc Theatre São Paulo by Alberto Ranelluci, 1993
Synthesizers: Nando Carneiro and Egberto Gismonti
Recorded at Synth Studio by Edu Mello e Souza
Edited at Porão Studio by Egberto Gismonti
Production assistant: Dulce Bressane
Release date: October 1, 1996

Alma is Egberto Gismonti at his purest. Using the piano as his primary canvas (there are, in the background, ever-so-subtle hints of synthesizer played by him and Nando Carneiro throughout), he distills his most beloved compositions in a program of tender introspection. The album’s title means “Soul,” and is indeed what this odyssey through the Brazilian composer’s labyrinthine terrain represents.

Beginning with the forest-dense ecosystem of “Baião Malandro” (Trickster Baiao) and ending with the virtuosic costume changes of “7 Anéis” (7 Rings), this curation of performances serves as a primer for the Gismontian experience. Twisting and turning like a skilled dancer, he treats his fingers as legs with feet and runs across the keyboard as living soil. In addition to such classics as “Karatê” (the present interpretation of which takes on an even more self-disciplined quality than it did when first recorded on Circense) and “Frevo” (a vigorous example of his penchant for rhythm and color), he defines suppler developments in “Cigana” (Gypsy Woman), “Fala da Peixão” (Passion Talk), and the powerful “Realejo” (Hurdy-Gurdy).

One of his many gifts, that of illustration, is on full display in the evocatively titled “Palhaço” (Clown), which taps a memory so persistent it bleeds into the present; “Loro” (Parrot), which embodies its subject in a dance of unconditional joy; and “Sanfona” (Accordion), which sounds indeed like a bellowed instrument.

To my ears, the effervescence of “Maracatú” stands out in the collection. Balancing shadow and sparkle, and integrating synthesizers to seamless effect, it wanes into a field recording of the forest: an ode to the natural world. As is “Ruth.” First heard from his mother’s lips on Amazonia, it now opens its heart like a book yet to be inscribed. Like everything surrounding it, the melody is more than a skeleton, but part of the circulatory system of a cosmic body through which the listener can wander without the slightest fear of arterial blockage.

Egberto Gismonti: Amazonia (CARMO/9)

| Tyran Grillo

Amazonia CD

Egberto Gismonti
Amazonia

Egberto Gismonti 12-string guitar, acoustic guitar, Indian organ, conductor
Orquestra Transarmônica D’Alma D’Omrac
Bianca Gismonti voice
Alexandre Gismonti laughter, voice
Jaques Morelenbaum cello
Nando Carneiro acoustic guitar
Edu Mello e Souza synthesizer
Zeca Assumpção bass
Ruth Gismonti Amim voice
Recorded, mixed, and edited (digitally) at Porão Studio, except “Sertão/Forrobodó” (recorded like at Fabrik, Hamburg, 1990)
Artistic production: Carmo Produções Artísticas Ltda
Production assistant: Dulce Bressane
Release date: June 1, 1993

Here we have Egberto Gismonti’s original soundtrack for the film Amazonia: Voices from the Rainforest. The 1991 film, directed by Monti Aguirre and Glenn Switkes, gives a voice to indigenous peoples of the Amazon. Gismonti, as someone who knows the rainforest intimately and understands the film’s cause, was an organic choice to translate that broken silence into music. Originally released in 1991 on EMI, this CARMO reissue stands as a testament to Gismonti’s invention as a composer and gives credence to the maturation of his electronic experiments.

From tracks such as “Dois Curumins na Floresta,” we can hear that his integration of electronic and acoustic instruments is fuller, richer than before. Whether in “O Senor dos Caminhos,” a melding of synth flutes and strings dedicated to environmentalist Ailton Krenak, or “Forró na Beira da Mata,” which folds in the liquid metal of 12-string guitar, the feeling is of connective tissue between worlds: technology and nature, the “civilized” and the “untouched.” Even the most overtly synthesized passages only serve to emphasize the natural settings of the filmmakers’ interest. And while some (e.g., “Turma do Mercado” and “Fuga & Destruição”) are less successful without their images, the album works far better as a whole than Trem Caipira and yields such beauties as the blended chords of “Floresta (Amazônia).”

That said, as a standalone experience the highlights for me are overtly instrumental. The folksong “Sertão,” in Gismonti’s adaptation, glows under the bow of cellist Jaques Morelenbaum, who lends further beauty to “Ao Redor da Fogueira” alongside the lithe bassing of Zeca Assumpção and Gismonti’s own guitar. Both take in warmth from the heart as solar center, turning empathy into orbiting planets. Overseeing them all is “Ruth.” Written by Gismonti’s grandfather Antonio and sung by his mother (for whom it is named), it is the ultimate expression of heritage. Let us never forget where we come from, she seems to say, to remind ourselves of how little we have traveled.

Original vinyl cover:

Amazonia VINYL

CARIOCA: s/t (CARMO/8)

| Tyran Grillo

CARIOCA

CARIOCA

CARIOCA 12-string guitar, mandolin (3 strings), acoustic guitars (6, 8 and 10 strings), clay pot, kalimba, northeastern sitar I and II
Egberto Gismonti flute (on “Revoada Final”)
Rosaly voice (on “Caminho do Sol”)
Recorded and mixed March 1984 and June 1991 at Porão Studio by Egberto Gismonti
Engineers: Eduardo Costa and Edú Mello e Souza
Produced by Carmo Produções Artísticas Ltda.
Production assistant: Dulce Bressane
Release date: June 1, 1993

This far-reaching CARMO satellite—reissued on CD in 1993, nine years after its initial release—features the music of Ronaldo Leite de Freitas (a.k.a. CARIOCA). Because the comparison is too obvious not to make, let me say that devoted listeners of ECM’s multi-instrumental traveler Stephan Micus will feel right at home in CARIOCA’s continental drift. The album begins and ends with sitar. In “Revoada,” it clears the mist from the base of mountain where his wordless singing stands at a path of reason. By “Revoada Final” (for which he is joined Egberto Gismonti on flute), he has completed a circuit of that path like a chain link to the next. Before that, he runs through the brush of “Pitanga” (6-string acoustic guitar, kalimba and clay pot). As flowers tickle the very feet of the soul, he sheds every worldly thing that has a talon in him. Throughout the course of “Alvorada” (12-string acoustic guitar), he guides us along that same winding vein, which by virtue of its resonant grace unlocks the temple standing at its end. In the face of fluid action and percussive details, we understand that the architecture before us is a representation of our own bodies separated into base components and restructured as a place of worship.

Once inside, we hear the single melody of “Briza” (3-string mandolin), the first of many whose spirits linger in place of the bodies that once rendered themselves in real time. Only now they have stepped beyond the curled grip of chronology and learned to dance of their own volition, repeating like echoes of the past. “Branca” (8-string acoustic guitar) likewise, but now spinning the final rays of sunset into a blanket for our slumber. “Despertar” (10-string acoustic guitar) pulls us into a vision, wherein the body ceases to differentiate itself from its surroundings, and the heart is no longer an internal organ. As energy mounts, and our flight from waking grows desperate, we feel ourselves pulled back into reality by “Brilho” (10-string viola), only to find that the world itself has been reborn as a fragrant sparkle. Finally, in “Bemteví” (8-string acoustic guitar), we step back into home. Thus renewed, we see all that we might have lost and hold it close like a found child.

Egberto Gismonti: Nó Caipira (CARMO/7)

| Tyran Grillo

CARMO-7-front-2

Egberto Gismonti
Nó Caipira

Egberto Gismonti piano, acoustic guitar, 12-string guitar (thanks to Ralph Towner), bottle, pífano, bambuzal, mouth berimbau, whistles, music box, kalimbas (thanks to Airto Moreira), cathedral (thanks to Pete Engelhart), accordion, piccolo guitar, comb, voice
Mauro Senise soprano and alto saxophones, flutes (C, G and piccolo), pífano, bambuzal, bottle
Zé Eduardo Nazário drums, percussion, tabla, zabumba, bambuzal, bottle, voice
Zeca Assumpção bass, bottle
Special guests:
Roberto Silva pandeiro, wood block, talk-drums, xequeré on all songs
Zezé Motta voice (on Canção da Espera”)
Campinas Orchestra (recorded 1979 at the Centro de Convivência Cultural Theater)
Benito Juarez conductor
Recorded and engineered by Nivaldo Duarte
Mixed at Synth Studios by Edú Mello e Souza
Artistic and executive production: Carmo Produções Artísticas Ltda
Production assistant: Dulce Bressane
Release date: June 1, 1993

Let’s celebrate
Nothing is like coming back to our place
To our home…

So begins this Nó Caipira, an album originally released in 1978 on EMI and reissued as the seventh CARMO release in 1993. The words are multivalent, a love song for a muse not present but also a promise to the listener. After the experimental derailing that was Trem Caipira, here we have an album that blessedly shares nothing more than a titular word. If anything, it’s a stylistic return to form we encounter in “Saudações,” the opening bossa nova written in the style of its dedicatee, João Gilberto. With just a guitar and voice (and no pesky electronics) to guide us, we can bask in the organic richness of everything that unravels from here.

Gismonti’s Academia de Danças group plays the entire album, save for the closing “Dança das Sombras,” performed by the Campinas Orchestra and soprano saxophonist Mauro Senise. As one of his more complex creations, it renders a dark yet undeniably enchanting climate that admirers of Keith Jarrett’s classical forays are sure to enjoy with even greater appreciation for depth. As for everything leading up to it, we encounter one overcast touchpoint after another, each alive with hints of the sunlit clearings we have left behind.

Filling in the gaps of memory are some shorter pieces with a folky vibe. The standout among these is “Maracatú, Sapo, Queimada & Grilo” for recreating the sounds of a forest. The human voice is a distant traveler in this instance, but makes an especially vivid appearance via Zezé Motta in “Canção da Espera.” Accompanied only by Gismonti on piano, Motta expresses her desires for nothing so grand as whirlwind romances and material riches but only a love that fulfills its promises. Other necessary stops along the way include “Pira & Bambuzal,” a strange and surreal blast of church organ that spills into “Palácio de Pinturas,” where a string orchestra flows close enough to touch. This sojourn belongs in a museum case alongside Gismonti’s most ethereal creations. But the biggest surprise for me is “Selva Amazônica.” As a splendid tribute to Heitor Villa-Lobos, its combination of 12-string guitar and percussion floats down a river dividing the lands of Ralph Towner (who, incidentally, loaned the guitar being played) and Steve Tibbetts. Its beauties are sagacious.

This album is a masterpiece that digs frantically into the ground in search of treasure, only to find a mirror to see that it was the treasure all along. An ideal place to plant your first step on the CARMO plateau.

Original vinyl cover:

Nó Caipira VINYL

Egberto Gismonti: Trem Caipira (CARMO/6)

| Tyran Grillo

Trem Caipira

Egberto Gismonti
Caipira

Egberto Gismonti piano, synthesizers (Oberheim Ob-xa, Korg Poly-800, Korg Ex800, Casio Cz-101, Yamaha Dx7, Roland Sh-101, Arp Odyssey 2), electronics (Oberheim Dsx Sequencer, Roland Msq-700 Sequencer, Roland Tr-808 Rhythm Computer, Korg Ddm 220 Rhythm Computer, Garfield Electronics Mini Doc Synthesizer Synchronizer), vocoder (Roland Svc 350)
Nivaldo Ornelas soprano saxophone
Bernard Wistraete flutes
Jaques Morelenbaum cello
Gungaô kalimba
Pita Filmena whistling
Alexandre do Bico flautinha do chaplin
Ge Mima xylophone
Bibi Roca drums
Orquestra Transarmônica D’Alma D’Omrac
Otineb Zerauj, Oriam Seravat direction
Recorded September 1985 by Egberto Gismonti at Porão Studio and Jorge Teixeira (piano) at Sala Cecília Meireles
Recording supervisor: Dulce Bressane
Engineer: Bira Dantas
Mixed by Egberto Gismonti and Jorge Teixeira
Produced for Carmo Produções Artísticas Ltda
Production assistant: Dulce Bressane
Release date: January 1, 1992

Trem Caipira is a deep dig into the Egberto Gismonti archive. Originally released in 1985 on EMI and reissued as the sixth CARMO release in 1992, it boasts Gismonti’s unusual arrangements of music by Heitor Villa-Lobos. And yet, despite being approved by the composer’s widow, Mindinha, and the participation of Orquestra Transarmônica D’Alma D’Omrac (the names of whose members are, oddly enough, spelled backwards on the original LP), the sounds are almost entirely produced by a bank of synthesizers (Oberheim Ob-xa, Korg Poly-800, Korg Ex800, Casio Cz-101, Yamaha Dx7, Roland Sh-101, Arp Odyssey 2), electronics (Oberheim Dsx Sequencer, Roland Msq-700 Sequencer, Roland Tr-808 Rhythm Computer, Korg Ddm 220 Rhythm Computer, Garfield Electronics Mini Doc Synthesizer Synchronizer), and vocoder (Roland Svc 350).

The results leave much to be desired. Even the participation of cellist Jaques Morelenbaum in “Trenzinho do Caipira” does nothing to disguise the fact that Gismonti’s arsenal has gone threadbare with age. But if some tracks manage to eke by, then “Dansa” (from Bachiana No. 4) feels stuck in time and unable to escape from its own impulses. How wonderful to hear Gismonti’s acoustic piano in “Bachiana No. 5,” which anchors relatively tasteful qualities! But then the flaccid horns and drum machine of “Desejo” take over, and all is once again lost. Like the meager attempts of “Pobre Cega” to add percussion and flute, it meanders into non-action.

Having said all that, a few tracks work bizarrely well. These include “Cantiga” (from Bachiana No. 4) for its lively rhythms, chord changes, and a certain consistency of sound (not to mention the soprano saxophone of Nivaldo Ornelas) and “Preludio” (from Bachiana No. 4) for its harpsichord-like bite. The same cannot be said for “Canção de Carreiro,” which despite a melodic beauty (entirely to Villa-Lobos’s credit) feels like the opening credits to a subpar TV movie.

A fun hypothesis, but on the whole not worthy of becoming a theory. It will, however, have its place in the completist’s collection.

Egberto Gismonti: Academia de Danças (CARMO/5)

| Tyran Grillo

Academia CD

Egberto Gismonti
Academia de Danças

Egberto Gismonti piano, electric piano, guitar, Indian flute, synthesizer, organ, whistles, voice
Roberto Silva drums
Luís Alves bass
Nivaldo Ornelas soprano saxophone, flute
Tenório Jr. electric piano
Mauro Senise flute
Paulo Guimarães flute
Dulce Bressane voice
Aninha voice
Marya voice
Joyce voice
Lizzie voice
Dulce voice
Novelli voice
Mauricio Maestro voice
Marcio Montarroyos flugelhorn
Darcy da Cruz trumpet
Ed Maciel trombone
Mario Tavares conductor
Recorded at Porão Studio
Engineer: Filipe Cavalieri
Mixed by Egberto Gismonti and Filipe Cavalieri
Produced by Carmo Produções Artísticas Ltda
Production assistant: Dulce Bressane
Release date: January 1, 1992

Academia de Danças is one of Egberto Gismonti’s most personal hybrids and, along with Circense, represents so much of what he would become as an internationally renowned auteur. Originally released in 1974 on EMI and reissued as the fifth CARMO release in 1992, the present record was a watershed moment in his career and inspired an entire generation of listeners and future musicians growing up under his influence.

All of the music, save for the final piece, is delivered by way of Gismonti’s pen, and compels the composer to emote through guitar, Indian flute, keyboards (plugged and unplugged), and his own voice. In addition to some constant musical companions, he welcomes the spread of a string orchestra for “Corações Futuristas,” the first of two epic suites that comprise the program. From the very beginning, we can tell that the production values have stepped up to accommodate the breadth of imagery being rendered for our ears (as eyes). Traversing five parts, from the waterwheel guitar, voice (Dulce Bressane), and charming electronics of “Palácio de Pinturas” to the electric unraveling of “Scheherazade” (in which the sounds of a cheering crowd make for an intriguing effect), Gismonti and company embody the concept of variegation to wide extent. “Jardim de Prazeres” is more rhythmically nimble and features a self-divided guitar, along with Gismonti’s singing, for a rock-ish vibe. In the wake of that explosion, we get the tender salve of “Celebração de Núpcias,” in which Gismonti’s guitar, strings, and Bressane’s wordlessness paint a forest of dreams for us to wander in until we arrive at “A Porta Encantada.” Only this enchanted door is rife with mischief and deception, as if tainted by a spell to ward off any who might presume to venture through it.

The album’s title song cycle is a microcosm of painterly abilities. The lovelorn “Bodas de Prata” walks paths of uncertainty into “Quatro Cantos,” throughout which electronic imitations of crickets and birds populate a space peripherally haunted by Bressane. Wandering in slow motion through the thickness of night, it takes us into the depths of “Vila Rica 1720.” Here Gismonti evokes the riot of that same year, when Portuguese descendants fought against the Brazilian metropole. Following an energetic lullaby and a couple of free dives into jazzier gradations, we navigate the forest once more in “Polichinelo” (steering clear of animal-like rustlings in the piano) until we hop on the “Trem Noturno” (Night Train). What begins with piano and voice turns into a sequencer extravaganza, contrasted by chanting children. “Baião do Acordar” is the only non-Gismonti piece. Written by Djair de Barros e Silva (a.k.a. Novelli), it links a small chorus of voices into a chain that pulls us toward a fiery soprano saxophone solo by Nivaldo Ornelas. Thus transported, we arrive at our station, renewed and resilient to whatever may come.

Original vinyl cover:

Academia VINYL

Egberto Gismonti: Kuarup (CARMO/4)

| Tyran Grillo

Kuarup

Egberto Gismonti
Kuarup

Egberto Gismonti piano, guitar, bamboo flute, bambuzal, conductor
Dulce Bressane voice (on “Sônia”)
Jaques Morelenbaum cello (on “Sônia”), conductor
Recorded at Transmérica Studios
Engineers: Eduardo Costa and Edú Mello e Souza
Mixed at Synth Studios by Edú Mello e Souza
Produced by Carmo and Grapho Produções Artísticas Ltda
Release date: May 1, 1991

This obscure movie soundtrack was written by Egberto Gismonti for the 1989 film Kuarup (dir. Ruy Guerra). Based on the novel by Antonio Callado, it tells the story of a Jesuit Priest named Taumaturgo Ferreira, who forsook the life he knew to be among the Xingu Indians. The music is as tense as it is subdued, looming like a spirit calling from within the very landscape Ferreira falls in love with. Two orchestras—the first conducted by cellist Jaques Morelenbaum, the second (Transarmônica D’Alma D’Omrac) by Gismonti—add verdant expansion, providing a pillowed berth for Gismonti’s guitar in such tracks as “Valsa de Francisca I.”

Gismonti blends textures with artisanal subtlety. His bamboo flute adds decorative integrity to the segues (e.g., “Anta”), while his synthesizer begs for filmic context in some cases (especially in “A Dança da Floresta”) and in others stands on its own (“O Som da Floresta”). Either way, I much prefer the orchestral writing of “A Morte da Floresta,” which draws a thread of commonality through piano, arco strings, and pizzicato stippling. The soundtrack’s centerpiece is the moodier “Sônia,” which features the voice of Gismonti’s longtime production assistant, Dulce Bressane and Morelenbaum’s legato cello. A tender brush with love in an unloving world.

It would probably be better to hear this music along with the film, as it doesn’t quite hold form by its own skin. Still, it’s a lovely archival curio to have in one’s Gismonti cabinet.