Black Rio 2, Brazil Soul Power 1968-1981
by Various Artists
LABEL: Strut

One of those blissfully evanescent, half-forgotten subgenres that were well due for reappraisal by the 2000s, samba soul is inextricably tied to an era—black power—and the tropical, languid environs of Brazil. The percolating tribal groove that James Brown first acquainted himself with on “Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag” in 1965 and fully acclimated to on “Cold Sweat” two years later had reached critical mass on the cusp of the post-colonial 70s, when African musicians throughout the global diaspora were beginning to find a common identity in the minimalist syncopation of what a few had already deigned to call funk. (In Jamaica, an ethnomusicologically distinct variant called reggae gained popularity; the production values and basic chord changes were slightly different, but the undergirding “riddims” were basically analogous to whatever Clyde Stubblefield was doing in the States at the time. Needless to say, hip-hop would reunite these estranged forces Vulcan/Romulan style in a matter of years.) From the cotemporaneous recordings of The Meters in New Orleans to Fela Kuti’s Nigerian polemics to Catch a Fire, a pan-African consciousness was emerging, a sentiment that Brazilians of African descent were—contrary to the previously disseminated evidence and the oppressive Medici regime—very much attuned to. And this is their story.

“Nevertheless, the Black Rio series seems to be poised for several more successful volumes. Try this, buy this—and don’t forget to dig it.”

Compiled by London-based Brazilian music expert DJ Cliffy, Vol. 2 is the type of anthology that will appeal to famished novices while sating the needs of veterans and collectors. By far, the standout track is “Supermarket” (Pete Dunaway), an American-style funk opus—seasoned, naturally, with mellifluous Afro-Brazilian flute embellishments—that could have been “Soul Makossa” for the suburban stoner set in that tantalizing alternate universe where Yes and ELP never existed. Guimaraes’ “Our Sound” features a dub-like percussion track that underscores the pan-Africanism that is suffused throughout this set; it could also work well on a Wes Anderson soundtrack. While Watusi’s marimba-laden “Oio Gere” leans to the poppier side of things (try to envision Mulatu Astatke selling out), the highlife horns compensate for the glaring deficiencies. Meanwhile, Som Nosso’s four-on-the-floor “Pra Swingar” would have fit well beside Ecstasy, Passion, and Pain’s “Ask Me” or the latest Philly hits on one of the New York underground’s progressive dance floors—and seeing as my copy of Vince Aletti’s Disco Files isn’t handy right now, it probably did. The only throwaway here is Andre Mauro’s “Balenca Bole Bole”, a molding, anachronistic piece of spy movie cheese just short of What’s Up, Tiger Lilly? histrionics. Avoid at all costs.

With so much quality groove music being reissued these days, it’s hard to single out one compilation for the neophyte. Nevertheless, the Black Rio series seems to be poised for several more successful volumes. Try this, buy this—and don’t forget to dig it.


REVIEWED BY SEAN MURPHY
SEAN'S 3 FAVORITE TRACKS: “Pra Swingar” • “Supermarket” • “Deixa Nao Deixa”
Read more by Sean Murphy on his blog, Brooklyn Music


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