The independent film Máncora from Peru is poignant but in a way also light. It's linear, yet full of twists and turns, and it ultimately delivers a sharp message.
Máncora beings in Lima with an upper-class twentysomething named Santi in the thralls of a "fuck it all" period. He's disenchanted, aggressive, and withdrawn. Then, a shattering event: his father has committed suicide. Unable to come to terms with his own behavior and clearly feeling the guilt of his father's death, Santi leaves for the beaches of Máncora, a day's drive from the city, with his half-sister Ximena and her husband Íñigo.
While Santi begins to center himself in the tabula rasa state of Máncora, he cannot shake his aggressive streak. An altercation at a dance seems like a typical bar fight until several days later, when his adversaries ambush him on the docks and push him overboard, leaving him for dead. As his life flashes before his eyes, Santi finally decides to transform into a nurturing, warm person and surges up to the surface to begin his productive life.
Máncora engages the viewer in a way not unlike The Motorcycle Diaries. The peripheral visions of the city, the countryside, and the people from all walks of life in Perú lend it a certain journey motif. Here, however, the central plot driver is Santi coming to terms with his flaws and his purpose in life, so the literal journey is secondary.
Máncora is not just a character development piece. It's also a saga of adventure, sibling rivalry, fun, and passion. The characters are both beautiful and flawed. With a cast featuring Enrique Murciano from Without A Trace, Elsa Pataky, and Jason Day (not bad for an Indie film) you'd expect nothing less.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Kaleidoscopio - Self Titled
Kaleidoscopio is a very promising collaboration between DJ/producer Ramilson Maia and singer, composer, and ballerina Janaíana Lima. Their debut album is a wild scattering of creativity that, although it lacks consistent quality, produces enough gems to make it worthwhile.
The album's first hit, especially in Europe, was "Voce me Apareceu," probably the most clever song on the album in terms of Lima's songwriting. Then came the incredibly catchy "Tem Que Valer." Here the collaboration really flourishes, Maia styling the song exquisitely to bring out the joy in Lima's melody. Her pizzazz, which is on display in abundance in the video (link below) is truly striking.
My next favorite tracks from Kaleidoscopio are "Paro Pra Pensar" and "Meu Sonho," a bright dance-pop nod to the US R&B movement from the early 1990's. The scat singing in "Meu Sonho" is hypnotic, one of those perfect moments from a song that you wish would go on and on.
The biggest indicator of Kaleidoscopio's creative power is their remixes, where the songs take new life and hop from one genre to another. This requires Lima to actually record the vocals separately for each version, with different speed and stylings. The languid bossa version of "Tem Que Valer" stands right up to the musical complexity of the bossa tradition. Again, it's not just a case of an outside DJ speeding up the vocals and adding some beats; it's a creative and thoughtful approach to give one song multiple identities.
Youtube link: Kaleidoscopio - Tem Que Valer (audio quality not great for some reason)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElXSSajwXD0&feature=related
The album's first hit, especially in Europe, was "Voce me Apareceu," probably the most clever song on the album in terms of Lima's songwriting. Then came the incredibly catchy "Tem Que Valer." Here the collaboration really flourishes, Maia styling the song exquisitely to bring out the joy in Lima's melody. Her pizzazz, which is on display in abundance in the video (link below) is truly striking.
My next favorite tracks from Kaleidoscopio are "Paro Pra Pensar" and "Meu Sonho," a bright dance-pop nod to the US R&B movement from the early 1990's. The scat singing in "Meu Sonho" is hypnotic, one of those perfect moments from a song that you wish would go on and on.
The biggest indicator of Kaleidoscopio's creative power is their remixes, where the songs take new life and hop from one genre to another. This requires Lima to actually record the vocals separately for each version, with different speed and stylings. The languid bossa version of "Tem Que Valer" stands right up to the musical complexity of the bossa tradition. Again, it's not just a case of an outside DJ speeding up the vocals and adding some beats; it's a creative and thoughtful approach to give one song multiple identities.
Youtube link: Kaleidoscopio - Tem Que Valer (audio quality not great for some reason)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElXSSajwXD0&feature=related
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Soldados de Salamina by Javier Cercas
The standout Spanish novel of the early 2000’s, Soldados de Salamina made fledgling journalist Javier Cercas a mega hit, selling over 1 million copies, a staggering tally for Spain. Soldados is billed as the Civil War-era "relato real" (true story) of Rafael Sanchez Mazas, a founding member of the nationalist Falange, who was set to be executed among other political prisoners by Republican troops fleeing the fall of Barcelona. Sanchez Mazas not only survives the firing squad, but, in the ensuing search for him, is the benefactor of an unbelievable act of decency in the most unlikely setting: an anonymous opposition soldier finds him and lets him go.
In reality, the book is only partially about Sanchez Mazas, as the tale is sandwiched between the author's search for documents and living witnesses to complete the story, on one hand, and his reluctance to come to terms with the facts once they are all present, on the other. The approach has its positives and negatives. The good is that it forces one to admire Cercas's persistence at putting the pieces together through vague memoirs and interviews with very elderly participants. Particularly impressive is the detective work to locate one of the Republican soldiers holding Sanchez Mazas captive, Antoni Miralles.
However, the introduction is a prime example of Cercas's style getting the best of his purpose, as what should be a brief rationale for writing the book becomes a 70-page catalogue of Cercas's problems with his girlfriend, his self-doubt as an author, and what he ordered to drink everytime he interviewed someone for this book. Am I interested? Probably not - and I wish Cercas would curb some of his elongated, elaborately punctuated sentences (a la Jonathan Swift) into more direct phrases.
Still, Cercas does well to find the drama in the story, and the vignettes are touching: Maria Angelats's lifetime correspondence with Sanchez Mazas even though the two never saw each other after a brief encounter in the forest; Miralles's moonlight two-step as he tries to recover, even 40 years later, from so much needless bloodshed.
For me, the story's most moving aspect - illuminated by both Cercas and Miralles - is that the dead live on in the memories of others, until everyone who remembers them also passes. Thus, the elderly shoulder the ever-increasing burden of the memories of their fallen comrades generations before. Many critics have treated the book as a search for heroism (an ironic juxtaposition since Sanchez Mazas is such a coward) but in a country where historical memory is so important, the concept of true death must have resonated as much if not more than the compassion and awareness with which various benefactors acted to save Sanchez Mazas's life.
Soldados de Salamina is published in Spain by Truquets. There is an English translation available in the US.
In reality, the book is only partially about Sanchez Mazas, as the tale is sandwiched between the author's search for documents and living witnesses to complete the story, on one hand, and his reluctance to come to terms with the facts once they are all present, on the other. The approach has its positives and negatives. The good is that it forces one to admire Cercas's persistence at putting the pieces together through vague memoirs and interviews with very elderly participants. Particularly impressive is the detective work to locate one of the Republican soldiers holding Sanchez Mazas captive, Antoni Miralles.
However, the introduction is a prime example of Cercas's style getting the best of his purpose, as what should be a brief rationale for writing the book becomes a 70-page catalogue of Cercas's problems with his girlfriend, his self-doubt as an author, and what he ordered to drink everytime he interviewed someone for this book. Am I interested? Probably not - and I wish Cercas would curb some of his elongated, elaborately punctuated sentences (a la Jonathan Swift) into more direct phrases.
Still, Cercas does well to find the drama in the story, and the vignettes are touching: Maria Angelats's lifetime correspondence with Sanchez Mazas even though the two never saw each other after a brief encounter in the forest; Miralles's moonlight two-step as he tries to recover, even 40 years later, from so much needless bloodshed.
For me, the story's most moving aspect - illuminated by both Cercas and Miralles - is that the dead live on in the memories of others, until everyone who remembers them also passes. Thus, the elderly shoulder the ever-increasing burden of the memories of their fallen comrades generations before. Many critics have treated the book as a search for heroism (an ironic juxtaposition since Sanchez Mazas is such a coward) but in a country where historical memory is so important, the concept of true death must have resonated as much if not more than the compassion and awareness with which various benefactors acted to save Sanchez Mazas's life.
Soldados de Salamina is published in Spain by Truquets. There is an English translation available in the US.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Belanova - Dulce Beat
Belanova, a synth-pop band from Mexico, is to Natalia LaFourcade as the Postal Service is to Death Cab For Cutie - a more electronic, melody-driven offspring of its parent. Well, not exactly. Actually, I was surprised to find out that the Belanova singer is not LaFourcade; it is a 20-something from Sinaloa named Denisse Guerrero who dabbles in fashion design and culinary arts. The Mexican hipster culture seems to be producing spades of gorgeous and multi-talented female singers. Yet another is Ximena Sariñana, who may be the most talented of the bunch.
Dulce Beat is Belanova's Grammy-winning second album. The songs that got the most airplay in Mexico are "Mi Niño" and "Por Ti" but my favorite is "Tal Vez." I happen to like the sound even though I admit there's not much to it. The whole album covers mostly the same territory - strong vocal hooks with a beat that sort of lulls the music on. The bass, guitar, and drums are there but they exist mostly in the background. Still, at the least the quality is consistent and there's enough of Guerrero to keep the listener interested.
The comparison between LaFourcade and Guerrero comes and goes. Much of Belanova plays well besides LaFourcade's "Otra Vez" - I hear a lot of overlap in the way the two singers reach for the high notes - but to me Guerrero thrives in the "Fantasia Pop" setting (also the title of the group's next album) where LaFourcade shines most in bossa nova.
Youtube Link:
Belanova - Tal Vez: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCK1RkC8-ZA
Dulce Beat is Belanova's Grammy-winning second album. The songs that got the most airplay in Mexico are "Mi Niño" and "Por Ti" but my favorite is "Tal Vez." I happen to like the sound even though I admit there's not much to it. The whole album covers mostly the same territory - strong vocal hooks with a beat that sort of lulls the music on. The bass, guitar, and drums are there but they exist mostly in the background. Still, at the least the quality is consistent and there's enough of Guerrero to keep the listener interested.
The comparison between LaFourcade and Guerrero comes and goes. Much of Belanova plays well besides LaFourcade's "Otra Vez" - I hear a lot of overlap in the way the two singers reach for the high notes - but to me Guerrero thrives in the "Fantasia Pop" setting (also the title of the group's next album) where LaFourcade shines most in bossa nova.
Youtube Link:
Belanova - Tal Vez: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCK1RkC8-ZA
Marcos Ordoñez - Detrás del Hielo
If you're loooking for a Spanish author who can really write, look no further than Marcos Ordoñez, Spain's foremost theater critic (with the Madrid-based El País) and also a novelist. Ordoñez keeps the pulse of Spain's entertainment culture, drawing from a knowledge base forged from a lifetime of media consumption. To talk music, film, literature, or whatever, with Marcos is to be in the presence of a natural guru.
Ordoñez's latest fiction work, Detrás del Hielo, is a critique of political power that challenges common notions of love and loyalty and blurs the line between right and wrong itself. The story tracks young Klara's coming of age as she falls in love with two best friends amidst ever-deepening political turmoil in the made-up country of Moira. There's Oskar, a well-to-do photographer whose family struggles to keep a tenuous grip on aristocracy; and Jan, a cinema critic whose political leanings make him a marked man. Oskar is Klara's first boyfriend, but a fling with Jan has more sparkle even though Klara knows it's not exclusive. At times, they maintain a three-way relationship that, despite all the stress it entails, also seems to represent the pinnacle of their respective friendships.
The declining political situation mirrors the complexity of the three-way relationship. The unpopular but reasonable liberal president is replaced by a political machine that quickly curtails civil liberties and freedom of the press. (Moira looks a lot like Perón's Argentina.) Jan, a member of an opposition paramilitary group, is forced to go on the run. No one can contact him for some time, but late in the novel, the three are reunited once more in the cafe where they first met. It is a poignant scene as Jan's attitude foreshadows his disappearance soon thereafter. Klara must wrestle with the guilt of putting him in danger by insisting on their final meeting.
The intentions of the book were really not clear to me until the very end. I was waiting for the inevitable confrontation between Jan and Oskar over Clara, but it never came. While I assumed Ordoñez was building up slowly to the climax like in Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, he was really proposing a different paradigm of love and attraction. On the surface of it, the three-way seems wrong, but with these characters, how could it have been any other way?
It is a strange story, to be fair, but the quality of Ordoñez's writing is what really sets it apart. His powers of description and his ability to make you truly understand the characters are amazing.
The book was all the more intriguing for me since I know Marcos personally. I remember him saying he chose Moira to save himself the meticulous research a real setting would require. Still, I have questions. Jan reminds me of Tuvia Bielski, who led the Polish militants that protected 1200 Jewish civilians during the Holocaust. Could this be a reference too obscure even for Marcos? I'd be a fool to assume so, especially since I know how much Marcos admires Jews. Probably the biggest question is which character the author identifies most with: Jan, the cinema aficionado, or Oskar, the more mild-mannered of the two but also the more acculturated?
Detrás del Hielo is published by Zeta Bolsillo in Spain and is probably available on half.com or ebay.es.
Ordoñez's latest fiction work, Detrás del Hielo, is a critique of political power that challenges common notions of love and loyalty and blurs the line between right and wrong itself. The story tracks young Klara's coming of age as she falls in love with two best friends amidst ever-deepening political turmoil in the made-up country of Moira. There's Oskar, a well-to-do photographer whose family struggles to keep a tenuous grip on aristocracy; and Jan, a cinema critic whose political leanings make him a marked man. Oskar is Klara's first boyfriend, but a fling with Jan has more sparkle even though Klara knows it's not exclusive. At times, they maintain a three-way relationship that, despite all the stress it entails, also seems to represent the pinnacle of their respective friendships.
The declining political situation mirrors the complexity of the three-way relationship. The unpopular but reasonable liberal president is replaced by a political machine that quickly curtails civil liberties and freedom of the press. (Moira looks a lot like Perón's Argentina.) Jan, a member of an opposition paramilitary group, is forced to go on the run. No one can contact him for some time, but late in the novel, the three are reunited once more in the cafe where they first met. It is a poignant scene as Jan's attitude foreshadows his disappearance soon thereafter. Klara must wrestle with the guilt of putting him in danger by insisting on their final meeting.
The intentions of the book were really not clear to me until the very end. I was waiting for the inevitable confrontation between Jan and Oskar over Clara, but it never came. While I assumed Ordoñez was building up slowly to the climax like in Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, he was really proposing a different paradigm of love and attraction. On the surface of it, the three-way seems wrong, but with these characters, how could it have been any other way?
It is a strange story, to be fair, but the quality of Ordoñez's writing is what really sets it apart. His powers of description and his ability to make you truly understand the characters are amazing.
The book was all the more intriguing for me since I know Marcos personally. I remember him saying he chose Moira to save himself the meticulous research a real setting would require. Still, I have questions. Jan reminds me of Tuvia Bielski, who led the Polish militants that protected 1200 Jewish civilians during the Holocaust. Could this be a reference too obscure even for Marcos? I'd be a fool to assume so, especially since I know how much Marcos admires Jews. Probably the biggest question is which character the author identifies most with: Jan, the cinema aficionado, or Oskar, the more mild-mannered of the two but also the more acculturated?
Detrás del Hielo is published by Zeta Bolsillo in Spain and is probably available on half.com or ebay.es.
Monday, March 23, 2009
David Julca - Como Se Extraña
David Julca first came onto my radar in a live performance with his first band, the New Republic, in a dingy English pub in Panama City in 2006. What grabbed my attention in the live setting, even more so than on the band's studio recordings, was his jaw-dropping voice - sheer power and grace on par with Brandon Boyd of Incubus. Hearing how he slid up and rested on an impossibly high note the way a jogger cuts through the clear spring air, I could tell he didn't need the benefit of studio magic like so many big name singers.
Now Julca, a Peruvian who grew up in Panama and is now based in Colombus, Ohio, has a self-produced solo album, an easygoing rock affair with shades of jazz and pop. The songs unfold lazily behind tight melodies and mazy guitar solos. There are occasional feats of strength from Julca's pipes, but I can see why the vocal pyrotechnics do not run rampant: there's no point in belting just for the sake of belting.
Como Se Extraña is clearly a product of Julca's life and experiences. The title track and "Meet Me In Panama" are autobiographical songs about a kid forging an identity in three different home countries. "Si Te Vas" and "Complicado" - probably my favorite cut on the album so far - are tasteful reductions on relationships and breakups. Julca's songwriting does seem a bit more inventive in Spanish than in English, though "Meet Me In Panama" has a cracking opener: "I don't really know if anyone has written a song for you."
The New Republic album is also worth a listen, but it was clear to me that the band’s musical identity was still up in the air. Highlights include "In My Life," "Everything If Anything," and the politically tinged "Action," where a tribute to Panamanian singer Ruben Blades shows the band’s musical conscience.
The easiest part of Julca's style to appreciate remains his singing. It's just so pure, so effortless - the kind of skill that, as with height in basketball, you just can't teach.
Youtube Link: "In My Life" music video from the New Republic, with David Julca singing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7qhqKtF3qw&feature=PlayList&p=C41A281375848945&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=40
Now Julca, a Peruvian who grew up in Panama and is now based in Colombus, Ohio, has a self-produced solo album, an easygoing rock affair with shades of jazz and pop. The songs unfold lazily behind tight melodies and mazy guitar solos. There are occasional feats of strength from Julca's pipes, but I can see why the vocal pyrotechnics do not run rampant: there's no point in belting just for the sake of belting.
Como Se Extraña is clearly a product of Julca's life and experiences. The title track and "Meet Me In Panama" are autobiographical songs about a kid forging an identity in three different home countries. "Si Te Vas" and "Complicado" - probably my favorite cut on the album so far - are tasteful reductions on relationships and breakups. Julca's songwriting does seem a bit more inventive in Spanish than in English, though "Meet Me In Panama" has a cracking opener: "I don't really know if anyone has written a song for you."
The New Republic album is also worth a listen, but it was clear to me that the band’s musical identity was still up in the air. Highlights include "In My Life," "Everything If Anything," and the politically tinged "Action," where a tribute to Panamanian singer Ruben Blades shows the band’s musical conscience.
The easiest part of Julca's style to appreciate remains his singing. It's just so pure, so effortless - the kind of skill that, as with height in basketball, you just can't teach.
Youtube Link: "In My Life" music video from the New Republic, with David Julca singing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7qhqKtF3qw&feature=PlayList&p=C41A281375848945&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=40
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Ninette y un Señor de Murcia
"Ninette" is a classic Spanish movie by Goya-winning director Fernando Fernán Gómez (for 1986's "Viaje a Ninguna Parte"). It is a timeless story with commendable acting and humor at every turn. It was also one of the first films for legendary actor Alfredo Landa, who, along with several other cast members, was in the original theater version which debuted in Madrid in 1964, a year before the film.
Ninette has two themes: a ridiculous love and the simply ridiculous. A nondescript man from Murcia (Andres), bored with his desk job, goes to Paris to make the most of his fleeting youth. He takes a room in a boarding house run by a Spanish expatriate couple (Pierre and Bernarda). Wanting to immediately embrace the Paris night scene but unable to convince his friend (Armando; Alfredo Landa) to join him, he stays in the boarding house his first night and is seduced by the owners' young daughter, the attractive Ninette.
The result is a non-quite-wholehearted tryst of comedic proportions. Ninette is controlling, manipulative, and whimsical. "Remember, I am French!" she often explains. The docile Andres does not seem to care for her on more than a physical level but he allows her to dictate his every move. She does not want him to leave the apartment so he invents various illnesses and injuries to the point where the landlords question his sexuality and Armando becomes totally exasperated.
This movie must have made even Franco laugh. Andres remains in Paris for two months and never leaves the apartment. Ninette's father Pierre, a caricature of the Spanish pastoral macho intellectual, becomes his antagonist. In one sensational sequence, Pierre plays the bagpipes and then grills Andres and Armando on the meaning of socialism. "¿Cómo que no hay un problema agrario? Vamos a discutirlo...despacio." (What do you mean, there's no agrarian problem? We are going to discuss this...slowly.)
The fun ends when Ninette announces to Andrés - and then to her parents - that she is pregant and that they are going to get married. After negating to impose his will for so long, Andres has reached the point of no return. But then, it is difficult to pity him since he is responsible for his own demise.
I found out about this movie through a friend who was in a class taught by Alfredo Landa's biographer, Marcos Ordóñez. If you can get your hands on this film you're in for a wild ride.
Ninette has two themes: a ridiculous love and the simply ridiculous. A nondescript man from Murcia (Andres), bored with his desk job, goes to Paris to make the most of his fleeting youth. He takes a room in a boarding house run by a Spanish expatriate couple (Pierre and Bernarda). Wanting to immediately embrace the Paris night scene but unable to convince his friend (Armando; Alfredo Landa) to join him, he stays in the boarding house his first night and is seduced by the owners' young daughter, the attractive Ninette.
The result is a non-quite-wholehearted tryst of comedic proportions. Ninette is controlling, manipulative, and whimsical. "Remember, I am French!" she often explains. The docile Andres does not seem to care for her on more than a physical level but he allows her to dictate his every move. She does not want him to leave the apartment so he invents various illnesses and injuries to the point where the landlords question his sexuality and Armando becomes totally exasperated.
This movie must have made even Franco laugh. Andres remains in Paris for two months and never leaves the apartment. Ninette's father Pierre, a caricature of the Spanish pastoral macho intellectual, becomes his antagonist. In one sensational sequence, Pierre plays the bagpipes and then grills Andres and Armando on the meaning of socialism. "¿Cómo que no hay un problema agrario? Vamos a discutirlo...despacio." (What do you mean, there's no agrarian problem? We are going to discuss this...slowly.)
The fun ends when Ninette announces to Andrés - and then to her parents - that she is pregant and that they are going to get married. After negating to impose his will for so long, Andres has reached the point of no return. But then, it is difficult to pity him since he is responsible for his own demise.
I found out about this movie through a friend who was in a class taught by Alfredo Landa's biographer, Marcos Ordóñez. If you can get your hands on this film you're in for a wild ride.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Capitan Melao - Self Titled
When praise first began to surface for Capitan Melao, it was difficult to find out anything at all about the artist. He seemed to have no distribution, no live performances, and really no promotional vehicle whatsoever. It turns out this is a side project of Stereophonics drummer Javier Weyler, recorded on the road in England and Wales. Weyler did a few gigs by himself but never actively pushed the CD and, since he sings in Spanish but has no real base in his native Argentina, there was no market immediately looking to embrace him.
Its a shame because this album has the kind of sparkle and visionary songwriting that might win a Grammy with the right backing - it is that good. Weyler deserves the ears of anyone who can hear him.
Each song on the album is like a dream, replete with colors and vivid imagery. The melodies unfold slowly and sort of wrap around you like a cocoon, the way your mind drifts to daydreams as you look out the window of a moving car. Most of Weyler's lyrics tell of a fractured love, but the songs are relaxed enough to allow the listener to attach his or her own meaning.
"Estelar" is the song that introduced me to this album and it was probably my favorite song of 2007. Weyler provides a lounge-style groove, while the excellent Natalia LaFourcade overlays the vocals. "A Piel," a song about lust and urges, has a similar feel. "Te Amanezco" is a bit darker, with a very satisfying guitar line starting in the chorus that carries through to the end.
I feel like I listened to music for too long without finding Javier Weyler. I am drawn to his songwriting, his poetic austerity that refines the music to only what's absolutely necessary. There are no guitar lines or breakdowns for their own sake; every action is full of intent. That leaves a listener occasionally wanting for more, but I wouldn't mind if Weyler picks up one day right where he left off.
Youtube link: Capitan Melao with Natalia LaFourcade - Estelar (music video)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmxvJDhSaek
Its a shame because this album has the kind of sparkle and visionary songwriting that might win a Grammy with the right backing - it is that good. Weyler deserves the ears of anyone who can hear him.
Each song on the album is like a dream, replete with colors and vivid imagery. The melodies unfold slowly and sort of wrap around you like a cocoon, the way your mind drifts to daydreams as you look out the window of a moving car. Most of Weyler's lyrics tell of a fractured love, but the songs are relaxed enough to allow the listener to attach his or her own meaning.
"Estelar" is the song that introduced me to this album and it was probably my favorite song of 2007. Weyler provides a lounge-style groove, while the excellent Natalia LaFourcade overlays the vocals. "A Piel," a song about lust and urges, has a similar feel. "Te Amanezco" is a bit darker, with a very satisfying guitar line starting in the chorus that carries through to the end.
I feel like I listened to music for too long without finding Javier Weyler. I am drawn to his songwriting, his poetic austerity that refines the music to only what's absolutely necessary. There are no guitar lines or breakdowns for their own sake; every action is full of intent. That leaves a listener occasionally wanting for more, but I wouldn't mind if Weyler picks up one day right where he left off.
Youtube link: Capitan Melao with Natalia LaFourcade - Estelar (music video)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmxvJDhSaek
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Natalia LaFourcade - Casa
Natalia LaFourcade is probably the most original female vocalist from Latin America since Zelia Duncan (Brazil, early 1990's). Her style conjures perhaps a Mexican Regina Spektor. She was just 21 years old when Casa was released, yet her songwriting pays homage to a wide body of influences and proves her capable of carrying the base even further. It's like Miles Davis said in his autobiography: in order for a player to advance an art form, he or she must first master all the works that have come before. LaFourcade, like Davis, Coltrane, or Picasso, doesn't need any shortcuts.
One needs only to listen to Casa's title track to fully appreciate all that LaFourcade brings to the table. It begins as bright, acoustic bossa nova, then absorbs a heavier bassline and rhythm guitar as LaFourcade practically screams the final chorus. Her voice is omnipresent. She has the warm tone of Joao Gilberto at his campfire best, with a power and stupefying range that truly set it apart.
The genius of LaFourcade's songwriting is that it can frighten you, calm your nerves, make you smile, and pump you up, and sometimes all at the same time. "El Amor Es Rosa" and "Cuarto Encima" have the rock fury of an American band like Paramore, but "Gusano" and "Saul" would fit in the playlist of a hip lounge in Lomas de Chapultepec early on a Thursday night. Deserving special mention is "El Pato," a brilliant remake of the Brazilian classic that is as brief as it is brilliant.
I still believe that LaFourcade's best will come when she releases an album that plays exclusively to her jazz sensibilities, but until then I'll continue to hail her tremendous talent.
Youtube link:
Music video for "El Pato" - borrows look from El Temporada de Patos, a 2004 Mexican film.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPvoRt-_8Ko
One needs only to listen to Casa's title track to fully appreciate all that LaFourcade brings to the table. It begins as bright, acoustic bossa nova, then absorbs a heavier bassline and rhythm guitar as LaFourcade practically screams the final chorus. Her voice is omnipresent. She has the warm tone of Joao Gilberto at his campfire best, with a power and stupefying range that truly set it apart.
The genius of LaFourcade's songwriting is that it can frighten you, calm your nerves, make you smile, and pump you up, and sometimes all at the same time. "El Amor Es Rosa" and "Cuarto Encima" have the rock fury of an American band like Paramore, but "Gusano" and "Saul" would fit in the playlist of a hip lounge in Lomas de Chapultepec early on a Thursday night. Deserving special mention is "El Pato," a brilliant remake of the Brazilian classic that is as brief as it is brilliant.
I still believe that LaFourcade's best will come when she releases an album that plays exclusively to her jazz sensibilities, but until then I'll continue to hail her tremendous talent.
Youtube link:
Music video for "El Pato" - borrows look from El Temporada de Patos, a 2004 Mexican film.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPvoRt-_8Ko
Friday, February 20, 2009
El Cant Dels Ocells
I am trying to stick to favorable critiques in this blog, but I must write about the bizarre experience I had with this film even though I am NOT recommending it. I do actually want to review the movie first and then I'll get to the weird part.
A screening of an independent film from an up-and-coming Catalan director (Albert Serra), followed by a Q&A with the director himself, was too much to resist even though warning signs crept into the back of my mind when I saw the invitation. As the screening began, it all hit me: I have seen Albert Serra's first movie, Honor de Cavalleria - two summers ago, at the LA Film Festival - and it was one of the worst movies I have ever seen. Sparse would be an understatement. Barely anything happened at all from beginning to end. It was supposed to be an artistic remake of Don Quixote de la Mancha, but instead it was a series of meaningless vignettes about an old man in his garden. He wakes up, he walks around, he eats an apple, and then he goes to sleep. Rinse and repeat. The theater emptied out at about the halfway point, including the group of Catalans I came with. In retrospect, the idea of a bare-bones, existentialist film that defies all convention and does not string viewers along like they themselves expect - indeed, dares them to give up - is an interesting experiment. But it was not easy to enjoy in the moment.
El Cant Dels Ocells opens, and it's Serra exactly as I remember him, right down to the same actors from his previous film. Three men mope around a forest, doing such exciting activities as dawdling, sleeping, and washing. As the movie painstakingly unfolds, it becomes clear that the three men, who wear hooded robes and crowns, are the biblical Three Wise Men - in Spanish, "los reyes," or "los magos." They do reach their destination and deliver their gifts to baby Jesus. All this takes place in only 85 sequences, 3 of which were long-distance night shots where the characters could neither be seen nor heard at all. As with Honor de Cavalleria, there is no soundtrack. The only accompanying sounds besides ambient noise are when Pau Casal's "El Cant del Ocells" plays - for a full 5 minutes, during which the characters do not move or speak - upon the magos reaching the foot of Mary and Joseph's home.
The movie was hard to stomach, and yet I do believe it was an improvement on Honor de Cavalleria for three reasons. First, the scenes were varied enough to engage the audience, particularly an underwater shot of the 3 magos tugging their sailboat to shore. Second, the dialogue, when there was any, was actually very funny - surely Honor de Cavalleria's greatest shortcoming given the characters who were involved. Here, the magos have an animated discussion about dreams and angels, and they constantly match wits as they try to foist responsibility for leading the group on one another. Third, the use of symbols was at once provocative and bizarre. The magos journey to Jesus but also talk about reaching the sun. Another girl in Mary's village cradles a lamb as if it were her child (though the original "Mary Had a Little Lamb" has no religious meaning).
If my experience with the movie doesn't seem so bizarre yet, it's because the punchine does not begin until Serra gets up to to talk about how El Cant Dels Ocells was filmed. "My sets have only three rules," he says: "never talk back to me, never look at me, and NEVER stop acting." He works with amateur actors and puts them in situations where they're forced to make human decisions on their own volition, even though they are ostensibly in character. For instance, for several scenes he sends the 3 magos a distance away and shouts nonsense instructions at them through a walkie-talkie. "Fetch the cinnamon! And the gasoline!" The gesticulations and disagreement are the actors themselves trying to figure out what's going on. Those long scenes when the magos approach, then turn back, then approach again? That's the actors trying to decide how to respond to Serra's intentionally confusing directions.
More examples of Serra's planned anarchy on set: The script, to the extent that there is one, does not distinguish between the three kings. It just says, "one king goes off, another king speaks," and the actors decide who does what. Another of his tricks is to prompt one actor to ask another a question, without warning the latter what's coming, so the response is pure invention.
And so it turns out that the exchanges between the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph were to terse because Joseph speaks in Hebrew and Mary in Catalan, and there is no mutual comprehension. The Hebrew itself fits the biblical motif but is really only an afterthought, a suggestion from the actor after shooting began with his character speaking English; real life Joseph is the son of a Canadian journalist who picked up Hebrew as a boy. He happened to be around as shooting began and Serra asked him if he'd like to be in a movie.
My conclusion here is mixed. Albert Serra is nuts, and I like that. Still, his movies are unbearable. Better to stay away and not get caught up in Serra's claim that both of his movies are infinitely better than the entire body of Spanish cinema for the last 30 years.
A screening of an independent film from an up-and-coming Catalan director (Albert Serra), followed by a Q&A with the director himself, was too much to resist even though warning signs crept into the back of my mind when I saw the invitation. As the screening began, it all hit me: I have seen Albert Serra's first movie, Honor de Cavalleria - two summers ago, at the LA Film Festival - and it was one of the worst movies I have ever seen. Sparse would be an understatement. Barely anything happened at all from beginning to end. It was supposed to be an artistic remake of Don Quixote de la Mancha, but instead it was a series of meaningless vignettes about an old man in his garden. He wakes up, he walks around, he eats an apple, and then he goes to sleep. Rinse and repeat. The theater emptied out at about the halfway point, including the group of Catalans I came with. In retrospect, the idea of a bare-bones, existentialist film that defies all convention and does not string viewers along like they themselves expect - indeed, dares them to give up - is an interesting experiment. But it was not easy to enjoy in the moment.
El Cant Dels Ocells opens, and it's Serra exactly as I remember him, right down to the same actors from his previous film. Three men mope around a forest, doing such exciting activities as dawdling, sleeping, and washing. As the movie painstakingly unfolds, it becomes clear that the three men, who wear hooded robes and crowns, are the biblical Three Wise Men - in Spanish, "los reyes," or "los magos." They do reach their destination and deliver their gifts to baby Jesus. All this takes place in only 85 sequences, 3 of which were long-distance night shots where the characters could neither be seen nor heard at all. As with Honor de Cavalleria, there is no soundtrack. The only accompanying sounds besides ambient noise are when Pau Casal's "El Cant del Ocells" plays - for a full 5 minutes, during which the characters do not move or speak - upon the magos reaching the foot of Mary and Joseph's home.
The movie was hard to stomach, and yet I do believe it was an improvement on Honor de Cavalleria for three reasons. First, the scenes were varied enough to engage the audience, particularly an underwater shot of the 3 magos tugging their sailboat to shore. Second, the dialogue, when there was any, was actually very funny - surely Honor de Cavalleria's greatest shortcoming given the characters who were involved. Here, the magos have an animated discussion about dreams and angels, and they constantly match wits as they try to foist responsibility for leading the group on one another. Third, the use of symbols was at once provocative and bizarre. The magos journey to Jesus but also talk about reaching the sun. Another girl in Mary's village cradles a lamb as if it were her child (though the original "Mary Had a Little Lamb" has no religious meaning).
If my experience with the movie doesn't seem so bizarre yet, it's because the punchine does not begin until Serra gets up to to talk about how El Cant Dels Ocells was filmed. "My sets have only three rules," he says: "never talk back to me, never look at me, and NEVER stop acting." He works with amateur actors and puts them in situations where they're forced to make human decisions on their own volition, even though they are ostensibly in character. For instance, for several scenes he sends the 3 magos a distance away and shouts nonsense instructions at them through a walkie-talkie. "Fetch the cinnamon! And the gasoline!" The gesticulations and disagreement are the actors themselves trying to figure out what's going on. Those long scenes when the magos approach, then turn back, then approach again? That's the actors trying to decide how to respond to Serra's intentionally confusing directions.
More examples of Serra's planned anarchy on set: The script, to the extent that there is one, does not distinguish between the three kings. It just says, "one king goes off, another king speaks," and the actors decide who does what. Another of his tricks is to prompt one actor to ask another a question, without warning the latter what's coming, so the response is pure invention.
And so it turns out that the exchanges between the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph were to terse because Joseph speaks in Hebrew and Mary in Catalan, and there is no mutual comprehension. The Hebrew itself fits the biblical motif but is really only an afterthought, a suggestion from the actor after shooting began with his character speaking English; real life Joseph is the son of a Canadian journalist who picked up Hebrew as a boy. He happened to be around as shooting began and Serra asked him if he'd like to be in a movie.
My conclusion here is mixed. Albert Serra is nuts, and I like that. Still, his movies are unbearable. Better to stay away and not get caught up in Serra's claim that both of his movies are infinitely better than the entire body of Spanish cinema for the last 30 years.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Paulinho Mosca - Tudo Novo De Novo
Surging forth from the fertile sands of Rio de Janeiro, Paulinho Moska is the quintessential Brazilian singer/songwriter for the 21st century. The "novo som" (new sound) that he introduces on Tudo Novo de Novo reflects on Brazil's bossa nova heritage while steering clear of the usually-cheesy MPB (música popular do Brasil). Tudo Novo de Novo is optimistic, rhythmic, infectious, and original.
Standout cuts on the album are "Lágrimas de Diamantes," "Pensando em Você," and the title track, with its cresting and deeply satisfying "ah's" following the first chorus. "Bilhete no Fim" probably has the strongest bossa nova backbeat but Moska excels in drawing on many influences without overpowering the listener or distracting from the direct message of his songs.
Jorge Drexler makes two appearances here: the first is a very warm collaboration with Moska on Drexler's song, "Dos Colores: Blanco y Negro." The second is an authorship credit for Moska's cover of "Idade do Ceu" (Spanish: Edad del Cielo; English: The Age of Heaven), where he takes a decent song from deep in Drexler's catalogue and gives it a gorgeous new identity.
Youtube links:
Moska performing "Idade do Ceu" with Zelia Duncan from Os Mutantes -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tlmfg81dHZY&feature=related
"Tudo Novo de Novo" from the DVD for this album's tour -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXwFZ_xeVHw
Standout cuts on the album are "Lágrimas de Diamantes," "Pensando em Você," and the title track, with its cresting and deeply satisfying "ah's" following the first chorus. "Bilhete no Fim" probably has the strongest bossa nova backbeat but Moska excels in drawing on many influences without overpowering the listener or distracting from the direct message of his songs.
Jorge Drexler makes two appearances here: the first is a very warm collaboration with Moska on Drexler's song, "Dos Colores: Blanco y Negro." The second is an authorship credit for Moska's cover of "Idade do Ceu" (Spanish: Edad del Cielo; English: The Age of Heaven), where he takes a decent song from deep in Drexler's catalogue and gives it a gorgeous new identity.
Youtube links:
Moska performing "Idade do Ceu" with Zelia Duncan from Os Mutantes -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tlmfg81dHZY&feature=related
"Tudo Novo de Novo" from the DVD for this album's tour -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXwFZ_xeVHw
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Tu Vida En 65 Segundos
"Tu Vida En 65 Segundos" is an insanely affective story about love and life from Catalan director Maria Ripoll. It won the Barcelona Film Award in 2006.
Three friends gather at the park on a lazy Sunday (Dani, Nacho, and Paco). They read that a classmate, Albert Castillo, has shockingly passed away and agree to go to his funeral. There, they meet his older sister, Cristina, who immediately connects with Dani after he shares that his own father died when he was only 12. The boys are invited to a memorial gathering at Albert's house, only to realize that the Albert Castillo they knew has not passed away, that this is a bizarre coincidence of name and age.
Far from a comedy (though the ensuing tension hits some funny notes), the movie is a chronicle of Dani and Cristina falling in love despite the undercurrent of her grief and his initial duplicity. The title comes from an activity Cristina says her brother did in high school English class: write about a feeling or a story in just 65 words. "Son pocas, o son muchas?" Dani asks Cristina. (Are they a lot, or a little?) "Depende de lo que quieras decir." (Depends what you wanted to say.) When Dani bursts into Cristina's apartment in the wee hours of the morning to read her a frantically composed love declaration - "por que te quiero, en 65 palabras" - life's sensations and fleeting moments are put in perspective.
Beyond the captivating story, the film is also an outstanding montage of a city and a set of powerful emotions that Ripoll's characters feel. I caught the first half hour at a friend's flat in Barcelona a while ago, was completely mesmerized, and finally got my hands on it a few months later.
Youtube link:
Trailer - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3MEfc1vSho
Three friends gather at the park on a lazy Sunday (Dani, Nacho, and Paco). They read that a classmate, Albert Castillo, has shockingly passed away and agree to go to his funeral. There, they meet his older sister, Cristina, who immediately connects with Dani after he shares that his own father died when he was only 12. The boys are invited to a memorial gathering at Albert's house, only to realize that the Albert Castillo they knew has not passed away, that this is a bizarre coincidence of name and age.
Far from a comedy (though the ensuing tension hits some funny notes), the movie is a chronicle of Dani and Cristina falling in love despite the undercurrent of her grief and his initial duplicity. The title comes from an activity Cristina says her brother did in high school English class: write about a feeling or a story in just 65 words. "Son pocas, o son muchas?" Dani asks Cristina. (Are they a lot, or a little?) "Depende de lo que quieras decir." (Depends what you wanted to say.) When Dani bursts into Cristina's apartment in the wee hours of the morning to read her a frantically composed love declaration - "por que te quiero, en 65 palabras" - life's sensations and fleeting moments are put in perspective.
Beyond the captivating story, the film is also an outstanding montage of a city and a set of powerful emotions that Ripoll's characters feel. I caught the first half hour at a friend's flat in Barcelona a while ago, was completely mesmerized, and finally got my hands on it a few months later.
Youtube link:
Trailer - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3MEfc1vSho
Jorge Drexler - 12 Segundos de Oscuridad
It seems only fitting to introduce Jorge Drexler in my first blog post, since his work references and links to so many of the other outstanding projects I will be talking about here.
Drexler is a Uruguayan singer/songwriter who was formerly a doctor before trying his hand at music. His work has progressed from low-budget, unornamented affairs to progressive bossa nova masterpieces that are the talk of the Rio de Plata region and Spain. He won an Oscar for his song "Al Otro Lado Del Rio" on the soundtrack for the Motorcycle Diaries.
12 Segundos de Oscuridad is Drexler's third project with DJs/instrumentalists/producers Juan Campodónico and Carlos Casacuberta. Is is notable among his catalogue for several reasons - the rapidfire beat-poet "Disneylandia," the sparse and ethereal "Sanar" and the astounding cover of Radiohead's "High and Dry." My favorite is "Transoceánica," which is probably his boldest rock arrangement to date. It's a shame to mask his excellent guitar work but I like how the heavy drums work with his sound.
Drexler is a wonderful musician and I'll surely write about his other albums in future posts. I had the opportunity to see him live in 2008 in a small town outside of Barcelona. It was unforgettable. His previous CD, Eco, is another great starting point.
Youtube link:
"Transporte," solo acoustic - from the album Eco.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycs48Y1PYPQ
Drexler is a Uruguayan singer/songwriter who was formerly a doctor before trying his hand at music. His work has progressed from low-budget, unornamented affairs to progressive bossa nova masterpieces that are the talk of the Rio de Plata region and Spain. He won an Oscar for his song "Al Otro Lado Del Rio" on the soundtrack for the Motorcycle Diaries.
12 Segundos de Oscuridad is Drexler's third project with DJs/instrumentalists/producers Juan Campodónico and Carlos Casacuberta. Is is notable among his catalogue for several reasons - the rapidfire beat-poet "Disneylandia," the sparse and ethereal "Sanar" and the astounding cover of Radiohead's "High and Dry." My favorite is "Transoceánica," which is probably his boldest rock arrangement to date. It's a shame to mask his excellent guitar work but I like how the heavy drums work with his sound.
Drexler is a wonderful musician and I'll surely write about his other albums in future posts. I had the opportunity to see him live in 2008 in a small town outside of Barcelona. It was unforgettable. His previous CD, Eco, is another great starting point.
Youtube link:
"Transporte," solo acoustic - from the album Eco.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycs48Y1PYPQ
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