June 24, 1999
About a month ago, I had the exquisite pleasure of seeing Brazilian dadaist par excellence Tom Ze backed by Tortoise at The Middle East. Predictably gorgeous, hilarious and impressive by turns, the most surprising pleasure of the evening was his opening act. Vinicius Cantuaria is a gentle, unassuming performer whose quietly sensuous delivery masks the heart of a musical revolutionary. I was sufficiently moved to pick up his new album, and it does not disappoint.
Having played as a drummer in the bossa nova movement of the late 60's and as a guitarist in the 70's for Caetano Veloso (roughly Brazil's answer to Bob Dylan), Cantuaria is well-schooled in the sultry fundamentals of perfect Brazilian pop. While his solo work appears to be straight lovely Brazilian bossa nova on the surface, there's some fascinating integration of minimalist electronic texture and unpredictable horns below.
This is a subtly impressive album, the record Sam Prekop, The Sea and Cake and the rest of the Chicago underground have been trying to make with varying success. New York avant-guard elites like Laurie Anderson, Arto Lindsay and Sean Lennon (don't ask me) contribute their talents and hipster credibility to the album, but be assured they don't get in the way.
This is Cantuaria's show. His achingly gentle guitar lines, erotic singing and passionate Portuguese lyrics set a tropical trance, which you are jolted out of by unsettling undercurrents of percussion and atonal string sections. No schmaltzy bossa nova Muzak or pandering "Girl From Ipanema" tributes here. Cantuaria is making bossa nova that will make your girlfriend drop her underpants as effectively as it makes your intellect shimmy - this is graceful, deceptively challenging stuff.
- Jared O'Connor
sultry Brazilian
avant-pop