Marconi Notaro - 1973 - No Sub Reino Dos Metazoários

Marconi Notaro

1973

No Sub Reino Dos Metazoários

01. Desmantelado 1:40
02. Áh Vida Ávida 3:50
03. Fidelidade 3:15
04. Maracatú 0:50
05. Made In PB 2:33
06. Antropológica N°1 2:40
07. Antropológica N°2 4:45
08. Sinfonia Em Ré 5:40
09. Não Tenho Imaginação Pra Mudar De Mulher 2:35
10. Ode A Satwa 4:55

Lula Côrtes: tricordio, Sitar, French horn, effects
Marconi Notaro: vocals, ganzá, acoustic guitar, cabasa, effects
Robertinho de Recife: ukelele, viola, tambor alegre, guitar
Icinho: percussion, drums
Geraldo: bass, rattle, percussion
Zé Ramalho: coustic guitar, viola, whistle, effects
Kátia: Bells, effects
Escola de Samba do Xié: surdo, percussion

With all of those who started shouting “private press only” after Shadow named an album after those American self-starters who took their recorded destiny into their own hands, consider this: as hard as it might have been to record, press and distribute your very own wax capsule in America in the early ’70s (and as rare, and good, many of them are), doing the same under Brasil’s military dictatorship was markedly more difficult. And releasing a psychedelic, fuzz and effects drenched opus with revolutionary musings disguised within double entendres? Next to impossible.

You’d want this one in your collection if it contained just one good track within its beautifully packaged gatefold cover. That this album screams perfection from start to finish just adds to its legendary status. The brainchild of poet Márconi Notaro, alongside his friends and compatriots Lula Cortes and Ze Ramalho (the men behind perhaps the most legendary of Brasil’s private-pressed albums, 1975’s awesome Paebiru), this album contains what can only be described as Brasilian ragas played with the Portuguese guitar and Lula’s own invention, the Tricordio; improvised passages so fluid you’d swear they were scored; psychedelic-funk jams about staying true to one’s origins; and, throughout, Notaro’s complex yet approachable poetry, sung by the poet himself.

The highlight of the album, if there is just one: Notaro’s improvised “Nao Tenho Imaginacao Pra Mudar De Mulher (I Don’t Have The Imagination to Change Wives),” a gorgeously melancholic piece that, when one sees it transcribed (gotta thank my lovely girlfriend for that), is nearly impossible to imagine as having flowed directly from the mind of one of the most underrated Brasilian poet/composers.

No Sub Reino dos Metazoários is the first and only record by musician and poet Marconi Notaro, out of Pernambuco, Brazil. For years it was known that the master tape of No Sub Reino dos Metazoários had been lost during two floods that wrecked the Rozenblit Studios. Lots of equipment were damaged and plenty of material gone. However, what no one expected was that the tapes were kept on the highest shelves in the studio where the water did not reach with the thought of "equipment can be replaced, master tapes are unique." Notaro's daughters inherited and rescued the tape and made it available so that Fatiado Discos could release the first and remastered version from the original tapes since 1973. The lysergic highest moments come with nature elements textures as water and wind mixing together with the unmistaken sound of the Tricórdio Acústico -- which is a very unique instrument that Lula Côrtes brought himself from India and then adapted it with the help of a local luthier to the regional sound of the Brazilian northeast. The gatefold designed by Lula Côrtes is portrayed in this release and it also has its inner side designed by Cátia Mezel, apart from an extra insert with unpublished photos of Marconi provided by the musician's family. The album features Lula Côrtes, Zé Ramalho, and Robertinho de Recife is part of the holy trilogy of Psicodelia Nordestina amongst the equally mind-blowing Paebiru (1975) and Satwa (1973).

Lula E Lailson - 1973 - Satwa

Lula E Lailson

1973

Satwa

01. Satwa (7:15)
02. Can I Be Satwa (2:58)
03. Alegro Piradíssimo (2:59)
04. Lia A Rainha Da Noite (3:48)
05. Apacidonata (4:11)
06. Amigo (3:30)
07. Atom (3:48)
08. Blue Do Cachorro Muito Louco (5:12)
09. Valsa Dos Cogumelos (5:10)
10. Alegria Do Povo (3:36)

Lula Cortes / Morocco Sitar
Lailson / Twelve-String Guitar, Voice
Robertinho De Recife / Guitar

Brazilian 70's dreamlike, acid-folk guitar project. It's largely an acoustic guitar orientated "trip". Their eponymous album (a private press LP originally released in 1973) provides emotional, luminous Latin psych vibes with omnipresent "raga" harmonies. The duet is composed by Lula Cortes (on guitar and popular Morocco sitar) and Lailson de Holanda Cavalcanti (12 strings guitar, voice). One composition feature Robertinho Do Recife on electric guitar. Constantly imaginative with dense buzzing ragas, this one is definitely essential for fans of progressive folk, eastern sonorites and peaceful ambiences. Another highway to Heaven!

Written, recorded and released just as Brazil's military dictatorship reached the climax of its long black arc, the one and only album by Satwa is a divinely subtle protest. Now issued for the first time in America through the venerable Time-Lag Records in Maine and the stewardship of freeform fixture Erika Elder, Satwa, often cited as Brazil's first independent record, is a mellow starburst of acoustic jangle.

Formed after the return of Lula Côrtes and Lailson from their respective foreign excursions – the former a beardo home after the requisite Moroccan sojourn, the latter a young long-hair back from the States – Satwa lasted only a year, perhaps due to their differing stripes. Lailson was from the verdant former Dutch colony of Pernanbuco, while Côrtes hailed from the wild badlands of Paraiba. But for 11 days in January 1973 the pair jammed cross-legged and produced the folk trance gems that adorn this self-titled debut.

At a time when censors caused newspapers to run cake recipes on their front pages in place of rejected news stories, Lailson only lets the occasional throat drone slip through his lips. Largely void of voice and word, the songs – Côrtes plucking steely leads from his sitar while Lailson's 12-string thrums crystalline chords – are loose and lovely. The sole interference in these glistening arabesques is the hoary electric fretwork of one Robertinho on "Blues do Cachorro Muito Louco," the most explicitly fried track. Otherwise, Côrtes and Lailson are left to experiment in musty silence. Seemingly taped live, each track is a dry documentation of the duo's gently rambling improvisations. Far from the recombinant psychedelia of tropicalismo that reigned over the pre-hippie underground in Brazil's bustling metropolises five years earlier, Satwa play bed peace bards. In double-mono, or fake stereo, Satwa is raw, untreated mentalism translated into pure songflow. At times exhausted and dusty – "Atom" – or archaically splendorous – "Valse Dos Cogumelos" – the duo's spiraling scrolls etched in rustic timbres unfurl gracefully.

Côrtes, now a graying painter, would go on to record the more explicitly weird Paêbirú (also recently reissued) with Zé Ramalho. A concept album about extraterrestrials in Paraiba's arid backwoods, it had long been anointed a masterpiece of the era. After dabbling in rock outfits, Lailson broke into the mainstream as a newspaper cartoonist, a job he has kept to this day. Neither were or will probably ever be Satwa again, but during those few days and from now on, Satwa is a quiet triumph.