Daniel Murray: Universo Musical de Egberto Gismonti (CARMO/18)


Daniel Murray
Universo Musical de Egberto Gismonti

Daniel Murray 6-string and 10-string guitars
Recorded and mixed April 2018 at Visom Digital Studios, Rio de Janeiro
Recording engineer: Guido Pera
Mixed by Guido Pera and Egberto Gismonti
Produced by Egberto Gismonti
Release date: August 23, 2019

On July 19, 2015, Rio de Janeiro-born guitarist Daniel Murray sat down with one of his greatest musical heroes: Egberto Gismonti. After hours of sharing music, conversation, and dessert, he left the meeting inspired to start arranging Gismonti’s compositions for solo guitar. Gismonti so loved his first such attempt, “Forrobodó,” and the freedom of approach it embodied that he gave his approval for the present recording. The appropriately titled Universo Musical de Egberto Gismonti is filled to the brim with original arrangements of Gismonti’s music, save “Memória e Fado” and “Choro,” both already written for solo guitar.

Murray is an exquisitely talented musician possessed of technical virtuosity and a genuine adoration for Gismonti. But his deepest talent may just be his ability to balance clean, classical execution with open expression. This is most obvious in pieces like “Carmem” and “Memória e Fado,” in which his attention to detail shines. Sul tasto playing and harmonics speak of external ornamentation but of layers within. Some of the most coniferous tunes (e.g., “Água e Vinho” and “Baião Malandro”) are quietly re-clothed with finery, while “Sete Anéis” hides none of the heavy emotional lifting required to move it.

“Maracatu” and “Frevo” are among the more adventurous interpretations. Where the former opens with a flurry of extended sounds working their way into the tune proper, the latter offers its virtuosity in humility, taking on Gismonti’s butterfly effect without fear. And if “Saudações” is a kaleidoscopic wonder, then “A Fala da Paixão” is the lyrical light passing through it, as is the concluding “Palhaço,” in which breath surrenders to beauty.

There is a nocturnal feeling to this session that, in being so close to Gismonti’s heart, emphasizes the sunshine that awaits on the other side of life.

Grazie Wirtti/Matias Arriazu: Caçador de Infância (CARMO/17)

Caçador de Infância

Grazie Wirtti
Matias Arriazu
Caçador de Infância

Grazie Wirtti voice
Matias Arriazu guitar
Recorded September 19, 2018 at Visom Digital, Rio de Janeiro
Engineer: Guido Pera
Mixed September 20, 2018 at Visom Digital, Rio de Janeiro by Guido Pera and Egberto Gismonti
Produced by Egberto Gismonti
Release date: August 23, 2019

Brazilian singer-songwriter Grazie Wirtte teams up with Argentinian guitarist-composer-arranger Matias Arriazu for this, their CARMO debut. The duo was discovered by label head Egberto Gismonti, who invited them to perform as part of a 2017 concert in Buenos Aires before welcoming them into the studio a year later to record Caçador de Infância.

(Photo credit: Ana Luz)

While the set list contains a sizable portion of original songs, a handful of favorites has been daubed onto the canvas. Among the livelier examples of their style are “Moleca Saci” (Breno Ruiz/Paul César Pinheiro), a showcase of distinctly Brazilian rhythms and melodic changes in which Wirtti treats her voice like a guitar, and “Verde Limão” (Andrès Beeuwsaert/Iara Ferreira), a deck of chants shuffled into twirling motifs. On the darker side of things is “Memórias de Valparaíso” by Guto Wirtti. A prayerful evocation of reminiscence, it waters roots that, while severed in the material world, nevertheless thrive in metaphysical soil. And I cannot fail to highlight the epic interpretation of “Eu vou pro Céu,” a public domain gem that tickles the heart with its lyricism and spiritual uncertainty.

In the duo’s own writing we find a lifetime’s worth of moods and interactions. Across both the title song and “Fuga de Trem,” they unfurl imaginative landscapes as yet untouched by the colonialists of maturation. Wirtti’s voice is a force to be reckoned with. Whether squeezing juice from the soul over Arriazu’s fluttering guitar work in “El Dulce Gavilan” or playing with onomatopoeia in “Iarare,” she shares her intimate understanding of presence in the creative act. While capable of quiet reflections, she blossoms when belting her heart out, as in “Gira com Jurema” and “Candombe Santo,” the latter an ornate vessel of geometric guitar oared by a singer who sees the horizon as another beginning—a palimpsest for personal identity.

Silvia Iriondo: Tierra Que Anda (CARMO/16)

Teirra Que Anda

Silvia Iriondo
Tierra Que Anda

Silvia Iriondo voice, percussion
Quique Sinesi guitars
Juan Quintero guitar
Patricio Villarejo violoncello
Mono Hurtado double bass
Mario Gusso percussion
Silvina Gómez percussion
Lilián Saba piano
Mariana Grisiglione voice
Mario Silva birds, water, trump, patagonic wind
Francesca L. Cervi voice
Recorded March/April 2002, Studios Gaucho Records, Buenos Aires
Engineer: Claudio Barberón
Mixed December 2002, Studios ION, Buenos Aires
Engineer: Jorge “el portugués” da Silva
Coproduced by Egberto Gismonti
Release date: May 9, 2005

Argentinian singer, songwriter, and ethnomusicologist Silvia Iriondo is one of those rare musical souls who moves like a planet: which is stay, in fixed orbit yet taking in a 360-degree view of the universe along her travels. On a more terrestrial level, her dedication to art, history, and life itself welcomes perspectives from all directions. As put so lovingly by coproducer Egberto Gismonti in an album note: “I sense that your main goal (the music you make) is to have a peaceful relationship with the past and the future, without prejudice.” And certainly we find that timeless instinct sustained from first breath to last. Hence the title Tierra Que Anda, or “Walking Land,” which by its multivalence indicates both the origin and the destination of this self-styled journey across Argentina’s creative spectrum. Rendering popular melodies and songs by greats of her homeland—including Cuchi Leguizamón, Delia Cazenave, and Juan Quintero—while nestled in a band of kindred spirits.

Each song is built around one of a handful of rhythms, many of which were brought over from surrounding lands before settling in Argentina itself. The underlying pulse and feel of “Alas De Plata” (Silver Wings), for example, has Afro-Peruvian roots. By the handiwork of Quique Sinesi on piccolo guitar, it evokes a watery float along terrain where only the soul may tread without breaking tension. Peru is likewise referenced in “La Arenosa” (The Sandy Land). Grounded by the bass of Mono Hurtado and percussion of Mario Gusso, it pushes through layers of time as an archaeologist might dig through strata of sediment: both treat their art as a way of uncovering the dead to speak anew.

Three zambas, including the Quechua-inspired dance of “Vidalero” and the album’s crowning jewel, “Zamba De Ambato” (Zamba For Ambato), heave as shoulders bearing the weight of a collective heritage. Sinesi’s guitar and the cello of Patricio Villarejo move in total attunement, while Iriondo’s voice touches the heavens with its unforced purity. While many such passages evoke broad landscapes, both within and without, the salt-of-the-earth cast of “Vámonos Vida Mia” (Let’s Go My Life), the Mapuche chant of “Weque – Las Barbas De Mi Chivato” (Weque – The Beards Of My Goat), and the Bolivian footwork of “Tun Tun” humble us with their unmitigated expression. As in the farewell of “La Nostalgiosa” (The Nostalgic Song), they square the circle of our listening with dust, bone, and memory.

One of the brightest stars in the CARMO constellation.

Bernard Wystraëte & Group: Strawa no Sertão (CARMO/15)

Strawa no Sertão

Bernard Wystraëte & Group
Strawa no Sertão

Véronique Briel piano
Philippe Berrod clarinet
Jean-Yves Casala guitar
Frédéric Guérouet accordion
Philippe Macé vibraphone
Pierre Strauch cello
Bernard Wystraëte flutes, musical and artistic direction
Guest artist:
Egberto Gismonti piano
Recorded by Philippe Labroue  at May, June, and September 2001 at Studio Labroue in May, June, and September 2001, Paris, and at Auditorium Magne in February 2002, Paris
Edited by Bernard Wystraëte and Philippe Labroue
Co-produced by Egberto Gismonti
Release date: May 9, 2005

Bernard Wystraëte enters the CARMO fold with an album recorded under the banner of his self-titled group. Throughout his career, the composer and flutist has dipped into a variety of fonts, including classical and free jazz, but has always held a special place in his heart for music of the Andes. Naturally, his interests intersected with the work of Egberto Gismonti, from whose work this program is entirely drawn and whose blending of traditional and futuristic streams yields a powerful river on which to invite other vessels strong enough to handle its current. Thankfully, Wystraëte is not only able to navigate those waters, but populates their surrounding ecosystem with flora of his own.

Gismonti gives his sonic seal of approval by joining at the piano for some of his most enduring (re)creations. They also feature the accordion of Frédéric Guérouet, lending his painterly touch to “Sanfona” (named for that very instrument) and the lesser-heard “O Amor Que Move o Sol e Outras Estrelas” (Love that Moves the Sun and Other Stars), a wordless poem that leaps in slow motion toward completion. Even without Gismonti in the studio, his presence is felt in renditions of such evergreens as “Baião Malandro” (Trickster Baião), which adds a jazzier sleight of hand through the vibraphone of Philippe Macé, and the almighty “Karatê,” which blossoms in a version for Bb clarinet (Philippe Berrod), guitar (Jean-Yves Casala), cello (Pierre Strauch), and alto flute. It deserves highest place in the pantheon of Gismonti interpretations. The lead flute makes it flow with even more legato grace than when played on the piano, showing the interconnectedness of every movement like time-lapse photography. Another standout is the album’s title suite, a humorous musical fantasy in five parts that imagines Igor Stravinsky living in the arid lands of Northeastern Brazil. Though two movements of it were featured on Gismonti’s 1997 ECM album Meeting Point, as far as I know this is its only complete performance on record. Dedicated to Wystraëte, it combines rhythms from that same region with others from Rio de Janeiro, dappled with the Russian composer’s fondness for angularity and childlike wonder. Wystraëte goes a step further by improvising on the section called “Cherubin I,” playing the unaccompanied bass flute as if it were the only message that mattered in the moment. Each note is a tender mercy, a memory captured as if by camera, a fire that burns to be remembered.

Rodney Waterman & Doug de Vries: Água e Vinho (CARMO/14)


Rodney Waterman
Doug de Vries
Água e Vinho

Rodney Waterman recorders
Doug de Vries guitars
Recorded between November 1997 and March 1998 by Robin Gray at Allan Eaton Studios
Tracks 4, 17, 20, and 21 recorded by George Butrumlis at Adeney Studios (1999)
Mastering at Estúdio Tom Brasil, São Paulo
Sound engineer: Alberto Ranellucci
Produced by CARMO & Dulce Bressane
Release date: November 13, 2000

This collection of duets for recorder and guitar, played respectively by Rodney Waterman and Doug de Vries, comes two CARMO catalog numbers after the equally engaging duo of Ernesto Snajer and Palle Windfeldt. Breath and string are a natural combination that harks not only to the Renaissance but also to the many folk traditions that grew from such music’s spread throughout the colonized world. As melodies were taken up, transformed, embellished, and added to, they took on lives of their own, birthing entirely new cultures by melding into ancient ones. The duo’s ear for melody steeps us in these histories, lest we forget the pain and struggle often encoded into beauty.

“O ôvo” (The Egg) is one of two selections by Brazilian composer Hermeto Pascoal and references Pascoal’s beloved 1967 debut, Quarteto Novo, which was a harbinger of the very sort of jazz-folk hybrid for which Egberto Gismonti would soon become known. This is followed, appropriately enough, by “Bebê” (Baby). Both assume a refreshing form made evident by the baião rhythms around which they are structured.

Waterman himself is artfully represented by a handful of originals. His “Song of Reconciliation” was written in 1997 in response to the Australian government’s refusal to atone for aboriginal atrocities. Played on the tenor recorder for a more anguished sound, it nevertheless cups its hands around a pilot light of hope. The title of “Xanthorrhoea” comes from the Latin name of a grass tree species native to Australia and takes its cues from nature. Here the guitar is played like a drum, lending a bygone air. “Zana” pays homage to Australian virtuoso Zana Clarke on the very instrument she made famous: the “Ganassi” alto recorder. Accompanied by de Vries on egg-shaker, it is meant to evoke the sunlight of Brazil. “Ade” is inspired by Lazy Ade Monsbourgh’s 1956 album Recorder in Ragtime and incorporates further influences from Pascoal and Gismonti. It is played on soprano recorder and the cavaquinho (a Brazilian 4-string guitar) to effervescent effect.

Gismonti himself shines via six tunes, most of them touchstones of his compositional career. Of those, the duo’s rendering of “Frevo” is possessed of an especial fervor (hence the title) and sports some lively adlibbing in the middle section. The somber “Água e Vinho” (Water and Wine), after which this album is named, exhales without emotional compromise. Other highlights include “Parque Lage,” deepened by the bass recorder, “Lorô,” dancing with avian energy, and the omnipresent “Karatê.” The latter was actually what brought the duo together in the first place when de Vries introduced Waterman to Gismonti’s music via Alma. They even concluded their first concert in July of 1995 with the piece.

“Jorge do Fusa,” by the deeply venerated guitarist and composer Anibal Augusto Sardinha (a.k.a. “Garôto,” or “The Kid”), cleanses the proverbial palate as a prelude to four Catalan folksongs arranged by the duo. Of these, “La Nit de Nadal” (Christmas Night) is achingly nostalgic, while “El Noi de la Mare” (The Son of Mary) warms the heart. Two ricercars by Spanish Renaissance composer Diego Ortiz are just as lovely, along with of de Vries’s own, round out the scene. Where “Chorinho Toccatina” is a solo guitar piece inspired by a trip to Bali evoking forests and wildlife, “May” looks at it titular month from the southern hemisphere’s perspective, on the cusp of winter’s gaze. Let this be our hibernation.

Quaternaglia: Forrobodó (CARMO/13)



Eduardo Fleury guitar
Fabio Ramazzina guitar
Sidney Molina guitar
Paulo Porto Alegre guitar
Breno Chaves guitar (on “Baião de Gude,” “Lun-Duos,” “Uarekena,” “Quartetinho,” and “Forró”)
Egberto Gismonti synthesizer (on “Um Anjo”)
Recorded September 1998 (“Uarekena,” “Lun-Duos,” “Baião de Gude,” “Quartetinho,” and “Forró”) and December 1999 (“Forrobodó,” “Karatê,” “Escovado,” “Batuque,” “Furiosa,” and “Um Anjo”) at Estúdio Tom Brasil, São Paulo
Sound engineer: Alberto Ranellucci
Produced by CARMO & Dulce Bressane
Release date: November 13, 2000

Following a self-titled 1995 debut and 1996’s Antique (both released on other labels), the Quaternaglia Guitar Quartet intersected with Egberto Gismonti’s CARMO imprint for its third album. With a studied yet organic body language, this São Paulo-based ensemble guides us through its account of four distinct yet complementary composers, each of whom the QGC has worked with closely toward building a defining repertoire. Despite having undergone more than a few changes of roster since its inception in 1992, in this present iteration we have Eduardo Fleury, Fabio Ramazzina, Sidney Molina, and Paulo Porto Alegre. The guitarist whom Alegre replaced, Breno Chaves, joins as special guest on five pieces, adding a fifth layer of virtuosity.

Brazilian guitarist and composer Paulo Bellinati is represented by three pieces. Of these, “Baião de Gude” is one of his best known and, in this interpretation, moves with a filmic quality. I imagine someone on a frantic search for something, only to realize they’ve been in a dream all along once they find it. Before that, the session opens with “Furiosa (Maxixe).” This pleasing mélange of microtonal harmonies sports a robust sense of progression and muted rhythms. The latter impulses cross over into “Lun-Duos,” through which Chaves circulates with increasing fervor, spanning the gamut from shout to whisper and back again.

The pivot comes in “Uarekena.” Written by Sérgio Assad (of Duo Assad fame), it’s a weave of pulsing harmonics and dissonant chords around inviting linear melodies.

“Quartetinho” begins a traversal of works by Egberto Gismonti, whose writing is well-suited to the format of the quartet, who capture his litheness with gusto. Among the perennial classics of his oeuvre to make an appearance are the album’s title piece, which manages to scintillate while still making room for Gismonti’s inchoate shadows in a passage of astonishing detail, and “Um Anjo,” which features the composer on synthesizer. Chaves joins the quartet again for “Forró,” taking on some of Gismonti’s more cynical textures and chord voicings. But it’s in “Karatê” where the quartet’s virtuosity shines for handling such a constantly shifting composition with fluidity. It feels reborn here, played to the strengths of its dissonances.

The program ends with a twofer by Ernesto Nazareth, arranged by Gismonti and adapted by Alegre. Between the familial “Escovado” and the welcoming “Batuque,” a deep and joyous farewell is given in full knowledge that this isn’t goodbye.

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


Ernesto Snajer
Palle Windfeldt

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)

Antonio Cover

Delia Fischer

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)


Egberto Gismonti

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.