On Sundays, I work a double shift at the bar and the first half is typically very slow. Most of the time, I have one or two customers at a time, and I can read and listen to music, so it isn’t really work. This last weekend, I was talking with a customer taking a break from his studies (the bar is right across the street from the University of Washington). We were chattin’ it up about politics, as he was writing about a debate between Steven A Douglas and Abraham Lincoln. At first, I took him as sort of a conservative, but quickly realized that he was approaching it as objectively as he could in figuring out who made the better argument (not the one he agreed with emotionally). This sort of approach helped me with my current review, Brasil is Where We Are by Brasil and the Gallowbrothers Band (that was a mouthful).
At first listen, this was not an enjoyable record for me. However, once I came to the conclusion that Brasil wasn’t going to be what I wanted it to be, I was much more capable of listening and enjoying the release. This album touched my cortex in two distinct ways. First, it somehow brought the movie U-Turn to mind. Well, okay, at least the first track, “Aune”, did. The way it meanders through an audio desert fighting and fucking (a la Sean Penn) its way to some sort of purpose or meaning…drunkenly stabbing at meaning until it pops into gear and has a moment of clarity. When it does, the rhythm feels very tribal; distinct, genetically ingrained and together as a group. It just as easily drifts out of town, flitting off the horizon in the wall of heat vapors. The constant whirling pulse sound that has been there all along is the hunger of the vultures as they zero in on the carrion of a once vibrant song.
As the album moves into the next 4 songs, I really was overwhelmed by the feeling that it was more a collaged soundtrack to a heavy peyote or mescaline trip, but with a cohesion that was surprisingly fluid. These songs feel much more like an engulfing jungle than the desert of “Aune”. Starting with “Journey Begins”, the sound flourishes with the moist air of flora and fauna and a decided absence of concrete or urban life. “At the Coast” even has a fusion jazz freedom to it, with echo box trumpet evoking Miles Davis and some sort of sagely guide through your rain forest trip. Speaking of movies, this part of the album would make Joseph Conrad proud if it were to replace the soundtrack in the second half of Apocalypse Now. It clearly needles fear into even the darkest of hearts with its expansive field of perception.
Though it is certainly not a jazz record, I would place Brasil is Where We Are along side many jazz records that are surely enjoyable, but merit only occasional spins - a worthy effort and a distinct sound.
-Gabriel Bogart