Gilberto Gil – Refazenda (1975)

PARABÉNS ao Gil, 70 anos!

 REFAZENDA
Gilberto Gil
1975 Phonogram 6349 152
This release 2000 WEA
Same master as 1994 first issue

1 Ela
(Gilberto Gil)
2 Tenho sede
(Dominguinhos, Anastácia)
3 Refazenda
(Gilberto Gil)
4 Pai e mãe
(Gilberto Gil)
5 Jeca total
(Gilberto Gil)
6 Essa é pra tocar no rádio
(Gilberto Gil)
7 Ê, povo, ê
(Gilberto Gil)
8 Retiros espirituais
(Gilberto Gil)
9 O rouxinol
(Gilberto Gil, Jorge Mautner)
10 Lamento sertanejo
(Dominguinhos, Gilberto Gil)
11 Meditação

Produced and mixed by Mazola
Musical coordinator and orchestral arrangements by Perinho Albuquerque
Basic arrangements – Gilberto Gil
Recording technicians – Luigi, João Moreira, Luiz Cláudio
Assistents – Paulo Sérgio, José Guilherme
Photos by João Castrioto
Cover design by Aldo Luiz
Refazenda ‘logo’ by Rogério Duarte

Acoustic guitar and “phase guitar” – Gilberto Gil
Accordion – Dominguinhos
Bass – Moacyr Albuquerque
Drums – Chiquinho Azevedo
Acoustic guitar on the track “O Rouxinol” – Frederiko
Percussion – Hermes, Ariovaldo
Cordas – Phonogram (???)
Flautas – Jorginho, Celso, & Geraldo
Trombones – Maciel & Bogado
Trumpets – Formiga, Barreto * Niltinho
Euphonium on “Jeca Total” – Luiz Paulo

on the track “Essa é pra tocar no rádio”
Drums – Tuti Moreno
Piano and ____ – Aloísio Milanes
Bass – Rubão Sabino
Percussion – Chiquinho Azevedo
Accordion – Dominguinhos

on the track “Pai e Mãe”
Cavaquinho – Canhoto
7-string guitar – Dino de 7 Cordas
Flute – ALtamiro Carrilho

 It’s difficult to pick a favorite Gilberto Gil album, but for a long time I think this one has been on the top of my list. A fan could break down their favorites into qualities, Grammy-style: Gil at his most adventurous and experimental (1969 self-titled), his funkiest (1977’s Refavela). But for an overall listening experience with nary a weak tune anywhere to be found, for it always comes back to Expresso 2222, Refazenda, and Refavela. The latter two are supposed to have been parts of a trilogy which culminated in Realce, which easily qualifies for Gil’s worst album of the 1970s but probably his biggest seller thanks largely to the godawful rewrite of Bob Marley’s “No Woman Don’t Cry” as “Não Chore Mais.”

But all that was years away from the tranquility of this record. Since today (June 26) is Gil’s 70th birthday I decided to dust this one off. My original vinyl has been cued up and waiting for a 24-bit treatment, but this early CD pressing sounds nice, much more neutral than the ear-fatiguing remasters from a few years ago an light years beyond what a certain American label has been doing to his back catalog stateside. (If you come across these questionable reissues on a certain indie reissue label, *avoid at all costs!*)

Refazenda is as laid-back and relaxed an album as Gil would ever make. All the songs are built around his acoustic guitar, which at this time he was compulsively processing through a flange effect of greater or lesser intensity. The contribution of accordionist Dominguinhos to the record cannot be overstated. His sensitive playing adds all the right textures to these tunes, and the pieces featuring his writing – “Tenho Sede”, written by Dominguinhos and writing partner Anastácia, and “Lamento Sertanejo” with Gil – are the highlights of the album. I used to harbor mixed feelings about the string arrangements from Perinho Albuquerque on some of the songs. On some, like Tenho Sede, they are majesterial without being overbearing. On others, like the title cut, they seem to get in the way a little, and on “Retiros espirituais” they seem appropriate enough but just kind of … there. I’ve made my peace with them as part of this classic record. Gil himself is responsible for the overall band arrangements and brings the same sensibility (and some of the same musicians) to this material that he did to Gal Costa’s “India.” He invited some heavy company into the studio for the gorgeous chorinho “Pai e mãe”, which has Dino de 7 Cordas on seven-string guitar, Canhoto on cavaquinho, and Altamiro Carrilho on flute. Joining him for “Essa é pra tocar no rádio” is the not-to-stumped drummer Tuti Moreno who was quite likely the only person in a hundred-mile radius capable of playing it. The irony of the title (This is to be played on the radio) is that it’s the most rhythmically angular, strange, frantic, and noncommercial song on the album. It was also featured on Gil’s album with Jorge Ben recorded the same year (Ogum Xangô) where it’s looser and more stream-of-consciousness.

Gil’s northeastern roots show strongly through this whole effort, and it never occured to me until today that he was born between the feasts of São João (St.John) and São Pedro (St.Peter), making him cosmically predisposed to the astral influences of Luiz Gonzaga, Jackson do Pandeiro, and Dorival Caymmi. You can hear Gonzagão in his singing in his choice of intervals and in the unique almost-falsetto scat-yodel that Gil is sometimes prone to break into; Jackson is phrasing and rhythm, whether in its more overt form like the frantic “Esse pra tocar no rádio” or in more subdued wordplay like “Jeca Total,” and Dorival haunts some of the more pensive and plaintive of Gil’s writing. But Jackson do Pandeiro is probably the main current, linha, ou corrente astral on Gil – you can hear his rhythmic innovations in Gil’s unique guitar playing, and he has said (somewhere..) what a transformative effect Jackson’s music had on him, that NOTHING was ever the same rhythmically after Jackson.  Why didn’t they ever make an album together??

The opener “Ela” and “É, povo, é” are both grooving, free-spirited pop. In fact this album is free-spirited enough that this sweetly beautiful album was apparently considered a threat to the nation’s moral fiber in some way, as the album was brought up in some fashion as being lyrically degenerate and inciting the youth to bohemian grooviness when Gil was brought up on pot charges around this time. (I can’t remember it too well but there is a scene in the film Doces Bárbados where Gil is sitting in a government office looking faintly amused but mostly exacerbated as a variety of bizarre charges are being read out loud by a military regime bureaucrat. I had forgotten all about that seen until sitting down to write this — now I am going to have to dig that film up!).

The only weak spot on this record can be blamed on Jorge Mautner, who should really just stick to writing poetry. His albums are mediocre at best, and at their worst, unlistenable. Unfortunately he has friends and connections who keep encouraging him into thinking he ought to record music a few times an era, and it’s all utterly missable. Including here – the tune “Rouxinol” serves no higher purpose than to jar you from your sensory bliss and aural revery. Mautner is a decent poet, and his lyrics read well on paper, but when recorded they always just sound trite to me. But who the hell am I? Just some opinionated guy with a blog.

I’ve spent so long scribbling this that it is no longer Gil’s birthday now. Hopefully somebody out there is still celebrating.

Did I mention “Lamento Sertanejo” is easily one of the best compositions of Gil’s career and one which is still a part of his live repertoire? In fact it is probably the best remembered song on here. If you’re feeling these tunes you should really check out Dominguinho’s performance-interview on the MPB Especial program. I believe it is posted at this blog with the initials FV

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